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: 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: 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: 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: 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.

Review: Summerland Cove (by Ellen Baker)

My Rating: 4 stars

Given its cover and title as well as its seaside and summer vacation setting – combined with an interesting premise with a mysterious disappearance at its center, a splash of summer romance, a bunch of messy family relationships, and too many secrets to count -- this book had all the trappings of a “perfect for the summer months” read.  This also proved to be a bit lighter fare than the books I’ve been reading lately, so timing-wise, this worked well in getting me settled into the rhythm of my summer reading journey.

In a story that revolves around one summer in 2010, three women from different generations of the same family narrate the events that occur during a get-together to celebrate three big events over the course of three weekends:  a birthday, a 50^th anniversary party, and a wedding.  At her family’s summer cottage located in a coastal town called Summerland Cove in Maine, 50-year-old Lindy is setting up for her husband David’s birthday bash, which she had been planning for weeks, alongside her parents Greta and Tom’s 50^th anniversary celebration to take place the next weekend, and culminating with her eldest daughter Hailey’s wedding the weekend after that. With only a few hours to go before the party starts, Lindy is busy putting the final touches on the arrangements and making sure things are in tip-top shape.  As the final guests arrive and the party is already underway however, the guest of honor – birthday boy David – is nowhere to be found.  When it becomes apparent that David isn’t merely “late” but rather a “no show” to his own party, the family starts to panic.  Did something happen? Is he okay? Is his disappearance intentional or an accident?  With so many questions and no good answers, the celebration turns into a frantic search that gradually leads to the unraveling of one family secret after another.

The story unfolds through the alternating perspectives of Greta, Lindy, and Hailey, who each give their take on the events that occur while also providing insight into their thoughts and feelings and, ultimately, secrets that we as readers become privy to but some of the characters don’t. I think this structure worked fine overall, though with the three of them narrating some of the same events, there was bound to be some repetition here and there, which had the effect of making some parts feel a tad drawn out – and I did feel that the book as a whole was longer than it really needed to be.  Out of the 3 POVs, I connected the most to Greta’s, which is surprising given that I’m actually closer to Lindy’s age.  With that said, some aspects of Lindy’s story arc did resonate with me, but I found Greta’s story more poignant and relatable (those scenes with Marjorie near the end actually moved me to tears).  I also wasn’t too keen on Hailey’s story arc, as I found it too predictable, for one, and it also felt a bit cliché-ish – not to mention her character came across like an angsty teen rather than an adult most of the time, plus some of the scenes where she repeatedly goes out on a limb to justify things that are so obviously not justifiable (or deliberately talks herself into doing the opposite of what she actually wants) started to annoy me after like the fourth or fifth time. Fortunately, there was enough other stuff going on that Hailey’s wishy-washy story arc didn’t become too much of a distraction.

Overall, I definitely enjoyed this one, as it had many of the elements that I typically like: a compelling mystery, complicated family dynamics, strong and complexly drawn female characters, emotional depth, atmospheric settings, etc.  With that said, I also understand some of the complaints that other readers/reviewers had about the many plot lines and story arcs that made the story feel a bit too “busy.”  Also, while the writing flowed pretty well for the most part, there were sections where some of the characters would repeatedly debate with themselves (usually in efforts to justify their own actions), which I felt was unnecessary and dragged things down a bit.  I think if some of those extraneous bits were cut and the story tightened up a little more, this would’ve been a much more solid read.  That said, I still recommend adding this one to your summer reading list, as it is a perfect fit for the season.  Reading this also made me interested in Ellen Baker’s backlist, which I definitely hope to explore at some point.

 

Review: The Young Will Remember (by Eve J. Chung)

My Rating: 4.5 stars

Ever since I finished reading Taiwanese American author Eve J. Chung’s stunning and immersive debut novel Daughters of Shandong back in 2023, I have been eagerly anticipating her next book, so I of course was ecstatic to find out that her sophomore novel, The Young Will Remember, would be published this year.  Whereas Chung’s debut drew on her own family history – specifically, the story of her maternal grandmother and her experiences during the Chinese civil war -- this second novel is inspired by her half-Korean husband’s family history and shed lights on another lesser-known piece of 20^th century history:  the Korean War, which was also known as the “Forgotten War.” At the same time, Chung also incorporates her own experiences as a women’s human rights lawyer as well as her work with victims of sexual violence to bring some much-needed attention to the crime of military sexual slavery and the history of “comfort women” during World War II and the wars that followed it. 

