Review: The Leftover Woman (by Jean Kwok)

My Rating:  3.5 stars

Now that I have a little bit of a break from the demands of work and school, I am hoping to get caught back up on the new releases and book club reads that I had been neglecting over the past month.  One of those new releases is Jean Kwok's latest novel The Leftover Woman, which came out earlier in the month.  I had read Kwok's previous novel Searching for Sylvie Lee several years back and had really enjoyed it, so of course this book, her newest work, was highly anticipated. In the end, Kwok definitely didn't disappoint, as she delivered a solid, compelling story that proved to be both culturally resonant as well as thought-provoking -  though not without a few flaws.

At the center of the story are two women from completely opposite worlds.  Jasmine Yang is a young Chinese woman from a poor rural village who enters into an arranged marriage at 14 to a man years older than her. After suffering several miscarriages, Jasmine finally gives birth to a daughter, but not too long afterwards, is told that the baby died.  Jasmine is devastated — until she finds out that her husband lied to her and actually gave the baby up for adoption so that they could try for a son under China's strict One Child Policy. Determined to find her daughter, Jasmine plans an escape from her abusive marriage and eventually lands in New York through the help of "snakeheads" whom she has to figure out a way to pay back.  Meanwhile, in New York, Rebecca Whitney is an editor at a glamorous publishing house who is living the dream life — she has a prestigious family name and the accompanying wealth and privilege that comes with it, and she lives in a beautiful house with a handsome, talented husband aa well as an adopted daughter whom she adores.  But balancing a high profile career with the demands of marriage and motherhood is not easy and when a work-related scandal breaks out, Rebecca finds her perfect life slowly starting to unravel.  The story is told alternately from the perspectives of these two very different women whose lives end up colliding in unexpected ways.

I really appreciated the premise of this story, especially Jasmine's storyline about her struggles fleeing an archaic, patriarchal system and the choices she had to make once she was in America trying to find her daughter. Not that I didn't like Rebecca's storyline, but I just felt that it was less necessary — I would've liked to see Jasmine's story explored more, as there were opportunities there that were only touched upon.  I will be honest in saying that I preferred Jasmine's story arc and the direction that Kwok went with it (though there was potential for more as I mentioned earlier), whereas Rebecca's story arc felt typical of other stories that we've read before.

Plot-wise, I felt that the first half of the story dragged a bit and the buildup was slow — I definitely preferred the second half better, though the ending also felt too rushed (and there were some plot holes that weren't too believable). Despite the pacing issues though, I enjoyed this one overall — the cultural aspects were done well and the "twist" did take me by surprise (though it didn't blow me away to the point that I keep thinking about it like I've done with other twists).  

I don't want to say too much, since this IS a mystery / thriller after all, so it's best to go in knowing as little as possible (though I have to say that the story was more character-driven than plot-driven, so from that aspect, the thriller element was less prominent).  I definitely recommend picking this one up, especially if you're looking for a story that has mystery / thriller elements, but also emotional depth and poignancy.  I can't wait to see what Kwok comes out with next!

Received ARC from William Morrow via NetGalley.

Review: The Joy Luck Club (by Amy Tan)

My Rating:  5 stars

Catch up review #3

I read The Joy Luck Club for the first time many many years ago, when I was a teenager in high school.  At the time, despite my shared background with the characters in the interconnected stories (the "Americanized" daughter of Chinese immigrant parents), I was too young to fully understand the significance of the book from a cultural perspective.  Re-reading this book now, as an adult, is a completely different experience for me, in large part due to the insights that I've gained from the 4 decades I've spent (and continue to spend) navigating my cultural identity. 

