Last night I wrapped up Solo Dance by Kotomi Li, translated from Japanese by Arthur Morris. This short book is about a young gay Taiwanese woman who struggles with both internal and external homophobia, and eventually moves to Japan looking for understanding.
Queer stories from other countries are always interesting to me and it’s a good reminder that progress has not been even all over the world. Much of the book is pretty depressing, because the protagonist struggled with fitting in even before she realized she was gay, and she has some real struggles. She is battling severe depression for much of the book and at several points, suicidality.
The book is touching in that the protagonist’s struggles feel real and she’s someone who is so close to having positive experience that could change her life for the better, but her luck keeps dropping on the other side each time.
I don’t want to spoil too much about the end, but while I was grateful for the overall tone of the it, it is contrived and not very believable. But I did enjoy the protagonist’s travels leading up to that point. It’s not at all subtle, and it packs a lot more plot into the final handful of chapters than the rest of the book, but it was still sweet to see the protagonist’s perspective shift a little through her engagements with other people.
I’m not sure if it’s the translation or the original prose, but the language is stilted and very emotionally distant. The reader is kept at arm’s length from the protagonist virtually the whole novel, and while we’re often told she’s feeling these intense feelings, I never felt it. It was like reading a clinical report of her feelings, which was disappointing.
This is Li’s first novel, and it reads that way. There’s a lot of heart in it, and I appreciate it for that, but it lacks a lot in technical skill. I would be interested to see more of Li’s future work, when she’s had more time to polish her ability, but I don’t regret taking the time with this one.
On the whole, I think if you liked the first book, you’ll like the second. It’s more of the same, which is no complaint from me. Lee digs only slightly more into the worldbuilding of the Wastes, but as with the first book, it’s clear that’s not where Lee’s strengths or interests lie, and so she doesn’t overreach herself there, which I think is best.
The main trio—Jin, Yi-Nereen, and Kadrin—continue to be fun and engaging characters, although Jin’s self-pitying act that began at the end of book 1 grows a little tiresome, even if it is understandable. (Fortunately, she gets over it and her best traits--her courage, her determination to keep trying, her capacity to love--win resoundingly in the end.) Making a surprisingly delightful reappearance is Sou-zelle, who actually threatens to usurp our lovers as the most interesting protagonist for the first third of the book. Book 1 did a good job of making Sou-zelle a more dynamic character than merely Yi-Nereen’s jilted fiancé, and book 2 continues to give him more depth.
First, don't let the hokey title put you off. I started this one a bit warily, but it turned out to be quite a lot of fun! The worldbuilding is pretty light, but the novel seems aware of that and doesn't overpromise on that front. What is there serves its purpose well. It's not anything particularly novel, but not every book needs to be.
Jin, Yi-Nereen, and Kadrin are all wonderful protagonists; each of them has a distinct personality, perspective, and motivations, and I really enjoyed all of them. I was rooting for them the whole book and it was great to watch their various interpersonal dynamics unfold. If you're a fan of stories about mutual pining, this one is definitely worth checking out. However, if that's not really your speed, I didn't feel like the book spent too much time harping on about feelings we all suspect or know are requited. The romance element is definitely there, and it's a significant motivator for all three of them, but there's plenty else going on in the book too.
The book avoids falling prey either to the Charybdis of black-and-white morality where everyone who stands in the way of the protagonists is evil, or to the Scylla of "everyone is friends if we just talk things out," which is a relief after some recent reads. There's definitely a sliding scale of antagonism here, with some characters who are obstacles but not necessarily bad people, and others who run much darker.
I also enjoyed the presence of the "Road Builders." Jin and her peers inhabit the Mana Wastes, a treacherous desert wasteland where little survives and almost none of it without human intervention. They sustain themselves with "talent"--magical abilities common among humans, but becoming less common by the day--and travel along ravaged roads built by some culture who came before, about which Jin and her peers know very little. These are the "Road Builders" and are, I believe, strongly hinted at to be us. Lee keeps them a pleasant mystery humming in the background of everything else going on.