Chung weaves these threads together through the story of Eleanor (Ellie) Chang, a Chinese American journalist who becomes trapped behind enemy lines when the plane she is riding in goes down in the mountains of North Korea at the height of the Korean War.  Upon witnessing her comrades being executed in cold blood, Ellie believes she is about to meet the same fate – that is, until a woman she later comes to know as “Emma” claims Ellie as her long-lost daughter Song Yun-Hee, whom Emma had been searching for ever since she was kidnapped by Japanese occupation forces during the previous war.  Even though Ellie is obviously not her daughter, Emma takes her into the home where she lives with her long-time friends, the Pak family – Pastor Pak, his wife Imo, and their son Jae-Min – and treats her as part of the family.  Gradually, Ellie forges a close connection with Emma and Imo – a relationship that only grows stronger as the war intensifies and they are eventually forced to escape to safety in the south. Throughout their harrowing escape, even as they bear witness to the chaos and destruction of bombs raining down on them almost daily, Emma never stops searching for her daughter and at some point, Ellie also takes up the search for Yun-Hee as her own personal mission.  While the search for Yun-Hee is a thread woven throughout the narrative, the heart and soul of the story centers around the bond that Ellie and Emma form as they endure the difficulties of life amidst the upheaval of war.

Once again, Chung delivers a moving story about ordinary women who, bound together by the will to survive the extraordinary hardship and devastating heartbreak that they face, fight against all odds to rise resiliently above the forces that threaten them.  In situating her characters within the historical context of the impact that World War II had on Korea (which she discusses in her Author’s Note), Chung succeeds in doing what well-researched and well-written historical fiction does best: shed much-needed light on little known aspects of history that can also serve as relevant teaching moments when circumstances require it.  In this light, and given its themes, the title of the novel – The Young Will Remember – is indeed apt.

While I still prefer Chung’s debut novel Daughters of Shandong (which was a 5-star read for me), this sophomore effort is a worthwhile read and definitely highly recommended – though with the caveat that this won’t be an easy read by any means, given its depiction of war and its atrocities. Even so, it is still time well-spent.

Received ARC from Berkley via NetGalley.

Review: This is the Story of a Happy Marriage (by Ann Patchett)

My Rating: 5 stars

Ann Patchett is one of my favorite authors, so it probably doesn’t come as a surprise that I will pretty much read anything she writes.  After finishing Tom Lake back in 2023, I’ve been slowly working my way through Patchett’s backlist and recently finished her 2013 essay collection, This is the Story of a Happy Marriage, which I listened to on audio – a wonderful experience in and of itself, since she narrates the audiobook herself. 

Despite what the title says, this collection of essays actually covers a variety of topics – yes, her marriage to Karl is talked about at length, but there are also essays about everything from her relationship with her grandmother, to her friendship with the late Lucy Grealy and the reception of the book she wrote about her (Truth and Beauty), to her closeness with one of the nuns who had taught her in school.  There are also essays about her dog, about how she came to co-own the bookshop Parnassus in Nashville, about her experience “training” in the police academy so she could write about it (her father is a retired LAPD officer), as well as the introduction she wrote as the editor of the 2006 volume of The Best American Short Stories (among many other essays).  Though I loved all of the essays in this collection, if I had to pick a favorite, it would definitely be “The Getaway Car,” which is Patchett’s manifesto about writing – the tips that she gives in this brilliant essay are absolutely invaluable, which also makes this a must-read for all writers, whether aspiring or seasoned.

One thing to note -- this is a compilation of essays that Patchett wrote for various publications over the years, but they are not in chronological order, so technically you can skip around if you want, especially if you already read a particular essay when it was first published (though for me, I still read the collection straight through from beginning to end, regardless of whether I had read an essay previously or not).  With that said, I would actually advocate for reading all of the essays in this collection due to the multifaceted nature of the essays, which, combined as a whole, provides a fascinating glimpse into Patchett’s world and especially helps those of us who are fans of her work better understand who she is not just as a writer, but also as a person.