Consisting of 16 interconnected stories narrated alternately by 4 pairs of Chinese mothers and their Chinese-American daughters, Amy Tan's debut novel is a powerful exploration of the struggle between the mothers and daughters to relate to and understand each other amongst the cultural and generational disparities that define their relationships.  As I mentioned earlier, reading The Joy Luck Club this time around felt very different from when I did so in my youth — in addition to picking up on nuances with language that I didn't notice previously, most significant was the resonance I felt in the experiences of the various characters. Not only did I recognize aspects of myself in each of the daughters, I also recognized the struggles  in each of their relationships with their mothers — relationships fraught with misunderstandings, communication issues, unspoken hurt and pain, defiant silences, etc., yet ultimately rooted in love and the unbreakable bonds of family.  Each story had a familiar experience or feeling that I recognized and related to.  In the story "Without Wood," for example, I understood exactly where Rose was coming from when she kept hesitating time and time again to tell her mother An-Mei about her impending divorce because she was trying to avoid the criticism, judgment, and unwanted advice that was sure to follow her revelation (avoiding criticism from our mothers is pretty much a way of life for many Chinese daughters). The story "Two Kinds" brought tears to my eyes because I understood acutely the sense of failure that comes with not living up to my mother's hope and expectations (not to mention the argument about obedience and the expectations of a Chinese daughter that Jing-Mei has with her mother Suyuan echoes ones I've had in the past with my mom).  In the story "Rules of the Game," I commiserated with Waverly when her attempt to rebuke and defy her mother leads to her getting the silent treatment (which is something I've experienced countless times growing up). These were just a few examples among many.

But it wasn't just the daughters' experiences that I related to — the stories told from the mothers' perspectives were also profound in the way they provided clarity to some of the cultural circumstances that informed the mothers' lives, which in turn, affected their behaviors toward their daughters.  In these stories, I was able to recognize some of my own mother's experiences as well as things she's told me in the past that, at the time, I may not have understood the significance — these stories then, had the effect of helping me reflect and make better sense of things. 

Aside from being able to resonate with the characters' experiences and feelings on a personal level, I also appreciated coming across so many cultural references in the book that I grew up hearing about — a few examples: the Moon Lady story, the tale of Old Mr. Chou (I was also told the tale when I was a kid), the superstition about rice husbands (this was a huge one in my family), the historical details about China from some of the mothers' stories, etc.

With all that said though, the biggest thing that sets this book apart from so many others about the Chinese-American experience is the writing.  Tan writes in a way that, on the surface, appears simple and straightforward, but when you look deeper, there is a masterful complexity to it that, quite frankly, blows my mind.  In my previous review of Tan's novel The Kitchen God's Wife, I touched on how brilliantly she uses the mechanics of language to create nuance and meaning — this is certainly the case here as well.  At the same time, Tan's writing is also thoughtful, meticulous, and sincere — all qualities that, to me, are absolutely necessary when it comes to books (and stories) about cultural experiences.

I'm usually not a huge re-reader, especially nowadays when I have so many books I haven't yet read that I actually want to read.  But some books are worth taking the time to re-read —The Joy Luck Club is definitely one of them.  

Review: The Kitchen God’s Wife (by Amy Tan)

My Rating:  4.5 stars

As I mentioned in a previous review — I've read quite a few books over the past few weeks, but did not get around to writing reviews on any of them.  I have a little more time now so I'm trying to "catch up" on those reviews.  This, then, is catch up review #2.

One of the books I read during this time period is Amy Tan's The Kitchen God's Wife —originally published in 1991, this is Tan's second novel after The Joy Luck Club (which I also read and will review at a later date). As most readers familiar with Tan probably know, many of her works contain autobiographical elements (to an extent) either from her own life or from her family's background. In this case, the story is based on her mother Daisy's history and while many of the details were changed, the essence of her mother's backstory remained — specifically the depictions of how women were treated in China during that time period (1920s to late 1940s) as well as some of the things she had to endure and survive.  At its heart though, this is also a historical novel that chronicles the changes in China from the 1920s (when the vestiges of its feudal past were especially apparent) leading up to WWII and its aftermath (one of the things I appreciate most is that Tan tells this history from the Chinese perspective, rather than from the Western perspective).  

Interestingly enough, the story actually starts in the 1980s, in San Francisco, and the first few chapters do feel a little like The Joy Luck Club with its exploration of mother/daughter relationships and the generational as well as cultural gap that causes seemingly insurmountable tensions between them.  The mother is Winnie Louie, who is forced to tell her daughter Pearl about her past when her sister-in-law Helen (who believes herself to be dying) wants to "come clean" and confess all the secrets they've been hiding for decades. Winnie tells her story starting in chapter 5 through to the end (with the exception of the very last chapter, which brings everything full circle back to 1980s San Francisco).

To me, this book was more grim and harder to get through than Tan's other works — which, in a way, isn't too surprising given its subject matter.  Though there are certainly light-hearted moments (especially in the "modern-day" sections of the story) and the fact that the story starts with Winnie telling her own story 40 years later (so we already know she survives all the hardship from her past) lightens things a little with the message of hope and resilience, but the events that happen in the past leave such an impression that I couldn't help feeling like a dark shadow had been cast and couldn't be lifted.  The character of Wen Fu (Winnie's husband in China) was so deplorable and despicable that after some point, I honestly didn't want to read about this god-awful person anymore (though of course I finished all the way through to the end).

