On the night of June Fourth, a woman gives birth in a Beijing hospital alone. Thus begins the unraveling of Su Lan, a brilliant physicist who until this moment has successfully erased her past, fighting what she calls the mind’s arrow of time.
When Su Lan dies unexpectedly seventeen years later, it is her daughter Liya who inherits the silences and contradictions of her life. Liya, who grew up in America, takes her mother’s ashes to China, Liya’s memories are joined by those of two others: Zhu Wen, the woman last to know Su Lan before she left China, and Yongzong, the father Liya has never known. In this way a portrait of Su Lan emerges: an ambitious scientist, an ambivalent mother, and a woman whose relationship to her own past shapes and ultimately unmakes Liya’s own sense of displacement.
Really strong idea. Strong writing. Interesting structure. At times I struggled to hold everything together. Wanted less narrative distance. But still this is an excellent novel. Well worth your time.
As I sit down to write this review, I’m struggling a bit because I’m trying to figure out what my feelings are toward this book. Normally, when I read a book, I will either gravitate towards one side or another in terms of liking the book or not liking it – interestingly enough, this is actually one of those rare instances where I feel ambivalent and perhaps, if I’m being honest, not really sure how to react. While there were definitely things that I appreciated about this book – such as the historical and cultural references, which I thought were incorporated seamlessly throughout the story -- there were an equal amount of things that made the reading experience a bit more exhausting than I would’ve liked.
The structure of the narrative is unique in that, even though the main character of the story is Su Lan, a Chinese woman who overcomes her village upbringing to become a brilliant physicist, we as readers never get to “meet” this character directly. Instead, we are given glimpses into Su Lan’s life through the recollections of those who had interacted with her or had been a part of her life at some point – a nameless nurse at the hospital in Beijing where Su Lan had given birth; Zhu Wen, who was Su Lan’s landlady when she lived in Shanghai and also the last person Su Lan interacted with before leaving China; Su Lan’s husband Yongzong, with whom she had daughter; and finally Liya, the daughter with whom Su Lan had a strained, complicated relationship. Through these anecdotal recollections, almost all of which were told from each character’s first-person perspective, we are slowly given the various “pieces” that eventually come together to form an enigmatic portrait of Su Lan’s life. This narrative structure was indeed interesting, however by the end of the story, I actually felt confusion rather than clarity, as each character seemed to paint conflicting images of Su Lan, to the point that, despite being told so much about her, I still felt like I never really “knew” her.
I think the biggest issue I had with this book was the writing, which I would describe as being a little too “experimental” for my tastes. I know other reviewers mentioned the lack of quotation marks for all the dialogue, which didn’t bother me too much actually. Instead, what didn’t work too well for me was the abstract quality of the writing, especially with the descriptions of events that took place or things that were happening to the characters — I’m not sure if I’m describing this correctly, but it felt almost as though the story and the characters kept “shape-shifting” from one scene to the next. For example, the scene would be about Liya encountering someone from Su Lan’s past and suddenly, Liya would become Su Lan, wearing the same clothes as her, thinking the same thoughts as her, but then the next minute, she would be Liya again. Throughout most of the story, it felt like the characters kept jumping in and out of dreams and memories that would get mixed in with their current realities – this made trying to follow the story quite a bit more difficult than it really needed to be. In addition, interspersed through the story were mentions about various aspects of science – more specifically, about theoretical physics as it pertains to human behavior, the laws of thermodynamics and its relation to time, mathematical theory and probability, etc. – all of which went way over my head, as I’ve never been interested in science or math and so had no clue what any of that stuff was about. Thankfully, the segments that actually went into detail about the science aspects were few and far between and also relatively brief, which made it a tad less tortuous but definitely added to the difficulty in following the story.
Also, despite this being a largely character-driven story, I actually didn’t feel much of a connection with the characters, even though the fact that we share the same culture should’ve made it easier. In addition, I felt a sense of being emotionally detached from the story and the characters, which, thinking about it now, I’m wondering if that was intentional on the author’s part, given that all the characters themselves seemed to also be emotionally detached from the subject they were reminiscing about (Su Lan).
Overall, I would say that this was a “different” reading experience for me. It wasn’t completely negative of course (otherwise my scoring would be lower), but I wouldn’t say it was hugely positive either. While I appreciate what the author was trying to do here and applaud her for breaking from tradition and delivering a well-written (in the larger scheme of things) literary debut that is both unique and thought-provoking, I recognize that perhaps I just wasn’t the right audience for this book. Hopefully the “right” audience for this book will be able to read and appreciate it better than I have.
