Mourning a Breast

by Xi Xi, Jennifer Feeley (Translator)

By Xi Xi, part of the first generation of writers raised in Hong Kong, a wise and amiably written book of autobiographical fiction on the author’s experience with breast cancer—from diagnosis to treatment to recovery—and her passage from a life lived through the mind into a life lived through the body.

In 1990, the Hong Kong cult classic writer Xi Xi was diagnosed with breast cancer and began writing in order to make sense of her diagnosis and treatment. Mourning a Breast , published two and a half years later, is a disarmingly honest and deeply personal account of the author’s experience of a mastectomy and of her subsequent recovery.

The book opens with her gently rolling up a swimsuit. A beginning swimmer, she loves going to the pool, eavesdropping on conversations in the changing room, shopping for swimsuits. As this routine pleasure is revoked, the small loss stands in for the greater one. But Xi Xi’s mourning begins to take shape as a form of activism. In a conversational, even humorous, manner, she describes her previous blinkered life of the mind before she came into her body and learned its language.

Addressing her reader as frankly and unashamedly as an old friend, she coaxes and confesses, confronts society’s failings, and advocates for a universal literacy of the body. Mourning a Breast was heralded as the first Chinese language book to cast off the stigma of writing about illness and to expose the myths associated with breast cancer. A radical and generous book about creating in the midst of mourning.

Genres: Memoir, Nonfiction, Essays, China, Classics, Illness, Asia

320 pages, Paperback

First published August 1, 1992

About the author

Xi Xi (Chinese name: 西西) was born in Shanghai in 1937 and moved to Hong Kong in 1950. She is one of the most acclaimed writers in the Sinophone world. Hailed by critics as a major and unique voice in global Sinophone literature and a stylistic innovator across genres, she has published more than 30 books of different genres in addition to newspaper and magazine columns and screenplays. Xi Xi is the winner of the 6th Newman Prize for Chinese Literature in 2019.

Reviews

[Alwynne · Rating 4 out of 5]

Xi Xi (Zhang Yan) is one of Hong Kong’s most acclaimed literary figures known for her work in experimental film and translation as well as her fiction. In 1989, in her fifties and newly retired, Xi Xi was diagnosed with a form of breast cancer. At the time open discussions of cancer, particularly for women, were rare in Chinese communities. Moreover, breast cancer was seen by many, including Xi Xi, as a ‘foreign women’s illness’ encountered via articles and images in English or American women’s magazines. It’s this notion of breast cancer as something ‘other’ or taboo that Xi Xi aimed to counter through an account of her own treatment and experience of illness. Although its title references mourning, Xi Xi’s as much invested in the possibility of rebirth as she is in grief, charting her illness from first detection through various medical procedures to tentative recovery. Widely read in Hong Kong and Taiwan her book was later adapted for cinema, it’s still listed as recommended reading by some Hong Kong cancer support groups.

Xi Xi’s approach is far from conventional, partly inspired by her fascination with Simone de Beauvoir and Susan Sontag, this falls somewhere between novel and essay. It’s a dense, richly imagined work incorporating elements of literature, Chinese history, poetry and mythology alongside more intimate reflections on Xi Xi’s bodily existence and everyday life in Hong Kong. Xi Xi draws on a range of techniques from puns to poetic wordplay mingling detailed accounts of the physical aspects of cancer with its potential social and cultural implications. Inevitably there are sombre elements here but there are also unexpectedly playful ones – in keeping with an author whose adopted name Xi Xi stems from Chinese characters resembling a girl in a skirt playing hopscotch, her favourite childhood game.

Xi Xi’s experiences spark chains of associations which branch off in unexpected directions. She arrives at her chosen hospital for an exploratory biopsy accompanied by four different editions of Madame Bovary the original, an English and two Chinese translations, occupying her thoughts with musings on processes of translation including the controversial absence of Flaubert’s italics in the English-language version. The specimen of excised breast tissue deposited by her bed after surgery prompts recollections of notorious serial killer Lam Kor-wan, the Hong Kong taxi driver known for his removal of his victims’ breasts and genitals.

