picked this one up on a whim because of the cool cover and title (i (self) + 愛 + imaginary number + the protag's name (ai)) that's the title is basing as its main theme through the recurring line 「この世にアイは存在しません。」 (i does not exist in this world) uttered by the ai's math teacher. as in i does not exist because it's an imaginary number. but this strikes the chord with young ai, because, well, that's her name. therefore, in essence it's a negation of her existence. also works as a dismissal of 愛. unfortunately it's being used to tell a pointless story about bourgie wallowing in self-pity stretched for eternity.
it's a tale about about a syrian adopted by american/japanese couple living in brooklyn high having a complex about her upbringing. she mulls over her relation with her parents, which she deems as artificial as it is not based on blood, unlike most other familial relations. she ponders about how the fortunate situation of hers came into fruition, to her, instead of any other syrian child, or any other child for that matter. this consciousness comes from educated background of her parents which continually educates her. making her view the world as something unequal. for instance, from her daily life there is her housemaid, who fled from haiti with her four children, struggling to feed them. the book concentrates on the psychological examination of ai. the succumb to despair of hers as she sees the tragedy unfolding throughout the world, which also accumulates in her physiological deterioration.
my main problem with this book, which happens to be a problem endemic in contemporary political fiction (not sure, i've only read like two but hey) is that it's fake. it's faux political. a personal tale detached from anything political but told within a political backdrop because it's what's trendy (might be coincidental with the rise of a cesspool that is online activism).
[23:01]
ai notes all tragedies (manmade or otherwise) and their casualties as her way of self-loathing. any tragedies mentioned in the book are glossed over as ai wallows in her own bubble. they are just numbers. there's never any meaningful acts done in the meanwhile. not by her, not by anyone else. (there's her father but it's glossed over as something trivial).
the book reaches its comical point when ai meets her partner on a demonstration, which comes into a marriage. love blooming in a demonstration sounds like an awful tweet from some menfess which would have gotten ratiod but here we are. it climaxes in her wanting to have a child, to finally have someone that shares blood with herself. unfortunately that doesn't happen as she has pcos which hasn't been able to be cured. as she tried other means, she was forced to have miscarriage. this would have been an emotional plot point if it wasn't done in a juxtaposition to other things of greater scale that are actually happening in the real world. i think. it's sickening to use political background to tell a story of something else, impersonal and individual, that is actually devoid from anything political. at the end, ai conquered her despair and finally accepts her existence, despite all things, despite losing her baby. the ending is actually a good celebration on life. unfortunate what comes before were anything but. even if we take out the political background and such from it, it's full of cliches, incoherent structures, and poorly-written characters.