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Taipei Story
Not yet published
Expected 8 Sep 26TAIPEI STORY is the electrifying new novel by bestselling literary phenomenon Rebecca F. Kuang, a profoundly moving coming-of-age story that explores first love, second language and final goodbyes – all set against the backdrop of one unforgettable summer in Taipei.
Yale student Lily Chen arrives in Taipei for family, for culture, for connection.
But her summer of discovery quickly unravels. Her classes are grueling, her roommate unbearable, and a reckless, deeply awkward trip to the hot springs with a guy she barely knows soon ignites vicious gossip.
Then her grandfather dies. Grieving and adrift, Lily must confront her own questions about the culture she inherited but never fully understood. She embarks on a wryly funny, often devastating search for of herself, her family, and the meaning of home.
All over one unforgettable summer in Taipei.
'Like any great artist, she’s not preoccupied with external perception. There is a wildness and freedom to her work that is extraordinary. Her characters are complex and human; nothing feels contrived' TIME MAGAZINE
Yale student Lily Chen arrives in Taipei for family, for culture, for connection.
But her summer of discovery quickly unravels. Her classes are grueling, her roommate unbearable, and a reckless, deeply awkward trip to the hot springs with a guy she barely knows soon ignites vicious gossip.
Then her grandfather dies. Grieving and adrift, Lily must confront her own questions about the culture she inherited but never fully understood. She embarks on a wryly funny, often devastating search for of herself, her family, and the meaning of home.
All over one unforgettable summer in Taipei.
'Like any great artist, she’s not preoccupied with external perception. There is a wildness and freedom to her work that is extraordinary. Her characters are complex and human; nothing feels contrived' TIME MAGAZINE
Audible Audio
Expected publication September 8, 2026
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Want to Read
June 1, 20261/6/26 The book isn’t even out yet, and people are already getting mad at Kuang for supposedly including “Zionist propaganda”… I fear people may have taken things out of context. RFK’s inclusion of an Israeli character doesn’t automatically equate to circulating propaganda, especially given that no nuance or context has been provided 😵💫 People need to remember that this is the same person who wrote Babel, and that we shouldn’t be making judgments without proper context.
9/3/26 Cover reveal! I'm (im)patiently waiting for this one...
9/3/26 Cover reveal! I'm (im)patiently waiting for this one...
Want to Read
May 4, 2026The most disappointing news that I have ever gotten. The context it was used in doesn't really make sense or justify the inclusion 😔
__
My only source of happiness this year 🤭
(R.F. Kuang is such a brilliant writer, I'm prepared to fall in love 😋)
__
My only source of happiness this year 🤭
(R.F. Kuang is such a brilliant writer, I'm prepared to fall in love 😋)
Review of advance copy received from NetGalley
I requested Taipei Story because I am, if nothing else, a huge language nerd. I started reading and thought, “Nope. This was not written for me.” And then, somewhere along the way, I started seeing myself in Lily despite all the reasons I thought I wouldn’t.
Lily Chen, a college freshman, spends ten weeks in Taipei at an intensive Chinese language program to relearn the language she has forgotten and reconnect with a culture she inherited but has only ever experienced from a distance. It’s supposed to be her homecoming. It should all be rather easy, right?
The story unfolds through vignettes of rather mundane everyday experiences. Lily goes to class. She struggles to order food. She can’t remember the correct word. Exactly what you’d expect to happen when someone doesn’t really know the language they are trying to speak. It reads a bit like a teenager’s travel blog. Every vignette is a new blog post describing whatever Lily just did and the thoughts she had while doing it. The beginning is slow and, frankly, rather boring. What is the point of all these completely expected, everyday experiences? Where is the story? The conflict? I was stuck between “this isn’t even a story” and “maybe this just isn’t for me, because what the hell do I know about the diaspora experience?”
Except there is a story. Taipei Story reminds me of The Bell Jar because both are told through seemingly ordinary experiences that matter because of how the protagonist experiences them. It doesn’t really matter what Lily does that day. What matters is what she thinks and feels while doing it. There’s a lot of showing and basically no telling (yay). We are rarely told exactly how Lily feels. Instead, we are allowed to just sit inside her mind and observe the questions she asks herself and the conclusions she cannot quite reach. Am I sad? Should I be sad? The entire story, from conflict to resolution, is internal, and slowly, those pointless little scenes stop feeling pointless.
Kuang introduces this as a book about getting things wrong. My initial reaction was basically, “Getting things wrong while learning a language? Groundbreaking.” Clearly, I had no idea what she meant. Yes, Lily gets words wrong and sometimes meaning gets lost in translation, but the heart and soul of this book is about getting things wrong on a bigger level than just words. What is expected of her. How she should feel and act and study and learn. What is expected of her as a friend, a girlfriend, a daughter, a granddaughter, a Chinese person, a Chinese American person. She gets it all wrong. It’s about all the times we go into something with certain expectations and realize only too late that we should have acted or felt differently before we ran out of time.
Maybe the vignettes are mundane and shapeless on purpose. Maybe they become whatever you see in them, a little like a Rorschach test or an abstract painting. On the surface, it’s a bunch of nothing. A huge part of this book belongs specifically to experiences of diaspora and growing up in an Asian family, which I cannot personally speak to, but that didn’t make the book inaccessible to me. Lily is relatable in a lot of ways: her habit of trying to logic her way out of feelings, not knowing what she is supposed to feel in a given situation, the sinking feeling of walking into a room and believing everyone is talking about her, misunderstanding what other people expect of her, and all the ways we misunderstand what an experience is supposed to mean while we’re still living it. Other readers might see something completely different in the same scenes, and I think that’s the point. You are shown Lily’s experiences and how they affect her, but what do they make you feel? What do they make you think of? What does the “nothing” become when you look at it?
So what about the Israeli pianist? And yes, truly, what about him? His nationality is mentioned twice (once to introduce him, and once to refer to "the audience of the Israeli pianist"). Lily attends several of his concerts because she is lonely. Navigating Taipei’s cultural scene alone makes her feel capable and gives her a chance to immerse herself, while his music gives her something to feel. The book does not use him to discuss Israel or Palestine, and his nationality has no discernible political function. Kuang must have anticipated that people would react strongly, so it is an interesting and perhaps questionable choice to make him Israeli, especially when he could seemingly have been from anywhere since his nationality has no impact on his role in the story. Questioning that choice is completely fair. Negatively reviewing the book based only on knowing that an Israeli character appears in it is not criticism of the text. It is a reaction to one fact stripped of all its context. If Kuang is making a Zionist argument here, I could not find it.
