Review: The Return of Ellie Black (by Emiko Jean)

 My Rating: 4 stars

This book came onto my radar because I had read Emiko Jean’s previous contemporary / romance novel Mika in Real Life and loved it.  If Jean’s name sounds familiar, that’s because she also wrote the popular YA series Tokyo Ever After.  Now with The Return of Ellie Black, Jean takes on the mystery / suspense / thriller genre through the case of Elizabeth Black, a missing girl who reappears out of the blue after disappearing without a trace two years ago from a town in Washington.  Ellie’s case is being handled by Detective Chelsey Calhoun, a small-town cop whose passion for solving missing person cases stems from her own sister’s disappearance 20 years ago.  Chelsey sets about investigating what happened to Ellie, but the task proves to be more difficult than anticipated due to Ellie’s refusal to cooperate.  When links to other missing girls start to surface -- some of whom, like Ellie, might still be alive – the urgency to solve the case reaches fever pitch.  But with Ellie not cooperating, will Chelsey crack the case in time to prevent other girls from being taken as well?

This is a story that surprised me in many ways.  First (and most important) is the fact that this is definitely NOT another one of those run-of-the-mill thrillers with a helpless (and usually stereotypically drawn) female protagonist at its center who is eventually saved by some guy in uniform (and maybe they live happily ever after if a romantic attraction is thrown in there somewhere).  Instead, this story deals with many real-life issues that we continue to face in our society on a daily basis -- toxic relationships, discrimination of all types (i.e. race, gender, class), misogyny, racism, dysfunctional families, police corruption, class distinctions (i.e. rich versus poor), etc. – in a way that gave the story depth (which meant that, at times, I forgot that I was reading a thriller).  The narrative alternates between the third person perspective (where we get to “hear from” various characters in the story, though mostly from Chelsey) interspersed with a first person “confession” of sorts from Ellie herself, where she recounts in detail everything that happened to her.  For me, this type of narrative (alternating between different voices) can be a bit of a hit or miss, but in this instance, it was done in a way that made sense and also didn’t feel jarring.  In terms of the plot, this one was particularly well done in the sense that I was truly kept at edge of my seat and most significantly, I actually didn’t see any of the twists and turns coming.  I mention this because I’ve read my fair share of mysteries / thrillers over the years where I’m usually able to figure everything out by the halfway point, but that was definitely not the case here – I was genuinely surprised by how things turned out, not to mention all my guesses ended up being wrong (not a bad thing at all when it comes to thrillers). 

Having said all that though, what I loved most about this book was the main protagonist (Detective Chelsey Calhoun).  It’s not lost on me how rare it is to have the main character of a mainstream mystery (thriller/suspense) novel be a strong, smart, competent, kick-ass, no nonsense cop who is both female and Asian (full Japanese, not mixed race).  And yes, it is Chelsey (as the lead detective on the case) who “saves the day” throughout the story, including at the end (I’m proud to admit that I cheered each time Chelsey triumphed, lol).  Most importantly though, Chelsey came across as a real-life person – someone who has her own vulnerabilities and insecurities (especially in her personal relationships) while also having to deal with the realities that come with being female and Asian in a cut-throat profession where she has to fight like hell to prove herself every step of the way.

Emiko Jean is an author whom I’m glad to have discovered and whose backlist I’m happy to explore.  I admire authors who are able to write across multiple genres and so far, based on what I’ve read of her work, Jean seems to have talent in this area.  I hope to read more of her work soon.

Received ARC from Simon & Schuster via NetGalley.

 

Review: Swimming Back to Trout River (by Linda Rui Feng)

My Rating: 5 stars

I actually finished this book a few days ago but held off on writing the review because I needed some time to gather myself after such an emotional reading experience.  Linda Rui Feng's debut novel Swimming Back to Trout River is poignant, powerful, and beautifully written — a touching story about endurance in the face of repeated tragedy, about resilience and hope, about love and family and the complexity of human relationships, about loss and grief and regret, about history and culture and how what happens in the past can continue to haunt the present as well as the future.  

As the story opens, we meet 5 year old Junie, who is sitting on her mother Cassia's lap as they travel by bus to Junie's grandparents' house in the little village of Trout River in China.  Cassia is about to leave for America to join her husband Momo, with the intention for Junie to join them in a few years' time.  Meanwhile though, Junie will be left in the care of Momo's parents in the little village where Momo himself grew up alongside his two brothers.  Junie adjusts wonderfully to life at Trout River and grows to love the idyllic countryside as well as the grandparents who raise her — which is why, when she is 10 years old and receives a letter from her father in which he promises to return by her twelfth birthday to bring her to America for a reunion, Junie's immediate reaction is that of impending doom.  Precocious by nature, Junie is determined to stay put and never leave her beloved grandparents' side — at one point, she tells her grandfather that if she were forced to leave, she would find a way to return back to them, even if she has to swim from America back to Trout River to do so. What Junie doesn't know is that her parents, living thousands of miles away in their adopted country, are estranged and struggling to deal with lingering feelings of grief and loss from past tragedies.  Intertwined with their story is that of Dawn, a former classmate of Momo's who is also a talented violinist — having lost her parents at a young age, Dawn was raised by her grandfather, who helped cultivate a musical sensibility within her.  The narrative alternates between the perspectives of these 4 characters whose destinies end up intersecting in ways both familiar and unexpected.

