From the winner of the 2009 Iowa Short Fiction Prize—comes the extraordinary, unexpected debut tale of three generations of Chinese-American women in a San Francisco family who must confront their past and carve out a future.
The Kong women are in crisis. A disastrous trip to visit her "home" orphanage in China has plunged eighteen-year-old Ari into a self-destructive spiral. Her adoptive mother, Charlie, a lawyer with a great heart, is desperate to keep her daughter safe. Meanwhile, Charlie must endure the prickly scrutiny of her beautiful, Bryn Mawr educated mother, Gran—who, as the daughter of a cultured Chinese doctor, came to America to survive Mao's Revolution—and her sister, Les, a brilliant judge with a penchant to rule over everyone's lives.
As they cope with Ari's journey of discovery and its aftermath, the Kong women will come face to face with the truths of their lives—four powerful intertwining stories of accomplishment, tenacity, secrets, loneliness, and love. Beautifully illuminating the bonds of family and blood, The Year She Left Usexplores the promise and pain of adoption, the price of assimilation and achievement, the debt we owe to others, and what we owe ourselves.
Kathryn Ma was born and raised in Pennsylvania, part of a large extended family with roots in China and the U.S. She attended Stanford University and the University of California, Berkeley.
Kathryn is the author of the novel THE CHINESE GROOVE (Counterpoint Press) and THE YEAR SHE LEFT US (Harper Books), a NYT Editors' Choice Her short story collection, ALL THAT WORK AND STILL NO BOYS, won the Iowa Short Fiction Award and was named a San Francisco Chronicle Notable Book and a Los Angeles Times Discoveries Book.
This book was all over the place - too much detail about too many people and too many things that had no real relevance to the story (like the details of random law cases a couple of the characters were working on). It was a struggle to get through at times. A tougher editor could have trimmed this quite a bit and provided a sharper focus to the narrative.
The story is about a troubled young woman, Ari, who was adopted in China as an infant by a Chinese-American woman. To say that Ari has abandonment issues is quite an understatement. The book traces a year in her life and is narrated by Ari in the first person and by her adoptive mother, Charlie; her aunt, Les; and her grandmother, Gran, all in the third person. They each have a story to tell - too much story, in my opinion. And - I didn't care for any of the characters, especially Ari.
Just OK; frankly, I was relieved to be done with it.
The Year She Left Us tackles an interesting topic: the international adoption of abandoned female infants from China. I knew two sisters who each adopted a baby girl from China, so I was drawn to this theme. It can be an intriguing subject, both from the standpoint of how China’s “one child” rule has created an entire generation of female castoffs, as well as the degree to which their adoptive American parents became committed to creating a community of fellow adoptees for mutual support and cultural education, complete with mass “pilgrimages” back to China and even to the orphanages from whence they came.
The main problem I had with the book is that, with the exception of Gran, all of the characters are flat and one-dimensional. The two sisters (Charlie and Les—both attorneys) could be one and the same character. Even the main character, Ari, who as the adopted daughter should have been a fascinating character study, did not “come alive.” I understand that Ari was depressed; that came through loud and clear. However, had the mother and aunt been slightly more colorful, we might have had a culturally-rich and moving family drama with the sullen teen in their midst. As it was, I found this story, for the most part, to be borderline dreary and lifeless.
Don’t get me started on the chopped-off pinkie finger. I shudder to think that this might become a “thing”—a way for young people to express their individuality and discontent now that piercings and tats are all but passé. (Not that the author suggests as much, but I have heard that elsewhere.) It was really hard to feel sympathy for Ari against that horrific act of self-mutilation (no spoilers here, as it was obvious what she had done at the first mention of the severed finger). I also didn't find Ari’s “abandonment issues” to be fleshed out particularly well. Though I can certainly understand any adoptee having “abandonment issues,” in Ari’s case—perhaps because her character was so bland and ruled out any attempt at genuine self-reflection, I couldn’t understand much less “feel” for her. Lastly, I agree with other reviewers who felt the “hate crime” subplot was simply filler.
