This is a great memoir about Asian-Canadian actor, Simu Liu, and his upbringing in both China and Canada. He talks about how he got his big break (and some of the roadblocks leading up to it), as well as the struggles of being an immigrant in a new country, and the child of immigrant parents with sky high expectations whose means of punishment may seem unconventional or even cruel when perceived outside of their cultural contexts.
Simu comes across as very likable in this memoir and part of that, ironically, is that he doesn't slink from his less likable moments. One of my criticisms of the celebrity memoir is that they often feel too glossy, but he admits to coasting and then nearly failing in college, and quotes one of his ex-girlfriends' takedowns of him when he was behaving like a Nice Guy(TM) to give her seemingly callous treatment of him in their relationship the proper context it deserved.
This was just a really honest, really endearing memoir and I liked it a lot. I like the actor a lot and this made me like him more.
This a memoir written by the ex-girlfriend of ex-District Attorney, Eric Schneiderman, who was later accused of abuse by several of his exes, including the author of this book, Tanya Selvaratnam. In this memoir, she writes about how they met, and how his abuse escalated, and what her experiences of living with intimate partner violence were like. Apparently this made pretty big news. Trevor Noah even included a joke about it on his show, because it was considered pretty scandalous that a high-up political official forced his brown girlfriend to participate in master/slave play. She obviously found the joke very distasteful and wrote in to complain, for which she received an apology.
I loved this book a lot. I think she did a great job showing how you can enter a relationship with wide eyes and not realize that your partner is an abusive person until it's too late, because of course we want to forgive the people we love when they hurt us in the hopes that they won't do it again. It was wonderful to hear about the people in her life who worked hard to validate and support her, and get her story out there when she needed it. I also loved that she made the effort to point out that some of the behaviors that happen in abusive relationships can be totally fine in a consensual kinky relationship, but the difference is consent, respect of boundaries, and mutual enthusiasm. That's a distinction that not all memoirs like these bother to make.
Some people complained about her privilege but I think it just goes to show how even with a huge support network, money to spare, and an established career, you can still get suckered in by master manipulators and they can still make it very hard to get away. The racial component is also a valid one, too, and she does point out that brown and Black women have good reason to be leery of law enforcement officials when it comes to making reports of abuse.
I bought this impulsively because it was on sale. MOSHI MOSHI is absolutely adorable. Winnie Liu is an illustrator who was lucky enough to have the chance to study abroad in Japan when she was in college. In this heavily illustrated travelogue and memoir(?) she details some of her adventures, gives recommendations, and spotlights a few of the many cultural differences between Japan and other parts of the world.
I was lucky enough to go to Japan a few years ago and I've been to several of the places she talked about here. It made me incredibly nostalgic for my trip. Would definitely recommend this to anyone who is looking for vacation ideas. Especially if they love cute art.
I think this is the fourth book of Gay's I've read and as always, she doesn't disappoint. Her books always feel so raw and emotional, but they're written as if you're looking at her words through the other side of a clear glass wall: removed, but with a full view of whatever terrible or beautiful thing she decides she wants to show you.
This book removes that barrier.
HUNGER is probably her hardest book to read, although it's a close call with UNTAMED STATE. This is a memoir about the body: what it means to take up space (especially as a tall, "super plus-size" Black woman), what it means to hunger-- for food as well as acceptance, and how in our desire to fill up the emptiness inside us we sometimes turn to darkness. In this book she also discloses her rape, and the lasting effect it had on both her mind and her body, and how it shaped her sexual relationships in an irreversible way.
She says at several points that she doesn't want to be defined by what happened to her and I fully understand that. When I think of Gay, I think of an honest book reviewer and a phenomenal writer. But sometimes, with celebrity figures, we forget that there's a man (or person) behind the curtain with very real flaws and insecurities. I admire Gay for her bravery in sharing what it means to be a human who has gone through terrible things, and hearing her thoughts on how society contributes to structures that continue to facilitate these inequalities and injustices.