Received ARC from Custom House (HarperCollins) via NetGalley.
Reading Meng Jin’s “Little Gods” was like trying to remember and to note a dream. The whole novel felt dream-like to me, changing in time and place.
“Little Gods” is a story of an impoverished young Chinese girl who breaks out of her destitution by scoring well on a national exam. Because of her scores, she is able to receive a government sanction education. She finds her passion in math. Her high academic scores allow her to go to Beijing University and study Physics. Her passion narrows to the time/space continuum.
This girl/woman is Su Lan and the novel is her story. There are three narrators in the novel, each provide their impressions of Su Lan. There is her neighbor, Zhu Wen, her husband Yongzong, and her daughter, Liya. Liya comes to China from her American University after Su Lan dies unexpectedly. Liya’s upbringing is painful to read. Su Lan was mostly harsh to her daughter if she noticed her at all. Liya wants to understand her mother.
After reading the novel, I still don’t understand Su Lan. Perhaps I got too caught up in the dream-like state of the narrative. There is much quantum physics and theoretical physics. The jumps in the story and the nonlinear lines of storytelling were too much for me to remain engaged. I finished it, but I’m not sure what Jin tried to illuminate.
I enjoyed the heck out of this novel, Little Gods by Meng Jin. This was one of my most anticipated reads of 2020 and I wasn’t disappointed.
I’m a little upset that the initial reactions on Goodreads are mixed but it seems to be raving in most literary circles which is good—I hope that doesn’t seem pretentious. Little Gods is one of my favorite parts about contemporary literary fiction. Jin’s writing style is experimental and she plays with different narratives, formats, and sentence structures. When I found out that this is a debut novel I was surprised because this gives me major Haruki Murakami vibes who is a titan in literature. Me being a fan of Haruki Murakami’s mysterious, intricate, and complex plots and writing style certainly helped with reading this.
Little Gods is a different kind of immigration story. The star of the book is a woman named Su Lan, a woman running from her past. On the surface she is put together and cultivated her life in a way where she hopes to change her future. Su Lan doesn’t get her own POV, it is instead told in a nonlinear format from three other POVs. It’s not a complicated as it sounds—each POV character has two parts with a prologue (called the end) and epilogue (called the beginning). The story is beautiful, poignant, and it pulled me in from the very first pages. There is heavy emphasis on the Cultural Revolution in China as well as the 1989 Tiananmen protests that ended on June 4, 1989 in Beijing. I recommend reading up on Chinese history around that time period or else you’ll be lost. Now, on to the point of view characters.
Zhu Wen was Su Lan’s neighbor in a Shanghai longtang for three years and was the last person she corresponded with before moving to the United States with her infant child. Zhu Wen is deformed and lonely since the death of her blind husband years ago. She meets Su Lan when she is a young, stylish married woman and takes care of Su Lan’s daughter while away. They’re not necessarily friends, they know virtually nothing about each other’s lives, but I was interested in learning more about Zhu Wen and her husband. Zhu Wen introduces the concepts of ghosts, religion, and myths set against Su Lan being a physicist. When Su Lan returns from Beijing with a baby, she is without her husband, but Zhu Wen doesn’t ask about him.
Yongzong was Su Lan’s husband. At first, it was hard to get interested in him and his backstory because he ends up leaving Su Lan even though she is pregnant. He becomes disinterested in her and he is a morally gray character with a cruel streak. He cares about what people can do for him and he has a more deserving friend named Zhang Bo or Bo Cai who loves Su Lan. Yongzong pursues her anyway while knowing this only to drift apart from her and his child that he didn’t even see born. He’s living a completely different life now. It was nice to see their courting and I tore through the pages to figure out what made him ditch her.
Liya is Su Lan’s daughter who was raised believing her mother’s lies. She is documented in the United States as being born in 1988 in Shanghai instead of her true birth in 1989 in Beijing. After her mother dies unexpectedly, she comes across a box of letters, photographs, and other clues to Su Lan’s past. She starts to investigate and goes back to China to chase ghosts of her own. She always had a complex relationship with her mother and at times she didn’t even feel like she was loved.