I was so certain this wasn’t a story for me. Apparently, that was just one more thing I got wrong.
A big thank you to Netgalley, HarperCollins UK/HarperFiction, The Borough Press and R.F. Kuang for the ARC!
Lily Chen, a college freshman, spends ten weeks in Taipei at an intensive Chinese language program to relearn the language she has forgotten and reconnect with a culture she inherited but has only ever experienced from a distance. It’s supposed to be her homecoming. It should all be rather easy, right?
The story unfolds through vignettes of rather mundane everyday experiences. Lily goes to class. She struggles to order food. She can’t remember the correct word. Exactly what you’d expect to happen when someone doesn’t really know the language they are trying to speak. It reads a bit like a teenager’s travel blog. Every vignette is a new blog post describing whatever Lily just did and the thoughts she had while doing it. The beginning is slow and, frankly, rather boring. What is the point of all these completely expected, everyday experiences? Where is the story? The conflict? I was stuck between “this isn’t even a story” and “maybe this just isn’t for me, because what the hell do I know about the diaspora experience?”
Except there is a story. Taipei Story reminds me of The Bell Jar because both are told through seemingly ordinary experiences that matter because of how the protagonist experiences them. It doesn’t really matter what Lily does that day. What matters is what she thinks and feels while doing it. There’s a lot of showing and basically no telling (yay). We are rarely told exactly how Lily feels. Instead, we are allowed to just sit inside her mind and observe the questions she asks herself and the conclusions she cannot quite reach. Am I sad? Should I be sad? The entire story, from conflict to resolution, is internal, and slowly, those pointless little scenes stop feeling pointless.
Kuang introduces this as a book about getting things wrong. My initial reaction was basically, “Getting things wrong while learning a language? Groundbreaking.” Clearly, I had no idea what she meant. Yes, Lily gets words wrong and sometimes meaning gets lost in translation, but the heart and soul of this book is about getting things wrong on a bigger level than just words. What is expected of her. How she should feel and act and study and learn. What is expected of her as a friend, a girlfriend, a daughter, a granddaughter, a Chinese person, a Chinese American person. She gets it all wrong. It’s about all the times we go into something with certain expectations and realize only too late that we should have acted or felt differently before we ran out of time.
Maybe the vignettes are mundane and shapeless on purpose. Maybe they become whatever you see in them, a little like a Rorschach test or an abstract painting. On the surface, it’s a bunch of nothing. A huge part of this book belongs specifically to experiences of diaspora and growing up in an Asian family, which I cannot personally speak to, but that didn’t make the book inaccessible to me. Lily is relatable in a lot of ways: her habit of trying to logic her way out of feelings, not knowing what she is supposed to feel in a given situation, the sinking feeling of walking into a room and believing everyone is talking about her, misunderstanding what other people expect of her, and all the ways we misunderstand what an experience is supposed to mean while we’re still living it. Other readers might see something completely different in the same scenes, and I think that’s the point. You are shown Lily’s experiences and how they affect her, but what do they make you feel? What do they make you think of? What does the “nothing” become when you look at it?
So what about the Israeli pianist? And yes, truly, what about him? His nationality is mentioned twice (once to introduce him, and once to refer to "the audience of the Israeli pianist"). Lily attends several of his concerts because she is lonely. Navigating Taipei’s cultural scene alone makes her feel capable and gives her a chance to immerse herself, while his music gives her something to feel. The book does not use him to discuss Israel or Palestine, and his nationality has no discernible political function. Kuang must have anticipated that people would react strongly, so it is an interesting and perhaps questionable choice to make him Israeli, especially when he could seemingly have been from anywhere since his nationality has no impact on his role in the story. Questioning that choice is completely fair. Negatively reviewing the book based only on knowing that an Israeli character appears in it is not criticism of the text. It is a reaction to one fact stripped of all its context. If Kuang is making a Zionist argument here, I could not find it.
I was so certain this wasn’t a story for me. Apparently, that was just one more thing I got wrong.
A big thank you to Netgalley, HarperCollins UK/HarperFiction, The Borough Press and R.F. Kuang for the ARC!
Want to Read
October 17, 2025gimme
Want to Read
July 7, 2026i've seen the arcs getting rolled around for this one.
curious to see if anyone here has read it and what they think about it.
curious to see if anyone here has read it and what they think about it.
May 13, 2026
Many thanks to William Morrow for the ARC. To start– I have read every single book RF Kuang has published. Yellowface and Babel are god-tier reads for me. But between Katabasis and Taipei Story, I’m TIRED. It feels like Kuang just lives to write stories that show how educated she is. Like Katabasis, Taipei Story felt like a dissertation. Except Taipei Story was more like a dully written travel foodie blog. I don’t think Lily was meant to be likable necessarily, but at least make her interesting! God this was so boring.
Read
August 30, 2026All the time while I read this, I kept thinking: if this had been written by anybody else, would I still be reading it? Or, alternatively: if this had been written by anybody else, would I be enjoying it?
I did not have fun with this. I think books can be not particularly fun and still be enjoyable, if they have other purposes, other meaningful bonds to form with the reader. I am still lost as to what is the purpose of this book.
Is this a glorified travel diary? An awkward college novel? An exploration of Self and Otherness in the context of diaspora? A multi-layered Wikipedia page? The book doesn't seem to decide on its identity, which could be a deliberate mirroring of Lily's own predicament… ooooor it could just be the new Kuang novel that wants to cram more sensitive knowledge and information than conflict into its seams. Cof Katabasis cof.
For the majority of the book, there is not much of a plot or presented conflict: just a sequence of hardships and complaints. Lily is a very uncompelling narrator, who is at once an accomplished straight-A’s workaholic student of Yale, majoring in East Asian Studies (!), as well as a completely apolitical, clueless and uncurious person. She is inert and indecisive and, as always seems to be the case with R. F. Kuang novels lately, doesn’t really like any woman in her life. I was very excited when straight away there was mention of a fun, carefree female friend who would accompany her in her travel, only for it to turn out that she is actually a detestable, literally filthy rival brat. Other than her decision to dislike all the women in her vicinity, she does not make up her mind about anything, holds no opinion, and reading her overthinking rambles regarding her indecisiveness is as fun as overthinking itself. Meaning it isn’t. It’s not that Lily is unlikeable (novels and readers nowadays seem to be so worried about making women unlikeable, as if the world doesn’t dislike women enough lol), it’s just that she’s a very dull, null character, without a voice, without direction and without a point of view.
