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: Silver Sparrow (by Tayari Jones)

 My Rating: 4.5 stars

“My father, James Witherspoon, is a bigamist.”  This opening line to Tayari Jones’s 2011 novel Silver Sparrow, is simply stated, but after finishing the story, we realize just how much of a punch this one sentence packs.  In this wonderfully nuanced story of two sisters, one of whom doesn’t even know the other exists, we are given insight into a family and the dysfunction that results from one fateful decision.  In James Witherspoon’s eyes, he believes he is “doing the right thing” by marrying Gwendolyn Yarboro after she has his child, a daughter named Dana Lynn.  Never mind the fact that, at the time, he had already been married to his wife Laverne for a decade and also has a daughter with her, named Chaurisse.  On paper, Gwen is James’s “wife” and Dana is his legitimate child, but reality, especially the law, dictates otherwise.  Regardless of what James says or does, Gwen and Dana will always be a “secret” that his “real” family must never know about — in fact, James makes it very clear to Gwen and Dana that they are to “stay the hell away” from Laverne and Chaurisse.  How is that possible though when his “real” and “secret” family live in relatively close proximity to each other and, as we find out eventually, the daughters know the same group of friends.  So of course, it should come as no surprise that Dana and Chaurisse eventually become friends, though Chaurisse has no clue that Dana is actually her sister.  As is usually the case, secrets of this nature are hard to keep under wraps forever and when the inevitable is revealed, the results are devastating.   

The story is narrated from the points of view of the 2 daughters, which I feel was the perfect mechanism for telling this story.  As I came to know both Dana and Chaurisse, and began to understand the impact of their parents’ actions on them — physically, mentally, emotionally — I couldn’t help feeling deeply for them.  For two teenagers to have to deal with not just a situation that neither of them chose, but also the fallout from it that changes their lives forever, it really made me detest the adults in their lives for their actions (and inactions).  Of course, the character I hated the most in this story was the father, James Witherspoon — not just because of his cheating on his wife (which, as it turns out, was probably the least of his aggressions), but because the way he handled the entire situation, he repeatedly caused pain to both his families, which I found to be deplorable.  The worst part was James’s nonchalant attitude toward the whole thing — it made me mad how he would constantly assert that he was “doing the best he could” and the fact that he agreed to “own up to his mistake” by providing for Gwen and Dana (as opposed to abandoning them, I suppose) should absolve him of all wrongdoing. But of course, it’s not that simple, as it becomes obvious from the way James treats Gwen and Dana throughout the entire story that he is exasperated with them, at times even making himself out to be the victim rather than the person who created this whole mess to begin with.  Some may argue that James is a “flawed” man who made some mistakes, but since he did try to rectify them, he should at least be given some credit for that – while that may be true to some extent and perhaps in other circumstances, I might be more sympathetic, but the James Witherspoon presented as he was in this story made me feel nothing but disdain for him.

This was my first experience with Tayari Jones’s works (I know, I know — it embarrasses me to even admit this), but it absolutely won’t be my last!  Jones is a master storyteller absolutely deserving of all the accolades bestowed on her.  I love the way she writes her characters, all of whom truly came alive for me:  I felt for Laverne and Gwen, both of whom, at different points in the story, had to take the bad situation they were in and make the most of it;  towards James, I felt nothing but scorn and contempt; Raleigh I also did not care much for, but he did have some redeeming qualities that James completely lacked.  Emotionally though, I related to Dana and Chaurisse the most, even though our backgrounds and experiences are so vastly different.  I think the resonance, for me at least, comes from having the shared experience of coming-of-age in an environment that has not always been kind to people of color.  Though I never had to deal with bigamy in my family, I did have many of the same struggles that Dana and Chaurisse had in terms of being a teenager having to deal with the consequences of poor decisions and actions from the adults around me at the time.  And I can absolutely relate to the piece about how those actions (whether intentionally or unintentionally) can have a severe, and sometimes even destructive, impact on those we love.

I can’t wait to read Jones’s newest (and perhaps most famous) work, An American Marriage, which I’ve had on my shelf for awhile already but hadn’t get gotten around to reading. And like many others, I’m definitely looking forward to seeing what Jones has in store for us next!

Review: A Single Swallow (by Zhang Ling) - translated by Shelly Bryant

My Rating: 4 stars

 

