CBRIII#17: The Thousand Autumns of Jacob de Zoet by David Mitchell

David Mitchell’s writing is not the easiest to get through in the beginning. He chooses to write in a style that is demanded of the time period his narrative takes place in – which, in The Thousand Autumns of Jacob de Zoet, is in the late 18th century in feudal Japan. Depending on whose point of view he’s taking, Mitchell’s prose can range from being frustratingly filled with phoneticized accents to simple, iron-like words with gravitas. But like Cloud Atlas, the language, which will seem difficult (not in meaning but in getting used to) at first, will later be the reason why you continue reading.

Several points of views are taken, but the basic plot follows a young Dutch clerk’s life on the Japanese island of Dejima, which served as a closed-off Japan’s gateway to the West. Upon Jacob de Zoet’s arrival, he realizes that “making his fortune” is not going to be as straightforward as he hoped, since his pious, incorruptible take on how money should be earned, exchanged, transactioned is not shared by his higher-ups. Working alongside the Dutch (and Irish and Prussians and Austrians) are the Japanese interpreters whose jobs seem to be to keep an even keel between the tempers of the Dutch traders and the idiosyncratic and arbitrary demands of Japan's archaic system. The interpreters seem to also have an agenda of their own, but Jacob soon finds a friend in Ogawa Uzaemon, who is later revealed to have more in common with Jacob than he knew.

Jacob also falls in love with a midwife, Orito Aibagawa, one of the only women on the island who is not a prostitute or a concubine, and a major part of his thoughts consists of trying to figure out how to get a quiet moment to talk with her.

I found the beginning of the book to be mostly observational. Everything is beautifully written and the going-ons of Dejima are interesting enough to keep me occupied, but nothing really felt like it was moving forward. “Languid” was the sense I got from the beginning, and I was more than happy to just curl up with the book and read sentences such as these out loud:

Gardening is harder labour than Jacob is used to, and yet, he admits to himself, I enjoy it. His tired eyes are rested by the living green; rose finches pluck worms from the ramped-up earth; and a black-masked bunting, whose song sounds like clinking cutlery, watches from the empty cistern.

However, there is a point where Thousand Autumns becomes a thriller and from there onwards, I kind of felt like I was being taken on a wild surreal ride that was about to careen off reality’s cliff. It was almost like Mitchell was saying, “Did you like that? Well, that’s great and all but now, there’s THIS!” and it just rattles off into a whole different realm. I’m not going to reveal more because the story gets really kind of crazy (dressed up in Mitchell’s language, it was definitely crazy in a good way) and it made reading it the later parts less relaxed but more fun.

Though I really, really enjoyed it, I think I might have preferred Cloud Atlas more. However, both books have sort of the same theme of fate playing a part in each character’s lives, or at least they believe it does. I’m honestly not too crazy that Mitchell employed such a heavy hand when it came to that theme – Seriously, why can’t things happen because they are good/bad/stupid/terrible? Must it be just so a character can get to a certain point in the book and say something along the lines of “Yes, life was tough but fate dealt me these lumpy potatoes so that it could result in something else.”? – but that probably says more about me than it does about the book.

Half-way mark

So last Thursday, during work, the boss announces that there's going to be an office party. 6 pm rolls around and he comes up with beer and chips and says, Meeting in 5 minutes! I'm at my computer trying to make deadline and not pull my hair out from stress/frustration/annoyance, when Emily comes up to me and says, Hey, do you know what this party is for?

No, what? I respond.

It's actually for our 6-month anniversary!! she said.

Not really, of course. But it was November 3, 6 months to the day that Emily and I first arrived in Cambodia. Realizing that simultanously made me want to laugh and cry at the same time.

At a Russian restaurant on our first month anniversary. 

Siem Reap with Sokun and our awkward—but well-dressed!—driver.

This post is dedicated to Emily, the best new partner I could have for my crazy, crazy job in this crazy, crazy city.

CBRIII #16: Cloud Atlas by David Mitchell

My friend Emily raved about David Mitchell and recommended Cloud Atlas as a good beginner's guide to his writing. Now, I went into the book with no idea about what the plot was, so let me just say that the beginning of the book is quite difficult to get through. It's not mentally taxing to read - it's just slightly annoying because the first chapter is a journal written by Adam Ewing, an American traveling around the New Zealand islands (I think) that have been colonized, and his writing seemed archaic and awkward to my modern-prose-tuned ears.