Through these perspectives we see that Su Lan is a complicated person. I was impressed at how the interpretations of her character were so different, but they made her a three-dimensional character. This novel is a bit more character driven, the plot is simple but the character development and encounters with Su Lan makes it a layered novel. It’s short but packs a lot of punch. There as aspects of this that verge on magical realism and everything is so strange and mysterious like a dream. These characters are sticking to me in a good way and I think the novel ends in a way that makes me thirst for more. There are a lot of story threads that are open for interpretation and by the end I was just blown away. This is a debut novel and my expectations for what comes next are high.
I think this is perfect for those interested in East Asian history, culture, and literature as well as fans of Haruki Murakami.
Overall I liked this book a lot. This is Meng Jin’s debut novel, so I hope there is more of writing to come in the future.
You can get a synopsis of the book from Goodreads…the one thing that I liked was her description of certain concepts of physics. The passage of time we normally think of as moving one way and she discussed through physics that is not necessarily so. She did not use high-faluting terms so as to discombobulate the reader who does not have a degree in physics.
The layout of the novel is first-person narrative of different protagonists with one protagonist having one chapter and another protagonist having a different chapter. It for the most part works out well. What I also liked the character of Su Lan, pretty much the main protagonist of the book. I expected her at a certain point in the book to act in a certain way, and she did not…I was thrown for a loop (like, who I did not see that coming!), but the way Meng Jim wove the story plot it made a great deal of sense. I would say in the first third of the book I was enthralled and relishing every word practically….the rest of the book was very good indeed…it’s just that I thought the first sections of the book were stellar.
Here are some passages of the book that grabbed me:
• After enrolling in and dropping out of a number of universities she finally gave up trying to earn a PhD. Academia was too stiff, she said, too invested in it sown accolades, too worshipful of tradition. Especially in science, which was supposed to be a revolutionary field, all ambitions had been drained; the only new ideas that could be accepted were specialized to the point of losing significance. What she was offering would be a paradigm shift, it would require entire textbooks to be rewritten. (told by Liya, Su Lan's daughter) JimZ: so what grabbed me about this passage was the term “paradigm shift.” There is a classic book written for folks who are interested in science but are not necessarily scientists about paradigm shifts: Thomas Kuhn wrote it in 1962, The Structure of Scientific Revolutions (University of Chicago Press). We have to remember that there are few certitudes in science…a theory can be over-turned and long-held beliefs can be stood on their head. But it is hard to do, given scientists who adhere to the theories and beliefs can stake their livelihood and their careers on such, and it can be their stubbornness which can prevent fresh and new ways of looking at things to be seriously entertained (that might threaten their theories and beliefs, and with that, their careers and livelihoods).
• Modern courtship was silly, whimsical, almost certainly to yield disappointment. It was simpler to treat a spouse as you did your own body: something given. If you were lucky you could learn to love it. If you could not, you lived with it. (told by Zhu Wen, Su Lan's neighbor who babysat Liya)
• After eight and a half months of pregnancy, I still couldn’t understand. She had not wanted a child. She had not wanted to leave behind any part of her biology, to perpetuate herself into the future. A perfect life, she’d said, is lived, and then it disappears. (told by YongZong, Su Lan's husband)
• In the universe, there exist objects that cannot be seen or have not been seen - black holes, undiscovered planets, massive presences of gravity that assure us of their existence simply by the way they affect the behavior of nearby lesser objects. This, according to my mother, was the measure of an object: something that exerts substantial influence over others in its field, drawing continually toward itself, even if ever so lightly. In some ways, this evidence of effects is more necessary than sight. An image alone could be merely a hologram, a vision. No, scientifically speaking, seeing or not seeing is not equivalent to making be or not be, Rather it is the inevitable attraction and movement of that which surrounds a mass that secures its position among real things. (told by Liya, Su Lan's daughter)
Sometimes a book doesn't completely work for you but you don't necessarily know why and that's the case for me with Little Gods. I never had a true investment in the characters and I think everything of value I was supposed to pick up from the story went completely over my head. I probably would have benefited tremendously had I read this book and discussed it chapter by chapter with a buddy or as part of a group. It's like I was going through the motions of reading but not being totally engrossed in the experience.
Thank you to William Morrow for providing me with a copy of this book. All thoughts expressed are my honest opinion.
I don't know how to describe Little Gods but I liked it very much. Su Lan's story is told by her neighbor, friend, husband and daughter. None of them really has the full picture and even with all of their perspectives, she is an enigma. This is a puzzling, unpredictable novel that pulled me into its orbit. It ended leaving me disoriented and questioning and unexpectedly moved.