Complaints aside, I give The Year She Left Us four stars (three-and-a-half, really) because, like so much of what I read these days, it is well-written and somewhat entertaining, but in this reader's humble opinion, just misses the mark of a true four- or five-star read.
I probably found this book more interesting than most. I am a white mother of a Chinese 11 year old. She has not made a Heritage Trip, although offered, will firmly tell you that she is an American and is sadly disinterested in any parts of her culture that we try to instill in her. Although Ari's position is quiet different, the book gave me glimpses of different reactions to adoption. It in turn, broke my heart, made me angry, and made me feel proud that there is not one bone of my daughter's body that feels "rescued".
As is Ari, our daughter is not a "lucky baby" but just a kid.
Slightly rminicent to Amy Tan's Joy Luck Club. Story is told by Ari, her Mother, her Aunt, and her Grandmother.
I am finding that my review is poor, but this story has many layers and I loved it.
Ari, whose full is Ariadne Bettina Yun-li Rose Kong, was adopted by a Chinese-American lawyer whose name is Charlie. She is a single woman whose sister Les is also single and a prominent judge in San Francisco where they all live. Ari’s grandmother, the most colorful character in the book is often an embarrassment to her politically correct daughters. Gran left China under Mao, studied at Bryn Mawr, where she wants her granddaughter to study, and ran a successful restaurant business.
Ari was left in a Chinese department store and taken to an orphanage. She is one of the “lost daughters of China,” yet she is told she should be considered lucky because she and her adopted mother have the same skin tone, and are a Chinese family. Ari doesn’t think she’s lucky at all and describes herself as feeling stupid, alone, and defective.
There are so many fascinating aspects to this novel, especially the issues surrounding abandonment, Chinese adoption, and cultural identity. Each of the four women in the novel narrates the story and explains what happened when Ari returned to China to visit her orphanage and has a complete emotional breakdown. Ari is the one who leaves her family and about whom the story is told. However, the novel is also about the other three women and how they deal with their identities and their past.
I have read many books that deal with China, Chinese Americans and Chinese adoptions, but this one is unique, complicated, and complex. I was very impressed with how Kathryn Ma skillfully wove these haunting issues into a well developed narrative. The perspective is different, and that’s what makes it a GREAT read.
Kathryn Ma delivers an insightful tale on the emotions stemming from being adopted. While Chinese culture is a theme, since it is told from the viewpoint of a young Chinese girl adopted as a baby by a successful American born Chinese Woman, she still a struggles with the questions most adoptees have at some point addressed. The voices in this story sounded very authentic to me. While I was not adopted, I have had four very close friends, who were adopted and shared their anguish at still hearing a "voice" stating that they were "abandoned", "given away", or "unwanted" despite a loving adoptive family. While some cope better than others, the unanswered question of "why" plagues their relationships and other life choices. While this was compelling in itself, there are also several secrets that enhance the story and work against a healthy family dynamic. This coupled with excellent characterizations make for dynamic and twisting plots and subplots.
On the surface, the author gives us a fairly common family type. A successful, never married woman, Charlie, who desires a family. She raises Ari within a small matriarchal system consisting of a long widowed mother and unmarried sister. Charlie resists her more successful sister, Leslie, who is more a competitor than sister and their disapproving mother. While Ari is the primary character, she is unknowingly influenced by the secrets each woman is keeping. The saying, 'you are only as sick as your secrets' is quite applicable. As an adult, Ari seeks to find answers and when she discovers Charlie's secret, she attempts to unearth the past but story unravels in unexpected ways, pushing her to greater despair. As others share their secrets with the reader, we wonder if they can ever find peace with their past and common ground and trust with each other.
Ari's characterization was well written and spot on for her age. Meanwhile, the other main characters were just as believable as well as their reasons for keeping their secrets. I thoroughly recommend this to readers of family drama. While it had a dash of immigrant tale, with a splash of war and a healthy dose of teenage angst searching for identity. It offers the reader a a present day story formed by adaptation to a difference in culture. However, most importantly it is a story of family torn by secrets and failures.
Great accomplishment for a debut novel, Ms. Ma will become a household name recognized for her insight and talent.
