Review: The Seekers of Deer Creek (by Thao Thai)

My Rating: 4.5 stars

After reading and loving Thao Thai’s debut novel Banyan Moon when it came out in 2023, I’ve been excitedly waiting for her next book, which finally arrived last month with The Seekers of Deer Creek. Thai’s sophomore effort is just as beautifully written as her debut, with so many profound moments that not only resonated with me, but also were sources of thought and reflection that continued to linger long after I finished the book.  Banyan Moon was a family saga about mother / daughter relationships and the complicated cultural dynamics that can inform these relationships in ways both positive and negative.  This time around, with Seekers, Thai centers her story around the Nguyen sisters, Vivi and Calla, and the complexities of a sibling relationship that is strained and emotionally fraught, yet also deeply loving.  The two sisters couldn’t be more different: Vivi is practical and sensible, the protector and “responsible” one whose job it is to constantly rein in her free-spirited and “frenetic” younger sister Calla who can be reckless and unpredictable to the point of worry. Yet both sisters share more in common than they think, especially in their struggles with addiction (both literal and figurative) and surviving a tumultuous childhood that ended up having a huge impact on both of them, though in different ways.  After the death of their father, Calla finds a letter and sketch in his home that is eerily similar to a painting created by reclusive Vietnamese artist K.P. Ly. -- the letter mentions an “offering,” which Calla believes is meant for their family.  She brings this discovery to Vivi in the hopes that she will accompany her on a search for this supposed relic from the past and while Vivi reluctantly agrees, the decision is a difficult one to make given the dissonance in the sisters’ relationship.  Indeed, the journey to understand their family’s past ends up having a profound impact on both sisters.

I have to say that I loved this novel nearly as much as I did Thao Thai’s debut, though I found the mystery aspect a little lacking, which is why I rated this one 4.5 stars instead of 5.  With that said, I actually connected with the part of the story that explored Vivi and Calla’s sibling relationship more than the mystery involving K.P. Ly and the lost artwork.  I related so much to Vivi, with her reticent personality and myopia when it came to her own needs.  Calla hits it on the nose when she reprimands her sister: “You like having the answers, working in the shadows so no one could judge your heart and mind.  You’d sooner vanish than leave yourself vulnerable.”  Vivi resents her sister for seeing through her, and yet, deep down, Vivi recognizes that, at the end of the day, she “didn’t want to win, she only wanted to be understood.” Vivi’s struggle to reconcile what she wants versus what is expected of her resonated with me deeply – true, some of Vivi’s behavior frustrated me to no end (such as the way she repeatedly hurts the people who love her by saying cruel things to them in efforts to push them away – her inability to allow anyone to love her was akin to a lingering illness that she could not overcome), but I still found myself rooting for her.  Perhaps one of the reasons why I’m so drawn to Vivi is because I see so much of myself in her, whether it’s the inherent flaws that she struggles to overcome or the attempts to navigate her different roles in life (“steady sister, dependable daughter, supportive best friend”).  To this point, I found this quote from the book particularly relevant and meaningful: “Some humans come with a price.  You accept them in their entirety, because learning to love their flaws is easier than not loving them at all.”

Thao Thai writes in a way that is both profound and perceptive, with so many gorgeously rendered sentences that I ended up having something to highlight on nearly every page.  With this book, I also did something I hadn’t done since grad school: close read and take notes.  While doing this took me longer to get through the book than normal, it was well worth the effort, as I picked up on so many nuances that I probably would not have otherwise. One example is Thao Thai’s allusion to the poem “Goblin Market” by Christina Rossetti, which I had written a paper about in one of my English Literature classes – as soon as I saw the reference, I couldn’t help noticing the parallels between the sisters’ relationships in both works and it completely changed how I engaged with the story.  That said, as much as I loved the experience, I probably won’t do this type of close reading analysis with every book, at least not upon the first read, as I see now that there is a benefit to reading a book straight through and then doing a closer read upon the second go-around when I already know the main beats of the story.

If you loved Thao Thai’s debut as much as I did, I would definitely recommend reading her sophomore novel, though I must be clear that both books are very different in story and tone, despite sharing similarly emotive and beautiful prose (and absolutely gorgeous covers).  I can’t wait to see what Thao Thai will write next!

Received ARC from Mariner Books via NetGalley.

Review: Banyan Moon (by Thao Thai)

My Rating:  5 stars

I've been reading quite a few new releases the last couple of months and while many of those I enjoyed immensely (majority have been 4 and 4.5 star reads thankfully), I had yet to come across one that I could truly categorize as a 5 star level "this book blew me away" type read (so far this year, I've rated 2 books 5 stars, but both were backlist reads).  Well, heading into summer reading season, I'm happy to report that I've finally come across my first 5 star read among the plentiful 2023 new releases — Thao Thai's spectacular debut novel Banyan Moon (scheduled for publication in June).  