This was such a sad and heart wrenching story, yet also hopeful and tender in its depiction of the characters' struggles and endurance.  From the moment I was introduced to Junie on the very first page, I was absolutely smitten with her, to the point that I continue to hold her dear to my heart even now, days after having finished this book. I loved Junie's closeness with her grandparents — a sentiment that of course wasn't surprising since she was raised by them (this is actually an all-too-familiar situation for many Chinese children who are often left behind in the care of grandparents or relatives in their home countries while the parents try to get situated in another country, with most only reuniting with their children after they feel they've built a stable enough future for them) — having said that, a part of me still felt a little sad at Junie's lack of familiarity with her parents.  My favorite scene in the novel (which occurred fairly early in the story) was also the most heartbreaking one — where Junie tells her Grandpa that she will swim back to Trout River to be with him and Grandma — I had tears streaming down my face when I read that scene (I don't want to spoil the story so I'm not going to explain further, but those who've read the book and met Junie in its pages will probably understand why this scene had such an impact).

This is one of those books that actually requires discussion, as there is so much here thematically, it's impossible to cover everything in such a brief review.  A few of the themes that stood out were those pertaining to water as well as music.  The one that stood out to me the most though was the idea of "motion" or "movement" — from Junie's "other means of locomotion" to the various ways that the characters "move" through the story, whether physically or figuratively.  I had read somewhere that the author, Linda Rui Feng, also writes poetry, which explains the lyrical and metaphorical nature of the writing, as well as all the imagery rendered so beautifully throughout the story.

Even though only about a third of the story takes place in the United States (the setting for majority of the story is China), this was also an immigrant story at its heart, albeit a very different one from what we may be used to seeing.  In terms of China's cultural and historical elements — from the hardships of the Cultural Revolution period to the insights into the concept of family and filial piety embedded in Chinese culture, etc. — all of it was incorporated so seamlessly and flawlessly into the story…which I guess should come as no surprise given the fact that Feng is a scholar and teacher of Chinese history and culture.  

I loved nearly everything about this book:  the realistic yet endearing characters, the gentle and reflective nature of the story, the nuanced exploration of family and human relationships, the subtle way that so many different themes were woven into the narrative — the Chinese concepts of yuanfen and zhaohua (I love the way Feng explained both of these in the story — remarkable given how difficult it is to translate either concept into English accurately and correctly), the idea of inevitability versus coincidence, fate and destiny, and whether it's possible to change the trajectory of your life even with the most sincere of efforts. 

With all that said, my biggest complaint with the story is that we didn't get to see much of Junie (most of the story was about her parents and the evolution of their relationship) — disappointing not only because I loved Junie so much as a character, but also because of the crucial role she played as the character who tied the entire story together (without her presence, the story definitely would not have been as powerful).  

As I mentioned earlier, this was an emotional read for me, and I definitely recommend it, though with the caveat that the metaphorical language might take some effort to parse, especially since there is a philosophical aspect to the language as well (for me, it was well worth the effort).   The story is also the quiet, slow-burn type where there really isn't much of a plot, for one, and two, there's very little "action" to speak of — this is a absolutely a character-driven story with a strong sense of place (two elements I love in books) that, in my opinion, is almost guaranteed to move the reader in some way.  I recommend reading this one with a box of tissues handy, especially for the scenes at Trout River with Junie and her grandparents.  I do hope that Linda Rui Feng writes another novel — when she does, I know I will absolutely want to read it!

Received ARC from Simon & Schuster via Edelweiss.

Review: White Ivy (by Susie Yang)

 