I hope this memoir brings other people comfort and makes them feel less alone.
I love poetry that tells a story, and there were some really solid ones in here that painted such vivid scenes. Like, there's one about the simple act of making soup and how hard it is when you're feeling depressed. And there's another about comparing skin to sin. I also really liked some of the risky and interesting choices the author took, like prayers made out of predictive text or using footnotes to break up the meter of a poem. Not all of the poems were to my tastes but poetry is a personal experience. This was still a really great collection, though, with some truly noteworthy pieces.
Thanks to the publisher for sending me a copy in exchange for an honest review!
This was an impulse buy because I love pop-culture, especially '90s pop-culture, so essays about pop-culture are basically my kryptonite. WANNABE is a fantastic collection of essays written by Aisha Harris, a co-host of a pop-culture-themed podcast and ex-Slate columnist.
In this collection of essays, she writes about '90s nostalgiacore, yes, but from the perspective of a Black woman whose millennial identity was shaped, like all of us, from the pop-cultural sphere she resided in. Some of the topics she discusses are as follows: how Black art is critiqued differently (and often unfairly) from non-Black art, tokenism in TV shows and movies, the politics of "Black"-sounding names, conservatives getting mad about stupid shit being "woke," and the questionable decision production companies make when deciding to cannibalize their old intellectual properties into remakes.
Harris has a very engaging voice and I really enjoyed almost all of these essays. The only thing that made me side-eye her a little is when she quotes a very personal caption Britney Spears had posted to one of her photos and then later deleted. Harris had apparently screenshotted it. That feels a little icky to me, but she was a journalist and nothing is "private" on the internet so IDK. I don't think she did it maliciously, though. The vibe I got from her writing is that she's a deep thinker who consumes all of her media very thoughtfully.
Overall, this collection is great and I'll definitely be looking into that podcast, Pop Culture Happy Hour. So many people think of pop-culture as being frivolous and trivial, but it's so crucial in shaping identities and changing the way we see ourselves and even the world, so it's always exciting to find a new creator who enjoys discussing pop-culture in a critical and in-depth way.
For Black History Month, I'm reading all of the books by Black authors that I had on my Kindle that I wasn't able to get to throughout the rest of the year. NOTES FROM A YOUNG BLACK CHEF was a book that I was very excited to read, because one of my favorite types of memoirs is the foodie memoir. I love food of all kinds, and I really admire the people who are good at making it, and how they translate culture and science into exquisite-- and edible-- creations.
Kwame Onwuachi was apparently on Top Chef, which I did not know because I do not watch that show, but it seems like he was a crowd fave for the season he was on. After reading this book, I can see why. He's a fascinating guy. His memoir starts with him doing a fancy museum dinner for an African Studies tie-in, but then launches back to his upbringing and the various experiences that put him on the track to culinary stardom. We learn about the time his mom sent him to his grandfather in Nigeria to teach him discipline, his brushes with gang life in the Bronx, what it was like cooking on a ship, and how he scrimped and saved to get money learning how to cook at the CIA (which I stupidly assumed was the Central Intelligence Agency, to which I thought, "Oh, is that where they teach their spies how to cook?)
There were some things I loved about this memoir but fell just short of me loving it. First though, I want to address some of the reviews slamming him for being young and arrogant. I am not sure where this assumption comes that people who are under forty don't have anything worthwhile to say about their lives. I think a lot of young people these days are accomplishing great things and I want to read about them. Memoirs are only as interesting as the life someone has lived and trust me, I've read plenty of memoirs from older individuals who thought they were fascinating and clever, but were not. Second, while I agree that Onwuachi comes off as abrasive in his memoir, I do feel it's justified. He works hard and dealt with some pretty awful stuff when he was younger. He even says something in this memoir to the affect that being meek and mild within the oppressive structure of society when you yourself are a member of the oppressed isn't going to get you very far. Maybe some of his persona is defensive, and maybe some of that is who is, but I think it's totally valid. You don't become successful by being a pushover. Not in his industry, anyway. Being a professional chef is brutal. It's probably one hundred times harder as a man of color, with so many people just gleefully hoping you'll fail.
