Scan barcode
A review by unearthunreal
But the Girl by Jessica Zhan Mei Yu
3.0
real rating: 3.5
penguin books australia describes But the Girl as a razor-sharp coming of age story. on the contrary, i think this book is violently soft. and rough around the edges too.
if love can be described so tacitly yet so purely of alienation, womanhood, misplaced affection in migrant families, and the ouroboros of asian recognition and struggle, then But the Girl is a favoured culprit.
however, at the cost of its rawness was the clarity of pacing and plot. i struggled to engage in the story halfway through when it was so oftenly interrupted by recounts of Girl’s past growing up. it was junction-making in the beginning, but toward the end it felt somewhat of a laborious stretch where the author did not have confidence that the readers’ empathy had already been fully realised after several beautiful anecdotes of the family.
it felt like autofiction. with the niche references and long paragraphs of introspection to exercise poetic chops, maybe it was. this was the double-edged sword that led me to also fall in love with this book and the author. ironically, it’s this same blurriness between love for author and work that Girl fears in the story. but is that so wrong?
what i particularly liked was the refreshingly dimensioned descriptions of migrant elders who are often portrayed as harsh lovers with little communication skills — this is still present in the book but we see moments where ikanyu speaks of free trade and globalism, or we realise ma and ah ma’s strictness translates into power and wisdom over oneself.
overall, i felt many things for this book, both positive and negative. still excited to see what jessica zhan mei yu has to offer up!
penguin books australia describes But the Girl as a razor-sharp coming of age story. on the contrary, i think this book is violently soft. and rough around the edges too.
if love can be described so tacitly yet so purely of alienation, womanhood, misplaced affection in migrant families, and the ouroboros of asian recognition and struggle, then But the Girl is a favoured culprit.
however, at the cost of its rawness was the clarity of pacing and plot. i struggled to engage in the story halfway through when it was so oftenly interrupted by recounts of Girl’s past growing up. it was junction-making in the beginning, but toward the end it felt somewhat of a laborious stretch where the author did not have confidence that the readers’ empathy had already been fully realised after several beautiful anecdotes of the family.
it felt like autofiction. with the niche references and long paragraphs of introspection to exercise poetic chops, maybe it was. this was the double-edged sword that led me to also fall in love with this book and the author. ironically, it’s this same blurriness between love for author and work that Girl fears in the story. but is that so wrong?
what i particularly liked was the refreshingly dimensioned descriptions of migrant elders who are often portrayed as harsh lovers with little communication skills — this is still present in the book but we see moments where ikanyu speaks of free trade and globalism, or we realise ma and ah ma’s strictness translates into power and wisdom over oneself.
overall, i felt many things for this book, both positive and negative. still excited to see what jessica zhan mei yu has to offer up!