This is a collection I absolutely recommend, whether you’re an occasional reader of Patchett’s work or a superfan like me – and of course, if you decide to pick this up, the audiobook is definitely the way to go, as there is something about listening to Patchett narrate her own essays that elevates the reading experience.

Review: The Book Witch (by Meg Shaffer)

My Rating: 5 stars

The Book Witch is another fun, charming, delightful read from one of my favorite contemporary fantasy authors, Meg Shaffer.  I read and loved both of Shaffer’s previous books (2023’s The Wishing Game and 2024’s The Lost Story), both of which were so imaginative and brilliantly crafted that, when I heard she would have a new book out, I couldn’t help wondering how she would be able to top those two wonderful works.  Well, top those she did, as this newest work is not only wildly creative, but also simultaneously compelling and whimsical – storytelling at its finest, in my humble opinion. 

The story revolves around a whimsically named protagonist, Rainy March, whose job as a book witch is to defend works of fiction by acting as a “fixer” – with the help of a magical umbrella and an adorable cat named Koshka, she goes on missions to save beloved stories from being negatively altered and disappearing into oblivion. Whether it’s locating and escorting a runaway protagonist back into their story so they can live their “happily ever after” (as she does with Elizabeth Bennet in Pride and Prejudice), rescuing kidnapped detectives so they can finish solving the cases that are central to an entire mystery series (which she does for the noir Duke of Chicago series) or preventing entire fictional worlds from being burned down by enemy book burners hellbent on destroying stories that don’t conform to their tastes, Rainy is good at her job, partly because of natural talent and partly because she is a strict rule-follower.  That is, until she falls in love with the Duke of Chicago on one of her missions and continues to maintain a relationship with him – a decision that nearly causes her to lose her job as well as her magical powers after she is caught breaking rule number seven, which states that “real people belong in the real world and fictional characters belong in works of fiction.”  But then the beloved grandfather who raised her disappears, along with a precious book that was a gift from her deceased mother, which prompts Rainy to defy all the rules and conjure up the Duke to help her solve the case and find her grandfather before it’s too late.  Together, they jump in and out of famous book worlds such as The Great Gatsby and Alice in Wonderland in a race-against-time adventure that ultimately leads Rainy to uncover secrets that will change her life forever.

Structurally, this book is divided into seven parts, with each part named for a specific literary genre such as romance, mystery, fantasy, etc. – a “genre mashup” of sorts that not only correlates to the story’s actual plot points, but also reflects the book’s own impossibility of categorization into one specific genre (while, strictly speaking, I would classify this book as a fantasy, there are actually elements of multiple genres in here).  In addition to the clever structure, Shaffer’s writing flows so smoothly here that the reading felt effortless, yet also captivating – I definitely could not stop turning the pages.  In terms of plot and characters – well, let’s just say that Shaffer definitely did not disappoint in both areas:  I loved these characters just as much as I loved the characters in her previous books, and the plot went in a direction that I absolutely did not see coming, but in a good way (this is where the “wildly creative” piece comes in – read this book and you will know what I mean). 

I don’t know how Shaffer does it, but now after having read all three of her books, I am in awe of the way she is able to blend reality and fantasy elements so seamlessly into her stories. I’m usually not much of a fantasy reader, but Shaffer’s books are exceptions, as she blurs the line between the realistic and fantastic in such a way that I don’t feel like I’m reading a fantasy.  This brings me to another feature of Shaffer’s books that I absolutely appreciate and love – each of her books addresses contemporary societal issues (in this instance, the recent battles over book banning being the most prominent), but she weaves these into the story so seamlessly that, in most cases, you don’t even realize she’s doing it. 

My impression whenever I read one of Shaffer’s books is that she is a true book lover, as her passion for books and reading definitely shines through with each book.  Both of her previous books were homages to childhood classics (Charlie and the Chocolate Factory and Chronicles of Narnia, respectively), but this newest book steps it up a notch in that it is an homage to all books – both modern and classic – as well as the act of reading in general and its power to change lives.  Indeed, avid readers and book lovers will appreciate the various references to literary works and characters that Shaffer scatters throughout the story (including an Easter egg reference to her own debut novel, which I enjoyed seeing) -- though with that said, my absolutely favorite book-related reference isn’t to a fictional character, but rather, to one of my real-life book icons, LeVar Burton (and it’s obvious in the two scenes where she has LeVar make “cameo” appearances that Shaffer adores him as much as those of us who grew up watching Reading Rainbow still do).