But I'm glad I gave myself time to get into it, because this was really kind of an amazing literary ride. Mitchell divides his novel into six stories: Adam Ewing's ship journey around the Pacific Ocean as seen through his dairy; letters written by an early 19th-century musician who managed to convince a famous composer to take him on as an amanuensis; a thriller following a young reporter as she tries to uncover a conspiracy surrounding a nuclear facility; a hilarious account of an aging book publisher who is accidentally admitted into an old folks' home and held there against his will; a pre-execution testimony of a clone slave named Sonmi-451; and a narrative from the point of view of Zachry, a tribesman living on an island after the fall of civilization.

Connecting all 6 stories together is how the story before will figure in the next. For example, Adam Ewing's journal is read by Robert Frobisher, the 19th-century musician, whose letters were acquired by the young reporter, Luisa Rey. The book publisher, Timothy Cavendish, is reading a copy of "Half Lives: The First Luisa Rey Mystery," and his account is later adapted into a movie that is viewed by Sonmi-451 before her execution. Finally, in Zachry's post-civilized/sort-of-apocalyptic world, Sonmi is considered a god worshiped by the tribesmen. There is also a strong insinuation that each main character is a reincarnation of the same soul.

This may all sound insanely experimental (or cliché and hokey. I don't know, but this is my first time reading a book like this) but Mitchell is such an amazing writer. Seriously, seriously brilliant, and it was actually thrilling to watch him switch so suddenly into a different genre and still be great at it. For example, Robert Frobisher, the musician, is really satirical and funny while also kind of cynical, and his letters feel like you're reading some snarky noble gossip to his close friend. Then, Luisa Rey's story is written as a Dan-Brown-style thriller, which is kind of bad, except that you know it's part of a bigger story and that Mitchell is writing in that awful way on purpose.

My favorite was the testimony of Sonmi-451 though. I eat up anything related to sci-fi, and I just found Sonmi to be incredibly sympathetic and frank. I also loved the world that Mitchell created for Sonmi, where pure-bred humans would use clones to do all their menial work. There were clones designed to work in hot restaurants, to work in factories or in hazardous conditions. It is implied that when these clones reach a certain age, they start to gain sentience and instead of blindly following orders, they will start to learn and question everything.

So far, I've spoken about the plot and the writing, but I haven't really spoken about what struck me the most about all six stories. I think it was mentioned in Adam Ewing's part of the story that the weaker will always be eaten by the stronger, and these six stories do illustrate the ruthlessness of the people in power. There is, however, also the sense that as our main characters triumph over adversity, in the end, their accomplishment is so minute when seen in the grander scheme of things.

I hope I haven't given too much away, but I promise that part of the magic that comes with reading Cloud Atlas is the surprises that each story brings, and they each drew me in deeper and deeper. I was left feeling like my shitty day at work is just a drop in the ocean of shitty days and amazing days I will have -- How can we focus on the events of a single day when what's more important is how we are shaped by these events?

CBRIII #13, #14 and #15: Chaos Walking Trilogy by Patrick Ness

I bought the Chaos Walking Trilogy on impulse because I wanted to have something fun to read before I dive back into my not-so-fun Cambodian history books. I might have mentioned this before, but I do enjoy good young adult literature a lot, and I was hoping that Chaos Walking could be a worthy successor to His Dark Materials. It’s not, but not by any faults of Patrick Ness, the author. Ness’ trilogy is very, very good, and incredibly effective. However, I do wonder if the reason why my heart is so resolutely set on His Dark Materials as BEST YA BOOKS EVER is because I read them when I was 12 going on 13, and right around the time when I could most identify with Lyra and Will. The two young protagonists of Chaos Walking, Todd Hewit and Viola Eade, are really great characters, but there were times throughout this series that I thought, “Wow, I just don’t get them.”

Anyway, I am going to review these three books altogether. I’ll try not to post spoilers for each book in their section, but be aware that there will be spoilers on the previous books. (Don’t think that sentence made sense, so let me clarify: If you haven’t read any of the books, the first review is spoiler-free, but the rest—not so much.)

#13 The Knife of Never Letting Go

We begin in the Knife of Never Letting Go with an introduction to Todd Hewit’s world. He lives with Ben and Cillian, two guardians who have raised him ever since he was a baby and his mother and father died, in Prentisstown. There are no women in the town, and history has taught Todd that it was the Noise germ—which enables every single thought of every single person in the town to be heard—that wiped out the female population. Life appears to be pretty difficult for Todd: He is the youngest person in town and he is extremely lonely because once boys become of age at 13, they no longer talk to the “children” anymore. Being the youngest, Todd can’t wait to be part of the club and counts down the days to his 13th birthday. One day, as he is walking on the outskirts of town with his dog (whose thoughts are hilarious. An example is “Poo, Todd? Poo?”) he encounters something he has never ever experienced in his almost-13 years in Prentisstown: silence.

