Something about this book feels too big for words, like it exists in its truest form in the space between translated words, because what is taking in a story but about act of translation? The questions Kuang deftly poses about colonization of language and who controls the narrative run deep, driving this story as much as Robin’s need to belong. 

 

I could identify with Robin in so many ways: the simultaneous comfort and discomfort over passing as white, being biracial in a polarizing world, losing oneself in schoolwork so completely it drives you mad, that feeling of belonging when you meet the people who understand parts of your identity implicitly, love that hurts.  The ever-changing dynamic of Robin, Letty, Remy, and Victoire was amazing, absolutely reflecting how friends can shift to rivals, back to friends, to co-conspirators, to enemies. (aka… college) 

 

The second half of this book just charges ahead, jumping off of the cliff you’ve been steadily climbing. 

 

Letty broke my heart. I so appreciated her role in the group — having a well-intentioned but tunnel-blind white person who just can’t step outside herself enough to listen. She embodied that white woman toxicity, but I felt it was approached with compassion. 

 

Books about books are always delightful. but this is a book about words… about the space between a word and its meaning, what’s lost in translation, what you hear vs. what is said. It’s all so powerful. I’m going to be thinking about this book and these characters for a while.