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A review by abigailhiggins
The Unpassing by Chia-Chia Lin
4.0
Written in lyrical prose, this debut novel by Chia-Chia Lin describes the process of grieving and the struggle for survival in a Taiwanese immigrant family in Alaska. Landscape and emotion reflect each other: wild and desolated, with unexplored depth. The book is of very high literary quality, with terse, functional prose. Although it explores emotion, The Unpassing does not evoke it to a significant extent, due to its somewhat pensive tone and slow plot development. But, it is nonetheless a thought-provoking and stirring read.
The plot of The Unpassing is meandering, told from the perspective of a child. Gavin, the second-oldest among his siblings, narrates the trauma that his siblings and parents deal with after the death of his youngest sister, Ruby, from meningitis. His own guilt burdens him, since he survived while Ruby did not. His parents become more and more estranged from each other, seeking solace in the Alaskan wilderness instead of the companionship of the other. Gavin’s older sister, Pei-Pei, tries to blend in with American life outside of their disheveled home life, while his younger brother, Natty, struggles to accept his playmate’s absence. For most of the novel, actual events are not primary features. Rather, Lin writes about the children’s wanderings in the forest and about their attempts to make friends and find connection. Only in the last few chapters do things begin to actually change in the family’s circumstances, and the stagnation of their grief seem to lift.
The measured pace of the plot makes The Unpassing a somewhat slow read. It is a book to be enjoyed when in a thoughtful mood. Things happen gradually, and the fact that the narrator is around ten years old means that it is at times veiled what conflicts exactly are transpiring between the adult members of the community. But, this does focus the book more closely on the emotions of the children, and the ways in which the turmoil that happens on the adult level filters down to the adolescents. The children’s emotions are no less complicated than their elders, and because they are unused to grief, they experience it intensely in their different ways. The book may lack action, but the emotional ebb and flow of Gavin’s memories helps to supplement this needed dynamism.
The prose in Chia-Chia Lin’s novel is lovely. Her descriptions of the bleak but enchanting wilderness of the Alaskan winters, the thin stretching of days in the summer, and the lurking dangers in the familiar forest highlight Gavin’s sense of strangeness and un-belonging. The setting is as changeable and vast as the effects of absence of the youngest member of his family. Lin’s style and her understanding of how deep childhood trauma can run and spread through a person’s life are the highlights of the book. Again, it is not a fast read, and it is not a particularly exciting one, but it is well-suited to someone looking to reflect on grief, on identity, and on belonging. Environmentally and emotionally displaced, the characters in The Unpassing offer insight into different expressions of sorrow and into the ways that family can tether or alienate a person in need of community.
{See more reviews at https://witnessofthedawn.wordpress.com/2019/05/17/the-unpassing/}
The plot of The Unpassing is meandering, told from the perspective of a child. Gavin, the second-oldest among his siblings, narrates the trauma that his siblings and parents deal with after the death of his youngest sister, Ruby, from meningitis. His own guilt burdens him, since he survived while Ruby did not. His parents become more and more estranged from each other, seeking solace in the Alaskan wilderness instead of the companionship of the other. Gavin’s older sister, Pei-Pei, tries to blend in with American life outside of their disheveled home life, while his younger brother, Natty, struggles to accept his playmate’s absence. For most of the novel, actual events are not primary features. Rather, Lin writes about the children’s wanderings in the forest and about their attempts to make friends and find connection. Only in the last few chapters do things begin to actually change in the family’s circumstances, and the stagnation of their grief seem to lift.
The measured pace of the plot makes The Unpassing a somewhat slow read. It is a book to be enjoyed when in a thoughtful mood. Things happen gradually, and the fact that the narrator is around ten years old means that it is at times veiled what conflicts exactly are transpiring between the adult members of the community. But, this does focus the book more closely on the emotions of the children, and the ways in which the turmoil that happens on the adult level filters down to the adolescents. The children’s emotions are no less complicated than their elders, and because they are unused to grief, they experience it intensely in their different ways. The book may lack action, but the emotional ebb and flow of Gavin’s memories helps to supplement this needed dynamism.
The prose in Chia-Chia Lin’s novel is lovely. Her descriptions of the bleak but enchanting wilderness of the Alaskan winters, the thin stretching of days in the summer, and the lurking dangers in the familiar forest highlight Gavin’s sense of strangeness and un-belonging. The setting is as changeable and vast as the effects of absence of the youngest member of his family. Lin’s style and her understanding of how deep childhood trauma can run and spread through a person’s life are the highlights of the book. Again, it is not a fast read, and it is not a particularly exciting one, but it is well-suited to someone looking to reflect on grief, on identity, and on belonging. Environmentally and emotionally displaced, the characters in The Unpassing offer insight into different expressions of sorrow and into the ways that family can tether or alienate a person in need of community.
{See more reviews at https://witnessofthedawn.wordpress.com/2019/05/17/the-unpassing/}