This all happens in the first chapter of the book, and after that, the plot takes off racing. I won’t spoil it except to say that the first installment in the trilogy is by far my favorite because it is a literal interpretation of being able to control your emotions and express your person-hood. Todd had said early on that being able to hear each other’s thoughts does not mean knowing the truth about people. Sometimes, people lie to themselves, or their heads are so clouded with senseless Noise that they miss the small kernel of truth at the back of their minds. Men are also able to hide their secrets by thinking loudly about other nonsense. The problem, Todd explained, is that sometimes, Noise is just Noise, and just because you can hear it, does not mean that you can separate all of it from truth, desire, or made-up pretend stuff.

Todd, being an almost-adult, straddles two worlds—one in which he is free to be himself because he is the youngest, and the other where people are constantly trying to fit him in a certain mold. There is the running theme of “being a man,” and what it means to be a man at 13 in Prentisstown, but how that definition gets cloudy once Todd is faced with a different reality. The other thing that is touched on is that it doesn’t matter what your Noise says or what you think; at the end of the day, it is your actions that matter, which becomes especially difficult for Todd because throughout his journey, his prior beliefs are constantly being challenged.

#14 The Ask and The Answer

In the second book, we get to hear things from Viola’s point of view. The narrative is split between her and Todd, and you can feel them yearning for each other throughout. After arriving in Haven and discovering that it has been taken over by Mayor Prentiss, Todd and Viola are separated. Todd is stuck with Davy Prentiss, the smug son of the mayor; and Viola recovers from her wounds in a healing center that is headed by a Mistress Coyle, who is rumored to have once possessed great political power in Haven. Mayor Prentiss plays a major role in manipulating Todd and Viola, and as the book progresses, they realizes that sometimes having the best intentions does not end up with the most favorable consequences.

Another problem that arises is that the men from Prentisstown are unable to fully anticipate the effects of having women in their community. I thought Ness made an interesting parallel between the society in New Prentisstown (formerly known as Haven before the Mayor rode in on his high horse) and our reality. It seems like the mayor had a fear of women because of their immunity to the Noise germ. Not knowing what they thought or what they were going to do, the mayor cordoned them off to houses, or gave them curfews and restrictions. In the first book, Todd had said about Viola that because he could not hear her Noise in the beginning, he felt like she was made out of nothing, and did not actually possess human feelings. It wasn’t until he realized that you don’t have to read someone’s mind in order to know what they’re feeling that he fully understood the human-ness of women. In New Prentisstown, it seems like the mayor and his cohorts do not fully understand that. Though on the other hand, I think the mayor also did not want to understand it; he simply wanted to control it, and since he was not able to manipulate them from reading their thoughts, he decided to separate them.

There is sort of a similarity to other dystopia literature concerning women, such as The Handmaid’s Tale by Margaret Atwood. Because the women in Atwood’s novel possessed the power to reproduce—a dire need in that society—they were marginalized and hidden away. In the same way, women in Ness’ world were able to get access to information without giving anything away, and so this scared the mayor’s patriarchal sensibilities.

If I have to rank the books (and as I said, the first book was my favorite), I think the second book was my least favorite. Though I liked being able to hear Viola’s voice, I though that Ness gave her very easy, favorable conditions/choices, while he gave Todd really terrible difficult choices. At the end of it, when there are misunderstandings between the two, it felt sort of unfair for Viola to even question Todd’s choices. Who knows what I would have done if I were in Todd’s place, but he was basically forced to take part in slavery and a genocide. This aspect of the book hit me especially hard since in my daily life, I’m constantly reading stories about the Khmer Rouge and its tribunal, and though there are lots of crimes committed, it’s hard to determine who’s really responsible. So that part of the book resonated with me, but though I thought Ness’ narrative and plotting was effective, I was still pretty uncomfortable by how easy Viola had it compared to Todd.

I also liked that Ness did not automatically make it seem like the men were evil and blood-thirsty and the women were good and saintly. The character of Mistress Coyle was really nuanced and effective—I felt like her motivations really threw a wrench into what would have otherwise been a cliché “boys vs. girls” story. She was just as power-hungry as the mayor and she wasn’t afraid to do terrible things to get it.