When a conflict is at last presented, almost a hundred pages in, it is a soap-opera level of high school conflict, uninteresting and predictable, and folds within itself without any closure; when another conflict is presented, the one that apparently was meant to be the whole motivation for the story, it’s almost closing time for the book, and we just rush through a torrent of information until it’s time to go home. It’s not satisfying and doesn’t provide much depth of feeling to be moving in the way it is clearly intended to be.
I’ve decided that the main problem with the book is that it goes out of its way to be as nuanced as possible in regards to China-Taiwan matters, to present every possible side of the issues in a very sugarcoated, diffuse language so as to not ruffle any feathers. There is a wall of opaqueness surrounding what is very much at the center of the book, and that makes any exploration of its political issues – diaspora, otherness, generational trauma and loss – matter-of-factly impossible. It's sad to watch the narration squirming to slip itself out of any responsibility or commitment to the issue it endeavours to present to the public, failing at that as well: if you know nothing of China-Taiwan-USA relations, you'll come out of this book the same way you went into it.
(Oh, and in case you're worried this book contains any sort of israeli propaganda or validation, you can breathe easy. It doesn't contain enough bite to be that or the opposite. The mention of an israeli person is just a blip in the story that only alludes to a political possibility but it is, as everything else, vague and bland to that end.)
So, overall, this was not a good book, it made me happy to finish reading it, and though I'm not abandoning R. F. Kuang’s bibliography, I don't think I'll be as excited and anxious for her releases from now on as I was in the past.
I did not have fun with this. I think books can be not particularly fun and still be enjoyable, if they have other purposes, other meaningful bonds to form with the reader. I am still lost as to what is the purpose of this book.
Is this a glorified travel diary? An awkward college novel? An exploration of Self and Otherness in the context of diaspora? A multi-layered Wikipedia page? The book doesn't seem to decide on its identity, which could be a deliberate mirroring of Lily's own predicament… ooooor it could just be the new Kuang novel that wants to cram more sensitive knowledge and information than conflict into its seams. Cof Katabasis cof.
For the majority of the book, there is not much of a plot or presented conflict: just a sequence of hardships and complaints. Lily is a very uncompelling narrator, who is at once an accomplished straight-A’s workaholic student of Yale, majoring in East Asian Studies (!), as well as a completely apolitical, clueless and uncurious person. She is inert and indecisive and, as always seems to be the case with R. F. Kuang novels lately, doesn’t really like any woman in her life. I was very excited when straight away there was mention of a fun, carefree female friend who would accompany her in her travel, only for it to turn out that she is actually a detestable, literally filthy rival brat. Other than her decision to dislike all the women in her vicinity, she does not make up her mind about anything, holds no opinion, and reading her overthinking rambles regarding her indecisiveness is as fun as overthinking itself. Meaning it isn’t. It’s not that Lily is unlikeable (novels and readers nowadays seem to be so worried about making women unlikeable, as if the world doesn’t dislike women enough lol), it’s just that she’s a very dull, null character, without a voice, without direction and without a point of view.
When a conflict is at last presented, almost a hundred pages in, it is a soap-opera level of high school conflict, uninteresting and predictable, and folds within itself without any closure; when another conflict is presented, the one that apparently was meant to be the whole motivation for the story, it’s almost closing time for the book, and we just rush through a torrent of information until it’s time to go home. It’s not satisfying and doesn’t provide much depth of feeling to be moving in the way it is clearly intended to be.
I’ve decided that the main problem with the book is that it goes out of its way to be as nuanced as possible in regards to China-Taiwan matters, to present every possible side of the issues in a very sugarcoated, diffuse language so as to not ruffle any feathers. There is a wall of opaqueness surrounding what is very much at the center of the book, and that makes any exploration of its political issues – diaspora, otherness, generational trauma and loss – matter-of-factly impossible. It's sad to watch the narration squirming to slip itself out of any responsibility or commitment to the issue it endeavours to present to the public, failing at that as well: if you know nothing of China-Taiwan-USA relations, you'll come out of this book the same way you went into it.
(Oh, and in case you're worried this book contains any sort of israeli propaganda or validation, you can breathe easy. It doesn't contain enough bite to be that or the opposite. The mention of an israeli person is just a blip in the story that only alludes to a political possibility but it is, as everything else, vague and bland to that end.)
So, overall, this was not a good book, it made me happy to finish reading it, and though I'm not abandoning R. F. Kuang’s bibliography, I don't think I'll be as excited and anxious for her releases from now on as I was in the past.
Want to Read
July 23, 2026OMG WE HAVE A COVER and it's giving OFF CHINESE CULTURAL VIBES😍
Want to Read
March 8, 2026Not every book of hers is a win for me, but I love to see an author experimenting with different genres. Can't wait for a coming-of-age novel featuring grief and culture shock by R.F. Kuang. And what a cool cover too!
Read
July 3, 2026I've always found R.F. Kuang to be such an intelligent writer, full of ideas that she can't help but stuff into her novels. It's clear she cares a lot about her subject matter, no matter what she's writing about. But sometimes I feel like that takes precedence over the actually story she is telling, at least for me.
That is not the case in this lovely, quiet, and contemplative coming-of-age novel that follows a college sophomore studying at an immersive Chinese-language school in Taiwan over her summer break.
Lily Chen is Chinese-American but, as with many first generation children of immigrants, she doesn't have as strong of a grasp on her extended family's language as she'd like. So she sets off for 10 weeks to Taiwan to better understand it, and hopefully, through that understanding begin to grow closer to her parents, grandparents, and their family history.
This is, I believe, Kuang's first dip into true literary fiction -- a character focused story that doesn't have high highs or low lows, but instead follows a young adult coming to terms with their place in the world, and how that might differ from the expectations they feel are put on them, or at least that they put on themselves. I thought a bit about Sally Rooney throughout this book, in her earlier works, and how while 'nothing really happens' on the outside, so much is going on under the surface. Kuang balanced that listless, meandering quality that some litfic novels have, while adding depth through the discussions of linguistics, family history, and identity that Lily Chen interrogates.
Lily is a really relatable protagonist; despite our obvious differences, I saw a lot of myself in her in terms of her sense of self as a student. She asks so many questions, mainly of herself, that she uses to sketch a picture of herself. And over the summer we get to watch her fill that in with experiences that put her outside of her comfort zone as well as unexpected life events that shake up her world. This reminds her that having complete control over everything is neither possible nor conducive to growth.
I think many readers will find a lot to relate to in this book, though I'm not sure the style will be as immediately endearing to R.F. Kuang's fans. It was, however, for me, and I was pleasantly surprised by this one!
That is not the case in this lovely, quiet, and contemplative coming-of-age novel that follows a college sophomore studying at an immersive Chinese-language school in Taiwan over her summer break.