That said, I do wish that this had been more food-focused. He does talk a lot about cooking but a lot of it got too technical for me. I actually think people like my mom, who aren't professional chefs but have some culinary training, would appreciate this more than I did. My favorite portions of the book were actually about the parts of his life when he was in Nigeria and the Bronx, and how some of what he ate there shaped his cooking. For example, I had no idea that gumbo comes from a Twi word (I think that's what they speak in Ghana?), and that the Creole dish has African and German influences. I also LOVED that he included so many recipes that tied into his life's story. That was really neat.
So overall, not a bad book. It wasn't quite what I expected but I ended up liking it anyway and I think it's a great addition to the culinary canon of those such as Anthony Bourdain and Padma Lakshmi.
So apparently Sanyika Shakur actually has a Wikipedia page, something I did not know prior to reading this book. (He was also friends with Tupac!) I found this book totally randomly in a Little Free Library and thought it would make a great addition to the list of books by Black authors that I am reading for Black History Month, as I know very little about Black Nationalism or L.A. gang violence, and before Shakur converted to Islam and Black Nationalism and started trying to devote his time to turn people away from gangs, he was a pretty major player in his local syndicate.
MONSTER, which was his nickname he got for beating up a guy, is Shakur's story of how he got into the gang, how he eventually got caught, what prison was like, and what he did after. It's an interesting memoir and I can appreciate his motives for writing it and coming clean about his past, even if a lot of what happened in it disturbed me. I also think that he brings up a pretty important issue, which is similarly touched upon in Patricia Williams's memoir RABBIT, which is that infrastructural racism contributes to crime because it makes it possible for Black people and people of color in low-income areas to make money and make community networks, which they might not otherwise have the privilege of getting. This does not make gang violence or, in the case of RABBIT, drug-dealing, morally ethical, but it does make it understandable-- at least from a logic perspective. If the doors to legitimate ways of making money and earning a living are closed to you and your family, why wouldn't you turn to other channels instead?
My favorite parts of the book were his interactions with his mom and girlfriend(s), and what his upbringing was like, and his interactions with his family. I also really liked the descriptions of 1980s L.A. and how well he knew his neighborhood. There was a description of him and his mom in an Asian-owned grocery store and another of one of his associates and a boombox that just felt very 1980s. His interest in Black Nationalism and his African cultural roots was also interesting and I wish there was more about that, and what he talked to the younger men in his community about after prison. Most of the memoir is a recount of his crimes, which started to feel repetitive and impersonal-- probably by necessity, but it could make the writing feel cold. Although I will admit that I smiled when he was reading The Godfather and using it for inspo on how he wanted to run his own gang. It was both disturbing and quirky, and felt like something a character in a movie might do. I don't know-- I thought it was funny. Honestly, for a subject I feel so uncomfortable with, he made it fairly easy to read. So take from that what you will. Honestly, if you're at all curious about L.A. history or what happens in a gang (hopefully for research purposes only), it's worth the read.
I admire Ms. Nyamayaro's humanitarian work and thought the portions set in Zimbabwe were interesting, but the constant time jumps and made this a tough read.
Update: Forgot to put this in my review originally but one other thing I appreciated about this book is that the author is outspoken about her feelings about mental health and it's my understanding that a lot of Asian cultures tend to frown on this, so having such a visible figure doing this in an open way and receiving support is great.
Truly an awesome pick for AAPI month and mental health awareness month!
I WANT TO DIE BUT I WANT TO EAT TTEOKBOKKI has a fantastic, catchy title, which was what originally gravitated me towards this book. As someone who gets depressed and also has anxiety, this book sounded high-key relatable and I was really excited to read it.
