Review: The Devoted (by Catherine Cho)

My Rating: 4 stars

As those who follow my reviews probably know by now, I can be somewhat of a fanatic when it comes to the depiction of Hong Kong (both the city and its culture) in certain mediums of entertainment (such as movies and TV shows, for instance), but especially in books.  Given Hong Kong’s literary bona fides as the former home base for some of the greatest authors in the Chinese-speaking world (Jin Yong, Ni Kuang, and Eileen Chang immediately come to mind), it has always saddened me to see the dearth of books set in or about HK that actually appear in the mainstream literary market (I’m referring mostly to fictional works here).  The books that do make it are usually written from an expat perspective (which of course makes sense given the city’s colonial roots) and oftentimes, I feel, lean too heavily into depicting the glamorous, fast-paced “cosmopolitan international city” side of HK rather than the ordinary, somewhat gritty and definitely less glamorous side that I’m more familiar with.  Though perhaps, with Hong Kong’s unique position as a city perpetually undergoing an identity crisis, I probably should not be so surprised by the disparate depictions that can vary widely based on one’s perspective.

Within this context, I found Catherine Cho’s novel The Devoted quite refreshing in that it is told from an expat perspective (the experience of a Korean family in Hong Kong), yet it also leans heavily into the side of Hong Kong that most mainstream audiences in the English-speaking world probably would not be familiar with: the dark, gritty world of HK’s infamous triad societies. Granted, we ordinary folks likely wouldn’t be familiar with the inner workings of these triad societies either, but for those of us who grew up on a steady diet of HK movies and TV series (especially in the decades when the triads were actively involved in the HK film industry), the triad society concept definitely wouldn’t be a foreign one.  Indeed, as I was reading Cho’s novel, I could picture the world she was writing about quite vividly: scenes from all those famous triad movies I grew up watching -- A Better Tomorrow, Election, Infernal Affairs, the Young and Dangerous franchise, to name few -- would come flooding back into my mind, but at the same time, it also made me curious to see what Cho’s version of the triad society would look like.  I say this because majority of the time, stories about the triads (whether movies, TV shows, or books) center on the male members of these organized crime groups – women were usually periphery characters who were either victims of the triads’ activities or passive partners expected to stand by their men no matter the cost. Cho’s story, however, goes in a slightly different direction in that she centers the narrative around a young Korean woman, Eunha, whose father and brother are both Dragon Heads (triad society leaders).  Despite attempts to shield Eunha from this criminal underworld, including having her marry into a respectable family, it’s impossible for her not to be impacted in some way due to her family’s infamous connections.  Caught between two very different worlds, Eunha struggles to reconcile the various roles she is meant to play -- daughter, sister, wife, mother -- while trying to navigate the complexities of a past that is inextricably tangled with her future.  I appreciate how Cho decided to center Eunha’s struggle as the driving force for the main tension in the story (as opposed to the experiences of the men whom the triad societies usually revolve around), yet at the same time, she does not skimp on the details about the triad lifestyle and activities.  This made for both a unique and atmospheric read.

As mentioned earlier, I had initially picked this one up purely for the Hong Kong setting, but in all honesty, knowing that the story would be told from the expat perspective gave me pause in that I thought this would go the way that most expat narratives usually do: a glamorized version that doesn’t reveal much of the “real” Hong Kong.  But to my pleasant surprise and delight, that definitely wasn’t the case here, as Cho actually gives us plenty of glimpses into the “old” Hong Kong that I know and love.  Some of the nostalgia-inducing details that I noticed in the story (in no particular order): the New Territories, fishing villages, horse races at Happy Valley, the ferry, Victoria harbor, neon signs, Mongkok, Tsim Sha Tsui, Stanley, street hawkers and food stalls, cha chaan tengs, the “other” family on the mainland, KTV, 5-10-15 drinking game, Lan Kwai Fong night life, dark alleyways, the Peninsula hotel, Lane Crawford, tai tais, night markets, Sandy Lam, the monsoon weather, typhoon season, dim sum restaurants, tiny apartments in buildings with doormen, jade medallions, the Peak, Kowloon, fortune tellers and soothsayers, trams and buses, egg tarts and milk tea (I could go on but I will stop here, as this list is already way too long).

For me, this was a nostalgic read that I ended up enjoying due to my familiarity with the setting, but I understand this may not necessarily be the case for others, so I would suggest doing your research before deciding whether to pick this one up.  One thing I will say is that for a story about triads, this is actually pretty tame, especially when compared to the HK triad-themed movies of the old days.  Most of the violence (which there isn’t much of in the first place) happens off the page so those who are concerned with reading about gory scenes don’t have to worry.  If anything, read this one for the historical and cultural aspects, which were particularly well done in my opinion.

