The Fox Wife by Yangsze Choo

 

Reviewed by Christy

            In Chinese mythology, the fox spirit can take many forms and, depending on the story, can be benevolent or malevolent. In Yangsze Choo's The Fox Wife, Snow is a fox who looks like a young woman, and who is on a mission of revenge. Bao is a private investigator in his sixties, hunting down whoever is responsible for a young woman found frozen to death. As their points of view alternate, their stories slowly start to converge.      

            This isn't my usual type of reading but the cover would catch my eye every time I came across it. I picked it up on a whim, and I'm glad I did! I really enjoyed Snow's chapters – her quiet frustration with silly humans and her wry humor. I struggled more with Bao's chapters mostly because procedural detective stories are not generally my thing. But Bao is a sweet man who is hard to dislike, and he grew on me even more as their stories came together.

            Choo occasionally leaves little footnotes throughout to explain some of the mythology. As she clarifies in her notes at the end of the book, footnotes and reactions in the margins are a Chinese literary tradition. She wanted to fill the book with such annotations but was afraid of alienating her readers, so she used them sparingly (personally, I loved them).

            If I had to give a critique, the book is often very slow with not much happening. It can also be a little repetitive with the clandestine meetings and whispers between the same characters. Even so, there is still something engaging about the story and specifically the character of Snow. There's also a few minor reveals that keep things interesting.  And I enjoyed learning about the fox folklore!

Ghost Bride by Yangsze Choo

Reviewed by Ambrea

Li Lan, a young woman from an impoverished aristocratic family, stands to inherit little from her dissolute father and her marriage prospects are dwindling each year.  But, suddenly, Li Lan finds herself confronted with an unusual proposal from the wealthy Lim family:  they want her to become a ghost bride to Lim Tian Ching, a young noble who recently perished under mysterious circumstances.  Ghost marriages are uncommon, even in the sleepy port town of Malacca, but the wealthy Lim family is desperate to appease the spirit of their deceased son.

Despite the wealth she stands to inherit, Li Lan has no interest in becoming a bride to a ghost.  Haunted by Lim Tian Ching, her ghostly would-be suitor, and her growing attraction to Tian Bain, the Lim family’s new heir, Li Lan must fight for her freedom—and possibly her very soul—if she ever hopes to escape the clutches of the dead and marry the man she truly loves.  In this haunting debut, Yangze Choo takes readers on a marvelous journey through the Malaysian spirit world and the frightening underworld that exists just beneath the surface of Malacca.

I originally picked up The Ghost Bride on a whim.  I’d noticed a discussion thread on Goodreads which mentioned it and, after reading a quick synopsis, I found my interest piqued.  It qualified for my Read Harder Challenge and it sounded like a great story, so I thought, “Why not?”  And I’m very glad I decided to give it a chance, because I was pleasantly surprised by Yangsze Choo’s novel.  The more I read it, the more I loved it—and I quickly became entangled in the complicated relationships of Malacca and the ethereal spirit world that overlapped the city.

Detailed and intricate, The Ghost Bride was a fascinating and fantastical journey through Malaysian society of the late 19^th century, a romp through the afterlife and funeral rites of the British colony.  I loved the history, the myths, the ceremonies and legends of Malaysia quietly woven into the story.  It was a beautiful narrative that crafted an eerie, but entirely unique afterlife, an intriguing story riddled with incredible imagery of a ghastly spirit world and strange, ghostly creatures.

It’s a bit of a dark, creepy story, a frightening fantasy that tickles at the mind and breeds doubt.  I was often left wondering how it would end:  would Li Lan escape her ghostly tormentor?  Would she be able to avoid the hungry ghosts, or would she fall into some malevolent spirit’s clutches?  It’s a story that kept me on the edge of my seat, but it also managed to give me chills.  I loved the ethereal qualities of the spirit world Li Lan encountered, like the ghosts which seemed intangible like a puff of wind or the paper funeral gifts that had a faint, fluttery quality.  I found the descriptions lovely and brilliant, and I constantly wanted to learn more of the strange and deadly underworld lurking just beneath the surface of Malay.

And, speaking of Li Lan, I thought she made a lovely narrator.  She’s a curiously free-spirited and progressive young woman, but she’s also a reflection of her society’s beliefs and expectations.  She’s living in a time of transition, when Malay is a colony of Britain in the late 19^th century, so there’s a confluence of Malaysian traditions, Chinese folklore from next door, British exploration and industry that gives The Ghost Bride a unique flavor—and gives Li Lan a very unique perspective.

