The pacing feels too slow for a full-length novel. Many of the characters echo figures from The Fat Years, the daughter and the male protagonist reminiscent of Miaomiao and her partner, for instance. Using a Tibetan narrator from Lhasa, yet one who has longed for Han Beijing since childhood, is an interesting choice. His limited education generates moments of humor through malapropism and misreading, and lends the prose an unfamiliar, unpolished quality. Yet this less educated perspective also constrains the narrative intellectually; the protagonist struggles to analyze events with any depth, though he retains an instinctive, unmediated relationship with desire. The passage depicting the power dynamics and sexual repression around impotence is particularly interesting, and I also appreciated the angle on "disposable fantasy."
Political and ethnic tensions are scattered throughout as fragmentary background texture. I expected sharper conflict, but two-thirds in, the main thread remains unclear — it drifts increasingly toward a coming-of-age story about a kept boy finding and liberating himself. The female boss "Sister Mei" is a compelling character precisely because she seems entirely compartmentalized between her emotional and professional lives, resisting the cliché of the archetypal "strong businesswoman." Her daughter, too, feels like a blurred shadow — not entirely vivid. Whether this is a question of realist technique I'm not sure, though perhaps too much specificity wouldn't necessarily improve things. On the whole I do appreciate the prose style: plain on the surface, with a quiet undercurrent of wit.
As for the male protagonist "Little Tibetan Mastiff" — he genuinely lives in an oblivious contentment, unburdened by nature, only to have it casually shattered. He assumes he is leaving his past behind, unaware of how harsh the real world is. A protagonist living a privileged life without sufficient inner anguish or hardship makes it difficult for the reader to sympathize — and without sympathy, indifference follows. That said, I still think the pacing remains the larger problem, or perhaps it is a structural one: the narrative threads are too thin and fragmented. I wonder whether a tighter novella or short story format might allow the thematic intent, emotional core, and central tensions to emerge more sharply.
The novel works well as an introduction to unfamiliar worlds — how people of other ethnicities think about life, questions of cultural difference, NGO and volunteer communities — though for anything more concrete and documentary, nonfiction would serve better. I did enjoy the plot design around the petitioner detention and stability-maintenance officers. Though still fragmented, I equally dislike the kind of plotting that strings everything together through heroic narrative arcs. The ending feels too rushed, the thematic elevation too abrupt — it reads less like the character speaking and more like the author's own voice breaking through, inevitably tinged with a romantic gloss. Life itself is hard, after all. To live in this country is to live as a disposable life without rights — and thinking along those lines, I find the author still somewhat tepid. Or perhaps I am the one who is too sharp.
As a whole, this is an interesting attempt. Not exceptional, but I genuinely appreciate the author's thinking and the way it finds expression on the page. The question of how to engage with "sensitive" subject matter — in a way that provokes genuine reflection while remaining artistically rigorous, without exploiting or spectacularizing it — remains unresolved. But difficulty is not a reason to avoid the attempt. Compared to self-indulgent wallowing in private suffering and ego, I would much rather read work like this: a vision of possibility, an imagining of what life and living might otherwise be.