Review: Sipsworth (by Simon Van Booy)

My Rating: 4 stars

Going into this book, I wasn’t sure what to expect at first.  I mean, I knew the basic outline of the story: an elderly protagonist named Helen returns to her hometown from 60 years abroad after losing the two most important people in her life (her husband and son), wishing only to be alone and, when the time comes, to go quietly.  But everything changes when Helen befriends a mouse that she unexpectedly encounters one night outside her house.  She names the mouse Sipsworth and it is through Helen’s interactions with him that we not only come to learn her backstory, but we also see her start to open up and make connections with others. 

The story, overall, is a simple one – not much fanfare, not much action, and perhaps a bit too mundane in some sections that I couldn’t help wondering whether I would be able to stay engaged as the story slowly unfolded.  But the author, Simon Van Booy, did a good job of keeping my attention through the small revelations about Helen’s background, especially in the second half of the story, as well as with the endearing characters, all of whom I loved.  I must say that I am definitely not a rodent person and with the exception of a certain animated version, just the mere mention of mice and rodents would usually make my skin crawl – but with this story, I didn’t feel any aversion to the mouse protagonist at all.  In fact, I actually found Sipsworth kind of charming (though with that said, this does not change my overall “run the other way” mentality if I encounter a rodent in real life).

One of the things I appreciate most about this story is the way it was able to balance being quietly moving, yet also subtly humorous – there were moments of sadness but also moments of levity that put a smile on my face (and sometimes made me laugh out loud).

I definitely enjoyed this delightful little story that was just the right amount of lighthearted warmth and humor while also being thoughtful and profound.  A lovely read and also a welcome departure from the heavy stuff I’ve been reading as of late.

Review: Connie: A Memoir (by Connie Chung)

My Rating: 4 stars

I was fortunate enough to get my hands on a signed copy of Connie Chung’s memoir last year while attending a talk she gave, but of course, I didn’t get around to reading the book when I got home, so with my newfound foray into audiobooks, it made sense to put her memoir near the top of my list. Thinking about it now, I’m so glad I waited to listen to this one on audio, as hearing Connie narrate her memoir in her own voice made this a much more intimate and immersive experience.

While Connie may not think of herself as extraordinary, many of us who looked up to her would probably beg to differ.  As one of the first (and, even to this day, very few) Asian women to break into mainstream news journalism, Connie is absolutely a trailblazer and an icon.  As a Chinese girl growing up in Los Angeles back in the 1980s and 1990s, I was thrilled to see a Chinese woman on TV who did not fit into any of the “Asian female” stereotypes that we were expected to abide by.  The Connie I remember onscreen was beautiful, fashionable (in my humble opinion, her “Connie hairstyle” set the stage for the “Rachel hairstyle” that came later), outspoken, confident, spoke perfect English, and most importantly, was able to hold her own day-in and day-out in a cutthroat industry dominated by powerful men. 

Reading Connie’s memoir was truly enlightening, not only because I knew so little about her outside of what I saw on TV, but also because I was finally able to “meet” (albeit through the pages of a book) a woman I so admired growing up.  There were so many things I learned about Connie that I never would have guessed (for example – her incisive wit and self-deprecating humor were things I didn’t know about), yet at the same time, so much of her experience coming up the ranks was also familiar to me because of our shared attributes of being both Chinese and a woman.  Reading about Connie’s many instances of having to deal with both overt and covert sexism as well as racism was heartbreaking but of course, not surprising; by contrast, reading about the unwavering love and support that Connie has gotten from the two “rocks” in her life (husband Maury Povich and son Matthew) was heartwarming – it definitely made me happy to see Connie’s life turn out so well.

Unsurprisingly, my favorite parts of the book were when Connie talked about her background (her parents’ and sisters’ journeys from China to the U.S.), her family, her career path, etc.  I was of course less keen on the parts involving the political stories she covered (i.e. Watergate and the interviews with various presidents and political leaders) due to my aversion to American politics in general (another advantage of audiobooks is that I could zone out or forward through those bits), but luckily, those parts weren’t too overwhelming.

