A Quick Note On This Review: This article includes affiliate links to Bookshop.org as a way of supporting both local bookshops and my own ability to write.
Willis Wu, an actor who’s looking to earn the coveted role of Kung Fu Guy, the fantasy of every boy in Chinatown. Wu eventually earns a spot on a television crime show and gets his shot at becoming Kung Fu Guy, but soon realizes that it’s not quite what he thought it would be, and seeks to reconnect with his wife, daughter, and the part of himself that was lost in search of a bit piece in someone else’s story.
Interior Chinatown by Charles Yu was a quick read that packed a punch, similar to The Reluctant Fundamentalist by Mosin Hamid. The novel is laid out like a screenplay and it’s never entirely clear when Wu is on set or in his own life, which allows Yu to play with the ideas of identity and archetyping. It also enables the insertion of humorous instance of breaking the fourth wall to add some relief to darker, more difficult meditations.
Yu’s Interior Chinatown is an interesting book for as much for its content as its style. It feels like an extended meditation on race and identity, but Yu executes this in a way that’s accessible for everyone, even as he emphasizes and relies on the Chinese American experience. Willis Wu is a character that reckons with his identity as a Generic Asian man the way someone tells a story of Homer’s works in translation: there’s something about the experience that anyone can recognize, even if the individual meaning of what it is to be a man of Asian descent in the US differs from the experiences of men in other communities. In this way, Yu does something that he didn’t have to do: he asked the reader to consider not just how it feels for members of the Asian community to exist in country that consistently seeks to other them, but also invites the reader to consider all the ways they too have been typecast, and the impact it’s had on their own relationships.
I loved this exploration of race and identity, as well as Yu’s use of humor at just the right moments to keep the story moving, but I also think there’s an interesting meditation on subsets of identity in the connections to work and fatherhood. In terms of labor, Yu’s undoubtedly dealing with the systems of discrimination that put Asian American individuals into specific roles, but the moment when Wu decides to let Karen leave as he seeks to become Kung Fu Guy struck a chord with me, because it feels like the same story that every man in the US is asked to be a part of. Interestingly, Wu realizes his mistake, but the story doesn’t descend into an admonishment not to be a workaholic; instead, it explores how hope persists in the face of uncertain odds, and the way that love can make our lives far richer than any typecast occupation. The portrayal of fatherhood in Interior Chinatown was particularly interesting because of the positivity associated with it, compared with the deep responsibility that most books exploring the topic tend to portray.
When thinking about the readers who would enjoy Interior Chinatown, I could say almost anyone would enjoy it, given a chance. However, if someone particularly enjoys experimental works that play with the ideas of identity and what it means to be unique, then I think they would enjoy the text the most. I also think it should be part of any reading list an expectant father may pick up, because of the way it balances hope, play, and responsibility for the life of a child.
For writers, Interior Chinatown offers quite a few lessons, depending on the interest they may have. On the face of it, Yu’s work can provide a guide to how not to portray characters who are members of marginalized communities, as Yu drags the tropes to the forefront before eventually subverting them. Further, Interior Chinatown can illustrate to a writer interested in identity the ways in which identities change over time, growing, maturing, and connecting with other stories, so it offers insight into ways to write characters in stories that span generations. Lastly, I think Yu’s use of humor and experimental formatting that enabled him to keep the reader uncertain of when his characters were on set were enviable and could be a great source of inspiration if a writer was looking to write an experimental satire.
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What’s Next?
I am an avid reader and have quite a few thoughts on how some books could benefit both people that want to be entertained and those looking to sharpen their literary skills.
If you’re interested in finding out more about what I’ve been reading – and how it could benefit you – I will be publishing those thoughts on Fridays on a weekly basis. Check back next week for a discussion of John Sanford’s The Investigator!
The Writerly Review 