Recommend No
I didn’t hold high hopes for this novel and it was acquired only because I found it at a garage sale. Of course, willingness to give books a try is a lot higher when the cost outlaid is $2 rather than $30. Even with such generous odds, this investment did not pay off. The unrealistic plot follows a white girl that steals a friend’s unpublished (and apparently unseen by anyone else) manuscript on the night of that friend’s death.
There are so many aspects of this novel to dislike, so many (failed) ways that it tries to convince you that you are not wasting your time.
The underlying theme is of race and the ways in which you are allowed to inherit racially spiked history and stories. The more overt theme is of authorial ownership and whether art is born of context or individuality. The plot derails on its way to exploring both these themes.
Firstly, we have to suspend belief that an unpublished novel by a famous and revered (Asian) writer could be stolen and successfully monetised by some random (of critical importance, non-Asian) friend, which is a boring and pointless conceit to start with. And then, worse still, we are forced to swallow that the world at large cares about how a white person represents the stolen (of critical importance, Asian) narrative so much that the author’s life is markedly changed as a result. There are hordes of Twitter ‘haters’. There are spiteful articles in Vox. Who cares? It’s hard to find a respectable novel with social media extracts and this novel is certainly no exception to the rule – it’s just such a tedious and embarrassing narrative device. The stakes are so low.
There are more frustrating elements in this novel – the protagonist is highly unlikeable and unthoughtful; the ‘thriller’ plot end is laughably weak; the character of Geoff is irrelevant and cardboard bland – but what’s the point in going through them in detail? If you’re sensible you won’t read this book. Save your $2 for half a cappuccino.
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