Lily Chen is Chinese-American but, as with many first generation children of immigrants, she doesn't have as strong of a grasp on her extended family's language as she'd like. So she sets off for 10 weeks to Taiwan to better understand it, and hopefully, through that understanding begin to grow closer to her parents, grandparents, and their family history.
This is, I believe, Kuang's first dip into true literary fiction -- a character focused story that doesn't have high highs or low lows, but instead follows a young adult coming to terms with their place in the world, and how that might differ from the expectations they feel are put on them, or at least that they put on themselves. I thought a bit about Sally Rooney throughout this book, in her earlier works, and how while 'nothing really happens' on the outside, so much is going on under the surface. Kuang balanced that listless, meandering quality that some litfic novels have, while adding depth through the discussions of linguistics, family history, and identity that Lily Chen interrogates.
Lily is a really relatable protagonist; despite our obvious differences, I saw a lot of myself in her in terms of her sense of self as a student. She asks so many questions, mainly of herself, that she uses to sketch a picture of herself. And over the summer we get to watch her fill that in with experiences that put her outside of her comfort zone as well as unexpected life events that shake up her world. This reminds her that having complete control over everything is neither possible nor conducive to growth.
I think many readers will find a lot to relate to in this book, though I'm not sure the style will be as immediately endearing to R.F. Kuang's fans. It was, however, for me, and I was pleasantly surprised by this one!
Review of advance copy received from Edelweiss+
When I first heard that Kuang was writing a novel called “Taipei Story,” I thought that was a stand-in title for a story she was writing that was set in Taipei; I didn’t realize it was actually the title of her next book! I was shocked when I saw the cover and realized that “Taipei Story” was, in fact, the title.
This novel didn’t initially sound like something I’d want to read as non-fantastical coming-of-age stories aren’t what I usually reach for, but I have read all of R. F. Kuang’s books so far and I will continue to read all future books she writes. I tend to like them, more or less. While I prefer her fantasy novels, I do really like seeing an author write in different genres, especially when they can write authentically about their experience. Kuang’s books feature Chinese characters and focus on moments from Chinese history or culture.
I feel like Taipei Story was an authentic portrayal of a what it’s like to be a Chinese-American student studying abroad in Taiwan for the summer and everything that entails, from difficulties with the nuances of learning a language to the suffocating humidity to the desire to explore the city instead of studying. I did a summer study abroad of sorts when I was in college (though nothing as intense as Lily’s program) in a foreign country that spoke a foreign language, and I could see a lot of similarities between Lily’s experience and mine. I do appreciate that this story feels authentic and realistic.
While I liked the overall story, I did not like that our protagonist Lily had no agency in this book. She let the entire plot happen to her; even if she didn’t like it and didn’t want it to happen, she did nothing to stop it. The hot springs scene made me realize this, and it honestly kind of disgusted me to read that scene. I wish that had never happened. Afterward, I felt like Lily was so detached and emotionless from anything going on around her. She did not connect with one other character in a meaningful way, and I really didn’t like that because it was not fun to read about her at times.
Taipei Story was rather depressing on the surface but had hopeful undertones, and I think that was the intention. Lily’s summer abroad is not going according to plan, but at least she’s learning Chinese so she can one day talk to her grandparents in their native tongue. We already know from the synopsis that Lily’s grandfather dies, and we get to see her live through that grief—not only about his passing but also about her inability to ever speak to him in Chinese and learn his story and history. The rest of the novel after his death is Lily grappling with this understanding and trying to find any sort of connection to him through learning Chinese language and history, but ultimately coming to the realization that her dream of hearing her gonggong tell his own story in Chinese will never come true. So yeah, that’s kind of depressing. But it was genuine in how it was written because her story is based on Kuang losing her own grandfather before she could connect to him in the same way.
In the end, though, I felt like I understood Lily. I understood her frustrations about learning a language she felt like she would never master while also taking pride in her being more fluent than other students she encounters. I understood her desire to connect with her past while also feeling like it wouldn’t matter for her life at all whether she developed that connection or not. I understood her love/hate relationship with her heritage and her family. I think a lot of people will read Lily’s story and understand her too.
Overall, I liked Taipei Story and I’m glad I read it, but I don’t think it’s a book I will revisit. I think it’s my second-least-favorite novel of Kuang’s (after Katabasis; I did not like that book). I would recommend this novel to anybody who has gone through a similar experience to Lily’s—whether that be losing a relative without being able to connect to them first, or experiencing a new culture and language for the first time. People interested in Taiwanese settings and culture will likely also enjoy this book. I’m looking forward to seeing what Kuang writes next.
Side note: I found out after finishing this book and reading some other reviews that apparently people are upset that this book contains mentions of an Israeli character. They are not a main character or a side character or even a tertiary character, they are only a background character. And people are mad at Kuang for writing this background character as being Israeli instead of any other race. Canceling an author or a book merely because it contains a character from a specific country of origin—that is racist, and there’s no other way to put that. Israeli people exist, both inside and outside of Israel, and they do not equal their government. The people do not deserve to be erased just because you disagree with the actions of their government.
I received a copy of this book for review from the publisher via Edelweiss.
This novel didn’t initially sound like something I’d want to read as non-fantastical coming-of-age stories aren’t what I usually reach for, but I have read all of R. F. Kuang’s books so far and I will continue to read all future books she writes. I tend to like them, more or less. While I prefer her fantasy novels, I do really like seeing an author write in different genres, especially when they can write authentically about their experience. Kuang’s books feature Chinese characters and focus on moments from Chinese history or culture.
I feel like Taipei Story was an authentic portrayal of a what it’s like to be a Chinese-American student studying abroad in Taiwan for the summer and everything that entails, from difficulties with the nuances of learning a language to the suffocating humidity to the desire to explore the city instead of studying. I did a summer study abroad of sorts when I was in college (though nothing as intense as Lily’s program) in a foreign country that spoke a foreign language, and I could see a lot of similarities between Lily’s experience and mine. I do appreciate that this story feels authentic and realistic.
While I liked the overall story, I did not like that our protagonist Lily had no agency in this book. She let the entire plot happen to her; even if she didn’t like it and didn’t want it to happen, she did nothing to stop it. The hot springs scene made me realize this, and it honestly kind of disgusted me to read that scene. I wish that had never happened. Afterward, I felt like Lily was so detached and emotionless from anything going on around her. She did not connect with one other character in a meaningful way, and I really didn’t like that because it was not fun to read about her at times.