Overall, I did like this one and would definitely recommend it (though trigger warnings abound), as Tan's writing is, as usual, wonderful. I've always admired Tan's style of writing — how she is able to synthesize everything she and/or her family experienced and combine it with the skills she learned (she majored in English and Linguistics in school) to manipulate language in a way that conveys cultural nuance and meaning. To this point, The Kitchen God's Wife is especially significant in that, not only does she pull out her entire literary toolkit (I actually did a deep dive analysis of Tan's writing but I won't get into that here), but she also employs meticulous research to weave lesser known historical elements into a story inspired by her mother's background — all of this combined has the effect of paying tribute to her mother and her own culture and background, while at the same time, educating readers on aspects of China's history.  Trigger warnings aside, this one is definitely well worth a read. 

Review: Sense and Sensibility (by Jane Austen)

My Rating:  5 stars

I know it's been awhile since I've posted a review.  This is mostly due to being busy with work and school, resulting in me falling behind on stuff.  I've definitely been continuing to read (quite a lot actually), but haven't been able to find the time to write reviews on everything I've read the past couple weeks. I'm aiming to catch up though, and hopefully I can get back to my previous consistency in terms of writing and posting about the books I've read (that's the goal at least).

So with that said, here's my first "catch-up" review.  I had mentioned a little while back ago that I'm currently taking a course on Jane Austen, which I'm elated about, as it has given me the excuse I needed to read/re-read all her works.  I finished Sense and Sensibility a few weeks ago and while this was technically a re-read for me, it was so long ago since I first read it that I honestly couldn't remember much from it.  Fortunately, as I started re-reading, things started coming back to me about the plot and the characters.  Of course, with this being Jane Austen, there's no doubt that I enjoyed reading this one — the writing was flawless as expected and the trademark wit and irony were there as well. But compared to my two all-time favorite Austen novels (Persuasion and Pride and Prejudice), one of the things that always bothered me about S&S was the dearth of likable characters (aka characters I felt like I could root for). 

While I didn't dislike Elinor and Marianne (the main heroines) per se, I also didn't really feel anything for them either.  Elinor came across as way too uptight for most of the story, plus I thought the way she was always so insistently devoted to Edward Ferrars (a man who didn't really have anything to recommend him, in my opinion) was bizarre (and frustrating). Marianne I felt was a bit too over-the-top at times with her behavior (which I know was part of the point of the story but still…) and we don't really get to see her true character come out, which I thought was a shame.  Edward was a nice guy, but as I mentioned earlier, he was kind of useless for most of the story. Colonel Brandon was probably the only one out of the main characters that I liked well enough to want to root for.  Outside of these 4 (and the villain character Willoughby), most of the other side characters were either mean, vain, selfish, arrogant, self-serving, crude, silly, stupid, or a combination thereof (Fanny Dashwood was the worst in my opinion: I'm still fuming about that conversation she has with her husband at the beginning of the novel…).

My annoyances with the characters aside, S&S is still a brilliantly written, complex novel with so many endlessly debatable topics (i.e.: the idea of each sister embodying sense versus sensibility or both attributes at once is something we could probably debate forever) — the complexity of the writing alone is well worth 5 stars.  Reading the novel in a group setting and getting the chance to analyze as well as discuss it has been wonderful, so I highly recommend that if possible. 

Review: The Phoenix Crown (by Kate Quinn and Janie Chang)

My Rating:  4 stars

As a result of busy season at work and school starting for me, finding time for leisure reading has been quite difficult the past few weeks. Even so, I was able to squeeze in several ARCs that I had lined up to read in September, which, given the timing, I'm glad I was able to finish.

One of those ARCs is The Phoenix Crown, a new collaborative novel by two popular authors known for writing brilliant historical fiction: Kate Quinn and Janie Chang. I've been excited to read this book since I first heard about it earlier in the year, not only because of the interesting premise, but also because both authors have separately written works that I've loved, so of course, I went into this one with high hopes.  And in the end, it definitely did not disappoint.