Received ARC from Washington Square Press via NetGalley.

Review: Grown Women (by Sarai Johnson)

My Rating: 3.5 stars

Sarai Johnson’s debut Grown Women is a book club read and one that is right up my alley, since I have a particular fondness for multi-generational family stories with strong women at the center.  The story revolves around four generations of Black women – Evelyn, Charlotte, Corinna, and Camille – and their complex relationships with each other as they contend with their roles as mothers and daughters amidst the underlying tension created by past trauma.  The conflicts between Evelyn, Charlotte, and Corinna run especially deep, nearly to the point of no return – that is, until Camille enters their lives.  This bright and beautiful girl triggers a long overdue reconciliation between these three women, who decide to collectively raise Camille and in so doing, give themselves the chance to put aside past hurts and “do better” by each other. Through a narrative that alternates between the perspectives of these four women who are determined not to let the pain of the past get in the way of caring for those they love, Johnson presents a poignant story of familial love, healing, and the courage to overcome past hurts to forge one’s own path to happiness.

Overall, this book is well-written – I especially appreciated its in-depth, realistic portrayal of the four women at the heart of the story, as it really helped me as a reader get to know these characters. With that said however, the story’s non-linear structure didn’t entirely work for me, as there was too much jumping back and forth, not just between characters, but also between time periods.  As I was reading, I found it difficult at times to distinguish between the characters’ voices, leading to confusion that required me to flip back through the previous pages to see who was speaking.  Of course, this was even less convenient to do via audio, with the constant “stop-and-go” making the listening experience much longer than it needed to be.  Though to be honest, structure aside, the story itself was detail-heavy and meandered a little in parts, which made the overall read/listen feel kind of tedious.  While the audio version was quite good (the audiobook narrator Karen Chilton did a great job), I found myself having to switch back and forth between the audio and print versions because the pacing was way too slow and I was getting impatient.

While I’m unsure if I would have picked this one up if it hadn’t been a book club pick, I’m glad that I got the chance to read this, as I found the way that Johnson explores mother/daughter relationships within the context of race and class especially illuminating.  I would definitely be interested in reading more by this author in the future.

 

Review: You Are Here (by David Nicholls)

My Rating: 3 stars

I had decided to pick up David Nicholls’s You Are Here because so many of my book friends loved it, so when my audiobook hold finally came through, I was excited to finally read this, as there were so many aspects of it that seemed to be right up my alley:  smart and funny protagonists, witty banter, heartwarming humor, characters that are realistically written, a love story rather than pure romance, etc.  I liked all the characters well enough, especially Marnie and Michael, who were relatable and realistic, and as a romance novel, I appreciated the not-as-common premise where two middle-aged protagonists unexpectedly get a second chance at finding love while on a 10-day hike through England.  With so many things going for it, I was truly expecting to fall head-over-heels in love with the story like all my friends did. 

Yet for some reason, I found it difficult to get into this one.  Perhaps it was the slow start to the story, as Nicholls does take quite a bit of time to set things up, and also the structure, where each (short) chapter hopped back and forth between Marnie’s and Michael’s perspectives in seemingly quick succession, which felt a bit dizzying and also made it hard to get to know each of the characters deeply.  It also perhaps wasn’t a good idea to listen to this one on audio, especially at the speed that I’m usually most comfortable with (1.25x).  While the two narrators were lively and entertaining, it was hard to understand what they were saying at times due to the accents not translating well at higher speeds – whenever this happened, I would pause the audio and locate the same spot in the book so I could see what I missed.  This repeated “stop-and-go” got a bit tiresome after a while, not to mention it took me out of the story so often that it started to negatively impact my reading experience.  Specifically, this became a somewhat tedious read which, overall, made me enjoy it much less than I initially anticipated.  About halfway through the audio, I decided to switch over to the e-book version and while that worked a lot better for me, as I was able to read the book through without stopping, it was, unfortunately, a bit too late by then. 

I think the lesson learned here for me is to choose carefully when deciding which books to listen to on audio versus which ones to read in print, and definitely to do more research before diving in, since the impact to the reading experience can be quite significant.

I may try this again at some point down the road, as my book friends don’t usually steer me wrong and I think in this case, I just picked the wrong medium with which to experience this one. If I do end up taking another stab at this, definitely will go with the print version.

