Eduardo Santiago
Slow clap. This took a long time to pay off—for the first 80% I was frequently tempted to DNF—but pay off it did, and I’m glad to have persevered. This is a thoughtful exploration of colonialism, privilege, fetishizing, and much more that I’m not smart or sophisticated enough to perceive. Yáng and King have built a perplexing but ultimately rewarding experience. The layers of artifice, annoying for much of the book, make the book more memorable in the end. What kept me going was my fascination with the main character (not the narrator!): fascinatingly intelligent, cultured, a masterful communicator, exquisitely sensitive. Yáng depicts her through the lens of an oblivious self-centered narrator, and it was so beautifully done.
Difficult to recommend. Possibly to someone deeply familiar with the nuances of early-twentieth-Century Taiwan/Japan history? That knowledge would’ve helped me greatly. The reader should also be able to memorize many dozens of similar-looking Japanese and Taiwanese words, mostly but not all food names. I got lost, ended up skimming a lot of paragraphs. (There is a lot of foodism, excessive even to me). And the reader should be patient. If that’s you, if you can tolerate an unlikably naïve and overbearing first-person narrator, and can humor Yáng in her clever Borgesian (as in Jorge Luis) sleight-of-hand, ... consider adding this to your list. Just be sure to stick with it to the very last of the afterwords.
Slow clap. This took a long time to pay off—for the first 80% I was frequently tempted to DNF—but pay off it did, and I’m glad to have persevered. This is a thoughtful exploration of colonialism, privilege, fetishizing, and much more that I’m not smart or sophisticated enough to perceive. Yáng and King have built a perplexing but ultimately rewarding experience. The layers of artifice, annoying for much of the book, make the book more memorable in the end. What kept me going was my fascination with the main character (not the narrator!): fascinatingly intelligent, cultured, a masterful communicator, exquisitely sensitive. Yáng depicts her through the lens of an oblivious self-centered narrator, and it was so beautifully done.
Difficult to recommend. Possibly to someone deeply familiar with the nuances of early-twentieth-Century Taiwan/Japan history? That knowledge would’ve helped me greatly. The reader should also be able to memorize many dozens of similar-looking Japanese and Taiwanese words, mostly but not all food names. I got lost, ended up skimming a lot of paragraphs. (There is a lot of foodism, excessive even to me). And the reader should be patient. If that’s you, if you can tolerate an unlikably naïve and overbearing first-person narrator, and can humor Yáng in her clever Borgesian (as in Jorge Luis) sleight-of-hand, ... consider adding this to your list. Just be sure to stick with it to the very last of the afterwords.