Despite what the book summary might allude to, the narrative here isn't actually a dual timeline, as majority of the story takes place in 1906 — it is only in the last quarter of the book or so that the story fast forwards 6 years to 1912.  While the plot was not as riveting as I expected (a few scenes did feel a tad bit contrived), the historical details were superbly done — of course not a surprise given that both Quinn and Chang are established historical fiction authors.  One of the things I enjoyed most though was following the character arcs of the four women at the center of the story, all of whom had distinct personalities as well as fascinating backstories — though the character I would've been most interested in reading more about was Feng Suling, the skilled embroideress who hailed from San Francisco's Chinatown in the aftermath of the Chinese Exclusion Act.  The Author's Note at the end of the book is definitely a must-read, as both Quinn and Chang provide quite a bit of historical context for both the characters (several of whom were real people or based on real people) and the various events covered in the story.  It was also in the Author's Note that I learned about a reference in the story to Chang's previous novel The Porcelain Moon, which I had read earlier this year and really enjoyed (for me, its always fun to discover throwbacks and references to authors' prior works).

I don't want to say too much, as I don't want to give anything away, so I will just put my name in the hat to recommend reading this (and hope for another future collaboration between these two fantastic authors).  One thing to note is that the publication date on this book seems to have changed, as I originally had this as coming out this month (September 2023), but I recently noticed that there is now a finalized publication date in February 2024 (I mention this in case it matters for those interested in reading this one).  While waiting for another collaboration, I'm glad that both authors have plenty of works in their own respective oeuvres that I can continue to explore!

Received ARC from William Morrow via NetGalley.

Review: The Golden Gate (by Amy Chua)

My Rating:  3.5 stars

Amy Chua's debut novel The Golden Gate is an ambitious work of historical fiction that weaves together many threads spun around the murder of a politician named Walter Wilkinson at the Claremont Hotel in Berkeley, California in 1944.  Al Sullivan is the police detective on the case and he gets to work quickly, following one clue after another that mysteriously keeps leading him to the Bainbridge family (one of the wealthiest families in San Francisco) as well as another death that occurred at the same hotel 14 years ago.  As the investigation unfolds, several other possible "angles" emerge that attempt to throw Sullivan (and us as readers) off track, but of course, the truth prevails in the end.

This historical mystery was an enjoyable read overall, but due to the broad scope of issues (social, political, and everything else in between) that Chua tries to cover here, it felt like the story was all over the place at times. Chua also incorporated a lot of historical facts throughout the story, many of which were fascinating (especially to a history buff like me), but didn't seem to have much relevance to the plot.  In fact, there were moments where I felt like I was reading a history textbook rather than mystery novel (which felt even more awkward considering the sections with the most historical facts were largely narrated from Sullivan's first person perspective).  There were also large segments where Sullivan would go into spiels relating to his background — again, interesting, but felt kind of off-topic since much of it didn't seem to have anything to do with the case he was investigating.

The part of the story's structure that I thought worked really well was the deposition from the Bainbridge family's matriarch Genevieve, which was interspersed throughout the narrative. The way that these sections were written — with just enough information yet not revealing too much — combined with the other clues from the investigation, had me wondering and second- guessing certain things (as a mystery novel should).

Overall, this one was definitely entertaining, but I think it would've been more effective if the irrelevant historical facts were left out, as this distracted from the story at times.  With mysteries / thrillers, I prefer for them to be more tightly-plotted — this one went off on too many tangents, which made the plot harder to follow.  This was a good first effort though and I appreciate all the research that Chua put into this one.  I actually didn't realize until I read up on the author afterwards that Chua also wrote the nonfiction book Battle Hymn of the Tiger Mother — her 2011 memoir that I've had on my TBR for ages but still have not yet read.  I guess this is as good a reminder as any to find time to get to that one at some point.

Received ARC from Minotaur Books via NetGalley.

Review: The River We Remember (by William Kent Krueger)

My Rating:  4.5 stars

I loved William Kent Krueger's previous stand- alone novel This Tender Land and since finishing that book, I've been highly anticipating his next one for some time. Though he did release 2 Cork O'Connor novels in between, I hadn't started reading that series yet, so I didn't read those 2 when they came out (I'm very particular when it comes to book series and prefer to start from the first book as much as possible).  Of course, it should come as no surprise then, that when I heard his newest novel, The River We Remember, would be another standalone, I knew I had to read it as soon as possible.  I'm happy to say that the wait was well worth it, as Krueger gives us another poignant, atmospheric, multi-layered story with complex, nuanced characters.  In the Editor's Letter at the beginning of the novel, Krueger's editor Peter Borland introduces the book this way:  "This is a spellbinding novel that asks big questions about justice, redemption, and the fragile ties that bind a community together. In this book more than any of his others, Kent shows us that heroes have flaws, villains have virtues, and our lives are made better when we can feel compassion instead of hatred for our enemies."  Such a fitting description that perfectly encapsulates this brilliantly-written story!

