May 2021 Reading Wrap Up

May was Asian American Pacific Islander Month. I make it a general rule to try to be aware of how diversified my reading is, and heritage months are an easy way to help me find new and exciting voices. The listicles and themed-recommendations tend to drop in full force, and I’m all here for it. This month I decided I wanted to read titles by AAPI authors exclusively. I succeeded in doing just that. It wasn’t at all difficult, and I read some real gems! So I thought I’d share the goodness.

Yolk by Mary H.K. Choi

Sometimes you find an author who sees the world so similarly to you, whose sensibilities are so in line with your own, that it feels like you’ve found a true kindred spirit every time you read their words. For me, Mary H.K. Choi is not that kind of author. Like at all. She sees the world so differently than I do. Her interests are so far removed from my own; she’s frequently fascinated by things I loathe. She writes about people who are at a minimum difficult if not downright dislikable. And yet, I’ve kind of loved everything she’s ever written? She might even be one of my favorite authors. None of it makes sense. Every time I pick up one of her books I can’t help but think, “I should hate this. Right? Like these are all things I hate. Why do I like this so much? How does she do this?” I think, in part, the answer to that last question is that Choi is a freaking good author. She writes such honest and authentic characters. Sure, they’re gross and annoying and hypocritical and as a reader I have the occasional desire to shake them into making better choices, but they are also so painfully human. There’s a kind of a piercing disorientation that comes from spending time in her character’s brains, like staring too long into the sun.

In Yolk, we find a coming of age story about a college student in New York who has to contend with her own issues as well as the complications brought on by her estranged elder sister’s cancer diagnosis. Everyone in Yolk gets a chance to be in the right and their turn to be very, very in the wrong (with the exception of Jane’s fuqboi roommate who is just irredeemably awful). Within one conversation you start on one character’s side and by the end you’re standing on the other’s. Yolk didn’t quite end up surpassing her debut, Emergency Contact, which is my favorite of her works, but I’d easily place it above Permanent Record. I can’t wait to read whatever Choi puts out next.

Of Curses and Kisses by Sandhya Menon

So this one isn’t entirely fair. Because Of Curses is solidly, proudly, flagrantly YA. And in the not too distant past, a solidly, proudly YA book was exactly what I was looking for when I was looking for a swift shot of literary dopamine. But in the last three years or so, that’s changed, slowly, so I didn’t exactly notice it at first. My growing disgruntlement with YA has been a mere niggling at the back of my brain, but this book is the first time I’ve realized how little patience I now have with certain hallmarks of the genre. (I know, I know, YA is a category, not a genre. But it certainly operates like a genre sometimes, so you know what I mean). Anyway, all that to say, for what it is, Of Curses does exactly what it says it’ll do on the tin. And there was a lot to like. I found the supporting cast dynamics refreshing and even subversive. For most of the book I really enjoyed the controlled, slow-burn pacing (sure I was then subjected to a break-neck resolution in the last fifteen pages, but it’s the last fifteen pages. C’est la vie.) I thought the protagonists were interesting characters, even if their backstories were groan-inducingly melodramatic. The take on the Beauty and the Beast was a refreshing one (although Grey isn’t at all beastly. He’s tall and grumpy. Calling him a misanthrope? Fine. But to have him referred to in the literal text of the book as a beast? No. Silliness.) Would I try another book by Sandhya Menon? Sure. Was this my favorite read of the month? No. Not even close.

Ayesha at Last by Uzma Jalaluddin

Now that YA doesn’t quite scratch my fiction addiction the way it used to, I frequently turn to romances to get the job done. Ayesha at Last is one of the better romances I’ve read lately. Ayesha is pitched as a Muslim Pride and Prejudice retelling. Say the words “Jane Austen retelling” three times in a row, and I am honor bound to appear. It’s my own personal Beetlejuice.

There’s several factors that make this novel compelling, none the least being the setting. Part of the reason why contemporary adaptations of classic works tend to work better in places like high schools (10 Things I Hate About You, Clueless, She’s All That) is because the adolescents still subscribe to strict social structures that the rest of society has (ostensibly) transgressed. The same holds true, apparently, for insular communities of observant Muslims in Toronto. (Okay, so I’m doing a blurb, which doesn’t allow for a lot of nuance, so I just want to be clear, for the record, I’m not stating, insinuating, or in any way implying that Muslim communities are backward or even exceptional in their social structures. I’m only saying that, in many ways, they seem to function in many ways that parallel Jane’s world, which I think ultimately serves as a strength of the novel.)

Nearly every plotline that Jalaluddin sets up, be it the Ayesha’s parents’ marriage or Khalid’s sister’s fate gets in some way subverted, which I thoroughly enjoyed. I also loved the varied cast of characters. Some of the characters were extraordinarily vile to a point where I found myself thinking, “surely there can’t be anyone out there that’s actually like this”, but then again I’ve thought the same thing scrolling through internet comments so I guess their outlandishness may be warranted. There were also gems like Ayesha’s Shakespeare-loving grandfather. But mostly I just really loved the main couple (this is a romance after all). Ayesha was a great heroine, and I loved Jalaluddin’s take on the Darcy hero. If Abed Nadir were obsessed with Islam instead of pop culture and had a hidden gooey romantic center, you’d end up with Khalid, and I was so here for it. Jalaluddin just released a sophomore novel a few months ago inspired by the Ephron classic You’ve Got Mail, and I will most definitely be getting my hands on that posthaste.