Overall, Connie’s memoir was an inspiring read and one that I greatly enjoyed, especially on audio.  Since I started getting into audiobooks in December, I’ve read 4 memoirs already, 3 of which were narrated by the authors themselves and have been pleasant experiences so far.  Based on this, I think I’ve found my “audiobook niche” in the form of memoirs narrated by their respective authors, which I’m definitely excited to continue pursuing.  While I intend to read both celebrity and non-celebrity memoirs alike via audiobooks, I’m especially happy about this newfound niche as it pertains to celebrity memoirs, which, traditionally, I very rarely read in print because of the whole ghostwriting thing (a topic that I have strong thoughts about, but that’s for another day).  Essentially, a celebrity narrating their own memoir via audiobook makes the book feel more personal and, for me at least, lessens my feeling of being “duped” reading a book that the celebrity may not have actually written. 

Looking forward to the memoirs I’ve got lined up over the next couple of months, though I will probably be spacing them out more going forward, since I’ve got a stack of upcoming spring releases that I’m super excited about and definitely need to get to soon!

 

Review: Slow Productivity (by Cal Newport)

My Rating: 3.5 stars

I definitely have mixed feelings when it comes to my thoughts on this book.  Admittedly, I don’t read a lot of non-fiction books, especially ones that fall into the “self-help” category (as this one undoubtedly does).  One reason is because I don’t find most of these “self-help” books particularly “helpful” and since it takes me longer to read non-fiction books in general, I feel it wouldn’t be a good use of my time.  In this light, Cal Newport’s latest book, Slow Productivity, is a bit of an anomaly – on the one hand, I found the anecdotes and stories it tells of a wide-ranging mix of famous people such as Isaac Newton, Jane Austen, Benjamin Franklin, Georgia O’Keefe, Jewel, Alanis Morrisette, etc. quite fascinating and entertaining.  While some of the examples that Newport used to illustrate his points were a bit of a stretch in my opinion, the interesting storytelling made up for the shortcomings in this area, in my opinion.  With that said however, as a practical guide on productivity, I don’t feel this book was tremendously helpful.  Case in point – despite having just finished the book, I’ve already forgotten the “principles” that form the basis of the “slow productivity” philosophy that Newport advocates as well as the practical strategies that he suggests for combatting burnout.  Even after re-reading the summary in attempts to trigger my memory, what comes to mind first and foremost are the stories and anecdotes rather than the guidance or any actionable advice that Newport provides. 

Given the above, it should probably come as no surprise that I don’t have a whole lot to say about this book, so my review will be shorter than what I usually write.  I do recall thinking to myself at various points that I might be able to apply a particular concept in my life, but then I would get to one of the stories and would become so absorbed that I forget the previous point.  Overall, I did get some things out of this book, so it definitely wasn’t a wasted effort in terms of reading experience, just maybe it didn’t serve the purpose that the author intended for it to serve.

Review: Rental House (by Weike Wang)

 

My Rating: 4.5 stars

A couple weeks ago, I had made a plan to take advantage of the vacation time I would have during the last two weeks of December to catch up on as many 2024 reads as possible. While I realize now in hindsight that this plan was a bit too ambitious given all the family obligations I had around the holidays, I’m glad I put in the effort because even though I won’t get through as much as I had planned, at least I’m making a decent dent to my TBR pile.
 

One of the books that I have been looking forward to reading ever since I found out about it is Rental House, Weike Wang’s third novel that she wrote during the pandemic. I loved her previous novel, Joan is Okay, which resonated with me deeply and was a 5-star read for me, so of course it’s no surprise that this new book was high on my list of must-reads.  I finally got around to reading the book this week and I’m definitely glad I did.  At only 213 pages, this slim novel is a quick read, but yet, one that also packs a punch.

