With a deceptively simple yet graceful style, and in the tradition of Lara Vapnyar, Jhumpa Lahiri, and Gish Jen, Frances Hwang captures the thousand minor battles waged in the homes of immigrants -- struggles to preserve timehonored traditions or break free of them, to maintain authority or challenge it, and to take advantage of modern excesses without diluting one's ethnic identity.
In Garden City , a weary Chinese couple, struggling to evict their deadbeat tenant, is forced to face the aftermath of their teenage son's death from cancer. And in The Old Gentleman , a daughter becomes alienated from her father when he finds love -- or what he thinks could be love -- in his old age. Frances Hwang is a powerful talent, and Transparency not only showcases her myriad gifts, but also announces the arrival of an exciting new voice.
Months later, I remember scenes like a father driving in a car with his kids, or a woman in an elevator, going down. Simple stuff, but the author describes the ordinary surroundings with such detail, then takes that extra step into her characters -- and now I can't forget them. Yes, a lot of times it's sadness that's revealed, but it's not done in a heavy way. There's great humor and innocence. Can't wait for her next book.
Some people would call this a collection of 'quiet' stories. Those people are dipshits. These stories are boring as shit and, quite frankly, I'm a little impressed Hwang didn't nod off as she was drafting them and choke to death on her own tongue. But that's the only thing that impresses me about this book, which derives most of its material from the sadness a twenty-something graduate student feels when old people suffer and die. Spoiler alert: cancer kills the aunt, the old man is a dick head, the young adults don't do shit, and everyone is insufferably insipid. And Chinese--which, I guess, is supposed to be the book's selling point, because it certainly isn't the plot, the characters, or the language. Concerning the latter, my suspicion is that Hwang gave some unknowable amount of time and energy to ensuring that not one sentence in this book is memorable or stimulating, in this regard employing as many as five shriekingly inane metaphors to completely suppress any excitement the text might offer, as well as the reader's will to live. Indeed, so frequently and putridly and with such devastating ineptness do these metaphors pile on top of each other that the reader is often drawn away from the material by visions of, say, the Jonestown Massacre or of five hundred shattered and burst-open bison steaming and creaking in a rancid deathpile at the base of a sheer cliff--basically, scenes of senseless slaughter. In fact, I think that last phrase would've been a much more fitting title for this 'book'--and I hesitate even to call it that--so long, that is, as we understand that in this case it's not humans or defenseless animals that are murdered, but basic decency. If you see this book, kill it.g
TRANSPARENCY is a collection of stories about Chinese-Americans, but it provides keen insights into human nature in general. Frances Hwang's prose is flawless and controlled. She has a fine eye for telling details and narrates her stories with precision.
I keep wavering from liking short stories ... to NOT! I cannot get over the fact that these short stories are so short! And sometimes end without a complete resolution. However. She is a brilliant, luminous writer & her stories truly connect with me as an Asian American.
Some of this writing is brilliant. Her ability to capture mood and setting is quite good. In some cases, characters from one story to the next seemed the same.
Oh my Lord, is this collection fabulous! I wanted my commute to go on forever this morning so I could finish the piece titled, "Sonata for the Left Hand." Hwang writes with a lovely simplicity, and it is with subtle and quiet lines like the following, "I wanted to trust him, but people changed so quickly, and then it was as if you never knew them at all," that consistently grace her writing. I can't wait to keep reading!
But, alas, I have only given it 3 stars because not all of the stories are worthy of four stars. The title story, especially, I did not personally care for, but it's worth picking up for the one mentioned above as well as "Garden City" and "Blue Hour."
Sonata for the Left Hand: 4.5 stars Story about the one that got away, and the one you don't want. Even though the narrator's men are very different from my men––in terms of both their personalities and the circumstances of their interactions––somehow the feelings Hwang describes cut to the exact sort of longing, bitterness, and discomfort that most women have felt at some point in their lives. Also, omg favourite scene in Amsterdam: the narrator high is me high.
The pace is too slow. I don't really enjoy a few stories, but a few last stories are better. I bought and picked this book randomly, and the content deserves the title of this book. But still, I sometimes was left unexplained, the stories I mean, and that kind of feeling is not so good (well, in my opinion). The ending relies on the readers' ability to extend and expand the story, but still, she writes in beautiful writing-style, which I kind of admiring it, but the stories are not edible, esp. for some endings of her stories.
These stories aren't perfect, but they come close. Even the 'lesser' stories have their moments. I esp loved "Sonata for the Left Hand," a story in three parts. There are a few stories where being an immigrant or the child of an immigrant is relevant to the experience of the characters (through the particulars, an individual experience is revealed to be universal); but for the most part, the characters' ethnicities aren't important, showing the isolation and disconnection anyone might feel.
I love the way Hwang writes in these bleak short stories, a lot of which seem to be about the disconnectedness and loneliness of modern life. One of the stories is called 'The Modern Age', and they all have that feeling about them. I suspect they will all blur together in my mind when I look back at them, although each story seemed powerful by itself while reading.
Memorably sad characters, no doubt. Somewhere in the execution (possibly too many bad analogies, including one where a group of people dressed in black are described as "sleek as cockroaches") I was let down a bit, but I still love the fact that Frances Hwang never stepped into that hellish pit of Asian American stereotypes.
Overall, Hwang is a promising writer with a promising debut. She is an astute observer of human nature and physical settings and writes beautiful descriptions of both. However, Hwang would have benefitted from better editing. Oftentimes, the stories just meander along with little plot or resolution.
Hwang is clearly a gifted writer - her short stories are very well-written - but they did not have enough plot and movement to keep me interested. I finally gave up on the book.
The stories about intergenerational dynamics among Asian-Americans have a wonderful zing. Imagine Margaret Cho with insight. The rest is much more uneven.