However, reading it was kind of a lackluster experience. There are some really relatable things that she talks about, and I think she's really good at capturing some of the urgent, desperate, and irrational feelings someone has while spiraling into self-hatred/negative thinking cycles or having a panic attack, but the bulk of the book is literally just transcripts of her talking to her psychiatrist. It's... really not that interesting. At times it feels more like reading someone's diary than it does something that was written for consumption by the public.
As others have said, some of the psychiatrist's methods felt sus. Not like, "omg this is a bad doctor!" sus. Because I'm sure they aren't. But just like... "is this the right approach for this person?" sus. Like asking "and how did that make you feel?" during a recount of physical abuse (maybe... uh, try "bad", sis?) or diagnosing someone with a mood disorder with ADHD b/c they aren't responding well to antidepressants without considering if it's bipolar (or maybe they did, but the author didn't say). I get that therapy is to some extent an outstanding Socratic dialogue but it felt like there should have been more of a guiding influence here to keep the author from looping into these cycles. This kind of felt like the Marie Kondo version of therapy. Hey, if she liked it and it worked for her, good for her. But it triggered me b/c of my own bad experiences with therapy.
In any case, reading this book made me find out that I'm a hedgehog. So I'm awarding a bonus half star just for that.
P.S. I was wondering why this book was so hyped until I did some Nancy Drewing and realized that someone from BTS apparently endorsed this book so I guess it's true what they say: The boy bands will inherit the earth.
CAREFREE BLACK GIRLS is a collection of essays written about the interaction of Blackness and pop-culture. The focus is more on the former than the latter, which seems to have disappointed some reviewers, but if you enjoy think-piece type takes on pop-culture, in the style of authors like Rebecca Solnit or Lauren Michele Jackson, you'll probably really enjoy this. I recently got into an argument with someone over the validity of soft journalism like this, where the point isn't necessarily to share factual, testable data, but cultural opinion. With social phenomena, there often isn't measurable data, so if you want to describe what you see in the world, your samples come from observation and consensus opinion. But how else are you supposed to write about and study culture?
While reading, I waffled between four and five stars. Most of the essays in this book were incredibly strong. I liked the one about how people talk about plus-sized bodies (using Lizzo as an example). I liked the essay about the meme-ification of Breonna Taylor, which tied into performative activism and the commodification of Black bodies for clout. I liked the essay about colorism and how Hollywood still favors lighter skinned actresses. And I LOVED the essay about Mel B and her role in the Spice Girls, which then segued into how Black representation in film and media has changed from tokenism to more authentic roles.
CAREFREE BLACK GIRLS is one of those books that everyone should read but I do have a few criticisms. I didn't really care for the essay about Cardi B and Nicki Minaj's feud. I guess from a "tea" standpoint, it's sort of interesting to hear about a tiff between two famous women, but I'm not really invested in either of them as performers, and apart from some valid criticisms of people who infantilize and marginalize Cardi, denying her Blackness and her potential for growth because of her upbringing, it felt more disorganized and less cohesive than Blay's other essays.
I also thought it was a little strange how the author seemed to suggest that Aunt Viv's character was replaced on Fresh Prince because of colorism because, from what I understand, Janet Louise Hubert was replaced because of an ongoing feud she had with Will Smith behind the scenes. If she was going to use this as an example, it felt like it might have been better placed in her essay about Denise Huxtable, played by Lisa Bonet, who had a similar tension with Bill Cosby, because both Cosby and Smith seemed to resent sharing the spotlight with their incredibly charismatic female co-stars.