 

In Rental House, Wang presents a marriage between two people from completely opposite ends of the cultural divide.  Keru was born in China, but immigrated to the United States with her parents as a child and despite having completely assimilated into American culture (including becoming a citizen through naturalization), she is still viewed as “foreign” by many people, including her own in-laws.  Keru’s parents, who are strict and demanding (as most immigrant Chinese parents are), expect perfection at every turn and believe that only through endless striving and struggle can immigrants such as themselves gain success in a country not of one’s origin. Nate is white and from a rural Appalachian, working-class family that distrusts intellect and striving as a means to get ahead and instead believes that those in a position of wealth (including the government) should be expected to help them out.  Despite being from two disparate cultures, Keru and Nate marry after college and instead of having kids, decide to raise a sheepdog whom they name Mantou (which means “steamed bun” in Chinese).  The book is divided into two parts, with part 1 being about a vacation in Cape Cod with Keru and Nate as well as both sets of in-laws (albeit separately – Keru’s parents visit first, then Nate’s parents), while part 2 takes place 5 years later, with Keru and Nate vacationing in the Catskills, this time without either set of in-laws (though their presence is still hugely felt despite not being there physically).  The story essentially chronicles the culture clash that ensues as Keru and Nate navigate a life together while simultaneously having to deal with the differences between their families.

 

As a Chinese American woman, I always feel seen whenever I read Weike Wang’s works – more than when I read other works by Chinese/Chinese American authors – probably because of how realistically she is able to portray the Chinese American experience in a modern-day setting.  I love how Wang captures the nuances of the Chinese American experience so perfectly and precisely every time – though in Rental House, the differences are more out in the open due to the juxtaposition of the two main characters who are from such disparate and opposite backgrounds. Given my own background, I especially resonated with Keru’s struggles: the pressure that her Chinese immigrant parents place on her to achieve success, with this success in turn being used as justification that her parents’ sacrifices were not in vain; the never-ending identity struggle that comes with being caught between two disparate cultures; constantly having to weigh the necessity of assimilation against the risk of losing her own cultural identity; and the nagging feeling that, even when she does everything right (works hard, gains prestige and wealth through a respected, high-paying job), it is somehow never going to be enough.  Most of all though, I resonated deeply with the way Keru behaves in the presence of her parents, especially her mother. Growing up with my background, I’ve found that one of the biggest things that my non-Asian friends have the hardest time understanding is the relationship dynamic between the Chinese mother and her children (sons to a certain extent but especially daughters).  In the face of relentless criticism from our Chinese mothers, the most common question that Chinese daughters such as myself get asked is why do we behave the way we do in front of our mothers and furthermore, why do we allow our mothers to treat us this way in the first place.  What those who ask this question fail to understand is that, for Chinese mothers, criticism (especially toward Chinese daughters) is their love language – it’s something so ingrained and such a natural element of the Chinese parent/child relationship that, when we’re in each other’s presence, we automatically slot into our roles without even realizing it.  Weike Wang is one of the few Chinese American authors I’ve read who is able to convey this dynamic so well on the page and I love her for it!

 

With all that said, my favorite novel of Wang’s is still Joan is Okay, but this newest one isn’t too far behind.  I will pretty much read anything Wang writes at this point, and I’m hoping her next novel won’t take too long to come out.

 

Also, one last thing I want to put out there: as those who are familiar with Weike Wang’s works probably know, her style is not for everyone.  She writes with a wry, ironic wit in a snarky, dead-pan style that is oftentimes misunderstood, perhaps because she is unapologetic about portraying her main protagonists in all their quirky, eccentric, realistically flawed glory, which may not work for all audiences.  Her books also tend to be heavily character-driven and not only lack a coherent plot, but also lean more toward “slice-of-life vignette” territory where parts of the story may feel abrupt or incomplete.  This kind of style may not work for all readers, so it’s important to keep this in mind when deciding whether to pick this one up.

