Review: One Jump At A Time: My Story (by Nathan Chen)

My Rating: 3.5 stars

As a long-time figure skating fan, I always look forward to watching the skating events at the Winter Olympics, even though I may not be as familiar with the skaters competing that year – which was certainly the case last month when I tuned into the 2026 Milan Cortina Olympics and did not recognize any of the skaters, since majority of my favorite skaters are ones who were active in the 1980s, 1990s, and early 2000s, and are all mostly retired now.  That said, I did see many familiar faces in the audience, as many retired skaters attended the figure skating events as either commentators or to support the skaters and their teams.  While watching those events, I was delighted to see so many of my favorite skaters sitting in the crowd, especially given how the previous Winter Olympics in Beijing in 2022 were held in a bubble due to COVID, with the arena mostly empty since spectators were not allowed to attend.  Speaking of the Beijing Olympics, one of the skaters I saw in the audience during the Milan Cortina Olympics was Nathan Chen, who had won the gold medal in Men’s Figure Skating during those games – seeing Nathan reminded me that I’ve had his memoir on my TBR since it came out back in November 2022 and perhaps now would be a good chance to finally get around to reading it. As I’ve been doing with memoirs since the end of last year, I decided to listen to this one via audio so I could hear Nathan narrate his own story (this strategy of listening to the author narrate their own memoir / book has so far elevated the reading experience for me each time). 

In his memoir, which is cowritten with Alice Park, Nathan recounts his journey to Olympic gold --  starting from the time he put on his first pair of skates at three years old, to his various experiences climbing the ranks of elite figure skating, all the way through to his disastrous performance at the 2018 Pyongchang games and how he rebounded four years later in Beijing to win gold at an Olympic games that was held under strict COVID protocols, a dynamic that added another layer of pressure to an already stressful and demanding sport.  Along the way, Nathan reflects on the trials and tribulations of competing as a professional figure skater as well as the impact that his family’s unwavering support and sacrifices throughout the years have had on his journey.  Especially significant for Nathan is the fact that he won the gold medal during the Olympics held in the country of his parents’ birth, giving his journey a sense of coming full circle.  Nathan has always come across to me as humble and grateful, and this impression of him was definitely reinforced throughout the memoir, as Nathan brings up his family a lot and it’s pretty obvious that he holds them in high regard, which is refreshing to see.

Overall, I enjoyed reading this and it was fun getting to re-immerse myself in the figure skating world again (which I don’t do as often anymore), but I did feel that the audio experience was a bit lackluster, especially when compared to some of the other ones I’ve read / listened to recently.  With that said, I would still recommend this one, especially to skating fans, as it is no doubt an inspiring and encouraging story – and of course, this book will definitely be a treat for Nathan’s fans.

Review: Everyday Movement (by Gigi L. Leung, translated by Jennifer Feeley)

My Rating: 3.5 stars

As the city of my birth, Hong Kong has always occupied a special place in my heart.  Of course, I still have relatives in Hong Kong, but it is really my fondness for the city (despite growing up thousands of miles away in the United States), that has spurred me to continue keeping my birth city front and center.  From a daily life standpoint, I stay abreast of Hong Kong-related news just as much as I keep tabs on everything happening in the U.S.  From an entertainment standpoint, I’m actually more familiar with the goings-on in the HK entertainment industry than I am in Hollywood (which is truly saying something considering I live in Los Angeles, so Hollywood is essentially in my backyard).  With all that said, the one area in my life where HK is a bit less dominant is my reading life, though I have to say that this is by no means deliberate.  As a life-long avid reader, I’ve always been one to read widely, so even though I definitely have favorite genres (i.e. historical fiction, literary fiction, to name two), I don’t like limiting myself to reading only specific genres or specific types of books.  When it comes to Hong Kong books however, I unfortunately don’t have much choice due to the dearth of books about the city published in English (and living in the U.S., it is harder for me to access the Chinese language versions that are usually published exclusively in HK).  So in the rare occurrence where I come across a book either set in Hong Kong or written by a Hong Kong author, I will always be interested in reading it, regardless of subject matter and in spite of any type of feedback regarding the book, whether positive or negative.

