Review: Never Let Me Go (by Kazuo Ishiguro)

My Rating:  5 stars

I loved Kazuo Ishiguro's Booker Prize-winning The Remains of the Day (which I only read a couple years ago even though it was written back in 1989) and since then, I've been wanting to read the rest of his books, it's just I hadn't gotten a chance to yet given my endless TBR stack.  So of course, I was delighted when both my book club and one of my classes chose Ishiguro's Never Let Me Goas our next book to read / study, as it gave me an excuse to finally get to another one of his books.  

Going into this one, I actually already knew most of the details of the plot, including the "reveal" about the characters and their school, as this book was talked about so much back when it came out in 2005 (plus there was a much-hyped movie adaptation that was made, which I haven't watched, but heard so much about) that it's kind of hard not to have already encountered the main spoiler, especially reading this book now, nearly 2 decades after it was written.  With that said however, the "spoiler" knowledge in this case did not ruin the book for me — rather it allowed me to focus instead on Ishiguro's beautiful, breathtaking, and elegant writing style as well as admire the masterful way in which he crafted such a poignant and powerful story that was both richly complex and thought-provoking yet also haunting and absorbing.

Given that I'll be spending quite a bit of time discussing and reflecting on this book with others over the next few weeks, I don't plan on saying too much in this review.  One of the things I do want to mention though is the genre-defying aspect of this book, which, in a sense, is one of its unique defining features. Most readers would probably categorize this one under science fiction (specifically of the speculative and dystopian variety), which is certainly appropriate, but only classifying it as such would be a great disservice, as there are also elements of gothic romance, mystery and suspense, as well as contemporary, literary, and historical fiction all interwoven seamlessly (and subtly) into the story.  As I was reading, I was honestly blown away by how perfectly Ishiguro was able to balance all these elements to create an emotionally nuanced story that is both compelling and gripping, while at the same time presenting a quietly contemplative, thoughtful, and reflective commentary on society that's also incredibly timely and prescient.  I mention all this because I know there are probably readers like me out there who aren't keen on reading science fiction and therefore might be hesitant to pick this one up.  If that's you, I would say don't worry because it definitely doesn't read like science fiction: part of the brilliance of this book is in its many subtleties — as it pertains to science (and technology) specifically, Ishiguro integrates this theme into the story in a way where the reader feels its presence looming in the background, but it never breaks forth to overwhelm the story.  

Even though I've only read two of Ishiguro's works (so far), I can already see why he is such a beloved and respected writer.  I'm glad he was finally awarded the Nobel Prize in Literature in 2017 — absolutely well-deserved! I read in an interview Ishiguro did that it takes him around 5 years to write each book — since his last book Klara and the Sun (which I also need to get to) came out in 2021, that means we can perhaps expect a new book in 2026 (I hope)?  I definitely need to get going on the rest of his backlist before then! :-)

 

Review: The Storm We Made (by Vanessa Chan)

My Rating:  4 stars

First of all, let me just say that this book definitely did not read like a debut to me.  The writing flowed beautifully, the characters were fully fleshed out and developed, and the historical as well as cultural details were meticulously rendered to the point that I felt completely immersed and transported to the time and place of the story (Japanese-occupied Malaya during WWII).  One of the things I love about historical fiction is its ability to bring awareness to events / people / situations, etc., in history through the means of an engaging story, with the best ones often triggering a desire to read up on the subject matter more after finishing the book itself. In this case, even though I was already familiar with the Japanese occupation of various Asian countries during WWII (given my Chinese background, I grew up hearing endless stories about the antagonism between China and Japan during that time), I still felt compelled to read more about the events mentioned in the book (specifically, the Japanese invasion and occupation of Malaysia from 1941 to 1945).  In her author letter, Vanessa Chan mentions her inspiration for the book being from her grandparents, who were initially reluctant to talk about those Occupation years, but ultimately relented and provided her with the many insights into how they survived that time period, many details of which she eventually incorporated into her story.