Taipei Story was rather depressing on the surface but had hopeful undertones, and I think that was the intention. Lily’s summer abroad is not going according to plan, but at least she’s learning Chinese so she can one day talk to her grandparents in their native tongue. We already know from the synopsis that Lily’s grandfather dies, and we get to see her live through that grief—not only about his passing but also about her inability to ever speak to him in Chinese and learn his story and history. The rest of the novel after his death is Lily grappling with this understanding and trying to find any sort of connection to him through learning Chinese language and history, but ultimately coming to the realization that her dream of hearing her gonggong tell his own story in Chinese will never come true. So yeah, that’s kind of depressing. But it was genuine in how it was written because her story is based on Kuang losing her own grandfather before she could connect to him in the same way.
In the end, though, I felt like I understood Lily. I understood her frustrations about learning a language she felt like she would never master while also taking pride in her being more fluent than other students she encounters. I understood her desire to connect with her past while also feeling like it wouldn’t matter for her life at all whether she developed that connection or not. I understood her love/hate relationship with her heritage and her family. I think a lot of people will read Lily’s story and understand her too.
Overall, I liked Taipei Story and I’m glad I read it, but I don’t think it’s a book I will revisit. I think it’s my second-least-favorite novel of Kuang’s (after Katabasis; I did not like that book). I would recommend this novel to anybody who has gone through a similar experience to Lily’s—whether that be losing a relative without being able to connect to them first, or experiencing a new culture and language for the first time. People interested in Taiwanese settings and culture will likely also enjoy this book. I’m looking forward to seeing what Kuang writes next.
Side note: I found out after finishing this book and reading some other reviews that apparently people are upset that this book contains mentions of an Israeli character. They are not a main character or a side character or even a tertiary character, they are only a background character. And people are mad at Kuang for writing this background character as being Israeli instead of any other race. Canceling an author or a book merely because it contains a character from a specific country of origin—that is racist, and there’s no other way to put that. Israeli people exist, both inside and outside of Israel, and they do not equal their government. The people do not deserve to be erased just because you disagree with the actions of their government.
I received a copy of this book for review from the publisher via Edelweiss.
Want to Read
March 8, 2026RFK IM COMING FOR YOU
Review of advance copy received from NetGalley
੭୧ 5 stars . ۫
overall thoughts — I have been putting off writing this review because I don't know what else to say other than this was truly amazing!!! The haters can hate all they want, but R.F. Kuang really knows how to write about the Asian experience in such a raw, emotional, and painfully honest way.
Every single one of her books feels so intentional and emotionally sharp, and Taipei Story is no different. It follows Lily Chen during a summer language program in Taipei as she struggles to learn Chinese while trying to reconnect with her culture, identity, and family history. As an immigrant daughter who can understand but not fluently speak my heritage language, I FELT THIS BOOK DEEP IN MY BONES. The shame, the disconnect, the struggle, the fear of sounding unnatural - R.F. Kuang captured all of it perfectly.
She also absolutely hit the nail on the head with grief in this novel. What I loved most is that the grief here feels incredibly internal and realistic. So much of Lily's grief exists inside her own thoughts, memories, regrets, and the questions she realizes she can no longer ask. There's this constant feeling of loss hanging over the story, not just loss of a person but loss of connection, language, history, and understanding.
Some of the side characters are extremely unlikeable, but they're also just a group of young adults all struggling with their own insecurities and personal issues. Even Lily herself is not written to be a perfectly likeable protagonist. That being said, I was still rooting for Lily Chen every step of the way.
Something that really surprised me was the writing style. If you're expecting the style of Babel or even Katabasis, this was very different. The prose feels almost intrusive at times, like we are sitting directly inside Lily's head, experiencing every anxious thought and insecurity. For me, this style completely worked, and I found it very compelling! It made the story feel more intimate and realistic. I could not stop flipping the pages. I read this in one sitting 😭
I also know this book will not work for everyone, and honestly, I think that's part of what makes it interesting. People are going to experience this novel very differently depending on their own relationship with culture, language, identity, and family. R.F. Kuang's writing has always carried an academic quality to it, and yes, that is present here too, but I've always gravitated towards her writing BECAUSE of that. Her writing being intellectual does not make it any less emotional or compelling. If anything, I think it strengthens the themes she explores because there is so much intentionality behind every conversation and observation.
final thoughts — The more I sit with this novel, the more I love it. This one definitely did not disappoint me! I think the Yellowface enthusiasts can expect to love this one as well!! I still cannot believe I got the ARC for my most anticipated release of 2026 😭 YOU'RE KIDDING ME. Anyway, 5 stars (Are we even surprised??).
Thank you to R.F. Kuang and William Morrow for the ARC! Taipei Story releases September 8, 2026.
CW: grief, racism, death
────
finished: 05/09/26 𖥻𓈒 ꒱ ੭
manifested SO hard that i got the arc 😭 finished this a few days ago and basically read it in one sitting - full thoughts/review soon. this is definitely for the yellowface enthusiasts!
started: 05/06/26 𖥻𓈒 ꒱ ੭
ꗃ aapi read #2
overall thoughts — I have been putting off writing this review because I don't know what else to say other than this was truly amazing!!! The haters can hate all they want, but R.F. Kuang really knows how to write about the Asian experience in such a raw, emotional, and painfully honest way.
Every single one of her books feels so intentional and emotionally sharp, and Taipei Story is no different. It follows Lily Chen during a summer language program in Taipei as she struggles to learn Chinese while trying to reconnect with her culture, identity, and family history. As an immigrant daughter who can understand but not fluently speak my heritage language, I FELT THIS BOOK DEEP IN MY BONES. The shame, the disconnect, the struggle, the fear of sounding unnatural - R.F. Kuang captured all of it perfectly.
She also absolutely hit the nail on the head with grief in this novel. What I loved most is that the grief here feels incredibly internal and realistic. So much of Lily's grief exists inside her own thoughts, memories, regrets, and the questions she realizes she can no longer ask. There's this constant feeling of loss hanging over the story, not just loss of a person but loss of connection, language, history, and understanding.
Some of the side characters are extremely unlikeable, but they're also just a group of young adults all struggling with their own insecurities and personal issues. Even Lily herself is not written to be a perfectly likeable protagonist. That being said, I was still rooting for Lily Chen every step of the way.