I'm not much of a "themed" reader (not deliberately anyway), so I consider it pure coincidence that I happened to pick up this book to read the day before Halloween.  To clarify, this book is not a "spooky" read by any means, neither is it any genre even remotely related to this holiday – rather, the "coincidence" I am referring to is the fact that this story is narrated entirely by "ghosts." Actually, to put it more precisely, from the moment the story opens in 2015, the 3 main characters – American missionary Pastor Billy, Chinese solider Liu Zhaohu, and gunner's mate Ian Ferguson – are already dead.  Pastor Billy died 70 years ago (in 1945), Liu Zhaohu joined him 18 years later (in 1963), and together, they waited another 52 years before Ian Ferguson was able to join them on that exact date -- August 15^th, 2015.  Now, before anyone starts chiding me for supposedly revealing "spoilers," let me just say that all of the above is already revealed within the first few pages of the book – to that point, the entire basis of the story harkens back to a pact that the 3 men made on that day in 1945 when Japanese Emperor Hirohito announced (via radio broadcast) Japan's surrender to Allied Forces, effectively bringing an end to World War II.    Stationed in the small village of Yuehu, China at the time of the announcement, the 3 men make a pledge on that historic day stipulating that, after their deaths, their souls would return to Yuehu every year on the anniversary of the broadcast – however, due to the 3 of them dying at different times, it isn't until 70 years later that they are finally able to fulfill the pledge they made so long ago.  As the 3 of them come together to reminisce about a war that changed the course of their lives forever, it soon becomes clear that each of their stories is tied to that of one woman whom all of them loved but lost, and it is her life that's truly the focus here.   This woman, whose given name from birth is Yao Guiyan, is simultaneously known to Liu Zhaohu as Ah Yan (or "swallow"), to Pastor Billy as Stella (meaning "star"), and to Ian Ferguson as Wende (transliteration of "wind").  Ah Yan's impact on these 3 men is profound -- despite the atrocities and suffering she endures in the face of a horrific war, she not only finds the courage to survive, but does so with remarkable grace and humanity.  It is through the memories of this extraordinary woman that these 3 "ghosts", scarred by the lasting effects of war, are able to finally understand the truths of what they experienced and reconcile the regrets of their pasts.

 

Knowing that the story is set during a time period of immense devastation and tragedy in World War II, I braced myself for a sad and difficult read going into this one – while both of these did ring true (the atrocities committed by the Japanese army were especially hard to read), this also turned out to be a story of resilience, courage, hope, and ultimately, the redemptive power of love, which thankfully helped to balance out the story in the end.  I found the structure of the story an interesting one – each chapter is alternately narrated by 3 dead men, with 1 chapter in the middle narrated by 2 dogs (yes, you read that correctly) that also played significant roles in the story.  Given this setup, this book definitely doesn't fit nicely into one category in terms of genre – I felt that this fell more into the historical fiction genre, with elements of magical realism mixed in, which altogether put a unique spin to the story that made this a different reading experience for me.  What I liked most though, is that the author Zhang Ling (a Chinese author based in Canada), in experimenting with form and structure, didn't neglect the cultural elements that are so critical in a story such as this one.  I read quite a bit of historical fiction, since it's one of my favorite genres, and one of the things I always look for is a strong sense of time and place, to the point that I feel transported, as though living the same events alongside the characters.  Having said that, when it comes to historical fiction within the context of a culture that I'm familiar with, I'm also a stickler for getting the cultural aspects right -- which I'll admit I was worried about with this book once I learned that the story was originally written in Chinese and later translated into English.  Perhaps because of my background, I understand first-hand how tricky it can be to translate from Chinese to English (plus I've read my fair share of poorly translated works over the years) and so this is a particularly sensitive area for me.  With this book, while I can't say that the translation was flawless (because as far as I'm concerned, translations are never 100% perfect), one thing I did appreciate was the effort made to render the cultural elements as authentically as possible.  Of course, not having read the original book in Chinese, there's no way for me to judge the accuracy of the translation word for word, but I am encouraged by the fact that the translator chose to keep Chinese names and phrases intact throughout the story (for example – in Liu Zhaohu's chapters, the translator could've very easily referred to Ah Yan as "Swallow" or their village Sishiyi Bu as "Forty-One Steps Village" but instead, she mentioned the English translation of those words only once as a means of introduction – after that, the Chinese phrases were used for the remainder of the story).  In addition, as a whole, I felt that the author did a pretty good job of balancing both the historical events and cultural elements in a way that made the reading experience an immersive one, though admittedly, the chapters involving Liu Zhaohu and Ah Yan as well as how life was like in their ancestral village of Sishiyi Bu were the most engaging for me.

 

Overall, this was a great story – poignant and heartbreaking in many areas, but also ultimately uplifting.  The ending I thought was fitting and definitely got me a bit teary-eyed.  My one complaint though (and the main reason why this ended up being 4 stars instead of 5) is that, despite Ah Yan's story being the most important, we never got to hear her perspective directly.   While I feel that the author did a good job of bringing Ah Yan as a character to life through the memories of the 3 men who loved her, I think this would've been a much more powerful and emotionally resonant story if we had gotten to hear Ah Yan's perspective as well, even if it was only 1 chapter or as an epilogue at the end.  In skimming through reviews, I know this was a deal-breaker for a few readers and while it wasn't a huge issue to that extent for me, I can understand why it would've affected the reading experience for some.  Regardless though, I would still recommend this one as a worthy read, if anything, because of the relative scarcity of WWII-related fiction out in the mainstream nowadays that is either written from the Asian perspective or covers the events that unfolded across the Asian continent during that time period.  Much of what happened in China and other Asian countries back then was no less tragic than what had happened in Europe, but in general, is much less talked about outside of Asia.   Hopefully more of these stories can be heard in the future.

 

Received ARC from Amazon Crossing via NetGalley