Received ARC from Harper via NetGalley.

Review: An Infinite Love Story (by Chanel Cleeton)

My Rating: 4.5 stars

I’ve read nearly all of Chanel Cleeton’s historical fiction novels, her newest release, An Infinite Love Story, is probably my favorite of her works outside of the Perez family series.  This time around, Cleeton centers the story around the Space Race of the 1960s, when the United Staes and Russia were locked in a fierce battle to develop their space program and send people to the moon.  The story opens in 1968 and revolves around Vivian Mitchell, whose astronaut husband Joe has just been launched into space for a lunar orbit mission when his spacecraft loses contact with mission control.  As the days turn into weeks, Joe and his crew are presumed dead.  In the throes of immense grief, Vivian yearns to escape the public scrutiny that comes with the territory of being an astronaut’s wife and instead, mourn her husband in peace – but when the investigation into the lost spacecraft veers off course and the entire incident is in danger of being written off as an “operator error,” Vivian knows she cannot stand idly by and watch people tarnish the reputation of the dear husband who dedicated his life to advancing America’s space ambitions. In so doing, Vivian also shines a light on the struggles that astronaut families face, as well as the sacrifices that the wives especially are expected to make in order to support their husbands’ careers.  When Vivian starts to receive messages of a personal nature that she believes could only have been sent by Joe, her hope in her husband’s survival is rekindled and sets her on the path to not only uncover the mystery of what possibly happened, but most importantly, to bring her husband back to her.

Cleeton’s latest novel is a bit of a departure from her previous works.  In addition to the historical backdrop and the love story that are the usual focal points in all her stories, this one also incorporates some speculative elements, veering slightly into science fiction territory, but in a way that doesn’t detract from the main storyline – specifically, Vivian and Joe’s “infinite love story,” which we get glimpses of through chapters that alternate between the start of their relationship in 1961 and the launch as well as its aftermath in 1968.  I normally don’t read much speculative or science fiction, as the supernatural and science elements usually overwhelm and go over my head, but in this case, Cleeton was able to balance the various genre elements – historical, romance, science fiction – quite perfectly. 

I was also very much invested in the central love story, as Vivian and Joe’s relationship felt believable to me and was written in a way that it was nearly impossible not to want to root for them. All of the supporting characters in the story were also wonderfully rendered – I especially loved the friendship that Vivian and Polly shared, which moved me almost as much as the main romance did. Speaking of which, I felt that Cleeton did a great job with conveying the poignancy of Vivian and Joe’s enduring love for each other, but not in a sappy or saccharine way – their relationship, as well as all the others in the story, were emotionally nuanced and realistic.  Having read most of Cleeton’s previous works, I feel that this one has an emotional depth to it that many of the others lacked.

I definitely enjoyed this one a lot overall, though it fell a tad bit short of 5 stars for me only because I found some of the writing a little clunky and there were some overly repeated phrases (such as “if she was being honest” or some variation of this) that I felt were unnecessary, which distracted me at times as I was reading (though much of this could be attributed to the fact that I read an ARC copy – maybe the final edit will be different). Though with all that said, both issues are relatively minor in the grand scheme of things.  Without a doubt, I definitely recommend picking this one up, especially if you’re a fan of Cleeton’s works.  For me personally, I feel that Cleeton gets better and better with each novel, which makes me anticipate what she might write next!

Received ARC from Berkley via NetGalley.

Review: Gone Girl (by Gillian Flynn)

My Rating: 3.5 stars

I’ll just say it right off the bat:  my thoughts about this book are of the “outlier” variety so if that’s going to be a problem, my suggestion would be to stop reading this review right here.

Okay, for those still with me, here it goes…. 

First off, I decided to finally pick this book up not because I really wanted to read it, but rather, to satisfy my curiosity. Gillian Flynn’s Gone Girl came out back in 2012 and in the 14 years since then, I’ve heard it referred to over and over again, in various contexts, year after year, pretty much endlessly:  this is the book that started the psychological suspense craze, the book that made the whole “twist” phenomenon a household name, the book that made having the word “girl” in the title a surefire hit, the book that single-handedly launched the “cool girl” trend, etc. etc.  Having read my fair share of psychological thrillers / suspense novels over the years (novels which, supposedly, all owe a debt to Gone Girl in some way, shape, or form if they were published after 2012 – at least that’s what I was made to believe), I wanted to finally read this “mother of psychological suspense novels” to, yes, see what all the hype was about.