Something that really surprised me was the writing style. If you're expecting the style of Babel or even Katabasis, this was very different. The prose feels almost intrusive at times, like we are sitting directly inside Lily's head, experiencing every anxious thought and insecurity. For me, this style completely worked, and I found it very compelling! It made the story feel more intimate and realistic. I could not stop flipping the pages. I read this in one sitting 😭
I also know this book will not work for everyone, and honestly, I think that's part of what makes it interesting. People are going to experience this novel very differently depending on their own relationship with culture, language, identity, and family. R.F. Kuang's writing has always carried an academic quality to it, and yes, that is present here too, but I've always gravitated towards her writing BECAUSE of that. Her writing being intellectual does not make it any less emotional or compelling. If anything, I think it strengthens the themes she explores because there is so much intentionality behind every conversation and observation.
final thoughts — The more I sit with this novel, the more I love it. This one definitely did not disappoint me! I think the Yellowface enthusiasts can expect to love this one as well!! I still cannot believe I got the ARC for my most anticipated release of 2026 😭 YOU'RE KIDDING ME. Anyway, 5 stars (Are we even surprised??).
Thank you to R.F. Kuang and William Morrow for the ARC! Taipei Story releases September 8, 2026.
CW: grief, racism, death
────
finished: 05/09/26 𖥻𓈒 ꒱ ੭
manifested SO hard that i got the arc 😭 finished this a few days ago and basically read it in one sitting - full thoughts/review soon. this is definitely for the yellowface enthusiasts!
started: 05/06/26 𖥻𓈒 ꒱ ੭
ꗃ aapi read #2
Want to Read
March 1, 2026beyond need right now
♡ signed b&n copies (available as of march 1st)
➛ Babel: An Arcane History ★★★★★
➛ Yellowface ★★★★★
➛ Katabasis ★★★★
1.) The Poppy War ★★★★
2.) The Dragon Republic ★★★★★
2.5) The Drowning Faith ★★★★★
3.) The Burning God ★★★★★
♡ signed b&n copies (available as of march 1st)
➛ Babel: An Arcane History ★★★★★
➛ Yellowface ★★★★★
➛ Katabasis ★★★★
1.) The Poppy War ★★★★
2.) The Dragon Republic ★★★★★
2.5) The Drowning Faith ★★★★★
3.) The Burning God ★★★★★
Want to Read
March 8, 2026IN R.F. KUANG WE TRUST
Want to Read
April 30, 2026i don't usually put a lot of emojis or at all in my reviews but this is what i speculate:
the cover: 💓🎍🐼🌸🪷🥟🏮🧧🍙🎴
the story: 😨😨😨😵⚰️☠️💀😐🔪🩸
the cover: 💓🎍🐼🌸🪷🥟🏮🧧🍙🎴
the story: 😨😨😨😵⚰️☠️💀😐🔪🩸
Want to Read
February 6, 2026heard the news and got bricked up (im a girl)
July 10, 2026
I’ve never felt so seen and heard from an author, who clearly can articulate the Chinese diaspora like no other.
“Chinese parents loved playing games like this: punishing you for the things they never taught you.”
Full RTC
“Chinese parents loved playing games like this: punishing you for the things they never taught you.”
Full RTC
Want to Read
October 27, 2025── ᝰ .ᐟ pre read.
"love story", i don't buy it entirely, but anything, and i mean it, for you, mother kuang.
"love story", i don't buy it entirely, but anything, and i mean it, for you, mother kuang.
Want to Read
March 9, 2026a coming-of-age story from ms. kuang ??!! SAY LESS WHATTTTT
------------------------------------------------
COVER REVEAL !!! IT'S SO CUTE
------------------------------------------------
COVER REVEAL !!! IT'S SO CUTE
Want to Read
May 22, 2026Someone needs to enlighten me because I don't get it.... so are we not allowed to write in characters from contentious "countries" without adding a whole lecture about the evils of said country? If an author includes a German person in their book, does the MC need to have a whole internal dialogue about how much they disavow the holocaust? If a Japanese character exists, does there need to be a note somewhere about Nanjing and all their other atrocities across East and Southeast Asia? How about every American character needs to come with a repudiation of their nation's generations of interference and contribution to the downward spiral of the Middle East?
Want to Read
March 8, 2026── .✦ pre-read 𖹭.ᐟ
#2: i don't really like the cover atm but i guess it'll grow on me??
#1: I'll read anything this queen writes at this point <3 I am seated. GIVE IT TO ME RIGHT NOWWW!!!!
#2: i don't really like the cover atm but i guess it'll grow on me??
#1: I'll read anything this queen writes at this point <3 I am seated. GIVE IT TO ME RIGHT NOWWW!!!!
Want to Read
March 6, 2026give this to me NEOWWW pls!
May 25, 2026
2.5/5 stars? it was like taking a diaspora 101 class. Kuang unfortunately did not have a magic system or clever hook to this story that could redeem the copy and paste protagonist or the lack of true substance behind her emotions (or the writing itself). we all gotta graduate someday, i’m just wondering when that’ll be for rebecca
![Profile Image for Ashley is in europe (permanent [?] semi-hiatus).](https://i.gr-assets.com/images/S/compressed.photo.goodreads.com/users/1776041277i/168400322._UX200_CR0,30,200,200_.jpg)
Want to Read
February 6, 2026why am i just finding out about this
August 24, 2026
Thank you to The Borough Press and NetGalley for a copy of Taipei Story in exchange for an honest review.
There's this quote by Jean-Paul Sartre that goes something like "I have lived a toothless life; I have never bitten into anything". I think Taipei Story was a toothless novel. Toothless and passionless, not even deigning to ask the reader to care about Lily Chen and her Mandarin journey. I want to emphasise that I, coincidentally, just got back from my own summer exchange programme, and so I thought I was uniquely positioned to enjoy R.F. Kuang's seventh novel. But I just found myself saying, time and time again, meh .
Without further preamble, let me get into why this novel didn't work. My first issue with Taipei Story is that it's barely a novel. This is essentially a YouTube travel vlog to Taiwan cosplaying as a novel. The first element missing is that there are no stakes whatsoever, and therefore, there is no story. The novel never incentivises you to care about the protagonist, Lily Chen. There is no plot propulsion. There is no question of why this intensive Mandarin language programme is important to her life or character development. We are not left wondering what the protagonist stands to lose or risk if she doesn't complete this programme or benefit from it. There is no intrigue, no urgency to the conflict at hand—if there is indeed a conflict—and no motivation to turn each page. This is the recounting of a kid's summer in Taiwan.
The author seems to believe that information-dumping about Mandarin linguistics or Taiwanese history compensates for the lack of interiority possessed by this character. We do not know what Lily wants or needs, because the novel does not know either. Taipei Story does not try to convince us that Lily is a worthy protagonist; she has almost no character traits whatsoever. More concerningly, the novel does not seem to recognise this about Lily. I could not envision a more bland or empty-vessel protagonist than Lily Chen, who is, I must say, the cardboard cutout of an Asian-American college student. Lily Chen, importantly, undergoes no real changes throughout the story. There is no catharsis, no epitome, and no katabasis (pun intended). Therefore, we're left with a character who has no character arc. This leads me to my next issue: that Lily Chen exists so that the author can tell us cool stuff about Taiwan, and for little else.