Review: Meditations for Mortals (by Oliver Burkeman)

 My Rating: 4 stars

When it comes to books that fall into the “self-help” category, I’ve never been much of a fan, as I find a majority of these books are “overly-preachy” in tone and oftentimes also employ aggressive-sounding language that essentially tries to shame the reader into following the advice at hand.  I’ve always been picky with books, but given this particular pet peeve of mine, I tend to be even more careful when choosing self-help books to read.  Two years ago, I came across Oliver Burkeman’s Four Thousand Weeks and upon the recommendation of trusted book friends (who obviously understood my wariness toward self-help books), I read the book and really enjoyed it.  One of the things I liked most about that book was how Burkeman presented advice regarding time management and productivity (among other things) that largely ran counter to the advice traditionally presented in business books.  As I wrote in my review of that book, Burkeman essentially takes the advice that those time management books preach – the idea of “making more time to get more done” – and throws it out the window.  Instead, his message is that since time is finite and most humans are only on this earth for an average of four thousand weeks, it is realistically impossible to get every single thing that we want to do done – so instead of obsessing over how to cram more “to do” stuff into a short time span, it’s better to just make the conscious decision to do what matters most in the moment and accept the consequences (good or bad) of that choice. 

 

Burkeman’s follow-up to that book is Meditations for Mortals, which came out back in September.  In this much slimmer book, Burkeman takes the concepts from Four Thousand Weeks and breaks them down into “mediations” across 28 days (4 weeks), with the focus specifically on how to embrace our limitations (or “imperfectionism” as Burkeman puts it) and make those choices that matter.  Burkeman wrote the book in a flexible manner where it can either be read all the way through in one or two sittings, or taken in bite-size morsels over a 4 week period (even though I chose to read the book all in one sitting, I appreciate the flexibility that this format provides).

 

Overall, I actually enjoyed this book more than his previous one, probably because I felt it was more accessible, both content-wise and format-wise.  Four Thousand Weeks was a good book, but as I mentioned in my review, it waxed a bit too philosophical in some parts, rendering some of the content a little too abstract.  This follow-up is less philosophical and more practical, which made the content easier to digest and remember.  The format also makes it easier to go back and re-read particular sections that may be more relevant and applicable than others.

 

For those who already read Four Thousand Weeks, I highly recommend reading this follow-up, as it synthesizes some of the concepts from there and, in my opinion, enhances that book.  If you haven’t read that book yet, I would say no need to go back – just read this one instead.

Review: Like Mother, Like Mother (by Susan Rieger)

My Rating: 3 stars

This book was a bit of a mixed bag for me. While I did enjoy some aspects of it – for instance, some of the sardonic humor – I didn’t really like majority of the characters (except for Ruth, who was pretty much the only character I was able to connect with).  I had initially picked this one up because I thought the premise was interesting, for one, and two, stories about mother-daughter relationships (especially multigenerational ones) are very much up my alley – given both these factors, I definitely thought I would take to this one more than I did.  Overall, I found this book a bit difficult to get into, which is probably why it took me so long to finish it – I kept putting it down after several pages and didn’t really feel compelled to get back to it (though I forced myself to finish this weekend so I could move on to the rest of my teetering TBR pile).  Perhaps because I couldn’t relate to most of the characters, or maybe because the plot revolved too heavily around politics (a topic I hate discussing in real life, let alone reading about in books), I just felt like this was a tedious read from beginning to end. The ending was also predictable as well, which wouldn’t really be a problem given that this technically wasn’t a mystery / suspense novel anyway, but it did make me wonder what the point of the story was, especially with some of the characters being so unlikeable.

In any case, I don’t regret reading this one, since, as I mentioned earlier, I did enjoy some parts of it, but unfortunately, the “dislikes’ outweigh the “likes” in this case, plus the timing was bad. I would actually recommend that if you do decide to pick this one up, probably do it after the election, especially if you’re the type (like me) whose anxiety is through the roof right now just thinking about the state of our country and the political implications depending on the outcome...

Received ARC from Dial Press via NetGalley.