With all this in mind, I approached Gigi L. Leung’s novel Everyday Movement with a certain amount of anticipation, despite my usual aversion to reading books that lean heavily toward politics.  Set against the backdrop of the 2019 pro-democracy protests in Hong Kong, Leung’s novel actually consists of a series of interconnected vignettes about people from different walks of life who are impacted by the protests going on all around them.  As the story opens, we get glimpses of what life is like for college roommates Panda and Ah Lei, as they navigate their new reality as active participants in the many protests that occur on Hong Kong’s streets triggered by the central government’s planned implementation of a national security law.  At night, Panda and Ah Lei don their protest gear and are regularly chased and tear gassed by police out on the streets, but during the day, both women go about their usual routines – attending class, going to work, arguing with their parents and with each other, going on lunch and dinner dates, etc.  But underneath the enactment of these everyday routines lies a bubbling tension – a feeling of unease and anxiety for the future, not only of their beloved city, but of their own lives as they know it – that threatens to spill over any minute. Via alternating viewpoints, the story expands outward to capture the moments in the lives of others within the two women’s orbits: there’s Panda’s cousin Ah Mak and the fraught relationship he has with his girlfriend Chan Yeuk over each other’s commitment (or lack thereof) to the protest movement, culminating in a break up that, ironically, brings each of them closer to the other’s viewpoint; there’s Panda’s little sister Sai Mui who, as a pre-teen, is too young to understand everything that is happening around her, yet finds herself caught up in all the tension and anxiety through her sister’s love/hate relationship with their mother as they stand on opposite sides of the movement.  There are others too – periphery characters such as the hairdresser Ning On and the affair she has with a protestor nicknamed “Little Professor” as a means to escape the realities of her life while her daughter Ning Yuet doubles down on her activism; English teacher Ho Sam, a mainlander living in Hong Kong who struggles to reconcile his dueling viewpoints, at once supporting the movement while also opposing it; and finally, Panda’s boyfriend Ah Ming, whose less extreme position in support of the movement as opposed to his girlfriend’s fierce devotion creates an untenable rift in their relationship.

Overall, I felt this novel had a promising premise, but it fell a little bit short for me in terms of its execution.  Subject matter-wise, I appreciate Leung’s candid depiction of the political turmoil and the protests, all of which were rendered viscerally realistic to the point that, at times, I forgot that this is a novel and felt that I was reading a non-fiction book instead. To this point, there was a bit of a journalistic feel to the novel, where it felt as though the author was trying too hard to write from a position of neutrality, which resulted in the writing feeling somewhat stilted and emotionless.  This made it hard for me as a reader to connect with the story or any of its characters – though with all that said, I’m not sure if this was actually an issue with the translation or the author’s writing itself. I also felt that the story didn’t have much of a plot, which is usually not a problem if the characters are well-developed, but in this case, due to the varying viewpoints, the focus was on a bunch of different characters rather than just one or two, resulting in the lack of opportunity to flush out any of the characters fully.  All of this combined was perhaps why I ended up not really feeling anything for any of the characters.

While I’m glad I read this one, I’m also a little bummed that I didn’t end up liking this one as much as I thought I would.  Even though some parts of it didn’t really work for me, I would still recommend this one for its realistic portrayal of the HK protests as well as the timeliness aspect in terms of what has been going on in the U.S. as well as the rest of the world – which, for those impacted, would make this a very relatable read.

Review: No Time Like the Future: An Optimist Considers Mortality (by Michael J. Fox)

My Rating: 5 stars

With his iconic roles in television (Family Ties, Spin City) and film (Back to the Future, Teen Wolf, etc.), Michael J. Fox is no doubt a Hollywood legend. Growing up in the 1980s, I’ve always admired Mike’s work as an actor – his comedic timing and trademark sense of humor especially – but over the years, what has turned me into a bona fide fan of his is witnessing his battle with Parkinson’s, the disease with which he was diagnosed at the young age of 29.  In addition to his devoted advocacy work in the area of Parkinson’s research and raising awareness of the disease, Mike’s approach to life – his constant optimism and positivity as well as his ability to face adversity with consistent grace and humor – is nothing short of amazing, moving, and absolutely inspiring.

Prior to this one, Mike had written two memoirs detailing his journey, but this latest memoir stands apart in that it came out during the pandemic, when the idea of mortality was a very real and very serious concern for so many of us.  In the decade leading up to that time, Mike himself experienced several major health challenges that put his optimistic outlook to the test, including the discovery of a tumor in his spinal cord that required not only risky surgery but also a grueling recovery process, as well as a broken arm resulting from a devastating fall in his kitchen (an unintentional, but in his mind, avoidable, injury that also nearly broke his spirit).  In having to deal with these health challenges on top of his daily co-existence with Parkinson’s, Mike is forced to reassess his optimistic outlook and reflect on the reality of having to face mortality head-on.

As someone with a more cynical bordering on pessimistic outlook on life, I found Mike’s memoir both moving and uplifting, but most important of all, it put some of my own struggles into perspective.  Listening to Mike narrate this book via audio was especially powerful, so I would definitely recommend experiencing his memoir via this route if possible.

Despite the challenges, Mike continues to stay strong and active to the extent that he can be, which is great to see, but most significantly, he continues to remain positive and keep up his sense of humor, which I’m sure is not easy.  I wish him and Tracy and their wonderful family the best of luck!