The story starts on Memorial Day 1958, in a small town called Jewel, located in Black Earth County, Minnesota, where the Alabaster River "runs seventy miles before crossing the border into Iowa."   When the body of Jimmy Quinn, the richest man in the county who also owns most of the land in the area, is found in said river, it sets off a series of events that profoundly changes this small rural community. The gruesome death triggers an investigation by the town's local sheriff Brody Dern (who is also the story's main protagonist).  As we follow the investigation that forms the "mystery" at the heart of the story, we soon come to understand that the narrative is actually much more complicated than what we initially thought.  In essence, this story is an exploration of life in a small, tight-knit community where things are never as simple as they seem and one event can cause underlying tensions to rise to the surface. Krueger covers a lot of ground here in terms of bringing to light many of the issues in society — such as the deep-seated prejudices resulting from the lingering effects of war, the country's history of mistreatment toward Native Americans and indigenous population, the divide between rich and poor, family conflict and dysfunction, abuse and trauma and grief, etc.  

There is a large cast of characters, all of whom are realistically portrayed in that they are flawed and morally ambiguous, with things in their pasts that they have to constantly contend with while dealing with present struggles that they try to overcome.  Also, as with most of Krueger's stories, the setting here — in the form of both time and place — plays a hugely important role in the narrative arc.  Even though it has been over a decade since the end of WWII, the wounds from the war still run deep in Black Earth County, which has the effect of shaping the attitudes and behaviors of its residents.  I mentioned the Alabaster River earlier, which has such an outsized role in the story that it can essentially be considered a character itself.  One of the things that always stands out to me in Krueger's works is his ability to incorporate the local landscape to great effect and also write about it in a way that makes us (the readers) care about it as much as the characters do.  I'm not much of a "nature" reader in the sense that I typically get bored with too much description of physical settings (i.e.: natural habitats and surrounding areas), but the way Krueger does it, I always find myself being drawn in — no doubt this is a testament to Krueger's powerful writing and storytelling.

Needless to say, I recommend picking this one up, though be forewarned that the book deals with some difficult topics, so trigger warnings abound.  Krueger fans definitely won't be disappointed with the masterful storytelling and the unforgettable characters presented here.

Received ARC from Atria Books via NetGalley.

Review: The Invisible Hour (by Alice Hoffman)

My Rating:  4 stars

I had heard so many great things about Alice Hoffman's works, but didn't get the chance to read anything by her until now.  Hoffman's newest book, The Invisible Hour, is a beautifully written story that covers so much ground theme-wise.  It is about a mother's undying love for her daughter, about the freedom of choice and defying the restrictions that society places on women, about love, heartbreak, self-discovery, found families, and what I loved most of all:  the enduring power of books and the myriad ways they can affect those who read them.  I'm sure many an avid reader will be able to recall an example of when the right book came into their lives at exactly the right time that resulted in a profound change or impact in some way.  In the case of the main protagonist in this story, Mia Jacob, the book is The Scarlet Letter by Nathaniel Hawthorne — a book that not only (literally) saves her life, but also goes beyond that in its ability to provide profound clarity and meaning as the book accompanies her through her journey of self-discovery.

Hoffman weaves in time travel and magical realism to great effect here.  The first part of the story is set in an undefined "here and now" in Boston, Massachusetts, where Ivy Jacob, a young girl from a wealthy family, finds herself pregnant and alone after her boyfriend abandons her and her parents threaten to send her away as well as put the baby up for adoption.  Ivy runs away and ends up on a farm in rural Massachusetts, which turns out to be an oppressive cult called the Community, run by a charismatic but dangerous man named Joel Davis.  Ivy marries Joel and gives birth to her daughter, Mia.  The Community has strict rules and people who reside there are often subject to harsh punishments for the slightest infraction — punishments that usually involve public humiliation of some sort, such as having their hair forcefully cut or having a letter branded on their bodies.  When Mia commits the cardinal sin of reading books in secret (books are considered evil and are banned in the Community), she finds herself in an untenable situation where she must take matters into her own hands.  The second part of the story is set in 1837, in Salem, Massachusetts, and focuses on Nathaniel Hawthorne's life in the years prior to him writing the novel that would make home famous.  In part three of the story is where both worlds collide in ways that are interesting and unexpected, yet follow a trajectory that is careful about not altering history.