 

 

Review: The Sequel (by Jean Hanff Korelitz)

My Rating: 4 stars

 

Given how much I loved Jean Hanff Korelitz’s literary thriller The Plot, it should come as no surprise that when I heard Korelitz had written a sequel to that book – aptly titled The Sequel – I was dying to read it (pun intended, lol).  The Plot was a book that blew me away – clever, creative, and so masterfully done, with an ending that was wholly unexpected (but made sense given the clues hidden throughout the story).  It was so well done, in fact, that I initially couldn’t help but wonder whether a sequel would be able to live up to the original (even Korelitz gives a shout out to this common cultural sentiment when one of her characters in The Sequel states that “they’re never as good as the first book, are they?”).  Well, it seems that the jury is still out with this one, as there seem to be varying reactions to it from what I can see – some readers feel the second book is better while others feel the original is still the best; for me personally, I would have to say that I fall into the second camp.  While I did enjoy this one and found it to be every bit as clever as the first book (I absolutely loved the way Korelitz named each chapter the title of a real-life literary sequel, as half the fun of reading this book, for me at least, was figuring out which book the sequel title belonged to), I also felt that it was not as tightly-written as the first book was and much less “suspenseful” in comparison. 

 

Before I go any further, I have to say this: despite what people may say about it being fine to read this one as a standalone, I actually feel it is absolutely necessary to read The Plot first, for multiple reasons.  First and foremost is the fact that this book starts off where the first one ended; second, much of the story expands upon many of the plot points from the first book, particularly as it pertains to Anna’s background; third, many of the characters from the first book also show up again, with a few featuring heavily in the storyline this time around; and fourth, there are a few points in the book where the big “twists” from the first book are mentioned.  So basically, if you have not read The Plot but try to read The Sequel, you will either be completely lost with the storyline or you will encounter so many “spoilers” from the first book that there’s no point going back to read it anymore.  To be honest, even reading the “blurb” on the jacket of the sequel is not a good idea if you haven’t read the first book, since there are some references to plot points in that story that, in my opinion, can be “spoiler-ish.”

 

In any case, with that out of the way – as I mentioned earlier, I feel that this book was enjoyable but the original was definitely better. I think part of the reason why I feel this way is because The Plot was unique enough on its own, from all aspects, whether storyline, characters, format (the “story within the story” concept was particularly well-done), tone, voice, flow, etc. – it all came together brilliantly.  With The Sequel, I feel that Korelitz was trying to rehash essentially all the same elements, except this time around, with Anna as the protagonist instead of Jacob (for obvious reasons).  This gave me a little bit of a “been there, done that” vibe for one, and two, it made the storyline a lot more predictable – case in point: with a few minor exceptions, the first book largely had me guessing as to the direction that Korelitz was going to take and I was genuinely shocked with ending; with this book, I already had everything figured out midway through the story and not only that, I ended up being exactly on-the-dot in terms of the ending.

 

I also have to say that I’m not entirely sure how I feel about Anna being the protagonist in this story given all the horrible things she did (and continues to do). The blurb on the jacket states that with The Sequel, Korelitz “gives readers an antihero to root for” – well, this wasn’t really a true statement for me because with Anna, I honestly did not see anything worth rooting for (though I understood Anna’s motivations, I still found her behavior and actions beyond appalling).  But I guess this is more a case of “it’s me, not the book,” since I’m not really a fan of diabolic, villain characters as protagonists.

 

Overall, this was a worthwhile read, especially if you’ve already read The Plot, as this story fills in nearly all of the gaps that were left open-ended from the first book (and it’s definitely a thrill to be able to recognize a character or plot point from the first book and wonder what the implications will be for the new protagonist who wasn’t involved in the interaction the first time around).  As for whether I would read a third book (if there were to be one – which, all indication so far is that there might be), probably yes, but definitely with less anticipatory excitement, especially if Anna is also going to be the protagonist the third go around.

 

Received ARC from Celadon Books via NetGalley.

 

Review: Here One Moment (by Liane Moriarty)

My Rating: 4 stars

It’s been awhile since I’ve read a Liane Moriarty book, but I remember enjoying the ones I read in the past, so I was definitely excited going into this one. To be honest, given the premise of this book, there really isn’t a whole lot I can say that won’t give something away, so I will keep this review short and sweet.

