This is a novel about a white, fairly unsuccessful author who takes her very successful, Asian-American friend’s (or sort of friend) first draft novel when said friend dies, edits/finishes it, and publishes it solely as her (the white protagonist’s) work. The book obviously deals a lot with the issue of the protagonist lying, stealing, and taking credit for her friend’s work, her attempts to hide that and justify it to herself, >!and the fallout when she is suspected of/found out for doing just that!<.
One criticism of the book I’ve heard (and that was articulated very well by withcindy on Youtube) is that the book opens up a lot of interesting conversations on publishing and identity (e.g., who should write stories of marginalized racial/ethnic groups and historical and diaspora stories, the ethics of using other people’s trauma in fiction, the role of class and wealth in publishing and success in publishing, intersectionality of privilege and marginalization in publishing, etc) but doesn’t meaningfully engage with them because the protagonist is so very unsympathetic and racist, so it’s very hard to take anything she says seriously. I can’t help but think that the book could have perhaps engaged in these conversations in a more interesting way had the protagonist been honest about the joint authorship from the beginning and the in-universe book been published as being joint authored by the protagonist and her friend–many of the same conversations about race, history, trauma, and identity could have been had along with a conversion about joint authorship and specifically joint authorship when the authors have different positionalities and when only one of the authors is alive to speak. It might also make the protagonist slightly more sympathetic without absolving her of every immoral/questionable thing she does.
​
Thoughts?
by skyewardeyes