With rich, attentive writing Meng Jin transports us through both time and territory to late 20th century China in a novel about the complexities of long-lost family ties. Told as a series of stories about a mother to her daughter, from the perspectives of her former neighbor and classmate, we follow Liya as she tries to uncover who her mother really was.
The neighbor, Zhu Wen, lived next door to Liya and her mother, Su Lan, when they lived in Shanghai. Her classmate, Yongzong, was an academic rival of Su Lan’s as teenagers who knew her well into young adulthood. Both of these people had complicated relationships with Liya’s mother and ended up being more formative in one another’s lives than any of them could have imagined.
There’s not a lot of storyline to give away; most of the narrative is in the past tense being recounted by one person to another. The biggest plot points take place during the Tiananmen Square demonstrations, and the student-led democracy protests act as a backdrop to the events of the book. This works well with the family conflicts surrounding Liya and Su Lan, but also are significant moments in China’s history that the state refuses to acknowledge today.
The portions I found the most difficult to get through concerned Yongzong and whatever bullshit he was doing. It’s becoming harder and harder for me to empathize with emotional, mediocre men who blame and use women to cover up their own failings. The fact that so much was familiar in him just highlights how common it is for women to pander to the petty whims of supposed “good” men. I’ll admit to skimming parts of his explanations.
I liked this book a lot overall, especially Jin’s writing. I’m a sucker for a good roving perspective, so this was right up my alley. It’s not a fast-paced book, and I can see how some readers might not appreciate the meandering storytelling the author prefers here. I can’t give this higher than four stars, even though there’s not anything wrong, per say. Just a bit slow and not a lot actually, well, happens. The ending is pretty bleak, too. The final chapter, entitled ‘The Beginning’, is an unnecessary point to finish on; I’d recommend skipping it. But Meng Jin writes lovely, the cover is gorgeous and I’d definitely want to read more from her.
What an impressive novel! I was sucked right in from the beautiful language on page one, and the book never lost the spell it cast on me, with its portrayal of fantastically flawed and complex characters and its realistic depiction of a strained mother-daughter relationship.
Most impressive (to my science-appreciative mind) was the way the author used physics as a metaphor for the journeys of the main characters. [Let’s be clear: I hated physics as a student, and preferred other sciences – biology, geology – but I don’t think you need to fully ‘get’ the physics!] You simply need to know that the character around whom all other characters gravitate, Su Lan, is a brilliant physicist obsessed with reversing the second law of thermodynamics, as doing so might allow for predictions of the future and, more importantly, it might have the power to wipe out the past.
We know, from the outset, Su Lan is running from her past. Her story is not revealed through her own voice; it is revealed by others in her life (another fascinating stylistic choice), and yet we get to know her intimately. (Ash’s review does a great job of explaining this technique).
Language plays a role in this book, not only in the construction of exquisite sentences, but also in its power to shed understanding and to produce harm. Such mesmerizing writing:
She cannot stop looking at the woman’s blank face, at the mouth moving—the lips shaping, the wet tongue swelling, the slivers of teeth emerging and disappearing.
After the letter Su Lan reverted to a near-mechanical state, becoming a collection of human components that did not quite add up to a person.
The cost of seeing into the future, however, was that we would lose our memory of the past, and with it, any explanation of how we arrived at our present state.
And he had a personality that ran at you like a bull, charging into the classroom and commanding all attention. His steps seemed to shake the ground. His lowest decibel was a throaty shout.
That was how it was: I wanted desperately to leave her and break her heart, but her heart would not be broken, so I came back, tried to make her love me, tried leaving again. Now I couldn’t break her heart if I wanted to. Instead, again, finally, she had broken mine.
Her voice didn’t just get loud. It assumed a nasal, forward quality that can only be described as violent. The sound was physical, meant to be used as a weapon, and though I could not understand what she was saying her voice itself hurt me, it slapped me across my face.
I generally am not a fan of first-person narrative (while the beginning chapters are written in third, the remainder is in first), nor of books without quotation marks. But neither was an issue, and both were masterfully done. This book worked for me on so many levels.
On its surface, this is a story about a mother and daughter, a husband and wife – a story about friends and acquaintances – but it’s also a commentary on life and death and rebirth, ambition, reinvention, longing. Chinese history and politics (Tiananmen Square) are gently woven into the story, serving as another interesting backdrop.