My Rating:  4 stars

This is one of those books that I feel does not fit nicely into any specific genre.  Majority of readers seem to put this under the thriller / suspense category, but to be honest, despite the story having a few surprises (I would hardly call them “twists and turns”), there really wasn’t a whole lot of “suspense” in most of the narrative, at least from what I could see.  If I had to categorize this, I would say that it goes best under contemporary fiction, since at its core, the story does explore many of the hot button issues that we see currently in our own society – issues such as immigration, wealth disparity between rich and poor, complicated family dynamics, assimilation versus cultural differences, social class and privilege, etc.  For me in particular, there was a lot to unpack with this story, and as I sat down to write this review, I struggled with the realization that what I write here is barely going to scratch the surface of all the thoughts that went through my mind as I read.  With fiction, I’m usually not a huge fan of highlighting passages while I read, as it breaks my flow and can be distracting at times, but with this book, I ended up highlighting a lot because so much of the story resonated with me.  Many of the coming-of-age experiences that the main character, Ivy Lin, went through in the story were very similar to what I experienced as a Chinese-American girl who grew up in an immigrant household very much like Ivy’s.   To be completely honest,  I was actually floored by how much Ivy’s upbringing and family dynamics resembled my own, to the point that, as I was reading, I actually felt like I was reliving my own childhood all over again.  Everything from the way the parents (and grandmother) behaved and acted, to the way Ivy interacted with them, the reactions of the friends around them, the pressure and stress associated with being a child of immigrants trying to navigate two different and often conflicting worlds while trying to understand her role in that world, the struggles with identity and trying to reconcile her family’s expectations with society’s cultural dissonance, right down to the feelings that Ivy struggled with throughout the story and how all of it ended up impacting her in a big way – all of it was familiar to me because so much of it was a lived experience for me (and for many of my Chinese friends as well).

With all that said, I do have put in a bit of a disclaimer here, as I approached this book very differently than most other readers probably did.  Having some form of personal connection to a story can change the way that story is read and experienced, which, for me, proved to be absolutely true with this book.  While most others likely approached this story more from the perspective of a plot-driven thriller, I came at it from a completely different perspective:  I read this more from the perspective of it being a coming-of-age immigrant story, which meant that the plot was secondary in that it was merely a way for me to understand this character of Ivy and why she ended up doing the things she did.   Of course, this by no means excuses Ivy’s actions or behavior or the fact that she deserves to be disliked because of not just her manipulative, deceitful ways, but also what she does to “fix” some of the mistakes she made.  In choosing to focus on the “why” –  specifically, the aspects of Ivy’s upbringing and the reality of her circumstances that undoubtedly played a role in the flawed person she became --  it allowed me to approach the character of Ivy with a sentiment that probably many others who also read this book would not have felt:  sympathy.  This is a sympathy bred from my familiarity with the upbringing and immigrant story that the author is trying to tell through Ivy (and her family).  On a personal level,  I know how it feels to grow up in a household where you are constantly reminded, day in and day out, that your parents gave up a life of comfort and familiarity in their home countries to move across continents, to a place that is foreign and where they don’t know the language, where the culture is completely (and in some instances, shockingly) different, where their talents back home can’t be utilized and they are viewed as second-class citizens, etc. – all of these sacrifices are because they want you, their child/children, to have a good future and hopefully live a better life than they did.  I understand, intimately in fact, the tremendous pressure and stress from having to constantly strive to meet these expectations while trying to navigate how to fit in to a society that isn’t exactly accepting of you either.  I also understand the constant uphill battle (a never-ending struggle that lasts your entire life) to reconcile your culture with the reality of your circumstances and the realization that, no matter how hard you try, it will never be enough, and you will find yourself forever straddling that precarious line between two clashing identities. 

Further than just shared experiences though, I also resonated with Ivy from an emotional perspective.  When it came to the feelings that Ivy experienced at different points in her life, particularly as it related to her family and cultural upbringing -- feelings such as shame, confusion, embarrassment, loneliness guilt, fear, regret, etc. – it brought back memories of all the times throughout my life where I can recall feeling the same way.  With all that said though, while I sympathized with Ivy, I also sympathized – perhaps even more deeply – with her younger brother Austin, who had such a minor role in the story, yet to me, the few scenes he was in and the things that happened in those scenes were actually the most significant in terms of understanding the family dynamics as well as the lasting impact those dynamics have, whether intentional or not.

If this review sounds a bit vague, note that it was deliberate on my part, as the book’s plot summary already said quite a lot and there really isn’t much else I can say without giving away more of the story than necessary.  With how much the story impacted me, of course I recommend this book, but with the caveat that your experience reading it will no doubt be different from mine.  Reading this book actually gave me goosebumps --  not because of the plot necessarily (though there are plenty of triggers in here, especially as it relates to sex and violence, that may be uncomfortable for some readers, so definitely keep that in mind) -- but rather, the memories that the familiarity of the characters’ experiences drew up for me.  Understanding that this is the author Susie Yang’s debut novel, I have no idea how much of the story’s background is related to her own or whether she is writing from a place of familiarity like I experienced.  But one thing I do know is that I am definitely interested in what Yang decides to write next – regardless of genre, I know for sure it will be a book that I’ll want to read!

Received ARC  from Simon & Schuster via NetGalley.

Review: The Library Book (by Susan Orlean)

My Rating: 4.5 stars

Have you ever come across a book that felt like it was meant for you to read and then afterwards occupies a permanent place in your heart due to the special connection you feel with it?  Well, for me, Susan Orlean's The Library Book was definitely THAT book (the reasons why will become more clear later on in this review).   