The Poppy War by R.F. Kuang

In fantasy circles, R.F. Kuang’s debut trilogy has been everywhere since the first installment dropped in 2018. I’ve heard nary a word spoken against the entire trilogy. What had been said was that it was a dark story with an anti-heroine for a protagonist. Supposedly Kuang, who is a student of modern Chinese history, was inspired to write the trilogy by the question “what if Mao Zedong were a teenage girl?” Add a pantheon of apathetic gods which are frequently communed with via drug use, set your novel in a vaguely medieval setting, and you’ve got The Poppy War.

I think having forewarning on what this book was setting out to do enhanced my experience. Much has been made of how difficult and unlikeable of a protagonist Rin was, how she constantly makes bad decisions. And to be sure, Rin is prickly and she definitely makes terrible choices, but you understand why she makes the decisions she does. And, perhaps this says more about me than it does the novel, but I sympathized with her choices. There’s been a lot of to do about protagonists, of any creed but especially female protagonists, being likeable. Like with Choi’s Yolk, I happen to like flawed, difficult, and prickly protagonists, provided they’re done well. I’m not sure if I’d say Rin was likeable, but she sure was compelling. I had no problem being in her head for 500 pages.

While I think Rin herself is the main draw of the book, the worldbuilding and the plot are added draws. Kuang’s world is inspired by Song dynasty China and the plot draws heavily from the Second Sino-Chinese War. At some points while reading, it felt like I was reading a military history as opposed to a fantasy epic. Kuang clearly knows her stuff. I will say, starting out, I was a little unclear on why the novel had gotten a reputation as a grimdark fantasy. Sure, there was dark subject matter, but nothing darker than typical epic fantasy fare. And there was a lot of humor. I laughed out loud more during the first half of this book than I have reading any book in recent memory. But then you get to the back half of the book.

Again, I was grateful to have been forewarned about how dark this book could get. There is a part of this book that is based on the Nanjing Massacre. Kuang has gone on record saying that she didn’t put anything in that part of the book that didn’t actually happen historically in Nanjing. Reading those chapters of the book almost made me throw up. I understand why it’s in the novel. To understand why Rin would make the choices she makes you have to show what could possibly lead her to those choices. But reading those atrocities, and knowing those things really happened, that people could really be that cruel to each other? It was rough.

I still understand the hype. I would still recommend the book, given that people know up front the subject matter contained. I will definitely be continuing on with the series. But, yeah, not for the faint of heart.

Sex and Vanity by Kevin Kwan

There were several reasons why I didn’t want to pick up Sex and Vanity. One, the title. Two, the author. Back when Crazy Rich Asians was at its buzziest, right before the movie adaptation was released, I picked up the book. And I felt decidedly not nice feelings toward the novel, namely frustration (feelings which were made even more acute when the movie came out and was categorically amazing). The world, the plot, the themes of the book were all as compelling and interesting and meaty as everyone had said. But I viscerally hated Kwan’s prose. I found it nigh impossible to muddle through. Also, I saw the necessity of the blatant and oppressive obsession with materialism and status that permeates his books, but it was so much name-dropping that I wanted to put my head through a wall. I simply couldn’t be compelled to care. I didn’t finish the trilogy, and I had no interest in ever picking up anything by Kwan again. Until I realized that Sex and Vanity was a modern adaptation of E.M. Forester’s A Room with a View.

My love for A Room with a View stems more from the 1980s film adaptation starring a young Helena Bonham Carter, which I watched frequently as a child, than it does with the novel, which I didn’t read till college (providing yet another exception to the adage that the book is always better). Nonetheless, it is a deep and abiding love by whose power I was compelled to pick up a novel by an author which under any other circumstances I would not have touched with a ten foot pole. And it was good thing too, because I ended up quite enjoying the novel. Kwan’s prose is still lacking, but I do believe it’s improved since CRA. Although perhaps his sins merely were covered by the narrator (as I read this as an audiobook). I certainly think the narration helped me get through the incessant name dropping, which was once again present here. Also aiding my enjoyment was my aforementioned love for the A Room with a View plotline. I couldn’t help but be intrigued by what a modern day Mr. Emerson or, even better, Cecil, would look like, and Kwan’s interpretations did not disappoint.

As far as retellings go, I thought Sex and Vanity more than justified its existence by the themes of being caught between two worlds. In a modern day world, Lucy could easily be a feckless and weak-minded heroine if she didn't simply make the obvious choice and be with George. But Kwan gives his heroine a compelling enough reason to be conflicted. Was the racial commentary a bit on the nose? Perhaps. But not so egregiously that I couldn’t appreciate the story being told. All of the main characters get treated with compassion and complexity. It’s of course easy to love Freddie and Mr. Beeb, but it warmed my heart to see how much affection Kwan clearly felt for more complicated characters, like Charlotte. Oh, Charlotte. It was such a delight to get to hang out with this cast of characters. Reading Sex and Vanity primed me for another rewatch of one of my favorite films.