The angle that Chan ended up taking with this story — having it revolve around a wife and mother in British-colonized Malaya who provides intelligence to a Japanese general that ultimately ushers in a brutal occupation — was an interesting and unique one.  When the story opens in February 1945, Cecily's family is in a bad spot: her husband Gordon, formerly a high-ranking bureaucrat in the British-run colonial government, has been reduced to doing physical labor at a sheet-metal factory; her teenage son Abel has just disappeared, following the fate of other boys in the town who were kidnapped to a camp guarded by Japanese soldiers; her youngest daughter Jasmin has to hide in the basement all day to avoid being recruited into service at the comfort stations; and her eldest daughter Jujube is pushed to the brink of madness trying to protect her little sister while also attempting to maintain order in the household. Seeing her family coming apart at the seams, Cecily understands that this is all her doing — we are then taken back to 10 years earlier, where we get Cecily's backstory and how she came to meet the man who would change her life forever:  Shigeru Fujiwara, a charismatic Japanese general who convinces Cecily to work with him to achieve the goal of "Asia for Asians" by overthrowing the British colonial government in Malaya.  Their efforts prove successful and the Japanese invade a few years later.  Unfortunately, the Japanese occupiers turn out to be cruel and callous, killing "more people in three years than the British colonizers had in fifty."  The rest of the story alternates between these two time periods as well as between the perspectives of Cecily and her three children, with the timelines eventually merging as the war comes to an end and we see the impact of Cecily's actions on both her family as well as on the community at large.

This was one of those books that I almost finished in one sitting, as the story was so compelling that I found myself unable to stop turning the pages.  With that said however, this was also a difficult and exhausting read due to the heavy subject matter — while this was expected given the premise going into it, what I didn't expect was the emotional depth of the characters, who were each written in ways that made it hard not to feel for them in some capacity, despite their actions.  As I was reading, I was honestly preparing myself to hate both Fujiwara and Cecily, but when I got to the end, well, let's just say that I had to rethink my feelings about them (and I'm still thinking about it, even now).

One of the things that also struck me about this book was how much I resonated with certain aspects of it — not the parts about espionage or the war of course, but rather the complexity of the feelings and circumstances that inform some of the characters' decisions. I think this complexity is best described by Chan herself in her author's note where she states:  "I wrote about inherited pain, womanhood, mothers, daughters, and sisters, and how the choices we make reverberate through the generations of our families and communities in ways we often can't predict. I wrote about carrying the legacy of colonization in your body, about being drawn to a toxic man, about complicated friendships, about living a life in fragments, about the ambiguity of right and wrong when survival is at stake."  Indeed, I can relate to nearly all of these things due to having encountered them in some form in my own life.  Perhaps this is also why I was able to empathize with many of the characters, even the unlikable ones who made the worst of decisions — with Cecily specifically, her actions were inexcusable and unforgivable of course, but she also paid the ultimate price for what she did…whether what she endured was punishment enough, that will be for each reader to determine.

Received ARC from Marysue Rucci Books via NetGalley.

Review: River East, River West (by Aube Rey Lescure)

 

My Rating: 4 stars

When I finished reading this book, my first thought was that this was an interesting read and very different from what I initially expected going into it (my second thought was: This is a debut?  It certainly didn’t read like one!).  Given my background, I naturally gravitate toward immigrant stories (especially the ones involving immigrants from Asian countries to Western ones), where I know I will encounter experiences similar to my own – so when I read the summary for this one and saw that it would be a reversal of the traditional east-to-west immigrant story, I was definitely intrigued.  Though having said that, I will admit I was also a bit concerned, as I associate “west-to-east immigrant narrative” with “story about the expatriate community in Asia” – as someone who came from a place with a long history of colonialism (the former British colony of Hong Kong), I am more than familiar with how the expat community operates and to be honest, it’s one of my least favorite things to read about (I guess you can say that I’m sick of picking up a book about an Asian country expecting to read about the local community and culture, only to find out it’s actually about expat shenanigans told from an expat perspective, with very little about the culture of the country itself).  Add to that the fact that I’m also not a fan of “rich people behaving badly” stories (which is what many expat stories essentially boil down to), so of course, I was quite weary going into this one and was bracing myself for a potentially unpleasant reading experience.  While there did indeed end up being quite a bit of “unpleasantness” in the story (those who’ve read this book will know what I mean), I was actually surprised by how different this one turned out from the typical expat stories that tend to glamorize the expat lifestyle.  In her podcast interview with Books & Boba, the author Aube Rey Lescure talked at length about her inspiration for this book (I absolutely recommend listening to the interview after reading the book, as she provides some great insights and I actually appreciate the book a lot more than I would have otherwise) – one of the things she said that struck a chord with me is that she wrote this book not as a glamorization of the expat lifestyle, but rather, as an “anti-expat takedown” of sorts, highlighting the impact that the presence of these expats, with their indifference and condescension (and excessive, indulgent, high-riding lifestyles), had on the local Chinese community.  Thinking back through the story after hearing Lescure say this, I see now that was the same sense I had gotten while reading this one, which is probably why I was able to appreciate this story more than other expat stories I’ve read.