From a craft standpoint – plot, character, structure, pacing, etc.—this book is indeed brilliantly written (which, I have to make clear, is very different from being “well”-written).  I don’t think it would be an exaggeration to say that this book, the way it is written, can be considered a masterclass on how to write compelling, page-turning psychological suspense, especially in the way that Flynn goes deep into the twisted minds of two truly deranged individuals and picks apart, in detail, what spurs their every thought, feeling, and action. Sure, we may not agree with the way these characters behave throughout the story (though that’s putting it mildly – I was actually disgusted by both main characters for the entire read), but we do come to an understanding of WHY they behave that way.  To be honest, it wasn’t hard to tell from the get go that Nick and Amy were not good people and their toxic relationship was a train wreck waiting to happen – yet by the same token, it was also hard to look away when, ultimately, the train slammed into the wall and created a grotesque mess that seemed impossible to clean up (and yes, despite how miserable I knew the experience would be, I couldn’t help reading on to see if and/or how they clean up the mess).

With all that said however, the main reason why this book didn’t work for me was because I hated EVERY SINGLE CHARACTER.  As other reviewers have pointed out, the story is dark and twisty, with so much violence, abuse, sex, gratuitous cursing, etc. – which, yes, can be a turn off, but for me, the dealbreaker was actually the characters and the horrible, despicable way they behave throughout the entire story.  The characters don’t make any attempt to change, there is no redemption arc, no comeuppance for bad behavior, no remorse or repentance, no repercussions for criminal acts – for pretty much the entirety of the 400+ pages (20+ hours on audio), these characters remain both pretentiously narcissistic and overwhelmingly self-absorbed, to the point that, throughout the entire time I was reading, I felt like there was not a single moment where any of the characters deserved even an ounce of sympathy from me. 

So basically, my overall opinion of this book is that it is very much overrated.  Now, would my opinion of this book be different if I had read this when it first came out 14 years ago?  Perhaps yes and perhaps no.  But the truth of the matter is that, over the past 14 years, I’ve read enough psychological thrillers with “twists” ranging from the jaw-dropping to the “you call that a twist?” variety that, in a way, I’ve pretty much seen it all, at least that’s what it feels like.  To this point, I found the twist in this book to be a bit anticlimactic in the sense that by the time I got to the end of part 1, I already figured out what was going to happen.

One last but very important point is that I chose to listen to this via audio, even though I had a paperback copy available on my shelf.  I’m glad I did so because the audio format proved to be the best way to take in this book.   Of course, the bonus content in the audio book version – including a special chapter written from the perspective of Amy as a child that provides insight into her upbringing and relationship with her parents – is a definite perk, but the real draw is the fantastic performance from the audiobook’s two narrators, Kirby Heyborne and (one of my personal favorites) Julia Whelan.  For me, it is precisely because of the outstanding job by both narrators that I ended up rating this 3.5 stars – if I had just read the book and didn’t listen to the audio version, I seriously would’ve rated this 2 stars or lower.

Review: Song For Another Home (by Bora Lee Reed)

My Rating: 3.5 stars

This is an interesting story about a historical time period that doesn’t often get written about – the Korean War and the subsequent division of the country into North and South Korea. Told from two alternating points of view, the story revolves around a family torn apart by war and the resilience that brings them together.

Oksoon is a teenage girl living in Pyeongyang who sets off with her mother and second brother Changho to look for her father and older brother in the south, where they had gone to look for opportunities but never returned.  On their journey, they encounter numerous hardships, but manage to find ways to survive amidst the devastation of war, especially when they finally reach the southern city of Seoul where they meet others who are also trying to do the best they can given the circumstances.  Together, they form a “found family” of sorts, combining efforts as well as resources to make their situation more tenable.

Further south, in the mountainous region of Jinju, Oksoon’s cousin Junho finds refuge at an orphanage where he uses his limited understanding of English to write letters to American benefactors in the hopes of helping the orphanage secure funds to keep its doors open.  When the orphanage director brings her niece Miss Kim to live with them, the mysterious circumstances of her situation alter Junho’s perspective in ways that threaten to upend the safety of the refuge that he worked so hard to attain.

Overall, I have mixed feelings toward this book.  On the one hand, I appreciate the author, Bora Lee Reed’s efforts to shed light on a period of history that is often forgotten about, outside of Asia especially.  Significantly, Reed draws on her own family history as inspiration for the story, which lends an authenticity and familiarity to the work that sets it apart from other historical fiction novels.  With that said however, I felt that the story lacked emotional depth, which was of course surprising given the author’s personal connection to the subject matter. To me, the writing felt emotionally distant to the point that I found it difficult to become invested in the characters enough to care about things that happen.  There was also a lot of “telling” of what the various characters do as well as some descriptions of surroundings that seemed irrelevant to what was going on at the time.  While it wasn’t overwhelming to the point of bogging down the entire story, it did slow things down a little.