#15 Monster of Men

The final book! Throughout the trilogy, Todd and Viola had echoed Ben’s words of how war makes monsters of men. Suddenly faced with the war with the Spackle, Todd finds himself having to control the mayor’s more crazy impulses while always trying to retain a sense of him self. The problem is that he has started to silence his Noise using a technique of that Mayor taught him, and Viola is worried that the lack of his Noise could mean that Todd is different. Meanwhile, the mayor and Mistress Coyle are still fighting to win the hearts and minds of the people, while also trying to defeat the Spackle using stealthy guerilla-style warfare.

Ness also introduced a new point of view from the Spackle, 1017, which Will branded and then later saved twice. To the rest of Spackle, he is known as The Return since he is part of the Spackle group that were left behind and enslaved by humans after the first war. I really enjoyed the look into Spackle society and how they communicated. Because they have all adapted to the Noise germ, it seems like the Spackle all have singular thoughts and desires—the entire species are actually joined together through thought. It’s an incredible thing to imagine, but Ness introduces the aspect of mind control using the mayor. Obviously, the mayor has serious control issues and seems to enjoy a good power trip, so instead of understanding the Spackle’s way of communication as something that unites them, he sees it as a way to control others. Which points out an interesting conundrum: If everyone thinks the same thing, is it because they each individually believe in it, or is it because everyone believes in it?

I’m not sure what else I can say about this book since a lot of the themes from the other two (knowing thy own self, the problems with wanting to control too much, how power can corrupt) are present in the final one. The ending still chokes me up even as I reread it, and I do like that it is open-ended because it allows you to imagine futures, not just for Todd and Viola, but also for how the humans are able to interact with the Spackles. All in all, this trilogy was incredible, and even more awesome is the fact that buried throughout it are questions that would naturally plague teenagers, but are still being confronted by adults. It’s funny because I know that at 23, I am considered an adult, but I am still faced with a lot of the uncertainties that I thought I’d be rid of by this age; in this way, I completely identified with Todd’s questions about himself and what it means to be a man. How do you live in our world where we are constantly being challenged yet still maintain a sense of your self? Frankly, I still have problems figuring that out.

CBRIII #12: On Chesil Beach by Ian McEwan

Reading Saturday was such an incredible and bewildering experience that I decided to pick up On Chesil Beach. Later, when I was talking Emily about it, she said the McEwan really specializes in the gut punch at the end of his books, and she is really not wrong.

Like Saturday, On Chesil Beach unfolds in real time. It is the wedding night of Florence and Edward and the book opens with them sitting awkwardly at dinner in their honeymoon suite while two waiters serve them their meal courses. Set in 1962 in England, Florence and Edward are both young and in love, but unable to openly express their feelings to each other. Edward, for example, comes from a poorer, more working-class family background, and throughout the book, he has to try and fold away his rashness from Florence so as not to push her further into her shell. Meanwhile, Florence is kind of uptight and closed-off, and though McEwan implies that it's due to her upbringing and the way a woman is the 60s is expected to act, Florence often wonders if there is something wrong with her.

All this, of course, leads to the question of sex. The young couple has never had sex, and McEwan goes so far to illustrate that Edward's marriage proposal to Florence came out of a desire to consummate their relationship. Though both individuals routinely profess love for each other, whether out loud or in their heads, there is a sense that neither knows very much about what goes on in their heads. McEwan's tightly-paced writing made me eager for them to just "do it already!" but it also inserted a feeling of doubt. At one point, Florence thought that "Sex with Edward could not be the summation of her joy, but was the price she must pay for it." I felt so sad for her because it's unnerving to me to have to marry someone and think that sex is the punishment in order to have be with someone you love. On the flip side of the coin, Edward is so excited to have her. He saw his sexual desire for her, but also feels that he one day cannot wait to have a young child with Florence. This thought, he took to be a sign of maturity, which is what prompted him to ask her to marry him.

I keep debating back and forth whether if I should have add a spoiler note on this review so that I can really discuss my feelings on it, but I think I am going to let the book stand on its own (without my own oh-so-important thoughts about the ending). While reading it, I kept anticipating for the next event and I was eager to learn more about Florence and Edward's upbringing and thought process. It's weird, and I can't tell whether if it's from McEwan's talent or if it's a result of the real-time type of plotting, but I did not think I was at all that invested with the characters until I got to the end. I barely identified with Florence, though I could understand her need and want to communicate with Edward, yet being unable to let the words form in her mouth. Meanwhile, I think I identified way too heavily with Edward, and McEwan's focus on him toward the end of the book absolutely killed me. The ending flashed by, compared to the slow (but not in a bad way) unfolding beginning, and I kept thinking, "No, this is too fast. Go back." McEwan managed to actually sneak up on my emotions and sucker-punch me in my metaphorical stomach, and the book ended up affecting me more than I thought it would (Funny how I keep saying that about all the books I read.)