In her interview, Lescure describes her book as a coming of age / family drama / social novel set in China, which is definitely an apt description.  In her discussion with the hosts about this being an inversion of the usual east-to-west immigrant story, Lescure said that she couldn’t write the typical China to America immigrant story because that wasn’t her experience.  Instead of being a story about Chinese immigrants in America, this one revolves around an American expat Sloan raising her biracial daughter Alva in modern-day (2007-2008 time period) Shanghai, China.  Lescure said that her mother (who is French) separated with her father (who is Chinese) and raised her as a single mom in Shanghai – she went to the local Chinese public school for 8 years, then transferred to what she called a “budget” version of the international school for 2 years; significantly, her mother was a “renegade” who didn’t want to be part of the expat community, so their lifestyle was an unrooted one where they spent much of her childhood moving across Shanghai, renting one apartment after another.  Throughout the story, Lescure included many cultural details and nuances to capture what her experience of growing up in Shanghai as a biracial teenager was like – she especially wanted to capture the granularity of her Chinese school experience and show how different it was from the international schools that the expat kids went to (fun Easter egg for those who’ve read the book:  Lescure said that the test question scenario was from real life – she had answered that exact question the same way and got marked wrong…it was a moment of revelation for her about the education system in China).  Something that Lescure did clarify was that even though certain elements of the story were based on her own experience, the sections about the expat community and lifestyle she actually did not experience, as those were based on what she heard from people she knew. 

One of the things that stood out with this story is the way Lescure juxtaposed the two entirely different worlds – the nuances of the local Chinese community in which she grew up versus the glitz and glamor of the expat community – presenting both realistically to the point that it felt immersive.  At the same time, she also interweaves the story of Lu Fang, the Chinese businessman whom Alva’s mom Sloan marries at the beginning of the story – the dual timeline narrative alternates between Alva’s perspective in the present (2007-2008) and Lu Fang’s perspective starting in 1985 and spanning decades, with both timelines ultimately converging in the present, in a way that I honestly did not see coming.  In a sense, this story isn’t just about Alva’s coming of age, but also of Lu Fang’s, which I felt was an interesting way of structuring the story.  I’ve mentioned in other reviews that with immigrant stories, we oftentimes get to hear from the immigrant child’s perspective, but rarely from the adults / parents’ perspectives, so I appreciated that with this story, Lescure chose to go in a different direction and give us Lu Fang’s story as well.  For me, this added emotional depth to the story, especially at the end, when we find out some of the things that happened to Lu Fang and the impact this has on his relationship with Sloan and Alva. 

Overall, this was a worthwhile read, though some parts will not only be difficult to stomach, but will also tick some people off (I certainly felt angry and frustrated with some of the things that happen) – of course, this means that there will be trigger warnings galore.  Also, the characters aren’t too likable in here – the kids I could empathize with, but the adults (specifically the parents) I honestly could not stand (except for maybe Lu Fang at certain points in the story).  Although with that said, after hearing Lescure describe her purpose for writing the characters the way she did and what she was trying to achieve by doing so, it did make me dislike them a little less.