 

Overall, I enjoyed this one well enough – it was entertaining and I liked how the chapters were short and easy to get through, which was definitely helpful given how long this book ended up being as a whole (my hardcover version was 500 pages). I especially loved the first half of the book where Moriarty essentially skewers the airline industry, poking fun at the idiosyncrasies of what we experience at airports and while flying – specifically, the way she depicted how people behave on airplanes was spot on and absolutely hilarious (I was nodding my head through practically every page, lol).  Once all the passengers got off the plane though and went back to living their lives – basically, once the “mystery” element kicked in -- where we start to see whether the predictions on the plane would actually materialize, the story became less funny and more serious, which was fine (this IS a mystery/thriller after all), but then some parts of the story felt like it started to drag a little – the jokes didn’t land as well and some details felt a bit irrelevant.  Like other readers, I also felt the book was too long and some chapters were likely unnecessary, but as the events unfolded in the second half of the book, I will say that I did learn a thing or two about some professions that I had never heard about before (if you’ve read the book, you probably will know what I mean and understand why I have to be purposefully vague here) – which, as a lifelong learner, is always a satisfying experience for me when I read.

 

In terms of the ending, I honestly don’t know how I feel about it.  I know some readers hated it but I didn’t have any strong feelings either way – mostly, I just felt that the ending was a bit anticlimactic for a mystery/thriller novel.  Part of this could also be that I don’t think I truly “got” the ending anyway, so I don’t want to comment too much on it, since it could just be lack of understanding on my part.

 

In any case, this was an entertaining, fun read that sufficiently distracted me from all the busy chaos in my life at the moment, not to mention a nice departure from all the “heavy” stuff I’ve been reading for school lately.  As we come up against the end of the year and hopefully the chaos starts to die down (as it usually does around the holidays, at least for me), I am able to fit more of the books that have been on my list to read this year but I haven’t been able to get to (especially ones by my favorite authors, several of whom have books out this year). Looking forward to more entertaining reads! 

Review: Tell Me Everything (by Elizabeth Strout)

My Rating: 4 stars 

I’ve been in a bit of a weird reading slump lately.  I use the word “weird” because even though I’ve actually been reading – quite a bit, to be honest – I’ve been finding it difficult to “get into” what I read.  I guess the best way to put it is that I’ve been finding it hard to focus – essentially, I would read a paragraph, a page even, but then a few seconds later, I would have no idea what I just read, so I would go back and re-read.  The result is that it is taking me way longer than usual to finish a book, which is definitely not good considering the number of books on my list that I still need to get to.  Given that I’ve been super busy with both work and school (and family) the past few months especially, I suspect that I might just be burned out from everything I have going on.  Hopefully, as things start to wind down in the next few months and I am finally able to squeeze in some much-needed vacation time to recharge, I will be able to get my reading life back on track.  In the meantime, I will just need to push through the best I can.

 

One of the books I read during this time is Elizabeth Strout’s newest novel Tell Me Everything.  Strout is one of my favorite authors, so I’ve been looking forward to this one for quite some time.  While I did enjoy this one overall, I will admit to having a hard time getting into it for at least the first third of the novel.  I did eventually find my rhythm however, and I’m glad I did, since two of my favorite characters from the Elizabeth Strout universe – Olive Kitteridge and Lucy Barton -- finally meet and interact in this novel. Since the previous few Strout novels have been about Lucy, I was honestly beginning to miss Olive, so I was delighted to see that she has a significant presence in this novel (she is now 91 years old and living in a center for seniors, but she is the same old Olive – as sharp and loveably acerbic as ever!).  Lucy is introduced to Olive by Bob Burgess (yes, the same Bob from The Burgess Boys) and the two end up meeting frequently to share stories with each other. Given how opposite the two ladies are from each other personality-wise, of course there would be inevitable clashes (actually, after their first interaction, which, let’s just say didn’t go exceptionally well, I thought the two of them meeting would only be a one-time deal) – luckily for me, they continued to meet throughout the rest of the novel, so I got to enjoy their interactions to the end.  Overall though, this story is actually about Bob, the semi-retired lawyer who takes on the case of Matt Beach, a local man accused of killing his own mother.  At the end of the day though, the “mystery” element takes a back seat to the main goal of the story, which is to catch up with this eclectic community of Crosby and Shirley Falls residents as they go about their normal lives. 

