Welcome to the Hyunam-Dong Bookshop felt like wrapping my hands around a steaming mug of coffee on a bone-chilling winter day. As I flipped through the pages, a gentle warmth enveloped my soul. Much like savouring the comforting sips of hot coffee, I found solace in the act of turning each page, as if the book itself were a soothing beverage that thawed my frozen fingers. This book dissolved my worries and stresses, if only for a fleeting moment.
As a K-Drama lover and binge-watcher, I couldn’t help but draw parallels between Yoon Jiho from ‘Because This Is My First Life’ and the bookshop owner, Yeongju. Her struggles, inner thoughts, and the heartbreaking reluctance to share her troubles resonated deeply within me, hitting at the core of my own experiences. However, it wasn’t just Yeongju; the inner monologues and stories of the other characters within the bookshop also struck a chord. In a reflection of real life, these characters brought together by the bookshop, possessed many layers. Similar to us, they wore facades and like us, donned brave fronts in front of others, navigating societal expectations they were reluctant to fulfill.
Welcome to the Hyunam-Dong Bookshop is both a warm hug and a food for thought. It compels you to think about the way you’re living life. In fact, it’s a meditation on life itself. It’s scattered with pearls of wisdom, with each chapter inviting contemplation and insight.
For those standing at the crossroads of life, this book has the power to act as a compass, gently guiding you towards the life you genuinely want to live. It’s a beacon of inspiration, encouraging introspection and thoughtful contemplation.
Flaws of characters a main focus? It's complicated
3.5
Others were Emeralds by Lang Leav is a journey of racism and immigrant experience through the eyes of Ai and her friends. Ai's family migrated from Cambodia to a small town Australian town called Whitlam. This town mostly consists of people fleeing war-torn countries to rebuild their lives. As a result, Ai's tight-knit group of friends also have refugee stories and pain attached to them. In fine, this book is 'a coming of age narrative set against the backdrop of anti-Asian sentiment sweeping Australia in the late 90’s.'
From the spectrum of love to guilt and heartbreak, Leav's writing encapsulates the entire range of emotions that teenagers experience. I am so glad to come across YA books that deal with topics such as a racism, gen0cide, and living as POC in predominantly white societies. I was initially afraid that the book is going to be lyrical, but once the plot hit the twists and turns, I was fully invested. My only qualm was that the second part was a tad too short, and I would have loved to read more about the characters post the tragedy. Nevertheless, I suggest you to read this book.
Privileged are those who can turn to books to escape reality even for a bit, especially in these times. Although this is hardly escapist literature as it has its fair share of heartbreak, it’s a worthwhile endeavor to explore the narratives of young immigrants.
Nell, in her 40s, returns to England after breaking up with her American fiancé. She's surrounded with friends who are married and busy with their lives, tending to their children and holidaying in places Nell can't afford. But everyone has their own unique path to follow. One night, while staying at her parents' house, she decides to start a podcast on how effed up her life is. Unbeknownst to her, this decision leads her to finding the greatest secret of living a life.
This is not just about a woman who hasn't led a conventional life. It also serves as a reminder that regardless of your identity, location, or occupation, the key to leading a happy and fulfilled life is in your hands, not in the opinions of nosy neighbours/relatives questioning your single and childfree status. Furthermore, it is also a gentle reminder that you should simply listen to your own heart.
This book caught me by surprise, filled my unhappy days with much-needed contentment and comfort, sending a signal of 'you do you'. Perhaps you, too, will find yourself in Nell?
Flaws of characters a main focus? It's complicated
4.0
One summer in Tokyo, Claire finds herself living at her grandparents house. She also takes up a part-time job, where she teaches French to a 10-year-old Mieko. Claire's grandparents are Zainichi Koreans, who run Shiny, a Pachinko Parlour, and this summer she is determined to take them to South Korea, the country they fled during the Civil War. Using fragmented English and minimal Korean, she communicates with her grandparents because she knows speaking Japanese is out of the question.
This book is about a lot of things; the narrative is nuanced and deeply layered. There's no plot, nor does it need one. One has to read between the lines to understand not only Claire's loneliness—despite being around family—and turmoil but her grandparents', too. Imagine moving to a country, raising a family there, but never calling it home!
Flaws of characters a main focus? It's complicated
3.0
The first quarter of All the Lovers in the Night had me hooked. I sat with my pencil, underlining everything that made sense to me, anything that allowed me to see myself in her. However, as I progressed further, restlessness began to creep in. It wasn't just the lack of headspace to digest such a book, but also the fact that the book seemed to drag on endlessly, going nowhere. I picked it up again after a month’s break simply because I grew tired of seeing it gather dust; it had almost become an eyesore, staring at me from the nightstand.
There is no doubt there’s beauty in Kawakami’s words. There’s even a glimmer of life, albeit small, in Fuyuko’s world. It’s not entirely hopeless—both the book and Fuyuko’s life. Perhaps it wasn’t fair of me to compare it to her older works (which I’ve loved). However, I wish I had liked it more.
A solid 10/10 for delivering those toe-curling sensations and providing the heartwarming escape I so desperately craved! Thoroughly enjoyed reading it.
Humans are a complex species; mothers even more so, making mother-daughter relationships intricate. In 𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘑𝘰𝘺 𝘓𝘶𝘤𝘬 𝘊𝘭𝘶𝘣, Amy Tan delves into first-generation Asian-American experiences through four mother-daughter relationships.
Divided into four parts, the book draws from mahjong, showcasing complex dynamics. Both generations carry flaws due to different pasts. Mothers' caution contrasts daughters' American identities, yet their mutual care is evident. The mothers are overbearing, discouraging even at times, but they have a soft spot for each other. All of them have shortcomings, but there’s a lot of unspoken love, too. Asian mothers express love differently, don’t they?
Tan's writing is impactful, which captivates the reader with interconnected stories of these eight individuals. Rather than a novel, it's a collection of intertwined tales worth exploring. The intricacies of a mother-daughter relationship are beautifully laid bare. It took me some time to get used to the format and the names, but once I did, I fell in love with the characters. And I’m sure first generation Asian-Americans will definitely relate to it.
Flaws of characters a main focus? It's complicated
4.25
There's lightning somewhere in the distance. Strong winds separate the leaves from their trees. Petrichor permeates the air. You close your eyes, inhaling the sweet scent of the earth, unaware of the dark clouds making their way towards you. The House of Doors was a mix of sweet and sour. The sweetness of cool winds followed by the sourness of thunderstorms and longing.
Trust Tan Twan Eng to beautifully marry fact with fiction. And this is what he did in The House of Doors by using real people (like British writer Somerset Maugham, revolutionary Sun Yat-Sen, and the case of Ethel Proudlock) and fictionalising their stories to an extent in a British-ruled Malay.
Tan's writing is breathtaking, exquisite, and sophisticated. If you've read any of his previous works, you'll know how ruminative his characters are and how they long for the people who were nothing but figures of the past. The characters are deliciously layered, with secrets of their own, adding ample intrigue to the story. It's slow at some places; it's unputdownable at others. You gasp at the revelations. It's everything you want in a historical fiction.
This book still sits heavy in my chest. As I finished the last few chapters, I felt the need to cry, or at the least let out a sob. It made me long for something, too . . . This book is a thing of beauty. If you're a fan of Tan Twan Eng's work, you shouldn't miss it!