As an adoptive mom who has gone with a daughter on a heritage tour - to Korea, not to China, I was drawn to this novel. The bleak picture Ma paints of the difficulties Ari faces as a "Whackadoodle," a member of a group of Chinese adoptees whose parents struggle valiantly to keep them in touch with their Chinese past and whose visit to her home orphanage devastated her, made me grateful for the normalcy of my daughter's involvement with Girl Scouts, music lessons, church groups, and good friends, spiced with yearly trips to a great Korean restaurant, one week at Korean Camp, and the two week visit to the motherland. Much of the book describes family problems with which all of us can identify, and certainly in this aspect the novel kept my interest. Ma develops her characters in believable ways, and Ari's grandmother, Gran, is a wonder of strength and wisdom. However, my main reaction to reading this novel is relief: Whew! The adoption monsters passed me over. (Spoiler alert: My daughter still has all of her fingers.)
Admission: I did not finish this. i didn't even skim to the end. that is how little I care what happens. Yeah. I am probably the wrong audience for this book. All I could think is, Yes, your life is so very hard, wah wah wah. I am curmudgeonly and intolerant in my old age. Perhaps there are reasons revealed later in the book as to why Ari acts the way she does, but frankly, I am already so sick of her, a third of the way in, that I don't care anymore.
A capably written book but I didn't care about the story. The family secrets seemed banal as well as trivial (despite the stated upheaval and hurt around them). It didn't feel "real" enough.
The snark factor was high in several characters. At first, I disliked Ari (the grand-daughter) whose constant anger and near rage seemed meaningless (even given that she was adopted and grappled with abandonment issues). There was no plausible reason for her emotional state. Then I realized that Betty (the grandmother) also dished plenty of anger and snark (though much of this seemed characteristic of her class and her age). Lastly, Les (the aunt) piled on the last bit of sarcasm.
One quote here, an attempt to provide insight into Ari: "There was just one problem, and I, an orphan, understood it well. When everything you love is yours at the present moment, you live in constant fear of losing it."
I think reading about lawyers is ok (if it has to be done) but reading about the work of lawyers has to be the most boring chore especially as described here (I skipped these sections after a taste of it).
The class-ist elements were disturbing. The attitude of Mandarin-speaking, upper-class Chinese towards other ethnic Chinese in the US was disturbing. And that Charlie worked in the public defenders office and had a relationship San Francisco Chinatown community seemed nice but thin.
By story's end, I didn't like most of the characters, I didn't care that Ari cut her own finger, I didn't see the relevance of Aaron (Charlie's ex-boyfriend and prospective father to Ari) to anything, and I didn't care about Gran's younger brother and her secret about him.
Oh... some reviewers thought this book reminded them of The Joy Luck Club merely because it talked about Chinese mother-daughter tension. Ugh! Really? I didn't like either book but the similarity hardly seems worthwhile.
I wanted to like this book. I really did. The writing, after the first chapter, which was disjointed, becomes quite good. The story, about three generations of women from a Chinese American family living in San Francisco, explored themes of family secrets, generational differences, heartache and disappointment, and duty. It was told from the points of view of each of four women, but much of the story circled around Ari, the youngest one. She had been adopted as an infant from China and raised by a single mother, a lawyer working for the public defender's office in the family law department. The mother's sister, also single, was a judge, and their mother was a twice widowed independent senior who had immigrated to the United States to attend college. Charlie, the adoptive mother, was kind-hearted and idealistic. She had good intentions and devoted herself to causes, but was often unappreciated in her efforts, especially by her daughter. The judge, Les, was a bit more practical and ambitious. We discover that she's been having a years long affair with a well-connected, married, political strategist who would consider leaving his wife for Les, but is unsure that even that would get her to commit. But most of the story is about Ari, a self absorbed, rebellious teenager who resents being called "lucky" for being adopted, and is generally bitter about her life. Ari's lack of gratitude for anything became very annoying to me. I simply could not understand why she felt what she did, and I less understood why she was so angry and cruel to her family, especially her mother. As a character, Ari's actions and motivations were not credible. She was disturbed without justification. A spoiled, sanctimonious, deceitful teen isn't a very enjoyable person to spend time with, even in a novel.