Review: The Fourth Princess (by Janie Chang)

My Rating: 4 stars

The Fourth Princess is the fourth Janie Chang novel I’ve read and while I liked this one quite a bit, my favorite of hers is still The Porcelain Moon from 2023.  Just like she does in her most recent few novels, Chang takes a little known aspect of Chinese history and presents a compelling, captivating story involving multiple female protagonists, usually one being Chinese and the other not.  For me, this sets up an interesting “East meets West” dynamic where, due to the story being told through two diametrically different perspectives, provides a more nuanced lens through which we can better understand the historical and cultural elements that Chang usually incorporates in her novels.  In this instance, the two protagonists are Liu Lisan, an educated Chinese woman with a mysterious past, and wealthy American heiress Caroline Stanton, who lives with her millionaire husband Thomas at Lennox Manor, a once-grand mansion on an isolated stretch of land in the International Settlement area of 1911 Shanghai.  The paths of these two women cross when Caroline hires Lisan as her secretary to help her navigate the cultural and language differences as she settles into her new life in China.  But soon, both women find themselves caught up in the mysteries of their pasts, which come back to haunt them in unexpected ways.  Heightening the sense of unease for both women are the dark secrets held by the Manor itself, with its outward grandeur masking a crumbling and dilapidated façade where the ghostly presence of its previous occupants continues to linger.  As various secrets come to light and the pasts of both women are slowly unraveled, connections are revealed that not only put both women in danger, but also threaten to upend their lives.

In her Author’s Note, Chang mentions her love of the gothic genre as inspiration for deciding to write a gothic novel of her own, but also one that blends historical elements and aspects of her own Chinese cultural heritage.  As such, in a departure from her previous novels, Chang had to hold back on the “history” aspect and instead lean more into “atmosphere” in order to bring out the “gothic” effect of the story.  In this regard, I feel that Chang succeeded, as she did a good job overall incorporating the gothic trope of the mysterious and haunted old mansion, making Lennox Manor a “character” in itself.  With that said however, having read my fair share of gothic novels in the past (and having studied the genre recently), I couldn’t help feeling that some of the gothic elements here were a bit too heavy-handed and deliberate to the point that some of the descriptions – especially related to the Manor and what the characters experience there -- felt a little out of place in a few spots.  While this did have the effect of ratcheting up the tension, it also came across a bit forced and unnatural.  Also, on a personal level, I would’ve preferred more focus on Lisan’s story line, as I found her backstory more intriguing, but that could be because I’m more of a fan of the historical than the gothic (though given the novel’s title, I have to admit to being a little surprised that Caroline’s story arc seemed to overshadow Lisan’s somewhat).

Minor flaws aside, I definitely enjoyed this one.  Having read Chang’s last four novels, I feel that her writing and storytelling skills continue to get better and better with each book -- though of course, I still prefer her historical novels because I love the way she brings lesser known Chinese history and culture to light.  I can’t wait to see what Chang has in store for us next!

Received ARC from William Morrow via NetGalley.

Review: Kin (by Tayari Jones)

My Rating: 5 stars

Tayari Jones’s latest novel is a beautifully rendered story of two motherless daughters – self-named “cradle friends” -- raised together in the small town of Honeysuckle, Louisiana who, despite growing apart and living entirely contrasting lives as adults, manage to maintain their lifelong friendship and sisterhood truly through thick and thin. 

After her mother’s death at the hands of her father, Vernice (Niecy) was taken in by her Aunt Irene (her mother’s sister) and raised to be a refined young lady who not only ends up attending Spelman College (one of the most elite schools for Black women), but also marries into a powerful and rich family where she finally gets to experience the “motherly love” that she had been yearning for since childhood.  Annie, on the other hand, experiences a completely different fate as she longs to find the mother who abandoned her as a baby, leaving her to be raised by her grandmother.  When she inadvertently stumbles across a potential address for her mother, Annie sets off on a perilous journey that takes her on what is essentially a wild goose chase across the American South, searching for her mother while also experiencing love and friendship in the process.

The story is told through the alternating first-person perspectives of Niecy and Annie, and I have to say that this structure worked really well because as a reader, I felt as though I was experiencing everything alongside both women.  Jones has a wonderful way of writing unforgettable characters whom we can’t help but root for and love, despite their obvious shortcomings, and this was definitely the case with Niecy and Annie.  I love the strong bond between these two characters and the “kinship” they shared despite not being related by blood (there’s a scene late in the book where Niecy refers to Annie as “family” – reading that honestly made me cry).  Jones is a masterful writer who has the unique ability of taking a complex theme and weaving an emotionally rich, nuanced story that balances both humor and heartbreak in a powerful and moving way. With the exception of the ending, which gutted me (it was hard not to cry given how invested I was in these characters), the rest of the story was well-balanced on the emotional front (in terms of being both heartwarming and heartbreaking), while also giving us a realistic view of what it means to be a Black woman living in the South during the 1950s and 60s.

This book is getting a lot of buzz (it was recently chosen for Oprah’s Book Club) and deservedly so, in my opinion.  Definitely prioritize this one if you get a chance to pick it up – it is truly a wonderful read!

 

Received ARC from Knopf via NetGalley.