The unlikable characters and some of the plot points aside though, another aspect of this book that I really enjoyed were the various cultural references (especially the Chinese ones), as well as the untranslated Chinese characters and phrases sprinkled throughout the story.  In her interview, Lescure talks about this and mentions that the meanings of most of the Chinese words can be picked up from context (this is true, as majority of the Chinese was either translated or explained), but there are a few instances where only readers who know the Chinese language will pick up on (like the scene near the end with the Chinese poem, which was actually my favorite scene from the story).  I always enjoy coming across things I recognize in books that I read – it makes the reading experience more fun and engaging (and the difficult aspects a tad more tolerable).

If you decide to pick this one up, I definitely recommend also listening to the author’s Books & Boba interview, as it puts the entire book in greater perspective.  Like I mentioned earlier, I came to appreciate the book on a much different level than I would have otherwise.

Received ARC from William Morrow via NetGalley.

 

Review: The Women (by Kristin Hannah)

My Rating: 4.5 stars

"There were no women in Vietnam."   As Kristin Hannah states in the Author's Note to her magnificent new novel The Women, this sentiment – that no women served in Vietnam, despite numerous first-hand accounts of women who were there as nurses, medical personnel, news correspondents, volunteers, etc. --  was the prevailing one during a time period that saw a country torn apart by a senseless war that should never have happened in the first place.  As someone born in the late 1970s, long after the war was over, I of course had to rely on history books to learn about the Vietnam War – books that I realize now were mostly lacking in detailed information.  In fact, the mentions of the Vietnam War were always so brief to the point that I had no idea how bad things actually got in America:  that there had been a period of "collective amnesia" spurred on by the government where even the mere mention of "Vietnam" was taboo; that Vietnam vets were shamefully mistreated by both the government and ordinary citizens to the point that many had to go into hiding and were even afraid to mention they had served;  and most frustratingly, that women's efforts in the war were rarely (if ever) acknowledged and their experiences were largely discounted – in being constantly told that "there were no women in Vietnam," they were rendered invisible, forcibly forgotten and "disappeared" from history.  With this novel, Hannah brings these women's experiences to the forefront and once again, delivers a heart-wrenching, emotional story that provides more depth of insight into aspects of American history than many history books are able to do.

The woman at the center of the story is Frances "Frankie" McGrath, a nursing student from a wealthy, conservative family, who decides to follow her brother's footsteps when he ships out to serve in Vietnam in 1965.  At the age of 21, inexperienced and with barely any training, she joins the Army Nurse Corps and arrives in Vietnam without the faintest idea what she would be up against. Surrounded by devastation and destruction everywhere she turns, Frankie comes face-to-face with the atrocities of war on a daily basis and learns to survive amongst the chaos.  In Vietnam, she meets two other nurses – Barb and Ethel – and together, they endure horrific violence, death, loss, and heartbreak mingled with moments of incredible courage, bravery, and hope.  In circumstances where both life and death hang by a thread, the deep friendships that Frankie forms with those whom she works untiringly side-by-side every day, along with a strong belief in the good they are doing for the war effort, carry her through the darkest of days.  But when Frankie and her friends return home to a country deeply divided, where tensions run high and the overwhelming sentiment is to forget the war ever happened, the women realize that what they endured in Vietnam was only the beginning of a long battle for justice — for themselves as well as for those who sacrificed life and limb for a country that doesn't want to recognize their existence. 

I will be honest in saying that this was a difficult read for me, but also one that I couldn't put down (I finished this one in two sittings, as I couldn't stop myself from turning the pages, desperately wanting to find out what happens next).  Hannah has proven time and time again that she definitely knows how to tell a gripping, atmospheric story with complex female characters who are deeply flawed, yet realistic and relatable in ways that you don't see coming until you're so immersed in their world that it's too late to pull back. It wasn't until I finished the book that, upon reflection, I realized that perhaps the book was a little longer than it needed to be and some scenes were a bit repetitive and maybe not really necessary.  But overall, this was a well-thought-out, meticulously researched story, poignantly told in a way that, I felt, did justice to the history and complexity of the Vietnam War era.  I especially appreciated Hannah's Author Note where she talked about the decades-long process of how this novel came to be and I definitely feel she made the right choice to wait until she was ready to tackle this subject.  In my opinion, she did a magnificent job!