There are significant passages of this novel that go on for pages at a time and they are near-indistinguishable from a Wikipedia article on Taiwan/Mandarin/China/etc. Now, these sections are incredibly well-researched and they speak to the author's meticulous, first-hand experience with the subject matter. But they have no significance to the plot. They do not inspire anything meaningful in Lily, advance the storyline, nor even tell us anything about her character. These passage—which are usually about Taiwanese food or language particularities or Taipei infrastructure or Chinese history—have no voice. There's no bite, no rhetoric, no tension, no drama. It's just information, and if this was a debut work, the average agent would have shut the book almost immediately. This, in my opinion, is just poor novel writing. A novel is not an essay or a dissertation or an encyclopedia article. A novel is a novel, and these passages—which I am certain comprise about a third of the novel's content—do not aid the storytelling. They are just reflections that the author is excited to tell us about, because of the quantity of (great!) research completed on contemporary Taiwan.
Lily Chen is indistinguishable from any other Asian college student, which is rather irritating as the author eventually tries to bring in a subplot that involves Lily's family. Again, we are expected to care, which is unfortunate, as this subplot arrives after the 50% mark. However, by this point, we are made to understand that Lily doesn't really think of her family. She isn't close with them, she doesn't communicate with the affected family member in particular, and most of the novel up until this point has revolved around two things: Lily is really into Taiwanese food, and Lily isn't as good at Mandarin as she would like to be. So, to then introduce this "conflict" after the halfway mark is something of a failure. Why should we care? We haven't been made to understand the relationship between Lily and the affected character. We haven't been given evidence that this person mattered or should matter (see: there's a general problem with copious telling and little showing in this book). This character was not even originally introduced as having served as a reason for Lily to come to Taiwan in the first place; they weren't part of the "hook" of the story. So, all in all, I thought this subplot was forced, made to attempt to convince us that Lily is a person with Thoughts and Feelings.
The issue is that Lily doesn't really think. She devotes pages upon pages to the most mundane details: buying breakfast at a cafe, struggling with an assignment in class, dealing with a storm warning. But these are all just presented as vignettes comprising Lily's summer in Taipei. There's no congruousness or coherence to these episodes that would paint the portrait of Lily Chen. She, and her whole group of friends and teachers, are generic. I think it's poor character work and poor storytelling, because there's no character and no story. See: my Wikipedia article accusations.
I do want to talk about the Israel mentions, by the way. Is it realistic that there would be acclaimed Israeli pianists in Taipei? Yes, of course. That's completely realistic, and this inclusion in the novel could function as subtle signal that Taiwan is aligned with the Western imperial powers (which, of course, includes Israel). However, what struck me is that Kuang generally devotes significant time to telling us about the backgrounds of different characters in the novel. If someone in Lily's Mandarin class is from Cambodia, there is usually an anecdote or a reflection about that. If someone is white and saying things that are clearly Orientalist in nature, Lily reflects about that, too. There's reflections and questions about all of the different nationalities that pop up in the novel. However, there's nothing about Israel or the pianist being Israeli. We have a lot of backstory about why X classmate is German or why Y classmate lives in Myanmar, but nothing about that Israeli pianist. I do not think that Kuang was endorsing Israel intentionally, but I do indeed think that the mention is a throwaway mention, now that I've read the whole novel. What most likely happened is that Kuang watched an Israeli pianist play when she was actually in Taiwan and wanted to reproduce that in the story. I don't know, it's just a guess. My conclusion: the Israel mention is not, and was never, necessary on a plot or thematic level.
This book wasn't all bad, and there's a reason I gave it two stars instead of one. The first thing I respected about the novel is the quantity and depth of research put into the story, as with all of the author's works. A lot of attention was devoted to the intricacies of Mandarin and language-learning (especially for heritage speakers and immigrant children). This novel wasn't bullshitting when it claimed to be about language, translation, and heritage. The second thing I admired about this book was that it didn't pull any punches about establishing why this Chinese-American character had picked Taiwan to reconnect with Mandarin. A lot of time was spent discussing important topics like the difficulties of getting a Chinese visa as an American, as well as the question as to who, exactly, gets to feel like they "own" a language or place. Lily is not Taiwanese, and neither are her parents, and yet she feels as though she belongs in Taipei. The novel makes it clear how this can be problematic or an incomplete assessment about belonging when it comes from a privileged American, given Taiwan's complex geopolitics. I appreciate that this discussion was at the heart of the novel, as it showed a great level of care dedicated to the concept of homelands and belonging.
Overall, I was not happy with this novel. I wanted to like Taipei Story. I'm literally a translator. I love transnational fiction. I've been in language learning classrooms since I was eleven. I'd thought this novel was written for me! However, I'm just not convinced this was really a novel.
There's this quote by Jean-Paul Sartre that goes something like "I have lived a toothless life; I have never bitten into anything". I think Taipei Story was a toothless novel. Toothless and passionless, not even deigning to ask the reader to care about Lily Chen and her Mandarin journey. I want to emphasise that I, coincidentally, just got back from my own summer exchange programme, and so I thought I was uniquely positioned to enjoy R.F. Kuang's seventh novel. But I just found myself saying, time and time again, meh .
Without further preamble, let me get into why this novel didn't work. My first issue with Taipei Story is that it's barely a novel. This is essentially a YouTube travel vlog to Taiwan cosplaying as a novel. The first element missing is that there are no stakes whatsoever, and therefore, there is no story. The novel never incentivises you to care about the protagonist, Lily Chen. There is no plot propulsion. There is no question of why this intensive Mandarin language programme is important to her life or character development. We are not left wondering what the protagonist stands to lose or risk if she doesn't complete this programme or benefit from it. There is no intrigue, no urgency to the conflict at hand—if there is indeed a conflict—and no motivation to turn each page. This is the recounting of a kid's summer in Taiwan.
The author seems to believe that information-dumping about Mandarin linguistics or Taiwanese history compensates for the lack of interiority possessed by this character. We do not know what Lily wants or needs, because the novel does not know either. Taipei Story does not try to convince us that Lily is a worthy protagonist; she has almost no character traits whatsoever. More concerningly, the novel does not seem to recognise this about Lily. I could not envision a more bland or empty-vessel protagonist than Lily Chen, who is, I must say, the cardboard cutout of an Asian-American college student. Lily Chen, importantly, undergoes no real changes throughout the story. There is no catharsis, no epitome, and no katabasis (pun intended). Therefore, we're left with a character who has no character arc. This leads me to my next issue: that Lily Chen exists so that the author can tell us cool stuff about Taiwan, and for little else.