Lastly, the author said at the beginning that she wasn't going to define things for readers because she felt like they should do the legwork, and I think that is mostly fair, but then she uses a couple terms that have some nuance when it comes to definition (like hotep, for example), where even after looking it up, I wasn't 100% sure what she meant, or what her particular definition for the term was. I also was unclear if the photos she used at the beginning of each essay were supposed to tie into the essays because sometimes the relationship was unclear (why was Mae Jemison shown before the Cardi B/Nicki Minaj Chapter????).
But overall, this is a really great collection. I liked what Blay had to say and how she wove some of her own personal experiences into these observations. When you look up her Goodreads bio, she has a truly impressive resume, and it's easy to see while reading these essays why she was published in such a wide variety of prestigious media outlets. Anyone who is interested in the development of pop-culture and how it intersects with gender and ethnicity, needs to read this book.
I remember seeing this book everywhere when it first came out, and since I love reading books about feminism, I was really eager to read it. Now that I've finally gotten my grubby mitts on it, I can say that it mostly lived up to my expectations. In this book, Mikki Kendall illustrates (with examples) how feminism has historically failed women of color, and how white women can broaden their intellectual scope to be more inclusive to the intersectional branches of feminism, including BIPOC women, LGBT+ women, and women living below the party line (and these groups are not mutually exclusive). I think the biggest takeaway from this book is that "white feminism" often looks to increase and broaden existing privilege, which doesn't always work for people who already have little to none. While some women are pushing for advancement to a CEO position, others can't get work. Period. In addition to being a rallying call to action and a blistering recounting of harsh but necessary truths, it's also a cautionary tale against being short-sighted and selfish when it comes to pushing for change.
That said, as other reviews have noted, I do feel that this is more of a primer for said privileged women (including myself) than it is for BIPOC women who already know this stuff and probably don't need to be told twice. I do think it's worth reading though because Kendall has a beautiful way with words, and I love the way that she chooses them so as to express her points in language that is spare, concise, and cutting. For me, the best feminist essays are emotionally charged, and include self-referential or autobiographical elements, so in addition to getting the author's viewpoint, you also see how they got to that viewpoint from within the framework of their own lives. You really get that here, and I think it added to the essays in a really positive and beneficial way.
Some of the topics discussed in here are gentrification, fetishization and hyper-sexualization of women of color, gun control and gun violence, discrimination in all forms, microaggresions, tone policing and respectability politics, poverty, food stamps, and violence against women. I thought the chapters about hyper-sexualization and about food stamps were the strongest, and I felt like the author did a good job showing how both society and the government fail women (working or no) who require basic things to take care of themselves and/or their children. I also liked the chapter about how society forces women-- especially BIPOC women-- to grow up too fast, usually against their will, and how these preconceived notions of a woman's coming-of-age can lead to violence or a dispassionate reaction to seeing violence being committed against BIPOC women. The line about respectability politics made me especially thoughtful because it reminded me of a Tweet I saw condemning people (so-called feminists) for the way they talked about Caitlin Jenner and basically misgendering her or making fun of her, and how it's not feminist or progressive to misgender people when critiquing them because it suggests that people are only worthy of their identities when we're in agreement with them, when this should be a basic tenet of decency, if not a human right. I feel like Kendall was making a similar point with this book: that Black women are more than just examples to be held up to make a throwaway argument for cheap points, and that they are rightfully owed a voice and a position at the table, whether or not they are making white feminists at that same table uncomfortable with their thoughts and views.
There were a couple essays in this book that didn't resonate with me as much (the parenting one, mostly because I am child-free and can't really imagine motherhood and the sacrifices that comes with, even though I appreciated her points about child rearing as a BIPOC woman and how that can differ for some BIPOC women below the poverty line who don't have access to the resources that might make parenting a relative breeze for someone with access to more resources, etc.), but there were none that I disliked. I will say that, at times, it sometimes felt like the author was imagining the face of white feminism as a yoga-pants wearing, Whole Foods-shopping, Taylor Swift-listening caricature of privilege, and while that is certainly one face of white feminism-- and perhaps the one that this book is geared primarily towards since they have the most social power and cachet when it comes to privilege-- I do think it's a tactical error to resort to this sort of bland stereotyping when making these sorts of arguments, as it chips away at the otherwise solid rhetoric that anyone could stand to open their mind and check their privilege and makes it far too easy for people to say, "Well, I'm not like that. This doesn't apply to ME." Maybe we're just brushing people like that off as a lost cause for being too thick to realize that this book was written about them, but it's still worth noting, imo.