There was so much to unpack with this book, I'm honestly not sure where to begin.  Perhaps the best place to start would be what attracted me to this book in the first place — as soon as I read the premise, especially the following last paragraph, I knew that this was a book I abs had to read:   Spanning decades and continents, from 1960s Vietnam to the wild swamplands of the Florida coast, Banyan Moon is a stunning and deeply moving story of mothers and daughters, the things we inherit, and the lives we choose to make out of that inheritance."  

First of all, I love sweeping family sagas, but in particular, I'm drawn to stories about mother/daughter relationships.  Part of the reason I gravitate toward these types of stories is because I have a complicated relationship with my own mother, so I'm constantly on the lookout for books that explore this — particularly between Asian mothers and daughters, as there are usually familiar cultural dynamics involved that inform these relationships, which can hopefully help me make sense of my own.  

To be honest, reading this book was like a gut punch for me because I resonated so deeply with each of the 3 main characters — Minh (grandmother and family matriarch), Huong (Minh's daughter and Ann's mother), and Ann (Minh's granddaughter, Huong's daughter, and herself about to become a mother) — and the various misunderstandings and disagreements that defined their relationship with each other. I understood Ann's feeling of being adrift and floating and not really knowing what she wanted to do with her life, only that she wanted to escape from the perpetual tension that always existed when she was in her mother's presence.  I also understood Huong's feelings of inadequacy — both as a mother and as a daughter — and feeling like she had no choice but to resign herself to a life that reflected what others wanted rather than what she actually wanted.  And yes, I also understood Minh's struggle, why she became the overbearing force to be reckoned with in the family, and what necessitated her urge to protect her granddaughter at all costs.  So many of the dynamics that were at play between these three women felt so familiar to me, as they reflected some of my experiences and struggles with my own family over the years:  for instance: the inability to communicate our true feelings no matter how hard we try, and then being bogged down by endless guilt and regret that never truly goes away; the resentment and hurt built up from a lifetime of letting fear and desperation dictate our words and actions, resulting in us saying things to each other that we may not really mean, but that end up dealing irreparable damage to our relationships; and for me, this one was the most poignant and heartbreaking — the constant struggle with understanding the different ways to love someone and the impossibility of choosing a "right" or "wrong" way to love (especially where family is concerned).  As an indication of how deeply this story resonated with me — during various points as I was reading, I actually had to set the book down in order to wipe away tears that seemed to appear of their own accord. 

Another thing that blew me away with this book was the writing. I love beautiful prose and this one definitely had plenty of it!  When I read fiction, I tend to read straight through without marking up any passages because I don't want to break up the flow of the story, but in this instance, I couldn't help myself — some of the passages, in articulating the complexities of the relationship between the 3 generations of Tran women, also described my own feelings so precisely that I just had to mark them for rereading and reflection later.  

One other thing I wanted to mention is the format of the narrative, which, except for the first chapter, alternated between the perspectives of Minh, Huong, and Ann, both in the present day as well as going back to the past.  This format was powerful, I felt, as juxtaposing the three women's stories in this way not only helped us see how each navigated her role as daughters (which is important because of how much these experiences shaped their future roles as mothers), but it also helped us to see how similar some of their motivations were, yet how differently their lives turned out based on the choices they made. 

As I mentioned earlier, there is a lot to unpack with this one and the above only touches upon a few of my initial thoughts about certain aspects of the story that resonated with me, which of course only scratches the surface of what this book is about.  This is why I'm so glad that one of my book clubs chose this as a monthly read, as I now have an excuse to go back and reread this in preparation for the discussion.  Definitely looking forward to it!

Received ARC from Mariner Books via BookBrowse First Impressions program.

Review: Community Board (by Tara Conklin)

My Rating:  3.5 stars

I read Tara Conklin's previous novel The Last Romantics and absolutely loved it!  That book was so well-written, with characters that were memorable albeit not always likable, an emotional story arc, and a plot that unfolded slowly but still had a good balance of surprising moments that felt both poignant and genuine.  Given the above, it should come as no surprise that, as soon as I found out Conklin would have a new book out this month, I jumped at the chance to read it.  While there were aspects of her new novel, Community Board that appreciated and even enjoyed, I didn't really take to the book overall as much as I did her previous one.  Perhaps my expectations were too high going into this one, which I thought would be in the same vein as The Last Romantics, but of course, turned out to be entirely different.  

The story revolves around main protagonist Darcy Clipper, who, driven by the heartbreak of her husband leaving her for another woman, returns to the small town of Murbridge, Massachusetts where she grew up.  Expecting to be consoled by her parents, she is disappointed to find that they had left on a trip to Arizona without telling her.  Darcy then shuts herself inside her childhood home in a self-imposed period of isolation where she shuns all contact with the outside world and subsists primarily on a diet of Chef Boyardee and chickpeas.  During this solitary period, Darcy spends most of her time alternately feeling sorry for herself, blaming her friends and family for abandoning her, and reading decades-old issues of National Geographicmagazine cover-to-cover.  Her only contact with the outside world, for the most part, is through the community board where the residents of Murbridge post various updates and messages related to their little town.  After a few months, Darcy starts to run out of food and, not wanting to ask her parents for money (because she is still mad at them for not being there to take care of her), she has to find a way to make money, which finally forces her to venture out of the house.  She ends up working for a guy named Marcus Dash-Lagrand, who had just moved into Murbridge with his husband Dan and their 3 sons, and through increased interactions with the family (as well as a handful of others), she slowly emerges from her shell and, more importantly, learns that she can indeed survive on her own.

