Review by Booklist Review
A thought-to-be-missing piano prodigy recalls an old friend who "used to quote [Oscar Wilde] a lot. He said to live is the rarest thing in the world. Most people only exist." In Yu's follow-up to her lauded debut, Braised Pork (2020), also an atmospheric study in disconnected relationships, Song Yan is one of many who exist under layers of others' expectations. She's always followed the piano, encouraged by her concert pianist father. Yet despite her talent, she "never became a concert pianist and settled for being a teacher instead." Her three-year marriage to Bowen is devolving as his job at BMW removes him for months at a time from their Beijing home, sending him to Shanghai and further. His mother has recently taken their second bedroom, and her physical proximity magnifies the emotional distance. Song Yan wants a child, but Bowen absolutely refuses; a missing sister, another wife, an unwanted son all loom. In order to live, prodded by talking mushrooms, that elusive prodigy, and, finally, the music, Song Yan will need to escape her stifling existence. Yu delivers another intimate, intricate performance.
From Booklist, Copyright (c) American Library Association. Used with permission.
Review by Publisher's Weekly Review
Yu (Braised Pork) mesmerizes with this surreal story of music and mushrooms. Song Yan, 29, a former concert pianist turned piano teacher in Beijing, has recurring dreams of a dark, doorless room where a ghost mushroom speaks to her. Meanwhile, her life is fraying: Yu brilliantly captures the dying throes of Song Yan's three-year marriage to Bowen, a BMW salesman; her untenable relationship with her mother-in-law; and her long-standing friendship with a supportive hairdresser. Everyone seems to know more about Bowen's late nights at work and extended trips to Shanghai and Munich than Song Yan does, and they also know life-shattering secrets about Bowen's past, including that he has a grieving ex-wife and a young son that might explain why he has been unwilling to have a child with Song Yan. Then there is the unsolved mystery of legendary pianist Bai Yu, who disappeared a decade ago, but might be the one who's anonymously sending Song Yan rare mushrooms. Along the way, Song Yan continues teaching and reflects on her favorite pieces by Chopin, Debussy, and Schubert. As Song Yan relentlessly surges toward independence and away from solitude and loneliness, Yu's blistering narrative reaches a plaintive end. Readers will be enthralled. Agent: Anna Webber, United Agents. (Jan.)
(c) Copyright PWxyz, LLC. All rights reserved
Review by Library Journal Review
Yu (Braised Pork) offers a luminous story of talking mushrooms, lost musicians, and a marriage shrouded in secrets. Concert pianist-turned-music teacher Song Yan is having recurring dreams of being trapped in a doorless room where an orange mushroom--perhaps a ghost?--asks for her help. Upon awakening, she finds that a mysterious package of rare mushrooms has been delivered to the apartment she shares with her husband Bowen and his mother, recently arrived from Yunnan Province. Narrator Vera Chok describes Song Yan's mother-in-law's eagerness as she uses the mushrooms to make marvelous but unsettling meals for Bowen. More mushrooms arrive, as do secrets about Bowen's past, all while Song Yan discovers that the mushrooms were sent by the famous pianist Bai Yu, who disappeared years ago. Chok exquisitely captures Song Yan's unmoored state, creating an eerie atmosphere where dreams blur with reality. Her voice is seductive as she describes Song Yan's music--the harmonies and occasional dissonances of Chopin, Debussy, and Schubert. When she voices Song Yan's mother-in-law, she allows a note of pique to come through. VERDICT Chok's graceful narration works in tandem with the otherworldly atmosphere that Yu has created. This unforgettable listen should please fans of Hiroko Oyamada.--Sarah Hashimoto
(c) Copyright Library Journals LLC, a wholly owned subsidiary of Media Source, Inc. No redistribution permitted.
Review by Kirkus Book Review
Talking mushrooms, classical music, and the complexities of identity infuse a semisurreal novel that contrasts the immediacy of daily life in Beijing with a mesmerizing dreamscape. Song Yan's marriage is a lonely one, pinched between the unexpressed expectations of her mother-in-law, who's newly arrived in Beijing, and her husband Bowen's continual absences for work. She would like to have children, and her mother-in-law is similarly pushing for grandchildren, but Bowen seems reluctant. Meanwhile, Song Yan has her musical pupils to teach and meals to cook, which suddenly include a new ingredient--mushrooms, boxes of them being mysteriously delivered to her door, addressed to a stranger but without a return address. As the daughter of a concert pianist--a career she herself abandoned--Song Yan has lived with music as a constant. And now a letter that arrives from the sender of the mushrooms leads her to another dimension of musicality; the sender turns out to be Bai Yu, her father's favorite pianist, who disappeared from public view at the height of his career. Song Yan finds him living in a curious old home that she visits repeatedly, to play for him and for herself, learning the background to his withdrawal. Simultaneously, she discovers that Bowen has been keeping secrets from her, crucial and tragic hidden facts that contain explanations and more mysteries. Yu's second novel, after Braised Pork (2020), once again explores an uneasy marriage, melding the magical with the everyday in a wife's search for escape and truth. A mood of yearning and a search for emotional freedom drive this simply told yet enigmatic story that includes bursts of imaginative flare, often lit by an orange glow. Intimate, melancholic, unresolved--perhaps frustratingly so for some readers--yet hopeful, Yu's story offers a restless female perspective working toward clarity. Dreamy and questioning, an unsettling novel composed of wistful notes. Copyright (c) Kirkus Reviews, used with permission.
Copyright (c) Kirkus Reviews, used with permission.