As a debut novel, I would say that this was a good first effort from Reed, though it could’ve benefited from much more editing, mostly to tighten the writing.  Also, speaking from the perspective of someone who has read a lot of historical fiction (it IS my favorite genre after all), I found the historical aspect to be less atmospheric and immersive than I would’ve expected, perhaps because of the lack of emotional depth as mentioned earlier.  Speaking of which, when compared to other novels that also cover the topic of the Korean War – such as Lisa See’s The Island of Sea Women and, more recently, Eve J. Chung’s The Young Will Remember, both of which were emotionally poignant stories that continued to stay with me long after I finished reading them – this one unfortunately falls a bit flat.  That said, I’m glad I read it and would still recommend it for the historical insight it provides.

Received ARC from 37 Ink via NetGalley.

Review: Big Little Lies (by Liane Moriarty)

My Rating: 4.5 stars

I’ve read several of Liane Moriarty’s books (including her newest release) and I’ve got to say that Big Little Lies is my favorite so far.  I’ve actually had this book on my TBR for quite some time and honestly thought about reading it back when the award-winning adaptation came out several years ago, but never got around to it.  So why am I reading this now then, in the middle of a busy reading summer when my TBR is already teetering to the point of toppling?  The answer is simple: because Moriarity finally decided to write a sequel to Big Little Lies – a rare move for her, as she has said herself in multiple interviews that she does not write sequels – which I really want to read but since I have a rule about not reading sequels until I’ve read the first book, I scrambled to slot this one in so I could finish it before the sequel comes out next month (and oh, it definitely helped that my audiobook hold from the library just happened to come through as well).  I may be late to the party with this book, but that’s okay because all the fun I had at said party all but made up for the lateness!

As many other readers already mentioned, this was a charming, delightful, hugely entertaining read that balanced the serious and the lighthearted in a seamless way.  The story was equal parts compelling and gripping, with a brilliantly crafted structure where the investigation into a mysterious death at a school trivia night (complete with juicy commentary and revelations from various parties) is interspersed with the follies and foibles that three suburban moms must navigate through as they go about their respective lives and relationships.  Moriarty was spot-on with the various character depictions and interactions – the petty quarrels and jealousies between the parents, the schoolyard scandals and controversies, the never-ending rumor mill where gossip spreads like wildfire and people are delight in finding out about other people’s miseries, the drama and politics and people who are constantly trying to “one-up” each other, etc. – the list goes on and on.  My favorite though is seeing how misguided the parents often are in thinking they know what’s best for their kids, only for them to end up being taught a lesson or two by their precociously adorable kindergarteners (speaking of which, out of all the kiddos in the story, I found Ziggy to be the most endearing).  Yes, the adults in the story do sometimes act more childishly than their kids, but that’s how people are in real life too (speaking for myself, I know I’ve definitely had those moments).

One of the things Moriarty does brilliantly in this story is juxtaposing the “silly and ridiculous” (i.e.: all the petty rivalries between the parents) with the “serious and heavy” (i.e. domestic abuse, bullying, death) and being able to write about both with a delicate balance of heart and humor.  With Moriarty’s other books, I don’t usually feel much emotional pull, but this one turned out to be an emotional roller coaster – there were moments where I laughed so hard to the point of tears, while other times, I felt sad and angry (and sometimes indignant) at what some of the characters had to endure; there were still other moments where I couldn’t help rolling my eyes (sometimes into the back of my skull, it felt like) at the ridiculous pettiness and childishly dramatic antics of some of the parents, yet the next moment, I would be moved by the sweet innocence of the kindergarteners who seem to understand more about what it means to treat people with kindness and respect than the adults do.

Moriarty covers so much ground in this book, yet it never felt overwhelming.  As I mentioned earlier, I listened to the audiobook, which was 16 hours, but it honestly didn’t feel that long because the story was so immersive and engrossing – so much so that I often found myself listening for hours on end because I couldn’t wait to find out what happens next. Of course, it also helped that the audiobook narrator did a good job with the voice work – especially her use of distinct intonations for each of the characters, clearly differentiating the adults from the children – which made this a particularly immersive experience on audio.