But over all, this was great. Definitely lived up to the hype. I hope she posts another collection.
I love reading books about North Korea but I have to space them out because otherwise they get too depressing. One of the things I find most fascinating is how the stories are always so different from defectors and yet share so many similar themes. Kang Chol-Hwan's is interesting because he originally lived in Japan (many ethnic Koreans were displaced after occupation), but at the time North Korea was running propaganda campaigns encouraging Koreans to repatriate. Chol-Hwan's mother was very communist, so they went to North Korea to start their new lives.
Originally, things were okay. They were poor but his grandfather had a good job and his mother came from a position of respect. Then relationships soured between them and the government and his grandfather was branded a traitor and all of them were taken to Yodok, Camp 15, a prison camp. He was there for twenty years before release, subject to incredibly difficult working conditions, bad hygiene, limited food, and cruelty from the guards. This is as much a survival story as it is a human rights story, and Chol-Hwan goes into a level of detail in his treatment that I imagine must have been very difficult to relive. Other writers chose to gloss over these sections of their lives, but Chol-Hwan doesn't.
The writing is a little melodramatic but it suits the way he tells the story. As far as the other NK memoirs I have read from other defectors go, I would say this ranks as one of the better. It's an evenly-paced, intense recollection of some truly vile human conditions. The way he woke up from years of his country's propaganda, and his escape from NK, were incredibly powerful. I'm glad he was able to get away and tell his story. It's sad that he had to leave family members behind and still doesn't know what happened to them. That lack of closure must really wear on the psyche. There are TWs for virtually everything in this book, so if you pick up THE AQUARIUMS OF PYONGYANG, make sure you are coming at it from a good mental place.
I'm really picky when it comes to poetry, and since a lot of the stuff coming out is written in the vein of Amanda Lovelace or Rupi Kaur, I haven't been picking up a lot of contemporary poetry books. This collection is everything I love about poetry, though: it's personal, fiery, and full of visceral imagery; it gathers up ideas like beads on a string, weaving childhood nostalgia with the way that pop-cultural icons can sell out and betray us and rallying for the Black Lives Matter movement.
My favorite portions were the unstructured vignettes about her life growing up. Like, there's one about children playing with Nerf guns, and how that childhood innocence and play mirrors the far more unsettling reality of American's lethal fascination with guns. There's a passage about all the pain that goes into managing Black hair, and how it's a love-hate bonding experience between women. She talks about her struggle to balance her identity as a member of the LGBT+ with her Black identity, and how much rejection from the latter community hurt (especially if it came from "good" intentions).
This is just a really solid, really interesting collection of poems. I bought it because I used to have some of those hard plastic barrettes the cover model is wearing when I was a little girl, and I was curious to learn more about the author and her childhood. And while I did get that, I also got so much more.
Huda Fahmy is one of those comic book memoirists with the childish cartoony illustrations that are so popular, but hers has an unusual spin. In her books, she writes about being a Muslim Egyptian-American living in the United states, whether it's the good (pretty scarves, lovable husband, people who "get it") or the bad (microaggressions, racists, sneaky pork).
I liked this book a lot. She has a fun sense of humor and she talks about her religion and culture in a way that could be either informative or relatable, depending on where you're coming from. Books like these really underscore the need for diverse rep, which she even talks a little about in the book. It isn't enough to have a laundry list of generalizations you know about a group of people. You need to sit down and listen to them, consume their media, and, you know, treat them as ordinary people with agency and worth.