I finished On Chesil Beach at a coffee shop, and after I was done, I felt so shell-shocked that I was actually in the real world. My heart was completely broken for Florence and Edward, and even as I tried to articulate my feelings later to someone who haven't read it, about why the book was so unbelievably heartbreaking, my words still were not able to fully form the sadness that came with the ending. It's a really simple story, really, but it left me thinking about it for days about the complex and nuanced role a person's gender can play into a loving relationship, but also how in the end, people often just live in their heads and if they were just able to properly articulate their feelings, they could possibly/maybe work their lives out.

Weekend in Siem Reap!

I went to Siem Reap with Emily two weekends ago since her parents were in town. It was really nice and super surreal—kind of felt like I was leaving real life for 2 days. Though it only 5 hours away by van, even just a quick jaunt out of Phnom Penh was such a welcome break from the city.

Our friend, Christi, had said that Siem Reap's like Disneyland for adults, and she is not wrong. The entire city is laid out so perfectly and everything seems to be comfortably walkable. There's a street where you can get drunk (allegedly. Emily and I were so beat from temple-hopping that we just stayed in our rooms and watched SYTYCD), and if you want to feel cultured, you can go to the temples. We only had one day to do the temples, so we asked our tour guide, Sokun, to take us to the three best.

First stop is Ta Prohm, which is better known as the temple where Angelina Jolie shot Tomb Raider. It was seriously hilarious how every single tour guide seem to have met Angelina Jolie. "Oh yea, I met her when I helped with the set design team of Tomb Raider," Sokun said. "She's very sexy." (I know it sounds like I think he's lying—he probably is—but that seems to be the schpiel that every tour guide dropped at this temple. I think they think Westerners really like Angelina Jolie, which you know, they're not wrong about.)


Sokun was an amazing tour guide and really informative, but I'll give you my cliff notes version: There are some very large, enormous trees in this temple. Some of the temple is actually held up by the giant tree roots, so if you cut down the trees, you will be removing an integral part of the temple's foundation.

I took a lot of photos of all three temples, but my photos will just not be able to convey the awesomeness of each temple. So I'll try to show off my favorite parts of each temple. Like this! Dinosaur carvings!!!

See the Stegosaurus?

It was really funny how Sokun pointed those out. He was showing us some intricate carvings with Apsara dancers on them, just describing in detail how each dancer is in a different position. Then he went on the other side of the column and just pointed at it and said, "Look. Dinosaurs." then walked away. Subtext: Westerners get Angelina Jolie and dinosaurs. No explanation required.

On our way to the second temple

Emily contemplating the giant face gate to the Bayon temple

The second temple was called Bayon, and it's famous for having enormous statues of faces.

There was a really intricate depiction of an epic battle on a stone wall. The creators of the wall even carved out different features for the different nationalities battling—for example, the Khmers had longer ear lobes, the Chinese had smaller eyes and wore hats and the Vietnamese looked kind of like mean monsters. (Quick Cambodia cultural lesson: Cambodians really don't like the Vietnamese. The word "Yuon" is the Khmer word for Vietnamese, but it also has a derogatory connotation to it.) Here's about a tenth of the wall with Sokun.

Did I mention that Sokun was awesome? I know i'm not saying too much about the temples and its histories (and frankly, a quick google search would probably do it far more justice than my half-remembered made-up blabbings) but he really had just this wealth of information. I know he probably could have been making half the shit up and I wouldn't have noticed, but he would go along with all these facts, and then correct himself after because he wanted it to be right. We basically spent the entire day with him and though I don't remember too many historical facts about the temple, I now know a lot about him and his life, and man, he is one fucking interesting person.

Here is a family photo of Em and I:


There were also Buddhist shrines set up in various parts of Bayon, with old ladies manning them. One of them beckoned at us and gave us a joss stick to offer to the shrine. Thanks to my buddhist upbrining, I knew that I had to bring the joss stick up to my heart, down to my head then out to the statue (If I remember correctly, it symbolizes giving what's in your mind and what's in your heart). Then I gave a little bow for extra effect. Emily did an awkward half bow with her joss sticks...

