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A review by silvae
Notes of a Crocodile by Qiu Miaojin
3.0
If there's ever been a book that I desperately wanted to enjoy, it might be Notes of a Crocodile. There's that special type of melodrama that you excude when you first move out and start university, where you yourself make choices far too bold and damn those who do the same. Maybe I've grown out of that melodrama phase (I'll be done with my degree soon, after all), or maybe there's just something hindering me from fully connecting to the story.
The characters in this book are odd. None of them come close to you as a reader as that you could fully imagine them standing in front of you, instead, you are separated by a curtain of... yeah, what is separating you? I don't know. Everyone seems to be miles away, and yet in close orbit of our narrator, who does her best to keep the reader guessing at her character as well. A lot of the drama in this book came from nowhere, and I found it hard to relate to Lazi (or Shui Ling or anyone) emotionally, which made the drama even more absurd. The crocodile-interludes were quite charming at first, but later just got repetitive; maybe I was just getting more and more frustrated with the book and wanted to move on to other books in my TBR.
One factor I want to take into account, which also explains my tentative three star rating, is the translation of the novel. Ever since I read a large chunk of Banana Yoshimoto's works (which I love dearly) and found myself struggling with the stories translated by someone other than the usual go-to translator, I've decided to factor that into my rating system. A lot of the metaphors and similes Qiu Miaojin uses miss the target, and often I was left confused, trying to understand what her intentions were. Perhaps certain phrases are common sayings in Chinese. Who knows!
If this had come out today, I probably would have given it a lower rating. Given the fact that it was first published in 1994 (couldn't find the original publishing date, so the US date is used for reference) and the impact it had on queer culture in Taipei, I really do want to take the historical context and meaning into account. While the crocodile interludes didn't really add anything to the story for me, they show how the city viewed LGBTQIA+ folks - scaly, toothy creatures in human suits. In that regard, it's nice to see that this book surely played a role in changed that image, given that Taiwan now is seen as having the most progressive queer rights in Asia.
The characters in this book are odd. None of them come close to you as a reader as that you could fully imagine them standing in front of you, instead, you are separated by a curtain of... yeah, what is separating you? I don't know. Everyone seems to be miles away, and yet in close orbit of our narrator, who does her best to keep the reader guessing at her character as well. A lot of the drama in this book came from nowhere, and I found it hard to relate to Lazi (or Shui Ling or anyone) emotionally, which made the drama even more absurd. The crocodile-interludes were quite charming at first, but later just got repetitive; maybe I was just getting more and more frustrated with the book and wanted to move on to other books in my TBR.
One factor I want to take into account, which also explains my tentative three star rating, is the translation of the novel. Ever since I read a large chunk of Banana Yoshimoto's works (which I love dearly) and found myself struggling with the stories translated by someone other than the usual go-to translator, I've decided to factor that into my rating system. A lot of the metaphors and similes Qiu Miaojin uses miss the target, and often I was left confused, trying to understand what her intentions were. Perhaps certain phrases are common sayings in Chinese. Who knows!
If this had come out today, I probably would have given it a lower rating. Given the fact that it was first published in 1994 (couldn't find the original publishing date, so the US date is used for reference) and the impact it had on queer culture in Taipei, I really do want to take the historical context and meaning into account. While the crocodile interludes didn't really add anything to the story for me, they show how the city viewed LGBTQIA+ folks - scaly, toothy creatures in human suits. In that regard, it's nice to see that this book surely played a role in changed that image, given that Taiwan now is seen as having the most progressive queer rights in Asia.