As much as I enjoyed this, I couldn’t give it 5 stars because it did have some flaws, not to mention some really ‘over the top bordering on absurd’ characters as well as a fair share of ridiculous ‘eye-roll worthy’ (though at the same time downright hilarious) moments – but honestly, that’s what made this book such a fun (and funny) read! 

I’m not sure what Moriarty has in store for us with the sequel but the high standards she set with this book will be hard to surpass, that’s for sure.  I guess I will find out next month when my pre-order Big Little Truths arrives!

Review: Manga Classics: Journey to the West - The Beginning (by Wu Cheng'en; adapted by Jim Zub, Char A, and Julien Choy)

My Rating: 4 stars

I’ve tried to read comics in e-book form before, but the experience wasn’t a pleasant one, as I had to zoom in and out a lot and it was difficult to turn the pages properly.  E-galley (ARC) versions were even worse, as those were often incomplete in some way and it felt weird overall.  This is why when I saw the manga version of Journey to the West as one of the options for the Camp NetGalley badge, I was reluctant to download it at first, even though I really wanted to see how one of my favorite childhood stories would be adapted in manga form.  Ultimately, due to my lack of interest in the other options available for the badge, I decided to go ahead and give this one a shot and ended up being pleasantly surprised by the experience.  When I saw that the book was only available to download and read using the NetGalley Shelf, I thought this was a bit odd, as I’ve never used this platform before (I usually read e-books via Kindle or Kobo) and didn’t know what to expect, but this turned out to be the right choice, as using NetGalley’s own application to read this felt very similar to reading a physical version -- especially critical given that the manga was vividly rendered in full color.  I also appreciated the tutorial that was provided, which clearly explained the proper way to read manga (from right to left) – though I already knew this, the reminder was still tremendously helpful, since I don’t read manga all that often so it can be easy to forget that the format is opposite that of a regular book.

Content-wise, this first book mostly introduces the characters – the Buddhist monki Tang Sanzang and his 4 disciples Bai Longma (White Dragon Horse), Zhu Bajie (Pigsy), Sha Wujing (Sandy) and the infamous Monkey King Sun Wukong -- and explains their mission westward to retrieve the Buddha’s sutras, as well as covers the story of the Bull Demon and Princess Iron Fan.  The manga itself seems to be geared toward a middle grade audience, though of course, anyone who loves manga, regardless of age, will also probably enjoy this.

Given its status as one of the great Chinese classical works of literature, Journey to the West is more than familiar to those of us who grew up in the Chinese culture.  Though I’ve never read the epic work in its entirety (it’s near impossible to find a complete, unabridged version out there, whether in Chinese or English), I’m familiar enough with the original story to appreciate the fact that adapting such a complex epic into manga form for a young audience is no easy feat.  This version does a good job providing an overview of the mission and a few of the famous adventures that the group gets involved in, though inevitably (and unsurprisingly), much of the focus character-wise is on the mischievous troublemaker Sun Wukong and his backstory, with his brothers taking more of a backseat in terms of the action.  In terms of the comedy / humor that is an important element of the original story, I think the anime format naturally emphasizes this aspect of the story, with the exaggerated expressions visually showing the characters’ various emotions.

Overall, this was an enjoyable read and definitely a fun way for young readers to engage with such an iconic classic.  With that said, my only complaint would be that the language used is a little too Westernized and kind of slangy (words such as “bro,” “‘cause,” “gonna,” “yer,” etc…I even saw “freakin” in there a few times), to the point that it felt jarring at times for those of us who are used to the original version of the story usually told in the classical language (it was originally written in the 16^th century, after all). For kids, it probably won’t be much of a problem, but adults reading this might be put off a bit by the language. That aside, I think anyone reading this manga will be sufficiently entertained.

Received ARC from Manga Classics via NetGalley.

Review: Dolly All The Time (by Annabel Monaghan)