In between operations and radiation therapy, Xi Xi takes up Tai Chi and engages in slow walks through local parks and pathways. One walk takes her past a large slaughter house causing her to reflect on differences in attitude towards human and animal life, in turn raising questions about her own surgeon’s attitudes to her body; and then to translating an Ampara Dávila story which highlighted the arbitrariness of distinctions between human and animal. Another outing conjures musings on the layout of Hong Kong and recent architectural developments, the luxury apartments and imposing financial buildings which concretise Hong Kong’s close ties to capitalism and the pursuit of wealth. Xi Xi’s deliberately episodic work can be uneven, I found the more technical sections slightly dry and some medical details are now inaccurate. But I admired the range of intertextual reference, and found Xi Xi’s snapshot of Hong Kong from its geography to its food culture and street markets, striking and remarkably atmospheric. And although this might seem an unorthodox approach to talking about illness, I felt Xi Xi’s intellectual preoccupations combined with more personal descriptions of her friends and family to produce a remarkably vivid portrait of the author and the era she’s living through. Translated by Jennifer Feeley.

Thanks to Edelweiss and publisher NYRB Classics for an ARC

Rating: 3.5/4

[Owen Hatherley · Rating 5 out of 5]

This is a great book: ostensibly about cancer, but v much also about living in a modern city, eating modern things, being treated with modern medicine, and how one relates to all of that. The big citation of Benjamin on Baudelaire midway through is a signal as to what sort of thing this is, the sort of deceptively simple feuilleton style of Berlin in the '20s transferred to Hong Kong in the '90s, with a lightness of touch that leaves you unprepared for just how bleak a lot of it is. Funnier than I'm making it sound.

[Jade · Rating 5 out of 5]

kudos to feeley who, in an effort to get the translation right, did everything from scrutinizing madame bovary in french to studying kurosawa's ikiru

[emily · Rating 5 out of 5]

‘I’m an avid reader—I don’t necessarily need to read English-language fiction in translation, but I have to rely on translations when reading fiction from Italy, Germany, and other countries. How much of the spirit of the original work can we glean from the translation? Can a translation properly convey the verb tense in Proust’s In Search of Lost Time? Does the original Spanish text of Vargas Llosa’s Captain Pantoja and the Special Service employ an elegant writing style or the spoken vernacular of the streets?

If you open the new Chinese translation of Thomas Mann’s The Magic Mountain, you’ll find the following commentary from the translator: “I have compared the English and Japanese translations of the book and discovered quite a few problems with the translations, especially the English version, where mistranslations and omissions are common.” Indeed, in recent years, many people have pointed out that a number of translations are riddled with mistranslations, mis-interpretations, omissions, and adaptations.

There are unintentional misunderstandings, as well as deliberate simplifications that go so far as to rewrite the text. It seems that if we want to better understand the original work, we need to seek out multiple translations for comparison, or hope that someone else will retranslate the text, or simply learn more foreign languages.

But don’t assume that I am searching for the ultimate, perfect translation. I am not. There’s never a fixed and eternal “absolute spirit” in books. Translations are interpretations, and the same text holds the possibility of multiple interpretations. Each interpreter can thus proclaim “Madame Bovary is me,” and no one will object that there are too many Madame Bovarys. When it comes to translators of the body’s language, of course the experts are biologists and doctors, who might seem to be more scientific and objective.

From the perspective of the development of humanity as a whole, however, due to disparate experiences, customs, and other factors, there are conflicting interpretations. We’ve benefited from misreadings and retranslations for a long time. Dare I say that it is impossible to have a single, absolute translation, whether now or in the future?’

‘Reading The Lives of Gargantua and Pantagruel is such a pleasure. The two Chinese translations each have their own merits. Translation A is annotated in great detail. For example, it notes that black hellebore was a special remedy for diseases of the nervous system at the time, as mentioned in both Horace’s Ars Poetica and Pliny the Elder’s Natural History. Translation B, however, merely notes that ancient people believed this herb could cure madness, and translates it as “buttercup.”’

