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Patchwork Dolls
Not yet published
Expected 10 Feb 26In this debut story collection, Ysabelle Cheung weaves an eerie fabulism with tales that cross continents, technology, and time.
Set in Hong Kong and America—between the present day and an uncannily altered future—this story collection warps the familiar rules of our world to what does it mean to be Asian and a woman—living under the specter of state and technological surveillance—or trying to break free from it?
In the title story, a young woman of color realizes she can make her fortune by surgically selling her facial features to whiter, wealthier clients. In “Please, Get Out and Dance,” a group of rebels escapes a city that is literally disappearing around them—building by building, person by person—to migrate to a new home beneath the ocean, defying their government’s mandate. “Herbs” follows an elderly widow who, when the clones of her dead husband start to appear uninvited in her home, must grapple with her memories.
In each of these stories, Cheung tilts the world just slightly off its axis to bring together a haunting meditation on what it means to survive within our increasingly digitized and mechanized world.
Set in Hong Kong and America—between the present day and an uncannily altered future—this story collection warps the familiar rules of our world to what does it mean to be Asian and a woman—living under the specter of state and technological surveillance—or trying to break free from it?
In the title story, a young woman of color realizes she can make her fortune by surgically selling her facial features to whiter, wealthier clients. In “Please, Get Out and Dance,” a group of rebels escapes a city that is literally disappearing around them—building by building, person by person—to migrate to a new home beneath the ocean, defying their government’s mandate. “Herbs” follows an elderly widow who, when the clones of her dead husband start to appear uninvited in her home, must grapple with her memories.
In each of these stories, Cheung tilts the world just slightly off its axis to bring together a haunting meditation on what it means to survive within our increasingly digitized and mechanized world.
- GenresShort Stories
208 pages, Kindle Edition
Expected publication February 10, 2026
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August 2, 2025
Ysabelle Cheung’s exquisite stories unfold in surreal, imagined versions of Hong Kong and New York, contorted yet instantly recognisable. Her unsettling narratives frequently depict instances of transformation, dislocation and trauma. Disciplined, exceptionally well-crafted, Cheung’s pieces can be wry and acerbic but they can also be intimate, lyrical, even tender. The disturbingly matter-of-fact title piece and the uncanny “Mycomorphosis” explore the fallout from differing manifestations of gendered, racist violence. “Mycomorphosis” is set in a post-Covid New York where hate crimes towards anyone who has – or is perceived to have – Chinese heritage have skyrocketed. It’s focused on a woman who’s survived one such brutal, disfiguring attack. As this isolated character embraces a mysterious process of mutation, Cheung’s unfolding plot recalls aspects of Kafka as well as Ishirō Honda’s infamous, mushroom people. But Cheung’s character’s suffering doesn’t lead to inevitable destruction instead she enters a state of being that’s bizarrely beautiful, holding out hope of catharsis and community. The inventive title piece introduces Sophia Leung one of many so-called patchwork dolls. Sophia makes a living selling off parts of her face and body, catering to wealthy, white women who crave the ‘ethnically ambiguous’ features now in vogue. Cheung uses Leung’s predicament to reflect on the commodification and fetishization of non-white bodies, questioning whether it’s ever possible for the marginalised to be complicit in their own exploitation.
Cheung acknowledges the influence of writers like Carmen Maria Machado, Angela Carter and Dorothy Tse. However, in addition to publishing short stories, Cheung’s an art critic and Hong Kong gallerist which also informs her fiction. She’s particularly inspired by Yayoi Kasama and Louise Bourgeois but equally by a host of up-and-coming local artists. Initially constructed from disparate visual fragments “Please, Get Out and Dance” is an oblique commentary on creeping authoritarianism and the brutal repression of Hong Kong’s protest movement. It works well paired with “Not In This Neighbourhood” and “The Reader.” The latter is both act of resistance and a deeply unconventional representation of a Hong Kong characterised by state violence, sweeping censorship, and coercive, collective amnesia; while “Not In This Neighbourhood” carefully critiques the kind of appallingly exaggerated, anti-immigrant rhetoric spouted by politicians like Trump.
Cheung doesn’t adhere to conventional genre boundaries, she much prefers fluidity, variously incorporating aspects of speculative fiction, body horror and magical realism into her work. “Find Your Spirit” is an unusual variation on a ghost story in which an app allows a woman in mourning to track her dead sister through the streets of Hong Kong. Technological developments also dominate in “Galatea” which references the popular myth via its CompanionDolls but isn’t so much a rewriting as a feminist refusal; while the rueful “Herb” uses cloning to meditate on the challenges of long-term relationships lending new meaning to the notion of starting over. In the memorable “The In-Between” Chinese British Rachel and Japanese American John are a London couple, brought together through innovations in dating services. It’s a remarkably fertile examination of the commercial, social and cultural constraints encroaching on our most personal space.
If there’s a unifying theme to the collection, or at least one that resurfaces throughout, it’s most likely understood as a respectful rescripting and/or borrowing from the Welsh concept of hiraeth – cited by Cheung in interviews and in her non-fiction. Hiraeth is slippery, difficult to define but conjures a sense of grief and deeply-felt yearning for severed connections, what’s lost or unrecoverable: home, culture, identity, language. I’ve no idea what others will make of this one but I loved it, I thought it was fiercely intelligent, arresting and consistently impressive.
Thanks to Edelweiss and publisher Blair for an ARC
Rating: 4.5
Cheung acknowledges the influence of writers like Carmen Maria Machado, Angela Carter and Dorothy Tse. However, in addition to publishing short stories, Cheung’s an art critic and Hong Kong gallerist which also informs her fiction. She’s particularly inspired by Yayoi Kasama and Louise Bourgeois but equally by a host of up-and-coming local artists. Initially constructed from disparate visual fragments “Please, Get Out and Dance” is an oblique commentary on creeping authoritarianism and the brutal repression of Hong Kong’s protest movement. It works well paired with “Not In This Neighbourhood” and “The Reader.” The latter is both act of resistance and a deeply unconventional representation of a Hong Kong characterised by state violence, sweeping censorship, and coercive, collective amnesia; while “Not In This Neighbourhood” carefully critiques the kind of appallingly exaggerated, anti-immigrant rhetoric spouted by politicians like Trump.
Cheung doesn’t adhere to conventional genre boundaries, she much prefers fluidity, variously incorporating aspects of speculative fiction, body horror and magical realism into her work. “Find Your Spirit” is an unusual variation on a ghost story in which an app allows a woman in mourning to track her dead sister through the streets of Hong Kong. Technological developments also dominate in “Galatea” which references the popular myth via its CompanionDolls but isn’t so much a rewriting as a feminist refusal; while the rueful “Herb” uses cloning to meditate on the challenges of long-term relationships lending new meaning to the notion of starting over. In the memorable “The In-Between” Chinese British Rachel and Japanese American John are a London couple, brought together through innovations in dating services. It’s a remarkably fertile examination of the commercial, social and cultural constraints encroaching on our most personal space.
If there’s a unifying theme to the collection, or at least one that resurfaces throughout, it’s most likely understood as a respectful rescripting and/or borrowing from the Welsh concept of hiraeth – cited by Cheung in interviews and in her non-fiction. Hiraeth is slippery, difficult to define but conjures a sense of grief and deeply-felt yearning for severed connections, what’s lost or unrecoverable: home, culture, identity, language. I’ve no idea what others will make of this one but I loved it, I thought it was fiercely intelligent, arresting and consistently impressive.
Thanks to Edelweiss and publisher Blair for an ARC
Rating: 4.5
Displaying 1 of 1 review