This was a book that I couldn't help being immersed in the entire time I was reading it, even though stories with time travel and magical realism aren't usually my jam.  I think much of this had to do with Hoffman's exquisite writing and brilliant storytelling, which wove the historical and fantastical elements together in a compelling fashion (though I have to say that I was a bit ambivalent about the ending).  When I finished the book, my first thought was to marvel at how Hoffman pulled this story off in a way that felt both magical and historically believable, while also incorporating timely commentary on societal issues.  Of course, this was also a wonderful tribute to books and reading. 

What a great first experience with Hoffman's works!  This definitely got me interested in reading her other books at some point.

Oh, also, for those who decide to pick this one up, there's a moving, gorgeously written Author's Letter at the beginning of the book that is absolutely not to be missed.  

Received ARC from Atria Books via Edelweiss

Review: Happiness Falls (by Angie Kim)

My Rating:  3 stars

I have such mixed feelings about this book.  On the one hand, I really liked the story and absolutely appreciated the way Angie Kim brought much-needed insight to a condition that's so misunderstood.  Not only did I learn a lot from the story, it also made me deeply reflect on my own preconceptions and biases and most importantly, it changed my perception on how I approach things that I may not understand.  On the other hand, I really really really did NOT like the way the entire story was executed. 

The story actually starts off fine — the first couple pages, the first chapter even, drew me in and I was invested.  I had read Angie Kim's debut Miracle Creek (which I loved), so I anticipated there would be some "science-y" stuff in this book as well (which I'm usually not keen on, but if the science stuff is incorporated well and it doesn't feel overwhelming, I'm fine with it) — seeing how perfectly Kim had integrated science into that book, I was expecting the same here as well. Unfortunately, this would not be the case, as it turns out this book was written very very differently from her previous one.  The science stuff in here wasn't just overwhelming, it was way over the top in my opinion, to the point that it bogged the story down. But that was a minor problem overall — the biggest problem I actually  had with this book was the narrative voice.  

The entire story is narrated from the first person (sometimes switching to second person) point of view of twenty-year-old Mia Parkson, who is mixed race (half Korean, half white), but she looks more Asian than her fraternal twin John Parkson, whom most people mistake for a white person (I say this because race does play a role in the story). They have a younger brother, Eugene, who has both autism and the genetic condition Angelman syndrome, so he is not able to speak.  Their mother Hannah is a linguistics professor and their father Adam is a stay-at-home dad who takes care of the household. The incident that sets the story in motion occurs pretty early on, when Eugene returns home by himself, bloody and disheveled, while his dad Adam, who had taken him for their usual morning walk to the park, didn't accompany him back.  Soon, the police are involved and an investigation is launched to figure out what happened to Adam. 

Mia narrates the story and pretty much gives us (the readers) a "play-by-play" of everything that happens, from the moment Eugene returns home and throughout the entire investigation. This normally wouldn't be a problem — except that, in this case, Mia is an INCREDIBLY annoying character.  The book's summary refers to Mia as "irreverent" and "over analytical" which are both true, but the problem I had is that Mia goes beyond that — she is also cynical, arrogant, self-absorbed, a bit narcissistic, and, like her father notes at one point, has a "sarcastic attitude and general disregard for others' feelings" (which Mia agrees is a perfect assessment of her but still can't help hating everyone who describes her as such).  For me, the most annoying part about having Mia narrate the story is that she kept "getting in the way" — in addition to repeatedly jumping to conclusions and making assumptions about EVERY SINGLE THING (even though she keeps telling herself that she's "learned her lesson" and won't do it again), much of the story consisted of Mia constantly justifying and re-justifying her behavior / thoughts / actions. Whenever anyone would say anything or anything would happen, it would be quickly followed by at least a paragraph (sometimes multiple paragraphs) of Mia's analyses and assumptions — to the point where it felt like the story would veer off into "Mia's justification tangents" every other page.  For me, this was not just annoying, but also extremely frustrating — after awhile, I actually found myself yelling at Mia to just shut the hell up and stop interrupting the story every 5 seconds to talk about herself.