‘Murnau’s and Herzog’s female protagonists, driven by love, are willing to sacrifice themselves in order to eliminate Dracula. However, vampires are already dead. Their elimination in Murnau’s film is the dissolution of the physical body, which vanishes in an instant. Nosferatu is intriguing, as is Roman Polanski’s The Fearless Vampire Killers. The most interesting scene is the final one. The master and apprentice, who are determined to uphold truth and justice and eliminate vampires, end up turning into vampires themselves, bringing vampires out of the castle and into the human world. Do vampires advancing toward the human world symbolise a kind of blood cancer?’

‘But were these knights really all that righteous? Reading the novel The Nonexistent Knight by the Italian author Italo Calvino, you’ll encounter a completely different group of knights. They call themselves the Sacred Order of the Knights of the Grail. Living together in the forest, they wear white capes and golden helmets adorned with two swan feathers, and carry long spears and a tiny harp. What do these Knights of the Grail do? Because they don’t produce anything but instead rely on their military prowess, they demand that the villagers living near the forest give them cheese, barley, and lamb. Sometimes they use force, riding horses and wielding spears, emptying out the villagers’ granaries, torching houses, sheds, and stables, transforming the village into a ball of fire. Where is the knights’ spirit of chivalry? They’re nothing but a bunch of bandits.’

[Rachel · Rating 4 out of 5]

this was a treat to read, xi xi was clearly very well read and knowledgeable on a wide breadth of topics, and the translation did a great job of capturing her distinctive voice. a good complementary read to anne boyer’s the undying

[christine · Rating 4 out of 5]

4.25 rounded down,

this work of autofiction depicts xi's encounter with breast cancer and sickness while contemplating the nature of translation - or rather what is lost in translation. for how deeply revealing and personal this work was xi's thoughts read quite exuberant at times. the book's translator, jennifer feeley, cannot be commended enough for her work.

[Emma · Rating 4 out of 5]

Full review here: https://writingchinese.leeds.ac.uk/bo...

This was such a pleasure to read. Definitely not by any means an easy read - it tackles hard hitting topics such as cancer, death, illness, femininity, all with an undertone of existentialism (those who know me well know that despite negative connotations, this undertone is very appealing to me). But my overall takeaway from this was a rather hopeful message:

'Life is always worth celebrating; being alive means there are always possibilities.' (p.283)

I am not partial to short story collections, nor non-fiction or essay collections, but this collection (of essays? its hard to define) contained just the perfect level of introspection that it read almost like a memoir. The constant infusion of literary and musical references almost served as a companion piece to this work. The authors own musings on these works, her comparisons between celebrated pieces of literature were fascinating, and provided an insight into the mind of the artist. I love to read, I love to make music, and I love even more to read other people's ideas or interpretations of art.

Speaking of translation, I can only commend Jennifer's efforts. Often I forgot that I was reading a translation (which I feel is very hard to achieve!) and she was so successful at creating a strong voice - I could almost feel Xi Xi coming out of the pages, her presence was in the room with me.

This book felt like a long conversation with a friend about life's trials and tribulations. These are my favourite kind of conversations. It feels like a privilege that I got to read this, and I will be thinking about its contents for a long time.

//////////

some quotes I loved:

‘We place too much emphasis on knowledge, at the expense of ignoring our bodies. Without a body, how would the soul have a place to rest?’ (p.x)

‘Time crawled by, every second and every minute seeming worthless, but in the hospital, every second and every minute were connected to the pulse of life.’ (p.15)

‘Mary was unwed and had never been intimate with a man, and yet, her belly gradually swelled up. If this had happened to any other woman, it would have been a tumour. However, Mary gave birth not to a demon but to a saviour.’ (p.32)