My Rating: 5 stars

I’m usually not much of a romance reader, not because of anything wrong with the genre, but mostly because of my own misplaced biases when it comes to real-life romantic relationships.  For the most part, my general attitude toward romantic love is a cynical one (probably attributable to the fact that I’ve seen and/or experienced my fair share of bad relationships in real life), to the point that, over the years, I’ve pretty much internalized the romance trope of “happily ever after” as a fictional illusion that only occurs in fairy tales.  Okay, to put it more bluntly – since I’ve never bought into the idea of “happily ever after,” it makes sense that given this concept’s prevalence in romance novels as well as my lack of belief in its existence (in reality that is), I’m generally not interested in reading about it over and over again in romance novels.  That being said, this doesn’t mean that I don’t read romances at all, rather it means that I am incredibly picky with the romances I do choose to read.  While there isn’t any specific “criteria” per se in terms of what types of romances I prefer to read or not to read, I do tend to be drawn to those that have more or less the following elements: 1) a strong female protagonist with a growth arc that allows her character to evolve and grow (basically the opposite of the stereotypical “damsel in distress” trope), 2) witty banter (the fun and non-offensive kind), whether between the main couple or the other characters in the story, 3) a believable main couple that I can root for (if they have sizzling chemistry, all the better, lol), 4) humor, whether ironic or sardonic, as long as it’s not hurtful or mean, 5) delightful, funny, and/or endearing supporting characters (which sometimes can make or break a story even more than the main couple), and 6) emotional depth that has the ability to make me both laugh and cry. [Sidenote: If you’re thinking at this point that it sounds like I’m describing a Jane Austen novel, you would be absolutely right, since Austen is one of my favorite authors].

Annabel Monaghan’s newest work, Dolly All the Time, is exactly one of those romances that encompasses all 6 of the above elements, and then some!  The main protagonist, Dolly, is capable, competent, dependable, hardworking, yet at the same time also has a fun personality – I was drawn to her from the start.  But more than anything, I connected with Dolly on a deeper level because of her role as a caretaker – a reliable “fixer” who finds it “easier to take care of things than to ask for help,” resulting in her putting everyone else’s needs in front of her own. I’ve been the main breadwinner and caretaker of my family since I was 18 years old (I’m in my forties now) and, like Dolly, my “whole identity [was] tied up in doing everything for everyone.” I’ve never known how to not be responsible, to not fix things, to not try to help come up with a solution to a problem. At one point in the book, Dolly notes the following: “One thing about caretakers is they are never carefree.  Without our cares, we’d just be takers like everyone else.” This is probably my favorite quote from the book because it so succinctly encapsulates the essence of who Dolly is as person, but at the same time, it also captures perfectly what those of us who are lifelong caretakers instinctively understand:  that we will always have a fear of asking for things for ourselves not because it goes against our selfless natures, but rather, because we can’t afford to be selfish, especially when everyone is relying on us to keep all the plates constantly spinning. And it is precisely because of this that I cried tears of joy when Dolly, in falling in love with Stewart, finds it in herself to let go and loosen up, even if only for a little while: “My favorite thing about myself…is that I don’t need help.  I make do.  I’m someone who can make something out of nothing.  This summer I loosened up on that a little, sort of pretending I was a different kind of person.  I wasn’t gripping my righteousness so tightly…I actually felt like myself, just not so tired.  Not thinking of every single other person before myself.  I’d like to figure out how to be her all the time.”

With the character of Dolly, Monaghan created a character so relatable that I honestly never want to stop reading about her.  I feel like I have so much to learn from Dolly — through her, I see what’s possible, the light at the end of the tunnel.  I honestly haven’t felt so inspired by a book in a long time and yes, I want to hold onto that feeling for a while longer (which is one reason why aim taking my precious time writing this review).  I love this book so much that, as soon as I finished it, I went and added all of Annabel Monaghan’s books to my TBR (and hope to incorporate as many of them as I can in between my other reads, especially during times when I’m craving a lighthearted pick-me-up).  

Given how much I loved this book, it’s probably quite obvious that I would highly recommend it, but more so, I would actually recommend listening to the audio version narrated by the inimitable Julia Whelan (one of my favorite audiobook narrators).  Her performance of this book truly elevated it to the highest levels — for me, it definitely made the difference between a 4-4.5 star read to a solid 5 stars! 

Review: Goodbye Chinatown (by Kit Fan)

My Rating: 3.5 stars

As a Hong Kong native, I’m always on the lookout for books about or set in the city of my birth, especially ones that are truly HK-focused – meaning written by authors actually born in or based in HK and who are familiar with the city’s culture, history, places, people, etc.  Therefore, going into Kit Fan’s second novel Goodbye Chinatown, I should’ve been excited, but instead, I was a bit apprehensive, as I had read his debut novel Diamond Hill back in 2021 and despite that book’s authentic portrayal of HK, I did not like the writing overall and struggled to get through it (and unsurprisingly, I ended up rating that one only 2 stars).  I didn’t know if this second novel would go down the same disappointing path as Fan’s previous one, so I picked this one up with some hesitation, though I’m happy to report that this one ended up being a very different book, both in style and tone, and surprised me in a good way.