I've had my nose in a book ever since I learned how to read at 5 or 6 years old (though my mom likes to tell people that I might have well been born with a book in my hands, since I was always attracted to books even as an infant – my mom said whenever I cried, she would simply put a baby book in my crib and instantly I would stop crying, lol).  One of the fondest memories of my childhood was the bi-weekly trip to the local library that my mom would take me on, where I would always check out a huge stack of books (I remember I would always exceed the limit of books that I was allowed to check out on my card so my mom would end up checking out a few of my books on her card), take them home and read them all in less than a week, then beg my mom to take me back to the library again before our regular "library day" so I could return that stack of books and check out new ones.  My thirst for books and reading were insatiable back in those days and so of course, the library became my "candy shop" growing up – it was my "most favorite place on earth," a place where I could literally spend the entire day browsing through endless shelves of books, looking at covers, reading summaries on the back and pretty much just delight in being surrounded by books at every turn.  As I'm sure was the case with many people, when I reached my teenage years and later, adulthood, and started getting caught up in the never ending "busyness" of school and work, my relationship with the library changed.  I still loved books of course (I don't think it was a coincidence that I took practically every literature class that my schools had to offer and veered toward a liberal arts degree with a literature emphasis in college) – but I no longer had the time to go to the library and spend hours on end just "hanging out" there.  Instead of being the place of wonder and excitement that it was in my childhood, the library became "the place I went for research" or, when I was in college, the place where I would go to work on a paper or a project if I happened to have some free time between classes.  Over the years, as "time" became more and more of a scarcity for me (I'm constantly complaining that 24 hours in a day is not enough for me to finish everything I need/want to get done), the local bookstore(s) eventually replaced the library as my "go-to" source for books because with the limitations on my time, it was much easier for me to buy a book I needed for my classes way in advance and then just pick it up and start reading at the designated time without having to worry about a due date to return the book or even worse, the book not being available when I needed it.  It wasn't until the last 5 years or so that I got "reacquainted" with the library again through my nephew (whom I am proud to say inherited my love for books!) and realized how much I had missed over the years.  In the first few chapters of the book, hearing the author recount her relationship with the library – the trips to the library with her mother as a child, growing apart from the library as an adult, getting reacquainted with the library after going there with her child, etc. --  it reminded me of my own journey, of the up-and-down relationship I've also had with libraries over the years.

The other reason this book resonated with me so much is because I've lived in Los Angeles practically my entire life and so basically "grew up" in the Los Angeles Public Library system – though ironically, despite the close proximity, I've actually never been to the Central Library in downtown LA (which is where most of the events in the book take place).  Regardless though, it was fascinating to learn about the history of the LA library and how the entire system evolved into what it is today.  Like the author, I too had no clue about the fire at Central Library back in 1986 (my love for reading obviously didn't extend to newspapers back then, lol), but even so, I would've been too young anyway to understand exactly what was going on.  As a history buff, I also enjoyed the historical background about the city of LA and California as a whole that the author incorporated into her narrative.  I actually get really excited when I hear things (whether names or places) that I'm familiar with get mentioned in books, as it makes the reading experience that much more personal for me – in the case of this book, there were actually a few places mentioned where I have friends (or relatives) who live there currently, so it was fun to be able to talk them afterwards about the historical aspects of where they live.

In recounting the story of the Central Library fire, Orlean also gives us the story of Harry Peak – the man largely viewed as responsible for starting the fire but never charged due to lack of evidence.  The "true crime" aspect of the story -- including the analysis of the various records as well as all the insights into investigation of past arson cases – was particularly well-done, with the evidence and facts presented in a way that made this as engrossing as reading a good suspense novel.   With that said though, this book was so much more than just a chronicle of the Central Library fire or a history of the library's evolution over the years – in many respects, this was also an ode to libraries and librarians everywhere as well as a testament to the critical role that libraries play in our society – not just locally or in our country, but all around the world. 

My one small complaint was that the narrative jumped around a bit too much between the investigation, the historical timeline, and Orlean's personal interactions with various "characters" she encounters, whether it was people involved with the original investigation or the librarians she talked with in the course of putting together the research for this book.  There were a few times, for example, where the chapter that just finished was about a current interaction at the library but the next chapter was back to the investigation, which was last touched upon several chapters ago, so I had to go back and re-read those sections to refresh my memory on where it had left off.  Overall though, this is a minor structural issue in the grand scheme of things of course. 

Engaging, insightful, and well-written, this book is a wonderful tribute to not just libraries but also books and book lovers from all walks of life.  Highly recommended and a must-read for bibliophiles everywhere!

Received ARC from Simon & Schuster via NetGalley