‘There’s much that can be written about a heroine who suffers from tuberculosis. She is always extremely beautiful, and the disease adds to her charm, a low-grade fever making it appear as though she’s enhanced her pale complexion with rouge. The slightest breeze can blow her away – she’s the very image of pity. But she can play musical instruments, is fond of flowers and the moon, often writes poetry, grieves the arrival of autumn and laments the passing of spring. She inevitably encounters a young man who loves her very much. Although he is poor, he is handsome. If he is rich, he is filial towards his stubborn parents. However, none of this can save her, nor can the author, nor the reader. She is doomed to die in the arms of her lover. Such scenes have been made into movies or performed on the stage, bringing countless people to tears as they watch – the poor woman, the lingering love, the melancholic disease.’ (p.37)

‘I left them on until a few days later, when one by one they fell like yellow leaves from a tree, and the shackles of my wound were lifted completely.’ (p.49)

‘When the anaesthesia took effect, I didn’t feel anything at all – was this what death it like? Well then, perhaps death is an extremely comfortable thing. If a person can depart in such a way, what’s wrong with it? Some time ago, there was the unfortunate case of a patient who died due to the incorrect use of an oxygen tank. I think that if I were in that situation, I wouldn’t feel regret; having no feeling would be much better than feeling anything, because once you start to feel something, it’s mostly pain.’ (p.81)

‘Did the doctor who operated on me also love music? We were such strangers to each other – he didn’t know me, and I didn’t know him, yet my life was in his hands, and I had to trust him. What went through his mind while he was performing my surgery? In his eyes, was I a whole cow, or just some cow bones, tendons, and flesh?’ (p.83)

‘The scene just now had been a practical lesson for medical students; I still hadn’t seen the actual doctor. I didn’t feel like I’d wasted my time, though; in fact, I was rather pleased. It turned out that disease could also be an opportunity to learn, a mechanism for creation. It was as though I had another body, as though I were detached, having become an observer of myself. I’d also come to practise getting to know myself.’ (p.104)

‘In animation, no living beings die. Every life form makes a strong comeback. Even if they fall from a high cliff into a deep valley, or are flattened into a thin sheet by a steamroller, soon, they’ll stretch their limbs, move their eyeballs, and start running everywhere. There’s no old age, illness, or death in the cartoon world. Cartoon characters are like angels.’ (p.125)

‘Glass is truly humankind’s greatest invention. With glass, people can communicate with the world outside the walls, keeping connected while maintaining an appropriate distance. People always desire both contact and self-preservation. With glass, there are glass display windows. With glass display windows, the arcades become even more enchanting. Each display window is an Aladdin’s magic lamp, constantly producing things that astonish and excite you.’ (p.138)

‘Undergoing surgery awakened an awareness that I did in fact have a body. For so long, I’d lived as though I had nothing but a mind, oblivious to everything else. I had no idea where the liver and gallbladder were located. Actually, didn’t I study biology in secondary school? How could I have been this ignorant about my own body?’ (p.268)

‘While I certainly wouldn’t praise disease, it was a disease that unexpectedly roused my other half from a deep sleep. I rediscovered the body I’d neglected and started learning to listen to its voice.’ (p.271)

‘Life is worth celebrating; being alive means there are always possibilities left.’ (p.283)

[jayden yau · Rating 5 out of 5]

not my usual type of book but i think it’s so unique and i’ve never read anything like it. reminded me of home and made me cry

[vn. · Rating 4 out of 5]

“Life is worth celebrating; being alive means there are always possibilities left.”

A very intellectually provocative novel. The prose itself is very mature and elegant, and I’m a fan of the usage of minimalist as an ethical stance.

I have long held this assumption that us humans are so unaware of our bodies that for the most part we regard ourselves as simply minds, but illness always disturbs this notion and forces humans to face the reality of our bodies. It is nice to see someone put it so well into what I can only define as a genre-bending stream of consciousness.

I absolutely recommend.

[Max Horan · Rating 5 out of 5]

For a chance encounter in the library, this is one of the most important books I’ve ever read. It reads like a novel. But it reads like a memoir. But it reads like a biography. But it reads like the most enthralling textbook I’ve ever read.