I honestly wish this story had been told in third person rather than first person, as I felt it would've been much more impactful and powerful.  From reading the Author's Note, it sounded like one of the purposes for Kim writing this story in the first place was to call attention to our assumptions and biases as a society, especially toward people with special needs — while some of that did come through in the story (case in point: Eugene's struggles with communicating led me to read up on Angelman syndrome and the teaching methods described in the book), unfortunately, for me at least, the frustration with Mia's narration overshadowed majority of the story and made it hard for me to focus much on anything else.

Like I said earlier, I loved Miracle Creek, so I was really looking forward to reading this one (which makes me a little sad that this book didn't quite work out for me).  One thing I've figured out about my reading habits lately (this year especially) is that I'm very much a "character-driven" reader — meaning that the voice in which a story is told is more important to me than I realize and can have a huge impact on my reading experience.  I say this because I've read quite a few books this past year where the story was told from the first person perspective of an "unlikable to the point of annoying" character and each time, I ended up getting so frustrated with the character that it essentially turned me off to the rest of the story (even in the cases where the writing was brilliant and everything else about the story was awesome).  It makes me realize that, for me as a reader, these types of annoying characters are only tolerable if I'm able to read about them with a layer of remove — when I'm forced to listen to them go on and on (and on and on and on) about their own flaws (especially when the character is unapologetic about those flaws and there are little to no redeeming qualities), it negatively impacts my reading experience.  

With all that said, if I were to look past the narration issues, there was actually a lot to like about the story (which is one reason why I struggled so much with rating this).  I loved the character of Eugene and felt the mystery aspect was well done…also, there were some really important societal issues that were explored in here that were thought-provoking and necessary — I'm pretty sure if this had been told in a different narrative voice, I would've really taken to the story overall, as it's the type of story that's usually right up my alley.  Of course, this is just me — there are a lot of readers who loved this one, so it's probably best to check out those reviews as well before deciding whether to pick this one up.  

Received ARC from Hogarth via NetGalley.

Review: Tomb Sweeping (by Alexandra Chang)

My Rating:  3.5 stars

This was an interesting collection of 15 short stories by Alexandra Chang, whose previous novel Days of Distraction I had read several years back and really enjoyed.  With this particular collection, I was drawn to certain stories more than others, which isn't surprising, as that's my usual reaction to short story collections that aren't linked somehow. While I would say that I did enjoy this collection overall in terms of content and writing, I didn't like that all the stories felt incomplete in some way — in some cases, I felt like I was being dropped in the middle of a scene that had already been happening, while in other cases, the ending felt so abrupt that I couldn't helping thinking I was missing some pages perhaps. That feeling of "incompleteness" is one of the things that makes short story collections a hit or miss for me (though at the same time, it's hard for me to not read them if I come across a collection that seems like it would suit my tastes).

For me, one of the things that stood out the most with this collection was the way Chang plays around with form in some of the stories. 

The first story that started off the collection, entitled "Unknown by Unknown"definitely captured my attention with its tense buildup, but then it veered a little bit into the abstract and in the end, I didn't really understand where it was going (though maybe that was just me).  The second story, "Li Fan" was the most interesting as well as the most obviously experimental one — the entire story was told backwards (which I actually didn't realize until I was about a quarter of the way through the story and was wondering why it read so oddly), with the last sentence first and the first sentence last.  This was definitely a unique structure, one that I'd never seen employed before, though to be honest, it didn't quite work for me, since I prefer stories in a more straightforward format (I get too distracted otherwise).  I actually had to go back and re-read this story the "right" way (starting at the end back to the beginning, which did irk me a little).  The story "Me and My Algo" features an algorithm as a main character (that is essentially in conversation with the unnamed first person narrator), while the story "Cat Personalities" consists of two characters talking about each other (and a friend) in relation to each of their cat's personality traits.

Even though I didn't necessarily resonate with some of the stories, I did appreciate overall the familiarity of the themes that we as Asian Americans and immigrants often struggle with — themes such as identity and our relationship with society, generational disparity and differences, reconciling past with present, the role of family and the way the dynamics evolve in an immigrant household, etc.   There also seemed to be quite a few stories relating to technology, which was interesting considering this was a central theme in Chang's previous work as well.

Overall, this was a pretty decent collection and I'm glad I read it, despite not necessarily understanding the message behind each story. I'm interested in seeing what Chang will write next, though I'm definitely hoping that it will be a novel rather than short stories.

Received ARC from Ecco Press via NetGalley.