 

I don’t want to give too much away (though, honestly, there really is not much to give away in the first place, since Strout’s novels famously focus on character rather than plot so not a whole lot happens anyway), but one thing I will say is that if you’re a Strout fan who has read all of her novels, then this is definitely a must-read, as she brings back pretty much all of the characters from her previous 9 novels (Oprah’s website has a nifty chart that illustrates which characters show up in which novels – the final count is that 23 of the 25 characters from Strout’s universe are in this new novel, which is wild!). 

 

Personally, since I’ve only read the Olive Kitteridge and Lucy Barton novels, the scenes with the other characters didn’t have as much meaning for me (which is why I rated this 4 stars instead of the 5 stars that I usually give Strout’s books), but that’s okay, as Strout’s writing is as masterful as ever, so this was still a treat to read.  In one of her author interviews, Strout was asked whether she will revisit these characters again – she responded that it’s hard to say, as it depends on whether the opportunity presents itself again (she said she wasn’t intending on writing another novel with these same characters at first, but she realized after her last novel that all the primary characters – Olive, Lucy and William, Bob and Margaret, etc. -- happened to be living in close proximity to each other now, so it just made sense to have them all interact).  Strout mentioned that the next novel she is working on so far has brand new characters, but it’s still in early stages, so we’ll see.  Whatever the case, I know I will definitely be keeping an eye out for whatever Strout decides to come out with next, regardless of which characters are in it!

 

Received ARC from Random House via NetGalley.

Review: Viewfinder (by Jon M. Chu)

My Rating: 4 stars

I’m not usually much of a fan of celebrity memoirs, but Jon M. Chu’s memoir Viewfinder is one that I’ve been looking forward to since it was announced.  Seeing that “Crazy Rich Asians” was (and still is) one of my favorite movies, plus we share a similar background in that we both came from Chinese immigrant families and grew up/lived/went to school/worked in Southern California, I was really interested in learning more about Chu’s journey (outside of what I was able to glean through interviews during the CRA promos) and his experiences breaking into an industry that has traditionally been less than welcoming to Asians.  Much of what Chu talks about in the book resonated with me deeply, especially his struggle reconciling the two sides of his identity – Asian and American – and the various successes as well as failures that contributed to the person he chose to become:  one who learns to embrace both sides of his identity, in both life and work.

Of course, being a fan of CRA, my favorite part of the memoir was the chapter where Chu goes into detail about his experiences making the movie.  Even though I already knew a lot of the behind-the-scenes stuff related to the movie (of course I don’t call myself a “fan” for nothing, lol), what I didn’t know was how much the movie reflected Chu’s personal journey as a Chinese American trying to come to terms with his cultural identity.  As such, there were many details that he added from his own life as well as from the lives of his family members that weren’t in the book – as a purist, I’m usually wary about adaptations that stray too far from the book, but in this case, the many personal touches that Chu added to the movie version worked wonderfully  (to the point that – and you won’t hear me say this often – this was one of those extremely rare cases where the movie was actually better than the book).  What I found most interesting in reading this memoir is that many of my favorite scenes from the movie (“favorite” because those scenes resonated with me the most) were actually the ones that Chu added from his personal background:  for example, the scene where the family gathers together to make dumplings (which he based on his own family’s gatherings and dumpling-making lessons led by his late maternal grandmother); the climactic mahjong showdown scene between Rachel and Eleanor (which was especially fun to read about knowing how the game is played and seeing how my understanding of the symbolism behind that scene aligned with Chu’s intention for it); and the kitchen scene where Nick first introduces Rachel to his mother (the significance of that scene is that Chu indirectly pays homage to his family’s restaurant, Chef Chu’s, which has been a Silicon Valley mainstay for more than 50 years – though the bit about the MSG appearance in that scene and both Michelle Yeoh’s as well as Chu’s father’s reaction to it was hilarious).  There were also some CRA “fun facts” that Chu revealed in his memoir that I had no idea about (for example, Chu’s daughter Willow – who was a newborn at the time -- has a “blink-and-you’ll miss it” cameo in the movie, as does CRA author Kevin Kwan’s family).  Reading all this behind-the-scenes stuff made me want to go re-watch the movie again, this time as someone with more “inside knowledge” that will undoubtedly enhance the experience even further for me.