This book began strongly, and with its structure and subject, reminded me of Amy Tan's Joy Luck Club. But whereas that book kept me enthralled from first to last, I found my attention drifting and wishing I could care more about these three women at the core. It is similar to that earlier book in that focus was cast on the relationship between women and their mothers in the Chinese community, and the fact that Ari, the third generation woman, was adopted from an orphanage adds the element of search for identity more topical. I have known people who have adopted daughters in this manner, and years later have seen through the Chronicle that those same daughters were intent on discovering their birth mothers and returning to their cultural heritage. It was with that in mind that I was interested in how Ma would handle the material. The ending started to flag a bit, but it is still a worthwhile read.
For many parents, and their adopted children, adoption is a wonderful and fulfilling experience. But for others it can also mean unexpected struggles, sometimes heartbreak, and sometimes rejection. This is true whether it involves the numerous children in this country who need homes and families, or whether those seeking a child look beyond the U.S. boundaries. I liked this book, because it showed many of those aspects of adoption, both the joys, and the misunderstandings and pain. I especially liked the character of Gran, who had to be won over to the idea of adoption, but once she was, she was completely committed.
This author did something amazing: She stepped back and gave each character a say. She captured the confusion of family conflict, the dynamics of different personalities within a family, and the irrational emotions of a teenager facing something she isn't ready to understand. It's a good representation of real life.
OMG I MADE IT THROUGH. OH MY GOD THAT WAS SO PAINFUL. It took me more to read this single book than the whole saga of The Pirates of Malaysia (11 novels, FYI).
Omg what an accomplishment. I need to reward myself, now. No. No I didn't like the book. I made it. I made it. Victory is mine.
What makes a family? Ari is a Chinese orphan adopted by a single, Chinese -American woman. She's raised in San Francisco with her loving mother and Aunt. Yet she is constantly searching for her biological family. She tears herself up trying to learn where she came from. Looking for solace from everyone except the family that raised her. Until finally she is summoned to China to fetch her grandmother who went to revisit her homeland. Somehow spending that time with her grandmother helped her see who she was and where she came from. And accept herself as she was.
Oh my goodness, there were interesting comments about the adoptee experience, but it was completely overshadowed by the obnoxiousness of Ari as a person.
Oh the joys of dating a book critic! One of them is free books, and whenever a book seems too much like popular fiction for his taste or whenever he feels guilty for being an ass, voilà! Like magic, a book (or two or more) appears in my bag. This one appeared as a result of the latter. It was one he'd intended to keep, but it came to me instead.
I'm quite glad that it did, though not so glad that the book will join my permanent shelves. Let me be clear: I thoroughly enjoyed this book. The Kong women were forceful, flawed, and fully human. I can't say I fully saw myself in any of them, but I wanted to get to know all of them better. Wonderfully, even by the end, you feel as if you have only had glimpses of who these women are, and the author makes no effort to tie up all the loose ends. From the first page, I was curious and wanted to keep reading, wanted to know how these women's lives would unfold, and without giving anything away, I can say with satisfaction that the book gets better and better as it goes along and leaves a number of the reader's (and character's too, for that matter) questions unresolved.
So why will it not become one of my bibles or even get a forever home on my shelves? It's hard to say really. It is solidly written, and there are a few really great sentences. There are moments of great insight where I marveled at the author's understanding of life and of people. Kathryn Ma has drawn a portrait of a complicated and fascinating family, a family that is comprised almost wholly of women, which is much how I see my own. There are fraught mother-daughter relationships and fraught sister relationships, and I very much appreciated looking in on a family whose dynamics were as difficult as my own family's, albeit in an entirely different way and for entirely different reasons.
Still, something here failed to grab me in a way that made me think I'd one day want to read this again, which is how a book ends up on the too crowded bookshelves of my too small room. Perhaps there weren't enough sentences that left me breathless or wishing I'd written them, though to be fair there were a few. Perhaps it was a sense that reading it again wouldn't solve any of the mysteries of the characters or lead to any better understanding of myself or the world at large. For all the enjoyment and interest this book generated in me, I still cannot see it staying here, so it will now go on toward my mom, who--I feel confident--will cherish it.