The format of the story consists of mostly a third-person narrative interspersed with Darcy's emails (ones that she drafts but never sends out and ones that she actually does send) and posts from the Murbridge community board.  I thought this format was interesting and effective — I especially enjoyed the community board posts, which I recognized as being similar to the quirky stuff I typically see on my local neighborhood's community board.  I also liked the humor that permeated much of the story line — sure, some of it was cynical and raunchy and borderline outlandish at times, but for some reason, it worked in this instance (which is saying something because I usually prefer more subtle humor — "slapstick"-type humor is generally a hit or miss for me).

With all that said, what didn't work for me was Darcy's self-imposed isolation and self-absorbed pity party taking up nearly half of the story.  I'm not opposed to characters having to work out their feelings after facing a difficult situation, but the setup here was a bit too excessive in my opinion.  Darcy essentially spends the first half of the story revisiting over and over again everything that is wrong with her life; alternating between blaming her husband (for having an affair), her friends (for abandoning her), and her parents (for coddling her and doing too much for her); and depriving herself of proper sleep, nutrition, and hygiene. At first, I did feel sorry for Darcy, but after having to spend page after page (after page after page) absorbed in her complaints, I started getting increasingly annoyed and frustrated.  Luckily, in the second half of the story, Darcy finally ventures out and allows herself to interact with people in the community, which is when things actually started to get interesting.

Overall, I would say that, while I don't regret reading this one, I wish I hadn't gone into it with such high expectations.  Definitely lesson learned!

Received ARC from Mariner Books via NetGalley.

Review: Land of Big Numbers (by Te-Ping Chen)

My Rating: 4 stars

With her debut short story collection Land of Big Numbers, Te-Ping Chen brings us an insightful and thought-provoking portrayal of modern day China.  Over the course of 10 diverse and layered stories, Chen provides keen insight into the cultural, political, economic, and social realities of what life is like for citizens in contemporary China and also beyond that, extending to the Chinese diaspora in several instances.  A few of the stories were direct in depicting the plight of Chinese citizens' current reality, while others were more fantastical, employing elements of magical realism to get its point across — all of the stories were well-written though and compelling to read.

While I enjoyed the entire collection overall, a few of the stories were especially engaging, to the point that I couldn't help feeling disappointed when they ended abruptly, without closure.  I prefer fictional stories that are complete — with a beginning, middle, and end — which is why, in general, I'm not particularly keen on short story collections.  I don't like the feeling of being left hanging, though unfortunately, most short story collections do exactly that — this collection, of course, was no exception, though I will say that the quality of the stories does make up for it to some degree.

One of the things I really appreciate about this collection is that it gives readers a glimpse into what life is like for people living in contemporary China.  This is significant given that many of the stories nowadays are about the Chinese immigrant experience in the U.S., which I'm happy to see of course, but I also feel that it's hard to truly understand that experience without having some familiarity with the background history and culture — books like this one are important and necessary contributions to this understanding.

This is a collection that I definitely recommend. At less than 250 pages, the book is brief enough that it can be read in one sitting, yet each story is so deeply nuanced that some amount of reflection is needed before moving on.  As I mentioned earlier, while I did enjoy the entire collection, a few of the stories in particular stood out as favorites.  Among them were:

"Lulu" - about brother/sister twins who grow up in the same household but end up taking radically different paths in life — one becomes a professional gamer while the other becomes a political activist.  I felt this was the most emotionally nuanced story in the collection.

"Hotline Girl" - about a young woman who moves from the village to the city to work at a government call center and also to escape her violent ex-boyfriend, who eventually tracks her down.  

"New Fruit" - about the effects of the qiguo on a village — a 'peculiar fruit' that evokes different, mostly positive, responses from those who eat it, until the day that it suddenly doesn't.  This was an interesting story, one that demonstrated people's propensity toward fickleness but also their capacity for resilience.

"Field Notes on a Marriage" - about an interracial couple where the wife truly begins to understand her husband upon traveling to his home country after his death.  

"Shanghai Murmur" - about the divide between the rich and poor, manifested in a young woman's obsession with an object belonging to one of her customers.

"Gubeikou Spirit" - about a group of people trapped on a subway platform for months, unable to leave until the government gives them permission to do so.  This was by far the strangest story of the entire collection, but also the most fascinating and the one that stood out the most.

Received paper ARC from publisher (Houghton Mifflin Harcourt / Mariner Books).