I wanted to close this review with two quotes from Chu’s memoir that resonated most with me, precisely because they reflect my own struggles as an Asian American constantly trying to reconcile the two sides of my cultural identity. 

The first quote is from the chapter about CRA, where Chu talks about the significance of Rachel’s journey in the movie – he refers specifically to the scene on the staircase where Eleanor (played to wonderful effect by one of my longtime idols Michelle Yeoh) tells Rachel (a role which Constance Wu also embodied perfectly): “You will never be enough.”  Chu explains how this one line of dialogue (and the brilliant way Michelle Yeoh delivered it) had the powerful effect of causing all the Asian Americans on set (including himself) to go silent because of how deeply it cuts to the core of the Asian American experience, in a way that those who’ve never had to navigate those two worlds will never understand.  He writes: “Eleanor’s line and Rachel’s reaction expressed what I hadn’t been willing to express before and had rarely seen expressed by anybody else.  When you grow up the way I did – torn between Asia and America, trying to shed what you are, trying to be what you’re not – the world can make you feel worthless.  You’re not Asian enough.  You’re not American enough.  You’re not smart enough.  You’re not talented enough.  If you’re an Asian man, you’re not attractive enough.  And then, louder than all the rest: You don’t belong here.  You hear that one all the time.  Everywhere.”  I cried when I read this part because of how succinctly it expresses my own lifelong identity struggle. 

The second quote comes later in that same chapter, when Chu talks candidly about some of the criticisms that CRA received – specifically the one where people complained that CRA simplified the complexities of the Asian culture and in presenting the insular world of wealthy Asians, it reflected an “outsider’s version of Asian life” and therefore was inauthentic (notably, the movie was slammed in many of the overseas Asian territories that screened it).  Chu explains that the CRA story is about an Asian American going to Asia for the first time and we are seeing the world through her “newcomer” eyes – the movie was not meant to provide a comprehensive view of Asian culture, but rather an “Asia 101” type of glimpse into one aspect of the culture, with the hope that the opportunity to explore the “deeper layers – the true change that comes from broader awareness” can become more accessible in the future.  Hearing this particular complaint gave Chu insight into what his parents went through with their restaurant, which endured similar criticisms throughout its existence.  This prompted Chu to have a heartfelt conversation with his father, of which he writes: “’This is how you grew up,’ my dad told me.  ‘Respecting two worlds because we are of two worlds.  People who aren’t of those two worlds can’t see that’s what we’re trying to resolve.’ To make a life in this country, they had needed to find a way to integrate Asia and America….After so many years of trying to be like Spielberg and Lucas, I came into my own as a filmmaker only once I started trying to be like my parents – when I started thinking of myself as an ambassador, treating my position between two cultures as something to cherish, not something to hide or resent.  They showed me how to tell stories that would open the door for other stories.”

This was an insightful memoir, one that I enjoyed not just because of the resonance from a cultural perspective, but also because of Chu’s unflinching honesty when recounting his successes and failures (whether in life or work).  Chu’s passion, enthusiasm, and love for filmmaking truly shines through in this memoir -- the way he recounted his movie-making experiences as well as his encounters with various famous people (Steven Spielberg, Steve Jobs, etc.) gave me serious “kid in a candy shop” vibes; this, combined with Chu’s self-deprecating humor (which was on full display throughout the book), made his memoir a lot of fun to read.

Received ARC from Random House via NetGalley

 

**Note:  The quotes above are from the final published copy of the book, which I ended up reading instead of the ARC version.  Also, Chu and his co-writer Jeremy McCarthy did an interview with Ariana Grande (hosted by bookstore Book Passage) where they provide additional insights about the memoir and their experience writing it – I would recommend watching that interview if you have access to it, as it definitely enhances the reading experience!