P.S. I found the choice of having different chapters told from each of the women's points of view to be an interesting one. I did like it, though I wondered why Gran's chapters were in first person while her daughters Charlie and Les's were in third. That Ari was in first person made sense, as it is ostensibly her story, but I was left wondering just who it was who was giving us Charlie and Les's takes on life. I'm not complaining, though. I felt the book really came into itself once Les got involved in the telling.
It's difficult to pick up a book about multiple generations of Chinese women living in the Bay Area without thinking of The Joy Luck Club. Mothers and daughters never seeing eye-to-eye, almost mythic tales of life back in China, the promise of some understanding or reunion. Luckily, Kathryn Ma's debut novel, while including all of these near-tropes, differentiated her tale enough from the now-classic to in fact forget it.
A smooth read, told from multiple perspectives, The Year She Left Us takes the notion of patronage and sends it through the emotional grinder. The tales forces us to ask questions such as: "Where do we come from?" "Who are our parents, truly?" "Who are our children?" "How much are we them?" Through Ari, the main character, the "she" who left, we experience the nuanced, specific troubles of an adopted child. She was abandoned in a shopping mall, and now she's in SF with the women of her family. Her struggles with her legal mother are true to life, and her inner conflict concerning where she belongs is apparent from almost the first page.
Not to be left out in this review is the best character in the book, Gran. She's a feisty old lady with East Coast snobbery and old-world wisdom. She's a breath of fresh air, alleviating the pressure throughout all the drama and tension that is building among the other characters. Not that she is free of drama in the slightest.
All in all, a great book I definitely recommend. Great read.
DNF. I thought about forging ahead coz I've already made it so far in, but I'm not getting into it at all.
The main character Ari just annoyed me. I was interested in her story early on, when she was a kid trying to come to terms with being adopted, but then after she ran away, it just got less interesting. I thought cutting off her finger was pretentious (it was inspired by some random artist?). I also thought Charlie actually gave her a pretty good life growing up, and it was just bratty to run away and refuse to talk to Charlie again. And for what? To find some random ex-boyfriend of Charlie who once mentioned being a father to Ari? Ari, that dude left you and your mom years ago, what's your deal?
The stories of Ari's mom Charlie and aunt Les were somewhat more interesting in that Charlie was a prosector and Les was a judge, and there seemed to be a case in the Chinese-American community that would likely end up on Les' docket. I thought that hook was interesting, and would have liked to focus more on those parts of the story, but they seemed fairly peripheral. Understandably, Charlie's main concern was Ari and not her law career, but, meh.
There was also stuff about Charlie and Les' mom and Aunt Rose, and it got a bit confusing for me, with all the separate storylines not really converging.
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
'The Year She Left Us' is a warped novel surrounding the lives of the Kong family, particularly Ari, the adoptive child of an American Asian family. Though, what originally drew me to this novel were the words of journey and discovery (woot area of study) within the blurb and the attractive hard cover, what left me were the concepts of identity and escapism that this book draws upon.
Written in a style similar to 'The Joy Luck Club', with elements quite similar - Americanisation, immigration, mother and daughter struggles - the book expresses and focuses on the anger, particularly through Ari. It is Ari's voice; one of sarcastic young adult wit, and cynical out look, that really drives the novel. She likens her situation to slavery, out of incomprehension and misunderstanding. This gives the 'cliche' narrative arc of the 'adopted' a nice fresh edge.
Yes the book is scattered, and a bit all over the place, alternating in first person for two of the characters third person for others; with slit ended tangents left hanging but that in a sense is the beauty of the novel; a twisting visual and lyrical expression of one's journey to discover their past and anchor their present.