After we gave our offerings, the old ladies tied a red string band around our wrists. Emily told me that the lady who gave her the wristlet whispered a blessing of sorts, like good fortune for your future, etc. I didn't get a blessing (I don't think. I might have just been oblivious—it was a semi-emotional experience, to be honest) but it just felt really very nice, and I'm still wearing my red band.


Our third and final temple was the Angkor Wat temple. Here it is in all its reflective glory:



My favorite part about this temple was being able to go up to the highest level and looking out. The highest level is also kind of a bitch to get to—you gotta hoof up these very steep rickety metal steps that were constructed just for tourists because the actual stone steps would just be impossible to climb up. And you might not think you get vertigo, until you look down and realize that you could very well fall to your death.

Once I got up to the top, it was like I've been removed from the crowd of tourists and it's totally peaceful and I kind of got why these kings would want to even climb up those steep 72 steps (yea, fact-check that) to pray.

View from the top, in a photo that really does no justice to how great it feels to be on top of the world:

I saw monks on the way out of Angkor Wat.

Next, Sokun took us to the floating villages of Siem Reap. These river communities live on the Tonle Sap river and their entire lives take place there. They have floating school houses and it's very strange to see kids carrying backpacks and leaving the school, except instead of stepping into a car, they are just jumping into a boat.

Amok amok amok

I got inspired by other Cambodian food blogs to finally do my giant fish amok post, so go read it because I put effort into it.

Yadi yada

We were together. I forget the rest.

-Walt Whitman


(Does anyone know which exact poem this line came from? My Google skills bring up no answers.)

CBRIII #11: The Brief Wondrous Life of Oscar Wao by Junot Diaz

I often think to myself how exceptionally lucky I am to be who I am. I mostly credit my mother, my good fortune at being born an American and my multicultured upbringing (which I guess can also be attributed to my mother.) Yet reading about Junot Diaz's hero, Oscar, really made me think about this definition of luck, and how when turned on its head, it can also be seen as fate, or better yet, as destiny.

A lot has been written on Pajiba about Junot Diaz's book and I'm pretty sure I've seen it on two Pajiba's Best-Of's list, so there's not much I can say about the plot that you haven't already heard. The Brief Wondrous Life os Oscar Wao follows two generations of a Dominican family, one of them being of Oscar and his sister, Lola, which is pretty much present-time in New Jersey, and the other of their mother, Beli, who lived in the Dominican Republic under the tyrannical rule of D.R.'s dictator, Rafael Trujillo. From the beginning, the narrator has said that Oscar's family was cursed—though he also says that every Dominican family believes themselves cursed in some way. As each family member throws themselves headfirst into disastrous situations without thinking, I started to wondering about this "curse." Is it a curse if they are doing what they want, what they feel they need or have to do? Does making it a curse make it less of a personal choice, and more of a question of them fulfilling their destiny? I just couldn't shake the feeling that when put under the blanket guise of a Dominican curse, their actions seem to take on greater weight, when really, the heady consequences should have been enough to make it a conscious stupid choice made by conscious stupid humans.

If it sounds like I'm insulting the characters, I really don't mean to. After all, human beings do stupid shit that is unfathomable even to themselves, especially when it comes to love, which is where this entire family seem to to excel in fucking up.

Our hero, Oscar, is an overweight nerd who is the antithesis of a playboy Dominican, struggling between trying to claim his Dominican identity and being stuck in his painfully geeky ways. He can't navigate the world of women and is a virgin that wants so badly to have someone fall in love with him. The title of the book pretty much gives away his ending, yet I couldn't help but root for him and hope that everything will be ok for him in the end.

Meanwhile, his sister, who fights violently with his mother, can't seem to stay away from Yunior, also the narrator of this book, who cheats on her constantly. As for their volatile mother, Beli grew up in the DR and had to leave eventually because she kept falling in love with the wrong man.

Reading back on what I wrote, I know I'm not really doing the plot any justice, but I think the best part about this book is Junot's use of language, and how he has infused the DR history with a lyrical, hip-hop beat, while also making it so completely engrossing to read. After I was done with this, I did a quick Google read on Rafael Trujillo, and you know what? Not as interesting. That might have been my favorite part of the book, just learning about the history of a country while also getting a sense of the culture and myths that can't be necessarily articulated in a history book. There is a sense of magical realism throughout, which adds to this notion of a family curse—as I said, take away the curse, and you just have human actions. Likewise, Junot's writing elevates the plot from just a romance novel to a literary masterpiece.

Slightly different from the usual work day...