I have never felt such visceral rage reading a book before - and I pride myself on being a fairly tolerant reader open to all manner of writing. But this book seriously..... It starts off pleasantly enough with an interesting premise. Take an urban legend horror story from Japan, and pass it on to the next writer from Taiwan, next writer from Hong Kong, etc. It would be interesting to see how it all develops and ties together.
And initially it did, was charming, even though some bits were awkward, but still pleasant reading. But the last story was just plain lazy writing. Chaotic, messy, and completely deviating from the entire process. How is this person a writer?
From a charming Japanese tale about a Chopsticks Deity who granted the wish of 1 person, but at the detriment of 8 other people, to Taiwanese sex worker with a sad story, to Hong Kong urban legend involving a specific village and influencers. It's still fine though some bits were quite unnecessary in comparison to the original elegant Japanese tale. What's not fine is the last one involving aliens, feeding on human souls, attack of the titans, a hodge podge of Chinese mythological characters in one cool Hong Kong detective dude. Ya, no. Lazy, lazy, lazy. All tropes which others have used and developed fully. This was just plain lazy writing.
Proper raging.