Echoing my thoughts in a review I found, I’ll just add it here: “If self help bros read this instead of Jordan Peterson I think we'd all be much happier and well informed.

[Sophia Eck · Rating 4 out of 5]

The main theme that perseveres throughout Mourning A Breast is the complicated feeling of an often seemingly unbridgeable gap between one’s own soul and body, and how this affected Xi Xi’s journey of discovering, coming to terms with, and treating her breast cancer. Xi Xi approaches this autobiographical body of work in an interestingly contrasting way, juxtaposing personal emotional moments and interesting topical expatiations with fundamentally academic chapters delving pedantically into the intricate sciences contributing to the development of said personal health moments. This deeply important kind of self concerning study into her own health journey, in this specifically personal and honest of a way, and in the cultural environment in Hong Kong that often sees this particular ailment as “taboo”, is in itself a courageous step towards shattering the stigma and secrecy around women’s health and especially the unknown to most details of female breast cancer. Xi Xi takes an incredibly idiosyncratic approach to her story, both recording the personal, the ways she copes with her losses, the hobbies she picks up for pleasure and health, the changing dynamics in her relationship with her body, while also exploring the scientific, going into significant depth into the complex percentages, studies, and proposed causes of cancer itself. Some chapters were more readable than others, I really enjoyed her personal chapters and those of her different thought processes on various subjects tangential to her life experiences, though I did find some of the deeply scientific and academic chapters to become a bit superfluous as the book went on, adding a significant length to the book that I do not think was necessarily integral to the make-up of the whole, maybe especially the extremely detailed nutrition concerned chapters at the very end, but Xi does offer them as skippable which I admired. Overall, I really came to love the even keeled, deeply human, and impressively rational way Xi wrote of her own cancer experience, something I can imagine feels next to impossible to write about. I was so grateful alongside her for the supportive women and other survivors in her life, and was left deeply touched by her story as a whole, and despite it not getting too intensely deep into her lore, other than her health journey, I am left warmed by her genuine candor on such a sensitive topic, and the simple but priceless kinship she provides to the reader and other women afflicted throughout.

[Elizabeth · Rating 5 out of 5]

i loved this book! a remarkable multi-faceted jewel of a text, rolling cancer memoir and scientific facts and art criticism into one big beautiful bundle, all lovingly rendered by Jennifer Feeley’s sensitive and eloquent translation. this work of art enriched my days and my life. Xi Xi forever!!!

[Sunshinegirl95 · Rating 5 out of 5]

Absolutely loved this book. A slow read but so necessary and done in such a great way. Much of it was the journey but with chapters adding parts of storytelling rather than solely non-fiction, also added so much to it. 10/10!

[Angela · Rating 4 out of 5]

Thoughtful & elegant translation. Fully my fault for pissing myself off reading this right after the Chinese though… in small ways mourning how much dimension was (inevitably) lost from the original language.

[Susana Escobar · Rating 4 out of 5]

#nyrbwomen25

[Haley · Rating 2 out of 5]

so conflicted. the afterword and beautiful sentences throughout reflect the care and talent that went into this book. i would definitely try reading 西西 again. but we get into so much random minutiae that it was really a slog to read sometimes. like i don't need long-winded biological explanations or the specifics of calorie counting. this quote from the book gets it best: "Zzz... Oh, you've dozed off? Sleep is also very important, so I won't bother you anymore."

[auriculata · Rating 3 out of 5]

a book about cancer that’s surprisingly light hearted. feels like going down a wikipedia rabbithole. go off (track) queen!