Kristin Hannah has become one of my favorite historical fiction authors whose works are high on my "must-read" list (though admittedly, I still have many books in her extensive backlist that I need to get to at some point).  While initially, I had felt bad about not getting to this one before publication date (I realize I missed it by a few days), I now know that I need not have worried, as Hannah's work pretty much speaks for itself.  I'm sure this will be one of the buzziest, most-read books of the year (and deservingly so in my opinion).  

Review: Atonement (by Ian McEwan)

My Rating:  4 stars

I know I'm majorly late to the party with this one, reading it 20+ years after it was published, but better late than never, right? I've actually had this one on my shelf for years, but never got around to reading it until recently, when one of my classes decided to choose this "modern classic" as one of the novels we would be studying.  Since so many people have read this one and already know what it's about, I will forego mentioning anything about the plot and just focus on how I felt reading this.

My first reaction after finishing this one is that Ian McEwan is a masterful writer and magnificent storyteller.  The summary on the back cover uses the word "symphonic" to describe this book, which I feel is perfect, as the way this was written indeed reminded me of a symphony or concert, with prose that was simultaneously lyrical and rhythmic, moving the story along slowly at first, then increasing in intensity until it reached  its final crescendo. (I think the fact that I read this book essentially all in one sitting made it feel especially symphonic).  From an emotional perspective, this was also a roller coaster ride where I experienced a range of emotions from frustration to anger to sadness to relief (and yes, outrage that made me want to throw the book across the room at one point).  As it was for many others who read this book before me, the source of most of the anguish towards the story was of course Briony (as well as 2 other characters) and the "crime" that is brought about, which irrevocably changes everyone's lives. I will be honest in saying that I despised Briony from the beginning (a feeling that, unfortunately, doesn't change by the end of the story).  I know some may dismiss what she did as being the "naive innocence" of a precocious thirteen-year-old child with a wild imagination who had been too sheltered and coddled to the point of not being able to separate fantasy from reality — a sentiment that, in a sense, is not untrue, but doesn't really fly in my book because 1) to me, 13  is still adolescence, but not THAT young in the sense of not being able to tell right from wrong (plus the way Briony's character was written, she came across as mature for her age) and 2) being "still a child" shouldn't be an excuse for destroying innocent people's lives. Personally, I also found it difficult to have much sympathy for her given her motives (while it's true that she didn't act with deliberate malicious intent, there was definitely jealousy at play, not to mention that I also found her smug, self-serving attitude quite disturbing)…and of course, the ending "sealed the deal" for me in this regard.

Speaking of the ending — I definitely fall into the camp that didn't like the ending, mostly because I found it deeply unsatisfying.  For me, the accountability factor (i.e.: whether characters who do bad things get their comeuppance) is significant in a story like this one (after all, the title of the novel  IS Atonement) and while I agree that not always having things resolved and tied up nicely in a bow is a reflection of how things work in real life (yes, I know life is often messy and unfair), I feel that with certain stories (especially tragic and heartbreaking ones that aren't historical in nature), I would rather have a satisfying ending than a realistic one.  A question that came to mind as I was gathering my thoughts for this review was whether the "atonement" that took place was appropriate given the circumstances (I'm still debating this in my head).

Anyway, I definitely liked this one overall (though I didn't love it, which is why I didn't rate it 5 stars) and despite how I may feel about the characters as well as the ending, the masterful writing in and of itself made this a worthwhile read.  Also, the other important thing for me is that not all the characters were horrible in that I did have characters I was able to root for (Robbie and Cecilia specifically), which is what sustained my interest through to the end (otherwise, I probably would've DNF'ed at part 3 given how much I disliked Briony — which, thinking about it now, I have to say that the way McEwan structured the book is actually quite brilliant).  I know McEwan has an extensive backlist, which hopefully I'll get the chance to explore further at some point.