Rating: 85% | B | ★★★★☆
Warnings: + Sinophobia Synopsis (from Goodreads): 29-year-old PhD student Ingrid Yang is desperate to finish her dissertation on the late canonical poet, Xiao-Wen Chou, and never read about “Chinese-y” things again. But after four years of painstaking research, she has nothing but anxiety and stomach pain to show for her efforts. When she accidentally stumbles upon a strange and curious note in the Chou archives, she convinces herself it’s her ticket out of academic hell. But Ingrid’s in much deeper than she thinks. Her clumsy exploits to unravel the note’s message lead to an explosive discovery, one that upends her entire life and the lives of those around her. With her trusty friend Eunice Kim by her side and her rival Vivian Vo hot on her tail, together they set off a rollercoaster of mishaps and misadventures, from campus protests and OTC drug hallucinations, to book burnings and a movement that stinks of “Yellow Peril” propaganda. In the aftermath, nothing looks quite the same to Ingrid—including her gentle and doting fiancé, Stephen Greene. When he embarks on a book tour with the “super kawaii” Japanese author he’s translated, doubts and insecurities creep in. At the same time, she finds herself drawn to the cool and aloof Alex Kim (even though she swears he’s not her type). As the events Ingrid instigated keep spiraling, she’ll have to confront her sticky relationship to white men and white institutions—and most of all, herself. Spoiler-Free Review: Disorientation took me three months to read because I was—of course—disoriented. Elaine Hsieh Chou’s debut more than lives up to its title. It’s a dizzying satirical mess of culture, politics, and language that bludgeons the reader over the head, leaving them with a halo of cartoon birds. It is a riotously enjoyable read. Never before has a piece of literature resonated so much with me. Chou’s attention to Taiwanese-American details—from the protagonist insisting that she’s Taiwanese, not Chinese, to the specific details about Hokkien and Teresa Teng—touched me deeply. Like Ingrid—and other Asian-Americans—I often feel alienated from both my Taiwanese and American roots. Chou is whip-smart and determined; even when the plot begins to veer in a complicated direction, she never backs away from the challenge. Opinions on right-wing politics, the model minority myth, Asian fetishes—it's all here. This book is not one for the faint of heart; the characters and the issues demand conscious, critical thought from the reader. At times this demand becomes too much to shoulder and the characters become too caricatured, the plot lines too wild to keep up with. But in the end, it all comes back to the title. The characters are meant to be disoriented. The readers are meant to be disoriented. This is not a tale of entertainment; this is a tale of staring into the mirror and dealing with what stares back. But let's not pretend like Disorientation isn't, at its core, just a tale of waffle dogs. (Click "Read More" for spoilers.")
Chou gives voice to the guilty and heavy thoughts that plague many Asian-American women—that they cannot escape fetishization, that they must assimilate into white culture as much as possible, that all they must demean themselves to fit in. Ingrid's story is not triumphant because she manages to almost burn Barnes to the ground in the end—it is triumphant because she acknowledges and accepts the flawed thinking that landed her in her unhappy relationships and life choices.
Characters (25/30)
Development (12/15) and Allure (13/15) As with the subway map of plot lines that runs through the story, there is a massive cast of characters to contend with in Disorientation. Ingrid, Stephen, Eunice, Vivian, and Michael are complex characters made all the more complex by the subversion of their stock roles. Chou turns the golden retriever boyfriend into a villain, the academic rival into a staunch ally, the wise mentor into an oppressor. These are pivots that spin the head—and, simultaneously, limit the degree of development that each character attains. In the last two-thirds of the novel, there is a noticeable lack of continuity in character arcs; just as the reader figures out Vivian Vo, a new dimension of her is revealed—her privilege, her willingness to lie, et cetera. And perhaps this is part of the disorientation, or part of Chou's charm. But it does not always make for the most satisfying read. Writing (17/20) Descriptions (10/10) and Flow (7/10) Ingrid produces a narrative voice truly unlike any other. She is at once clueless and wise, timid and rash, serious and unintentionally hilarious. She is the perfect protagonist for this sprawling satire. But all credit links back to her creator; Chou is forever miles ahead of her reader, her brain working at double time to set up the most unexpected, probing jokes. It's a wonderful thing to find a book that perfectly fits your niche, and for me, Disorientation slots right into that English-major / Taiwanese-American nook. Ingrid edged closer as he rolled around on the ground while hugging his sides, reciting verses from "The Love Song of J. Alfred Peng," one of Chou's earliest works.
Closure/Set-Up (19/20)
Logic (9/10) and Allure/Closure (10/10) What an ending. If ever there was a scene to concretize Chou's genius, it would be the final scene of Disorientation. The pleasure of being toyed with, the schadenfreude that Chou must feel as reader reviews get back to her—it's all part of an indescribable, cringe-after-a-pun kind of joy. Disorientation is a difficult read. But it's a must read.
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