[jean]

i currently work at an outpatient cancer center in a patient-facing role and picked up this book last summer as i wanted to learn more about this process—the ordeal that is diagnosis followed by treatment followed by its aftermath—from the perspective of the patient. of secondary interest to me was the setting as i don't have extensive experience with any non-american healthcare system.

mourning a breast is a collection of personal essays, poems, lists, educational manuals, mathematical calculations, etc. written by hong kong author xixi (西西) about her experience with breast cancer in hong kong in the early 90s. xixi writes with a frank, jovial voice, and flits from topic to topic (e.g., from her opinion on the various english iterations of madame bovary to her surgery to an anecdote from chinese history) with an understated deftness. she is obviously very well read and as a consequence is able to invent some very interesting interdisciplinary metaphors, one of the highlights of which is an essay that starts by comparing the consequences of treatment to the punishment inflicted by the ming dynasty eastern depot ("eastern depot").

some topics that i found particularly compelling or memorable:
- the role of chinese medicine in cancer treatment—she advocates for a multi-d approach
- her relationship with her "own [angel] gabriel", ah kin, a fellow breast cancer patient who advises and helps assuage her fears about treatment
- her reflection on her reaction to colleagues who eventually passed from nasopharyngeal cancer
- her interaction with tsou him, the nasopharyngeal cancer patient with whom she celebrates the end of her radiation treatment

"the body's language" is a standout that discusses how lack of access to comfortable menstrual supplies damaged her relationship with her body and the work of understanding its language now that she's older:

"when it comes to translators of the body's language, of course the experts are biologists and doctors, who seem to be more scientific and objective. from the perspective of the development of humanity as a whole, however, due to disparate experiences, customs, and other factors, there are conflicting interpretations. we've benefited from misreadings and retranslations for a long time. dare i say that it is impossible to have a single, absolute translation, whether now or in the future?"

i also enjoyed "looking good", an analysis of the breast (breasts?) as it is depicted in art through the ages.

notably, xi xi mentions in the preface that this work does not have to be read in a linear fashion, and to that i'd add that i don't think this book really lends itself to being read in one sitting either. i tried to read it one or two goes in august, gave up, and then returned in december to finish the rest. i confess that it lost me at points but i wonder if that has more to do with my completionist instincts, which compelled me to read this book from cover to cover against the author's advice, than the content itself.

overall: unique, thoughtful work that fleshed out new dimensions of a subject i thought i was familiar with

[Ratko · Rating 4 out of 5]

Ово није селф-хелп књига или она није то у оном баналном смислу.

Из самог наслова да се наслутити о чему је реч - ауторка, једна од најпознатијих књижевница из Хонг Конга, Саи Саи (Xi Xi), говори о свом искуству борбе са малигним тумором дојке. Ауторка води дневник/забелешке од тренутка сазнавања дијагнозе и води нас кроз своја искуства са оперативним лечењем, зрачном терапијом и свиме што то са собом носи.
Мање је интроспекције (ја сам ипак очекивао више о осећањима и унутрашњим борбама), а наратив је више усмерен ка спољним аспектима. Ово може и бити разумљиво, с обзиром да је књига објављена почетком деведесетих година, када се још увек није довољно причало, а ни толико знало о малигним туморима.

Тако, поједина поглавља су написана као компендијум основне биологоје или лекција из базичне онкологије, друга се баве објашњавањем како превазићи одређене проблеме, методама традиционалне кинеске медицине, исхраном код онколошких пацијената или шта очекивати од појединих фаза лечења.
Иако је тема невесела, тон је доста раздраган, пун наде и вере у живот, често са хумористичним епизодама.

Мислим да би било добро да ову књигу прочитају не само пацијенткиње које су прошле кроз борбу са малигнитетом дојке (или оне које још увек кроз то пролазе), већ и сви они који се са том пошасти посредно срећу, било у породици или свом ближем окружењу. Сигурно ће допринети бољем разумевању и подизању свести.

(П.С. Било ми је јако драго када сам читајући биографију ауторке на Википедији, открио да је успешно савладала болест и преминула у дубокој старости, више од 20 година од постављања дијагнозе и што је, упркос одређеним нежељеним ефектима терапије, све време водила један испуњен живот. Све то може да буде заиста инспиришуће.)