There are so many great lines in this book (I highlighted so much that I had a hand cramp by the time I finished reading, lol), but one of my favorites is this -- “All stories are love stories when you love stories” – as it sums up the vibe of this book perfectly.  Needless to say, I’m officially a Meg Shaffer fan now and my bookish heart cannot wait to read her next book (that will no doubt be book and/or reading-related).  In the interim though, I definitely recommend all her books and hope more people pick them up, especially fellow book lovers and avid readers who love books about books.

Received ARC from Ballantine Books via NetGalley.

Review: Boring Asian Female (by Canwen Xu)

My Rating: 2.5 stars

I have serious mixed feelings after reading this book. At first, I thought this would be a book right up my alley, with its Chinese American protagonist and spot-on (in the first few chapters at least) depiction of the struggles with identity and belonging that children from immigrant families encounter. Indeed, I found the opening chapters especially resonant, as the protagonist, Elizabeth Zhang, talks about her singular obsession of getting into Harvard Law School and why this is so important to her – a perspective shaped by her experiences growing up amongst two disparate and constantly clashing cultures.  For the first four chapters, I was able to relate to Elizabeth’s struggles and actually felt that we had some things in common, which led me to empathize with her when she finds out about her rejection from the school of her dreams. But then, starting at the end of chapter five, the story starts to spiral downward into extreme dark academia territory and Elizabeth, instead of being a protagonist I could root for, instead becomes a character that I absolutely could not stand.  Actually, to be blunt, I hated Elizabeth with a passion – not only because of her extreme, over-the-top, verging on batsxxt crazy behavior and actions, but mostly because of her constant efforts to justify and rationalize her every horrible thought / action / behavior. 

There are two types of tropes in stories that absolutely frustrate me (and I try to avoid reading as much as possible):  one is “rich people behaving badly (and feeling entitled to it)” and the other is “delusional people acting stupidly (and constantly trying to justify it).”  The protagonist in this story was the perfect manifestation of the second category, which put her in “annoying as hell” territory for me – though to be honest, to say that I could not stand Elizabeth is actually putting it mildly. Starting from chapter 5 on, the entire time I was reading, the main thought running through my mind was that, at the end of this story, Elizabeth better get comeuppance for her bad behavior – in fact, finding out what the consequences would be for her was the only reason why I resisted the urge to DNF this book early on and instead, pushed myself to read through to the end (though yes, I did skim some parts, though mostly because I was starting to get a headache from reading sentence after sentence about Elizabeth’s horrid behavior and warped justifications, to the point that I honestly wanted to jump out the window).  Whether she gets comeuppance or not, of course I’m not going to mention, but I will say this – I hated the ending so much that I lowered my rating by one full star because of it.

With all that said, I am definitely an outlier with this book, as majority of the reviews I’ve seen so far have been fairly positive.  In this light, maybe this is one of those situations where I’m just not the right reader for this book in the sense that I’m probably taking the story too seriously rather than appreciating what the author was likely trying to do (satirical takedown of academia and the Ivy League admissions process, perhaps?).  Speaking of “takedown,” this book actually reminded me of another book written by a Chinese American female author that was also “satirical takedown” but of the publishing industry: R.F. Kuang’s Yellowface, which also featured a much-loathed (and, yes, delusional) protagonist engaging in the most god-awful behavior and justifying it up the wazoo (though by all accounts, that book was much better written, in my humble opinion). 

Given that I had such an unpleasant reading experience with this one, I am going to refrain from giving an opinion in terms of whether to recommend this or not, since each reader’s taste will be different.  I’m personally not a fan of dark academia, which probably played a role in why I couldn’t really stomach this one, but that doesn’t mean others won’t enjoy it.  So I would say before deciding whether to pick this one up, read other reviews to get a more well-rounded picture first.

Received ARC from Berkley via NetGalley.