YES, I'M HOT IN THIS is a cute, wholesome read that would be as fun for teens as it would be for adults. It talks about feminism, religion, identity, and all of these other important topics in a light-hearted and accessible way. Definitely recommend.
I bought this memoir on impulse, not making the connection that Ramsey was a popular YouTuber whose videos I actually watched prior to reading this memoir. So that was kind of an unexpected bonus to what was already a pretty awesome read.
WELL, THAT ESCALATED QUICKLY reminded me a lot of essayists like Quinta Brunson and Lindy West, who also talk about their experiences being famous women on the internet, what it means to go viral, how to deal with trolls, how to own up to your own mistakes, and what sorts of language to use in order to tackle whatever sort of goals you might want to accomplish on the path to being a good ally or getting involved in activism.
Franchesca Ramsey is so likable. You can tell right away why she went viral because she just has that ability to spin a narrative that makes you want to find out what happens next. My absolute favorite section in this book was when she talks about how to consume problematic media, and what sorts of choices you might factor in to your decision to either boycott the artist/director/author, or whether you enjoy but also consume it critically and not cut it slack just because you like it. She calls this being a "critical fan," and I think that's a really good term to use because our faves should not get a pass just because we like them, but it's also important to distinguish between problematic content vs. problematic individual.
I also really enjoyed her discussions about virality and what it was like being on the cusp of fame. She talks about some of the mistakes she made when she first entered the limelight, and I appreciated her comments about what it was like dealing with criticism from both a Black and a white audience (obviously, people chewed her out for different things, some valid, some not). She also talks about interracial marriage, and what her own experience like that was like. There's also a great section on cutting toxic people out of your life, and another about practicing self-care in a way that doesn't really tie in to the #branded version influencers like to sell. There's also a glossary in the back about words pertaining to activism and progressivism, so you can start your own toolbox.
I'm not sure what else to say about this book. It's relatable, it's eye-opening, and it's funny. She talks about some things I've never seen other famous people talk about (like the awkwardness of running into someone you've trash-talked on social media at an IRL event), and I feel like she's coming from a really good place, and you can tell that by how she addresses her past mistakes. I guess you could say WELL, THAT ESCALATED QUICKLY, because I went from knowing nothing about this book to loving it.
Chronicle had a whole bunch of their books on sale so I decided to indulge myself. CHINATOWN PRETTY is a book written by a pair of bloggers who manage an Instagram account by the same name, showcasing the fashions of elderly Chinese people living in various Chinatowns in the U.S. and Canada. In this book, they feature the Chinatowns of San Francisco, Oakland, Los Angeles, Chicago, and Vancouver, replete with photographs and brief interviews that give you a little taste about how these people came to the U.S. and what inspired their looks.
I think this is a really cute and wholesome book. Some of the women in here were SO stylish that they honestly made me feel like I needed to up my game. I also like that both authors featured their own grandmothers (or stepgrandmother in one case) in this book as well. Even the stranger and quirkier looks were really fun, especially because of the stories.
I do wish that we got to know more about each individual person. Every city opens with a brief history about how Chinatowns were formed, and some of the people they talked to mentioned things like fleeing the cultural revolution in China or working odd jobs to make a living (like the lady who worked for an engineer who made her wear a Chinese blouse while she cleaned his house, wth). There were some people who seemed reticent or reluctant to speak about their pasts, but for those who were willing, I would have liked to have known more. Polka Dot, especially, really stole the show, because she got so many pages.
If you're lucky enough to have a Chinatown near you, I recommend you visit. I've been to the SF Chinatown a lot and it's really beautiful and so amazing to walk through and explore. Some of the best Taiwanese style boba places I've been to are in this area (including a corgi-themed cafe called "The Boba Butt Cafe"). And yes, you see a ton of really great and fun outfits while walking these streets.
Nenia ✨ I yeet my books back and forth ✨
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