This book was easy to read - the narrative flows quickly and easily, and there are many trenchant observations, particularly about the platitudes that surround adoption in the United States, that I enjoyed. That being said, the core story seemed oddly diffuse, and it was hard to care very much about any of the characters. The most compelling was the grandmother, who I felt we in some measure were allowed to understand. The core relationship between the adoptive mother and her daughter was totally opaque. It was hard to understand the mother's motivations for adopting, for pursuing the unusual (and unsuccessful) romantic relationship that was described, and then for retreating into a monklike life. It was equally hard to understand the daughter's abrupt meltdown, which seemed to come out of nowhere. While the legal careers of both Les and Charlie were presumably supposed to be some sort of metaphor - or somehow relevant to the main story - they seemed irrelevant to me, as did the entire Juneau interlude. To me, the story needed a tighter focus, and more depth.
As the mother of an internationally adopted son, at times I found this book hard to read - I felt like the author was too quick to buy into the idea that all adopted children forever bear the emotional scars and trauma of the initial loss of their birthparents - but after finishing the book, I think it was worth reading. She does not paint international adoption as black and white - her characters are complicated, her themes complex, and the author pulls no punches. In the end, she has written a lovely book about identity, about family, about secrets, and about the way the past informs the present.
I was drawn to this book as an adoptive mother of two Chinese children and there were many parts I could relate to and understand. I could feel Ari's sense of loss for her birth parents but I thought it was interesting that she also felt the loss of not having an adoptive father or siblings. A great read for anyone who is interested in the complexities of family relationships, the pain we carry and Chinese and adoption culture. Just FYI, there is frequent use of profanity in the professional settings of Ari's mother and aunt.
I was a lucky winner. Truly lucky! Each character a multi-layered jewel. I was totally besotted with Gran until a certain moment when Les blew me away. All dynamics and interactions as complex as you would hope. People not soon forgotten. You want to know more even as you know every book has to wrap somewhere. The sure sign of a keeper. This copy already promised to an admirer of the cover art. Spread the experience! Thanks!
I'm giving this a five because it is the first novel of a friend of mine and it is really good! Kathryn has really captured the voices of four Asian American women and more and I learned so much.
Kathryn Ma's debut novel tells the story of Ari, a foundling adopted in China and raised in San Francisco. Her adopted mother is Charlie, a single Chinese-American woman who is a lawyer in the Public Defender's office. Her sister Les is a judge; their mother, called Gran, is a feisty Chinese immigrant who came to America during the war, went to Bryn Mawr; ran a restaurant, and is now retired. The story is told from the perspectives of these four women in alternating chapters. Ari has issues that cause her to act out, and to set off on a quest looking for who knows what? That certain je ne sais quoi? She has trouble adjusting to the fact that she was adopted--abandonment issues--but more than that the lack of a father. She leaves in search of a married man who was planning to leave his wife to marry Charlie, but somehow never did. This is the main drama--why the book is called The Year She Left Us--but the other characters have their own dramas, such as mama drama, sibling rivalry drama, getting too close to clients and their children drama, and for Judge Les, a controversial case that troubles the Chinese-American community and could derail her career no matter how she rules. It is a quite ambitious first novel, though some of the issues it takes on are left ambiguous, unresolved.
The settings are the San Francisco Bay Area, China, and Juneau, Alaska. I am only familiar with the Bay Area, but I can vouch that the author has really captured that neck of the woods well. The sojourn to Alaska allows for some great scenery as well, along with a great drunken epiphany 'neath the Aurora Borealis. The second part of the novel is called False Outer Point, which is a place in Alaska that seems to be as far as you can go, but once you get there, you see it extends further. This is seen as a metaphor for Ari's wild goose chase after the man who would have been her father: Aaron. It is an actual place in Alaska, as well as an apt metaphor for Ari's folly (Alaska was actually called Seward's Folly after Lincoln's Secretary of State purchased it from Russia for $7 million in 1867. It turned out to be a stellar investment but at the time seemed to be pure folly).
It is hard to talk about a novel like this without comparing it to Joy Luck Club by Amy Tan, even though Asian Authors must get so sick of always being compared to Amy Tan. Anyway, that book had a tight structure and form, with a focus on four mother/daughter relationships where the normal strain that exists between all mothers and their daughters was exacerbated by the gap between China and America. Bam. The Mah Jong games provided not only a means for the women to get together and gab, but also a form for the book. Even though Amy Tan doesn't rigidly follow the format, it provides a structure for her to hang the individual stories on.