This time around, Fan sets his story primarily in the UK (London, specifically), with Hong Kong serving as a secondary setting – only in the background during the first half of the book and then at the forefront during the second half – with the family at the center of the story being of Cantonese descent and also having the surname Fan.  After the Tiananmen Square Massacre in 1989, Mr. and Mrs. Fan decided to leave Hong Kong with their 10-year-old daughter Amber in tow, eventually settling in London’s Chinatown and opening a Chinese restaurant called The Golden Palace.  Flash forward 12 years, The Golden Palace is no more, as it was bought out (ironically) by Mainland Chinese investors several years ago, but young Amber, who is now an Oxford-educated chef, decides to open a Chinese fusion restaurant she names Luna. Meanwhile, Amber’s parents make the decision to return to their home city of Hong Kong, taking their 4-year-old grandson Bobby with them.  Left behind to run her new restaurant, Amber channels her loneliness into the complex dishes that she makes and soon, Luna becomes the talk of the town and goes on to earn a Michelin star after a mysterious woman named Celeste pays a visit and provides Amber with some much-needed advice and support. 

Set primarily after the return of Hong Kong to China, with the shadow of “the June 4^th Incident” (HK people’s name for the Tiananmen Massacre) lingering constantly in the background, the story, at its core, is about an immigrant family’s struggle to reconcile the two disparate cultures that shape their lives and ultimately, their identities.  Amber is the main focus in much of the story, as we track the various changes that occur in her life against the backdrop of major world events such as the aftermath of the 1997 HK handover, 9/11, the Asian financial crisis in 2008, the HK student protests and umbrella movement in 2019, and finally, the onset of Covid in 2020.

I was around Amber’s age when Tiananmen occurred and I remember the nearly identical scene in the book occurring in my own household -- the chaos unfolding on TV and my parents watching with mouths open and tears streaming down their faces; celebrities and ordinary citizens alike, dressed in black, their faces grim, some crying, all holding candles and singing solemn, heart-wrenching ballads in televised vigils; and of course, in the aftermath of such a tragic event, the pervasive fear throughout Hong Kong that what happened in Tiananmen could happen to them too once the city is returned to China – a fear that prompted many of Hong Kong’s 7 million+ citizens to frantically look into the fastest ways to get themselves and their families out of the city before 1997 came along.  As a Hong Konger who grew up in the shadow of Tiananmen, I absolutely related to so many aspects of this story – in particular, this passage from the story summed up perfectly my own memories of how the event impacted my family and so many others at the time: “Sitting in the dark, [Amber] remembered the tens of thousands of candles of the televised vigils in the aftermath of Tiananmen, where everyone had worn black and sung heart-breaking songs about heroes—how bodies became mountains and how the colour of blood turned into the colour of a nation’s flag. Grief consumed images at a faster rate. Her parents had reassured Amber that the family had gone out onto the streets in solidarity. They’d choked back tears as they sang at the top of their lungs, mourning for the students and feeling proud and scared of a single man stopping a column of tanks, standing up for the freedom and democracy they still held dear. Among an ocean of like-minded citizens, they stood there, witnessing and being witnessed. Those were times when grief became an engine of fear, when parental responsibility meant emigration.”

Indeed, there were many beautiful passages such as the above in this book, but I especially loved the descriptions of the HK foods and dishes, many of which were familiar to me, as well as Amber’s interesting fusion take on this cuisine (I especially want to try the pineapple bun burger, which there is a recipe for in the book).  The food and historical elements aside though, the complexity of Amber’s family dynamics as well as her personal struggle with identity and meaning also resonated with me, with that said, I do wish that the family relationship part was explored a little more, as I felt that there was a certain lack of emotional depth to the story overall.

In terms of the main issue I had with this book (hence the 3.5 star rating), I echoed all the other reviewers’ complaint that the ending was too abrupt, to the point that the story felt incomplete.  I honestly felt shocked and disappointed when I reached what I thought would be the climax of the story, only to turn the page and see the Acknowledgements section.  I initially thought that perhaps I turned the pages too quickly and maybe missed a page or two (or three), but nope, I had truly reached the end of the book -- given how invested I was in the story, the poorly executed ending hit especially hard for me.  Also, the last segment of the book (the chapters that take place in 2020) felt kind of rushed, which also contributed to why I couldn’t bring myself to rate this higher. 

Overall, I definitely enjoyed this novel much more than Fan’s debut, but the structure issues unfortunately impacted my reading experience more than I would have liked.  Hopefully Fan’s next novel will see improvement with this.

Received ARC from World Editions via NetGalley.