[Maria Longley · Rating 4 out of 5]

This book is a wide-ranging exploration of an illness and masectomy that the author went through in 1989 in Hong Kong. It is a collection of tidbits, reflections, poems, wry observations, musings on light and food. It is, of course, mourning a loss, but it also felt more generous than that in highlighting the grief and the fear of the situation and the recovery and life. It was also interesting from the point of view of talking about cancer and its effects in the point in time and that location.

Translated by Jenifer Feeley. I read the dictionary chapter with awe at what the translator was being asked to do there and I'm glad she was able to talk about it in the afterword! Xi Xi was doing a lot of wordplay with the character for illness - what a challenge for a translator!!

[Natalie · Rating 2 out of 5]

This book is a nice insight into how being confronted with an unexpected, life-altering illness, will have you going down medical paths you would've never imagined. The author is somewhat irresponsible in her suggestions about prevention and diet, though. She provides no references for the claims she makes, though I do understand this stems from her wanting to help others prevent cancer or at least inspire them to care about their health more. This unfortunately was just not my cup of tea, even though I’m looking for mastectomy stories right now. It felt too bogged down by trying to read as a guide through various treatments and cancer stages, instead of the author’s experience.

If the human body were also this transparent, would it be terrifying or lovely? 150

[John Murphy · Rating 3 out of 5]

[3.5] Some really interesting stuff here about dealing with cancer and living in China and being a woman. But I couldn’t shake the feeling that there was a better, more personal book somewhere inside. Which is crazy because fighting cancer and staring down death is incredibly personal, but I wanted more intimacy instead of the bouncing around to different topics like the history of arcades or Roman Polanski. The book wasn’t a slog, but it had sloggish characteristics; it’s a slow hike to the mountaintop.

Note: Absolutely terrific translation! Reads like un-hiccuped English.

[pgb · Rating 4 out of 5]

what a beautiful recollection and informative novel about the narrator’s struggles, triumphs, and battles regarding her breast cancer diagnosis. the narrator takes us into the ins and outs of her diagnosis: from the day she finds out the news, to the friends she makes along the way, to the guided advice and medical expertise of her clinicians and specialists.

4/5 stars since some chapters seemed just like fluff to me, but hey it isn’t my story to tell.

[Nicola · Rating 4 out of 5]

I was given this book by a friend and was unsure what to expect going into it. This was such an informative and fact filled read yet so deeply personal and moving. I couldn’t describe this book to someone in a way that would do it justice. The collection of poems/short stories format it takes is done in such a beautiful and distinct way I’ve not came across before. Highly likely this is one of my favourite reads this year. What an incredible women and I look forward to reading her other works.

[Lily · Rating 5 out of 5]

May write a review when I have read more. In the meantime, know that the intelligence of this writer buoys the reader throughout, including her admonishments to "skip this next section if..."

I have "been through the book." My hearty endorsement of the read stands, even if information I embrace may not always agree.

[jacob · Rating 3 out of 5]

phenomenal start and phenomenal translation, the back third really sags under the weight of the essay-novel form and the literariness of speech. the start is equally gripping, wise, and funny—i look forward to continuing to read these sections.
i’m not sure how this constitutes a “good” introduction to xi xi or not but i certainly look forward to reading more of her.

[Martha Sprague · Rating 4 out of 5]

Very touching meditation on how we get so disconnected from our bodies that when something bad happens like a cancer diagnosis one’s whole outlook on life changes. Interesting to read someone’s perspective on diet from the ‘90s and consider how similar society’s complaints about hydrogenated vegetable oils and processed foods are today. Also in the context of Hong Kong.

[Kathryn · Rating 4 out of 5]

would've been five stars if not for the two separate chapters at the end that spent way too much time talking about food and calories and fat and all that jazz. still loved the author's voice and also just a really interesting look into cancer treatment in hong kong at the time.

[leilanicharise · Rating 5 out of 5]

Mourning of a Breast is a powerful, intimate piece of writing that stayed with me long after I finished it. I saw parts of myself in it—quiet moments of loss, strength, and complicated healing. Such a beautiful book so grateful I read it.

[Ben · Rating 5 out of 5]

Very playful translation, we’ll see how this is received by the YOUTH