For this reason, she makes a wonderful storyteller.  She gives explanations about her culture, insights into her city and country without overwhelming the reader or, more importantly, compromising the flavor of the novel.  It may offer many explanations, maybe even more than strictly necessary, but it manages to give me a better image of the world which Li Lan inhabits.  It’s a complex, fascinating story full of plot twists and family secrets and traditions I don’t usually encounter, so I appreciated Li Lan’s ability to skillfully weave an intriguing tale and appropriately explain the things which I didn’t always understand.

I loved every minute of The Ghost Bride.  Granted, I thought the ending was a little unexpected, but, ultimately, I was pleased with the outcome—and, more importantly, Li Lan’s decision.  And, yes, it did get a little confusing, because I’m not familiar with the myths, cultural expectations, or beliefs of colonial Malaysia; however, I didn’t let my lack of familiarity deter me.  I was rewarded with a scintillating story rich in Malaysian myth and culture, a story so wholly unique and fascinating I couldn’t help becoming enthralled.

Ambrea's Read Harder Challenge

I’m working on my Read Harder Challenge again, and this time I decided to:

1.      Read a book out loud to someone else.
2.      Read a book that is by an author from Southeast Asia
3.     Read a book about politics, in your country or another (fiction or nonfiction)

For this challenge, I struggled a little more to find books I knew would fit my challenge but would keep my interest.  I’m getting close to the end of my challenge, so I’m starting to run low on ideas.  (Luckily, the forums at BookRiot and Goodreads had had plenty of recommendations for each category.)  I did, however, decide pretty quickly on which book to read aloud:  Let’s Pretend This Never Happened by Jenny Lawson.  At first, I read a few pages to my dog, but she didn’t seem particularly interested and, moreover, she appeared to have better things to do.  My boyfriend, on the other hand, proved to be a more receptive audience and he seemed to enjoy Lawson’s crazy (figuratively speaking—or literally?) memoir.

He and I both enjoyed reading Let’s Pretend This Never Happened, because it was just so funny.  After reading Furiously Happy, which is fueled by Lawson’s frenetic energy and her off-kilter sense of humor, Let’s Pretend This Never Happened was familiar ground—and it was equally hilarious as her second memoir.  I loved hearing about Lawson’s childhood with her father’s crazy pets and bread bag snowshoes, her struggle to become an author despite her general fear of people, and her struggle to acclimate to her various disorders.

It’s really quite funny, and it’s hard not to laugh at the seemingly random and entirely crazy things that have happened to the author.  But, be warned, some of the stories may be jarring or, more accurately, scarring.  I mean, the incident with Stanley the Magical, Talking Squirrel left me with alternating feelings of revulsion and horror that’s hard to beat.  But the embarrassing (and traumatizing) experience involving Jenny and a particular cow does its best to rival it.

Next, I read Ghost Bride by Yangsze Choo, a Malaysian-American author.  Set during the British colonization of Malay, Ghost Bride is an intricate and beautiful novel brimming with Chinese folklore, regional myths, and Malaysian history.  The story revolves around Li Lan, a young woman from a poor aristocratic family, who finds herself confronted with an unusual proposal:  a spirit marriage to a young noble who recently perished.  But Li Lan has no interest in becoming a bride for a ghost.  In this haunting debut novel, Li Lan must fight for her freedom—and possibly her very soul—if she ever hopes to escape the clutches of the dead and marry the man she truly loves.

Li Lan was a lovely, dynamic narrator.  I found it interesting to see how she changed as a person from her experiences in the underworld and through her relationship with the mysterious Er Lang.  Li Lan did a wonderful job of explaining much of the customs and beliefs of Malay without overwhelming the reader by offering too much information or leaving the reader lost, unable to discern what is happening in the narrative.  It strikes a perfect balance, which I find I greatly appreciate.

Ghost Bride is a bit of an unusual story, yes, but it’s absolutely fascinating.  I was enchanted by Choo’s descriptions of the spirit world and the rules which govern them, by the intriguing (and, sometimes, terrifying) full-bodied characters she created, and by the history of the Pacific nation.  In short, it’s a wonderful book—and I fell in love with it.

Last, I read The Prince by Niccolo Machiavelli.  I was not impressed, let me say so now.  At least part comes from the fact I purchased a translation that was—well, let’s say less than spectacular.  While I was reading, I noticed little mistakes.  Some were simple typos, but a few were glaring grammar mistakes.  It’s almost like the original Italian text was fed through a Google translator and published with the usual transcription mistakes.

Plus, I was so bored for most of Machiavelli’s work.  It literally took me weeks to finish reading my copy of The Prince, even though it was only 114 pages.  I just couldn’t keep interested in it.  I was bored after only a few pages, and I couldn’t stand reading it after I realized I couldn’t consider the text reliable.  I finished the book only because I needed to finish a book on politics and The Prince seemed to fit the bill.  Truthfully, I would never read it again, unless it was absolutely necessary.