I look forward to the author’s future work, because Little Gods was stunning. This is the kind of book I’d like to pick back up to see what other thematic kernels and clues I might have missed upon the first read. Lots of literary goodies in this one.
Meng Jin’s debut novel, Little Gods, is such a gorgeously constructed story. It’s built on a sturdy frame, decorated beautifully, but it will have some readers scratching their heads saying, but what is it? What does it mean? And that is to say that it is mysterious, clever, thought-provoking, and may leave you with several questions.
Su Lan is a brilliant physicist with an eye always to the future. Liya is gifted with language and searches for answers about her mother’s past. That’s all you need to know about this novel. It is the marriage of science and language, the meeting of past and future. And though this novel featured less hard science than I’d expected up until the final moments, it never ceased to be intelligent. Equally, the lush language and the perfectly joined story elements came together into a story was that altogether very moving.
Little Gods is a poetic and intellectual debut that may have a little trouble finding its audience. It’s one for those who don’t mind having to put some thought into their read, but who also hope to experience emotion. Personally, I’d recommend it to readers of Light from Other Stars and Asymmetry.
Thanks to HarperCollins for providing an advanced copy through Goodreads Giveaways.
(Did I read and review this two years ago and forget to cross-post my review to Goodreads? Perhaps...)
Little Gods, Meng Jin’s intricate, emotionally intelligent debut, opens with a scene in which physicist Su Lan gives birth in Beijing in 1989. Through the eyes of a nurse working the night shift, we learn that inside the hospital, Su Lan is abandoned by her husband, while outside, the violence of the June 4th Tiananmen Square Massacre erupts around her. The narrative then skips forward 17 years to Su Lan’s death.
The novel unfolds in a non-linear fashion; in the opening chapters we’re introduced to a shadow of the woman that Su Lan becomes—a distant, hardworking single mother—before we delve into the past and begin to reconstruct her character.
You can read the rest of my review HERE on BookBrowse, and you can read a piece I wrote about the Tienanmen Square Massacre HERE.
This was an elegant story about a young woman trying to understand her parents after her mother’s death. She returns to China to also try to find her father. The author plays a bit with time and perspective, but these aspects weren’t as fully developed as I would have liked. Actually, a lot of the book could have been fleshed out more, but I really liked the writing and the concept for the story. 3.5⭐️
Beautiful cover art but I did not connect to any of the characters in "Little Gods". The tone felt awkward. I also didn't care for the writing style. It really bugged me that there wasn't any quotation marks for the dialogue. I found it extremely difficult to understand which character was speaking to whom. Normally I enjoy reading about conflicted mother/daughter relationships, but I just felt there wasn't enough character development. The characters weren't fleshed-out enough for my liking. Nothing about the plot was memorable. I'd rather watch paint dry. Slow and underwhelming. A huge disappointment.
Thank you, Netgalley and Harper Collins for the advance reader's copy.
AMERIE’S BOOK CLUB | FEBRUARY 2020 SELECTION Quantum physics meets motherhood, love, and identity in this haunting portrayal of a daughter’s desperation to be seen and a mother’s desperation to disappear. @mengjinwrites creates characters who are at once vulnerable, caring, self-absorbed, and despicable, and through it all, utterly real. I rooted for them just as I was repelled by them; always, though, Ms. Jin put me so firmly in their heads, I couldn’t help but feel empathetic, even as I cringed. Pick up Little Gods and join me and @mengjinwrites at the end of the month as we talk it out during the IGlive chat! 📚 #AmeriesBookClub #ReadwithAmerie #ABC #LittleGods @ameriesbookclub
I do not consider myself to be a highly intelligent person when it comes to theoretical anything, however, I found myself completely drawn in and immersed in this story. Little Gods is a story about a woman running FROM her past, trying recreate herself and by doing so, her own daughter had to travel to her past TO figure out exactly who her mother was. I LOVED the way the story is told from different times throughout the book in the voices of 3 main characters, all of who crossed paths and lost each other along the way. I had to go back and re read the final chapter, but I THINK I fully comprehend what the author was doing, especially in the past few paragraphs. I did not realize that this is the authors first novel, I’m very excited to see what comes next from her!