There were a couple contrivances near the end to aid a dramatic conclusion, but nothing so egregious I wasn't willing to continue to play ball with the book. Similarly, I'm on the fence about where this book leaves the relationship between the main trio, because it feels a little too much like Lee felt it was a necessary hook into book 2, but I'll reserve judgement until I've actually read book 2. And perhaps it's better that everything doesn't wrap up too neatly here.
On the whole, I had a lot of fun with this book and I will definitely read the next one.
In Thunderstruck, Erik Larson tells the interwoven stories of two men—Hawley Crippen, a very unlikely murderer, and Guglielmo Marconi, the obsessive creator of a seemingly supernatural means of communication—whose lives intersect during one of the greatest criminal chases of all time.
Set in Edwardian London and on the stormy coasts of Cornwall, Cape Cod, and Nova Scotia, Thunderstruck evokes the dynamism of those years when great shipping companies competed to build the biggest, fastest ocean liners; scientific advances dazzled the public with visions of a world transformed; and the rich outdid one another with ostentatious displays of wealth. Against this background, Marconi races against incredible odds and relentless skepticism to perfect his invention: the wireless, a prime catalyst for the emergence of the world we know today. Meanwhile, Crippen, “the kindest of men,” nearly commits the perfect murder.
With his unparalleled narrative skills, Erik Larson guides us through a relentlessly suspenseful chase over the waters of the North Atlantic. Along the way, he tells of a sad and tragic love affair that was described on the front pages of newspapers around the world, a chief inspector who found himself strangely sympathetic to the killer and his lover, and a driven and compelling inventor who transformed the way we communicate.
the problem with this book is that the two stories are barely connected. the inventor who's invention changed communication & the first fugitive that was caught using the invention.
i think this format of different stories that share a connection worked better in larson's the devil in the white city, because it all related to the chicago world's fair in 1893. and in isaac's storm, where it all connected to the galveston hurricane of 1900.
i think this book would've been better if it was just about the crippen murder or marconi's life and work on his wireless telegraph system.
BTW the name crippen sounded familiar. i remembered this show i watched (back when we had netflix) called murder maps. i looked it up & they did an episode on that case.
- Mood:
disappointed
from goodreads;
September 8, 1900, began innocently in the seaside town of Galveston, Texas. Even Isaac Cline, resident meteorologist for the U.S. Weather Bureau failed to grasp the true meaning of the strange deep-sea swells and peculiar winds that greeted the city that morning. Mere hours later, Galveston found itself submerged in a monster hurricane that completely destroyed the town and killed over six thousand people in what remains the greatest natural disaster in American history--and Isaac Cline found himself the victim of a devastating personal tragedy.
Using Cline's own telegrams, letters, and reports, the testimony of scores of survivors, and our latest understanding of the science of hurricanes, Erik Larson builds a chronicle of one man's heroic struggle and fatal miscalculation in the face of a storm of unimaginable magnitude. Riveting, powerful, and unbearably suspenseful, Isaac's Storm is the story of what can happen when human arrogance meets the great uncontrollable force of nature.
this is by the same author as the devil in the white city. this book, while not as interesting as that other, does a good job of getting into why the loss of life from this hurricane was so bad. it's a combination of arrogance on the part of people thinking they could master the weather (they believed setting a forest on fire could bring rain), distrust in the observations of people in cuba (the head of the weather service thought they were a combo of spanish dramatics & ignorant natives) & building a city on a sandbar on the edge of the ocean. when i told my brother about the sand bar he was reminded of the bible quote; "....a foolish man who built his house on sand. the rain came down, the streams rose, and the winds blew and beat against that house, and it fell with a great crash.” (i looked it up, it's Matthew 7:24-27)
the book came out in 1999 and at the end talked about how people were becoming complacent in regards to hurricanes. some of that led to the great loss of life katrina hurricane in 2005. the book also mentioned a recent (in that time) study that said that if a hurricane hit the new york/new jersey area it could flood the subways & kill commuters. hurricane sandy in 2012 did flood the subways, but lucky they were already closed.