There are significant passages of this novel that go on for pages at a time and they are near-indistinguishable from a Wikipedia article on Taiwan/Mandarin/China/etc. Now, these sections are incredibly well-researched and they speak to the author's meticulous, first-hand experience with the subject matter. But they have no significance to the plot. They do not inspire anything meaningful in Lily, advance the storyline, nor even tell us anything about her character. These passage—which are usually about Taiwanese food or language particularities or Taipei infrastructure or Chinese history—have no voice. There's no bite, no rhetoric, no tension, no drama. It's just information, and if this was a debut work, the average agent would have shut the book almost immediately. This, in my opinion, is just poor novel writing. A novel is not an essay or a dissertation or an encyclopedia article. A novel is a novel, and these passages—which I am certain comprise about a third of the novel's content—do not aid the storytelling. They are just reflections that the author is excited to tell us about, because of the quantity of (great!) research completed on contemporary Taiwan.
Lily Chen is indistinguishable from any other Asian college student, which is rather irritating as the author eventually tries to bring in a subplot that involves Lily's family. Again, we are expected to care, which is unfortunate, as this subplot arrives after the 50% mark. However, by this point, we are made to understand that Lily doesn't really think of her family. She isn't close with them, she doesn't communicate with the affected family member in particular, and most of the novel up until this point has revolved around two things: Lily is really into Taiwanese food, and Lily isn't as good at Mandarin as she would like to be. So, to then introduce this "conflict" after the halfway mark is something of a failure. Why should we care? We haven't been made to understand the relationship between Lily and the affected character. We haven't been given evidence that this person mattered or should matter (see: there's a general problem with copious telling and little showing in this book). This character was not even originally introduced as having served as a reason for Lily to come to Taiwan in the first place; they weren't part of the "hook" of the story. So, all in all, I thought this subplot was forced, made to attempt to convince us that Lily is a person with Thoughts and Feelings.
The issue is that Lily doesn't really think. She devotes pages upon pages to the most mundane details: buying breakfast at a cafe, struggling with an assignment in class, dealing with a storm warning. But these are all just presented as vignettes comprising Lily's summer in Taipei. There's no congruousness or coherence to these episodes that would paint the portrait of Lily Chen. She, and her whole group of friends and teachers, are generic. I think it's poor character work and poor storytelling, because there's no character and no story. See: my Wikipedia article accusations.
I do want to talk about the Israel mentions, by the way. Is it realistic that there would be acclaimed Israeli pianists in Taipei? Yes, of course. That's completely realistic, and this inclusion in the novel could function as subtle signal that Taiwan is aligned with the Western imperial powers (which, of course, includes Israel). However, what struck me is that Kuang generally devotes significant time to telling us about the backgrounds of different characters in the novel. If someone in Lily's Mandarin class is from Cambodia, there is usually an anecdote or a reflection about that. If someone is white and saying things that are clearly Orientalist in nature, Lily reflects about that, too. There's reflections and questions about all of the different nationalities that pop up in the novel. However, there's nothing about Israel or the pianist being Israeli. We have a lot of backstory about why X classmate is German or why Y classmate lives in Myanmar, but nothing about that Israeli pianist. I do not think that Kuang was endorsing Israel intentionally, but I do indeed think that the mention is a throwaway mention, now that I've read the whole novel. What most likely happened is that Kuang watched an Israeli pianist play when she was actually in Taiwan and wanted to reproduce that in the story. I don't know, it's just a guess. My conclusion: the Israel mention is not, and was never, necessary on a plot or thematic level.
This book wasn't all bad, and there's a reason I gave it two stars instead of one. The first thing I respected about the novel is the quantity and depth of research put into the story, as with all of the author's works. A lot of attention was devoted to the intricacies of Mandarin and language-learning (especially for heritage speakers and immigrant children). This novel wasn't bullshitting when it claimed to be about language, translation, and heritage. The second thing I admired about this book was that it didn't pull any punches about establishing why this Chinese-American character had picked Taiwan to reconnect with Mandarin. A lot of time was spent discussing important topics like the difficulties of getting a Chinese visa as an American, as well as the question as to who, exactly, gets to feel like they "own" a language or place. Lily is not Taiwanese, and neither are her parents, and yet she feels as though she belongs in Taipei. The novel makes it clear how this can be problematic or an incomplete assessment about belonging when it comes from a privileged American, given Taiwan's complex geopolitics. I appreciate that this discussion was at the heart of the novel, as it showed a great level of care dedicated to the concept of homelands and belonging.
Overall, I was not happy with this novel. I wanted to like Taipei Story. I'm literally a translator. I love transnational fiction. I've been in language learning classrooms since I was eleven. I'd thought this novel was written for me! However, I'm just not convinced this was really a novel.
June 22, 2026
I took my time with this because reading a new RF Kuang feels like trying to savor your first cup of coffee in the morning. You want to make it last, but also you’re desperate to inhale the whole thing at once. Ms Kuang is at her best when her writing is her most personal, and Taipei Story felt straight from the heart. She breathes fresh life into your classic college “coming of age” story while asking almost unanswerable questions about the right way to connect with your heritage. Her themes of colonialism, ancestry, grief for something you never had, and self-discovery were perfectly captured in Lily’s struggles to be the perfect Chinese American daughter. To address the elephant in the room, I hate to say it, but FUCK cancel culture for that one. I was so genuinely shocked and awed that the hotly debated character that has everyone burning their ARCs had two pages TWO PAGES!!! Of screen time!!! I could go into it being an obvious commentary on the character representing the insidious privilege that comes with being a white colonizer, and him obviously representing that, but I couldn’t even waste my breath on that for people that don’t want to think critically about anything at all. Don’t come for my queen 🔪🔪🔪🔪🔪🔪
![Profile Image for Saranya [uni- s.ia.].](https://i.gr-assets.com/images/S/compressed.photo.goodreads.com/users/1788098908i/187457635._UX200_CR0,29,200,200_.jpg)
Want to Read
March 8, 2026pre-release:
Oh. My. God. We got the cover! Wohoooo! Stunning!
Oh. My. God. We got the cover! Wohoooo! Stunning!
Want to Read
April 10, 2026i'm scared this will be colonial bc she's not taiwanese.............
Want to Read
March 5, 2026she writes I read 🫡
Displaying 1 - 30 of 537 reviews