4 1/2 stars rounded down. The author does a terrific job building up a picture of a brilliant physicist named Su Lan through the eyes of four narrators - a neighbor, a classmate, her husband and her daughter. Su Lan is only content in the abstract world of theoretical physics; real life leaves her frustrated, confused or enraged. Ironically, she also has a natural charisma, fed by her brilliance, that draws people to her, only to find themselves repelled by her cruelty or obliviousness. A cast of rotating narrators is the perfect way to tell the story of this complex woman; like the dark matter that intrigues her, Su Lan can’t be understood through direct observation, but rather by the effects she produces on others. Although Su Lan is a stormy person, the tone of this novel is measured and melancholic, never melodramatic, and its sense of place made me feel as if I'd actually been to China.
Thanks to the publisher and Librarything for the Advanced Reader Copy.
How do I even begin to review this book? It had a lot of mixed reviews on Goodreads, so I almost dismissed it. I finally put it on my to-read list when I saw it as a recommended book on another Asian American author’s Instagram. What resulted from reading Little Gods is feeling like I’ve found the book I have always been looking for.
Little Gods follows three narratives of different people who knew a woman named Su Lan, as they recollect their memories of her. There’s Liya, her daughter, Zhu Wen, her former neighbour, and Yongzong, Liya’s father who she has never met.
What is beautiful of this book is its dreamlike quality. Su Lan is this mysterious woman who you never quite understand. She’s a product of her cultural history, having lived through the effects of the Cultural Revolution and the Tiananmen Square Massacre. The different characters throughout the book speculate into her life, but they can never be sure they have her completely figured out. In life, we can never know what drives another human. I think this is where the dreamlike quality comes in. The only descriptions of her are through the lens of others.
I think the relatable part of this story that seems so distant to others is the realities that a lot of children of Chinese immigrants (and perhaps immigrants from other countries) face in the yearning for an understanding of where our parents came from. What made them leave their home countries? What kind of life did they (and their parents, and so on) live? In Chinese history particularly, it’s this desire to understand what happened, but never having clarity due to the way it was erased by its government. If you have Chinese immigrant parents, you might understand how they refuse to speak of their past. You might understand that absence of understanding your family background. You might never know what happened during the Tiananmen Square massacre (and other historical events in China) and the lingering effects it has had on your parents. You grow up and you know that your parents are different. They’re reserved in areas that other parents are not. They push you in ways that other parents do not. It’s this disconnect between understanding yourself and where you came from, your parents and where they came from, and the larger history of a country that they came from, and ultimately a country of your ancestors. Living with these experiences truly feels like a mirage at times, both unreal in its mystery and real in the way it plays out in your relationship with your family and cultural history, and Little Gods does it SO well.
This book is not a book about racism or a Chinese relationship between America or the western world. It’s a book about the Chinese diaspora and its relationship to China, its place of origin. I wish more who read this book understood this book, but I can see why it may not connect with others. Anyways, here is a review from a child of Chinese immigrants. This book is a story that breathes our experience. If I could, I would give this book 10 stars.
Meng Jin, thank you for writing this book.
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I found this to be a complicated book about a complicated character. Hard to follow the story line as other reviewers have mentioned. Also, the ending didn't make any sense to me, which left me feeling unsatisfied.
Given the subject matter (China, a story set in the year I was born) I expected to love this, but I ended up just liking it. Meng Jin's debut tells the story of Su Lan, a woman who gives birth on the night of the climax of the pro-democracy protests in China in 1989 - specifically those at Tian'anmen Square. We then learn of how she ended up giving birth there, as well as where her life went in the years afterwards until her untimely death just 17 years later in the US. Her life is told via three narrators - her daughter, Weiya; an elderly neighbour from Shanghai, Zhu Wen; and her former flame, Yongzong.
Whilst I enjoyed the story and thought the writing was very competent, I ended the novel feeling like I had somehow expected something more. I guess perhaps the author was trying to convey that none of these people really knew Su Lan, but it meant as a reader I was unsure as to whether this was because her character wasn't wholly developed intentionally (or unintentionally) or whether maybe I had missed something. The problem being that reading about a character that nobody seems to fully know or who ever seems to be "seen" completely by those in her life results in a somewhat detached reading experience.
If this sounds vaguely up your street I'd still recommend giving it a go as others may connect with it better than I did/not find issues with the things raised above. A promising debut and I look forward to giving her upcoming short story collection - Self-Portrait with Ghost: Short Stories - a try when it is published later this year.
