Scan barcode
A review by brice_mo
Daughters of Shandong by Eve J. Chung
5.0
Thanks to NetGalley and Berkley Publishing Group for the ARC!
Eve J. Chung’s Daughters of Shandong is an incredible debut novel, forgoing historical fiction bloat in favor of an intimate focus on a single family.
This is an unexpected early contender for my favorite book of the year.
I often find myself frustrated with how historical fiction treats its characters as receptacles for important events—object lessons at history’s mercy, either too passive to feel like more than set dressing or too involved to feel like anything less than mythic.
That is not the case here.
Chung seems so conscious of this book’s scope, and for good reason. In the author’s note, she mentions that Daughters of Shandong was largely written on her phone in the margins of her life as a full-time international human rights lawyer and a parent to two children; it shows.
It shows in the way that there is absolutely no filler in this novel.
It shows in the way the narrator feels totally present in each moment.
It shows in how each relational quirk feels real and inhabited.
It shows in the way that the book feels essential—like it had to be written.
Every single aspect of Daughters of Shandong is marked with a rare intentionality and immediacy, and reading it feels like an immense privilege. The book is not biographical, but it is informed by Chung’s family history, and it’s clearly a labor of love. I’m not sure I’ve read another book where that love feels as palpable as it does here.
This is ultimately a story about womanhood and motherhood and sisterhood in the face of abandonment, and I don’t mean that in the back-of-the-cover blurb sense—the book is so genuinely thoughtful about the cultural and historical nuances of gender in China, but it never falls prey to feel-good reductionism. Instead, there’s a real warmth and richness to how Chung explores her themes, even when the circumstances are harsh. The family dynamics depicted here will be familiar to anybody who has sisters—fierce loyalty and ferocious animosity in equal measure.
Likewise, the author embodies a similar sense of nuance in how she depicts the different individual responses to the Chinese civil war. She’s compassionate in recognizing that many people just fight for survival in whichever way feels most intuitive, and nothing is as simple as a black and white dichotomy. Whether describing personal or political relationships, Chung has such an astute and empathetic understanding of human behavior.
Finally, it is absolutely wild that this is a debut novel. It showcases such a strong and self-assured voice, and it’s one that feels singularly generous in its storytelling. I’m so glad I got to read Daughters of Shandong, and I eagerly await Eve J. Chung's future books.
Eve J. Chung’s Daughters of Shandong is an incredible debut novel, forgoing historical fiction bloat in favor of an intimate focus on a single family.
This is an unexpected early contender for my favorite book of the year.
I often find myself frustrated with how historical fiction treats its characters as receptacles for important events—object lessons at history’s mercy, either too passive to feel like more than set dressing or too involved to feel like anything less than mythic.
That is not the case here.
Chung seems so conscious of this book’s scope, and for good reason. In the author’s note, she mentions that Daughters of Shandong was largely written on her phone in the margins of her life as a full-time international human rights lawyer and a parent to two children; it shows.
It shows in the way that there is absolutely no filler in this novel.
It shows in the way the narrator feels totally present in each moment.
It shows in how each relational quirk feels real and inhabited.
It shows in the way that the book feels essential—like it had to be written.
Every single aspect of Daughters of Shandong is marked with a rare intentionality and immediacy, and reading it feels like an immense privilege. The book is not biographical, but it is informed by Chung’s family history, and it’s clearly a labor of love. I’m not sure I’ve read another book where that love feels as palpable as it does here.
This is ultimately a story about womanhood and motherhood and sisterhood in the face of abandonment, and I don’t mean that in the back-of-the-cover blurb sense—the book is so genuinely thoughtful about the cultural and historical nuances of gender in China, but it never falls prey to feel-good reductionism. Instead, there’s a real warmth and richness to how Chung explores her themes, even when the circumstances are harsh. The family dynamics depicted here will be familiar to anybody who has sisters—fierce loyalty and ferocious animosity in equal measure.
Likewise, the author embodies a similar sense of nuance in how she depicts the different individual responses to the Chinese civil war. She’s compassionate in recognizing that many people just fight for survival in whichever way feels most intuitive, and nothing is as simple as a black and white dichotomy. Whether describing personal or political relationships, Chung has such an astute and empathetic understanding of human behavior.
Finally, it is absolutely wild that this is a debut novel. It showcases such a strong and self-assured voice, and it’s one that feels singularly generous in its storytelling. I’m so glad I got to read Daughters of Shandong, and I eagerly await Eve J. Chung's future books.