Kathryn Ma structured her book around four women. The story is told from the four different perspectives. Ari is adopted and raised by her mother, aunt, and her grandmother. At one point her Aunt Les is discussing Ari's departure with her lover. He says that perhaps Ari is overwhelmed by being raised by three strong women. He doesn't say it, but I was thinking: too much yin but no yang. Les compares it to the Three Fates of Greek mythology. According to the myth, the three women decide a person's fate by unrolling the thread of life, the second one decides how long the thread will be, and the third makes the cut. She sees herself as the third one, the one who drops the hammer, but as a judge, wouldn't she be the one who judges how long to make the thread? This metaphor didn't work so well for me, but maybe it's more a matter of me disagreeing with what a character in the story said than disagreeing with the writer. Though actually, I don't agree that the character would say that, either. But I admire the attempt to inject a little Greek mythology into the book. I also admire how she took on so many big issues, though perhaps she bit off a little more than she could chew?
China is a big complicated issue by itself, what with the vast political and economic changes it is going through. One of the most complicated issues is the adoption of large numbers of girls, because couples are only allowed one child, and often want that one child to be a boy. What are the ramifications for a society that will have such a skewed ratio of males to females? Meanwhile, in the United States, there are so many Chinese girls being adopted by westerners that they even have a support group, WACD, Western Adopted Chinese Daughters, and Ari and the other girls in the group call themselves Whackadoodles. Ari should have an advantage, as her mother is Chinese, so it is not as obvious that she was adopted, but she is envious of the other kids with White parents because they have fathers. There is a character named Wei Wei, an older adoptee who serves as a role model for the other Whackadoodles, at least until she gets embroiled in a media scandal. She was an interesting character, but her story was kind of a loose end that wasn't tied up.
There are a lot of loose threads left lying around like severed fingers. No, really. The threads are metaphorical, but the severed fingers are real. But why? Also, spoiler alert: Ari doesn't find her would-be adopted father Aaron in Alaska but she does find his son Noah. After it rains for forty days and nights you wonder if they are going to hook up on the ark, raising the issue of whether Noah is her brother, her half brother, her step brother, or her half step brother? It's whackadoodle! Ma was very ambitious in her first outing, loading her novel with issues galore, but she drops this one like a hot 'you say potato, I say potah-to.'
In spite of some ambiguous ambitions and ambitious ambiguity this was a compelling novel that kept me involved with the characters beyond the False Outer Point right up to the True Outer Point.
As an adoptive mother, there are plenty of ouch moments reading this book, when Charlie, the Chinese American, public defender single mother says something that sounds so off key; selfish, clueless, all the other things that probably any parent can say, but that seems particularly easy for adoptive parents. So part of this book is like watching someone make versions of mistakes I have made myself, it's like picking a scab. On the other hand, some of Ma's description of Ari's quest to figure out her connection to family and to China made me wonder what she knew about adoption. Other reviewers are better positioned to comment on the literary qualities, for me the adoption theme was too salient. Some readers found the book rambling, but I enjoyed the journeys of different characters (to Alaska, Hangzhou and other parts of China), as well as in life and work. The stories don't all resolve by the end, but it seemed more focused on Ari's high school to whatever's next transition and how that rippled out to her mother, aunt and grandmother.
This novel is about an adopted daughter’s search for a sense of belonging. It’s subtle yet passionate, as it shifts between the viewpoints of four women in a family.
The novel sometimes seems to lose its way, but this reflects the reality of Ari, the main character, who is clutching for something real. She’s a very vivid character, a young woman adopted from China into a Chinese-American family. She’s uncompromising yet unsure, and the novel describes her journey from California to Alaska and to China, following fragments of her own history and her family’s history.
The title shows that this journey of Ari’s isn’t only a separation from her adopted mother, the well-meaning Charlie, but also from the other women in her family. Ari has always had the backing of her grandmother, an immigrant from China, and her strong-minded aunt Les, a judge. She leaves them all behind to come to terms with her own place in the family history.