This one is hard for me to review because there were parts of this book that I enjoyed and other parts that I didn't. In some ways, this book was reminiscent of Pachinko, in the way that it showed a multi-generational Asian family. There was a lot of culture dispersed throughout the story, and it was interesting to see the characters fight cultural and societal norms. I also really enjoyed seeing the mother and daughter relationship play out between Su Lan and her daughter. Since becoming a girl mom myself, I am constantly drawn to books that show this relationship. It was made even more intriguing in that her daughter didn't know everything about her mother. As she uncovered more about her mother's identity throughout the story, she too learned about herself. Those were the parts of the story that I enjoyed. There were other parts of this story that were confusing to me, and I found myself getting lost in the duel timelines and perspectives. The transitions weren't always seamless, and there were times when I had to re-read to figure out what was going on. Sometimes the writing felt bulky and clunky. I do think that this would be a good book club read as there is definitely a lot to talk about with this book. 3/5.
I loved so much of this story about a complicated and brilliant theoretical physicist and mother, Su Lan, told through three different perspectives. When the story opens, we meet Su Lan through a nurse in a maternity ward. Later, we meet Liya, Su Lan's daughter, as Liya must begin processing her grief over her mother's death. Later, we meet a lonely woman residing in an apartment in a condemned building. The woman knew Su Lan and her husband and a young Liya when they were her neighbours. Still later, we meet the man who will marry Su Lan and father Liya. The stories each person tells is fascinating, and gives us pieces and impressions of Su Lan, who by all accounts was an utterly brilliant theoretical physicist, years ahead of others. Su Lan sees time differently, no doubt because of her keen understanding and love of physics and mathematics. She's seen as beautiful, harsh, unusual, deep, uncompromising, and any number of other things. I loved the prose, which I often found poetic, and the way the novel was structured, and the complicated aspects of grief, anger and family were handled in the book. My one complaint with the book was that I found myself a wee bit confused by the end, so I am unclear exactly on what happened with Liya. So I'm dropping one star for that.
This book begins slowly and the narration in the initial chapter feels emotionally distant. Because of this, I doubted I would be able to connect emotionally with the characters. I was wrong. It took me until the next section to become fully immersed in the story, and by the end of the book, I had tears in my eyes. Even though the chapters are long, I read this book very quickly.
This is a gorgeous debut that spans several decades and is primarily set in China. This is a lyrical and poetic account of a mother-daughter relationship that also explores concepts such as grief, immigration, class, love, marriage, and the concept of time. If you enjoy character-driven novels, then this may be for you. The only comparison I can think of may be the Dutch House, but that is a stretch. That being said, this novel won’t be for everyone. The writing style is dense at times, and you may not immediately connect to with the story.
Thank you to the publisher for my gifted copy. All opinions are my own.
Little Gods is character-driven, dream-like and haunting. It’s also slow, non-linear and hard to pin down.
The story is told through the lens of 4 characters towards how a woman, Su Lan has impacted their lives: Yongzong (Su Lan’s classmate and best pupil in class), Zhang Bo (Yongzong's best friend), Zhu Wen (Su Lan’s landlady in Shanghai) and Liya (Su Lan’s daughter whom grew up abroad in the US).
With Tiananmen Square Massacre in 1989 set as a backdrop, the story explores the relationship between people: husbands and wives, mothers and daughters and friends. As the characters have different perspective towards life, the relationships are always on the tip of an iceberg, which eventually fell apart.
Su Lan is an unlikeable woman whom we never really understand. Born in an impoverished family, Su Lan studies hard to enter one of the pioneer universities in China. She despises the form of classism in society and found comfort dwelling in the beauty of physics. Eventually, she fled to the US along with her daughter to escape the social upheaval. On the other hand, Yongzong whom always thirst for new challenges in life, fell in love with the idea of democracy and fight along with the protestors.
I felt the concept of playing God applies to both main characters. As the book describes:
“Little gods, she thinks. Desperate to turn their own growing bodies, their own aches and despairs, into material that might reset the axes of the world.”
Both Su Lan and Yongzong are always running from their past and seeking for a new life. However, history remains, and engulf a huge part of us. Little Gods explores the internal struggles of citizens during/after the cultural revolution and the process of truly finding oneself. Or perhaps, we are all products of society - and never an individual ourselves.
I wouldn't say I was consistently drawn into the story. The writing is dense and kinda experimental. However, when all the puzzle pieces slowly fell into place, the ending just killed it with emotions.