If I had been asked to write a review right after reading the first story in Sour Heart, my review would have been completely different. I thoroughly enjoyed Sour Heart and I was excited to read fiction in an area that I had never really read about before. However, it quickly became apparent though why We Love Crispina was the first story: it was the strongest and the editor knew that it would be lost if it was placed anywhere else in this book. From there it quickly felt like the book was going down hill, the language became crude and sexual. This wasn't something that frustrated me, but combined with the lack of flow in the language it became difficult to read. What did frustrate me, was that there was no distinction in the voices of the narrator from story to story. In fact, you could have told me that it was the same girl at different points in her life and I would have believed you.

I finally decided that the only way I was going to finish this book was to put it down and come back to it and read certain stories at specific points. I wish this book could have just focused on Christina, I could have read an entire novel about her and her family.

…back in those days, we lived in a one-bedroom apartment so subpar that we woke up with flattened cockroaches in our bedsheets, sometimes three or four stuck on our elbows, and once I found fourteen of them pressed to my calves, and there was no beauty in shaking them off, though we strove for grace, swinging our arms in the air as if we were ballerinas.

Sour Heart by Jenny Zhang is a raw, unbounded look at the coming-of-age for minority girls in New York. The narrative focuses mainly on a Chinese American family and their relatives, friends and acquaintances. Zhang is uninhibited in her examination of what it means to be the daughter of immigrant parents; how that experience shapes your worldview and attempts to define your life.

“What makes you happy makes Mommy happy,” she would always say to me, sometimes in Chinese, which I wasn’t so good at, but I tried for her and for my father, and when I couldn’t, I would answer them in English, which I also wasn’t so good at, but it was understood that while I could still improve in either language, my parents could not, they were on a road to nowhere, the wall was right up against them, so it was up to me to get really good, it was up to me to shine and that scared me because I wanted to stay behind with them, I didn’t want to go any farther than they could go.

Written as a collection of short stories, the characters and experiences become so interwoven that it is almost unnecessary to tease them apart to find the separate beginning or ending. Throughout, we learn about the struggle of the parents to survive in America. Living with relatives ten to a bed, stealing and dumpster diving are just a few of the experiences that highlight their extreme poverty from which a sense of desperation, frugality and, surprisingly, hope is born.

I knew in the very fuzzy part of what I paid attention to that my parents had suffered, too, they had struggled, too, and whatever happened to them in the year before I was brought to America was somehow related to their refusal to ever order beverages at restaurants because paying an extra dollar or two for something they could get in bulk for cheaper activated some kind of trauma inside them.

However, for their daughter’s these sufferings are just a garish reminder of their otherness. They certainly love their parents, with a sense of obligation born of tradition, but they cannot help to reject them and to strive to be better, to do differently.

But now I wanted to be free. I wanted to be free to be selfish and self-destructive and indulgent like the white girls at the high school my parents worked so hard to get me into, and once they did, once we moved into a neighborhood where no one hung out on the streets, where everyone was the same pasty shade of consumptive blotchy paleness, all it did was make me want to get away from my family. I envied white girls whose relationships with their parents were so abysmal that they could never disappoint them. I wanted white parents who didn’t care where I went or what I did, parents who encouraged me to leave home instead of guilting me into staying their kid forever..

Zhang does an admirable job balancing this storyline with another important one. In what is likely to be her trademark style, she write scenes that are gritty and graphic, exploring the unbridled sexual maturity of girls. The urgency to know our body, to understand these changes is intensified by the pack like nature of their impoverished communities- the close proximity forces this development always into your field of vision.

I was actually looking forward to learning something, but all we ended up doing on the first day was sit around in a circle looking at diagrams of girls’ bodies at various stages of development from no boobs to tiny nubs to big fat round globes, and then somehow got into a long conversation about what sort of touch was appropriate and what was inappropriate. The whole thing was as foreign to me as a house free of Frangie. I mean, all touch was wonderful and the small amount I had experienced in my life was too precious to split off into categories of “wanted” and “unwanted.” And what if we wanted more touch? I felt like asking but never did.

As the story moves along, it becomes clear that the effort of life has embittered our narrators- souring their hearts to their past and the possibility of the future. In this honest debut, Zhang is not afraid to shock nor is she ashamed of the story Sour Heart is telling.

I want to move on, but to what? To where? Most days I can’t imagine a tomorrow until it’s already yesterday. Am I supposed to just keep waiting? Why did you create life? Is it so wrong to wish you had never made me or my mother or my father or their mothers and fathers and all the mothers and fathers who came before them? All I’ve ever known about any of them is how much pain they went through …and I’m just supposed to go through it too? Well, forgive me if I don’t fucking feel like it. If I don’t want to be a story my children rant about to their children when I’m dead. Forgive me. Fucking forgive me. Goodnight.

I was looking forward to reading this book of short stories but I found them depressing. The style, with many run on sentences, was not appealing to me.

I started reading this yesterday. I had it on my tbr list for this month but I got very distracted by other books. That's who I am, though. I have to deal with myself a lot.
Anyway, I'm nearly half way through this and I am already in love with Jenny Zhang's writing style. She has this dead pan humor, so honest and straight-forward. So much personality in her writing. Yes, her style is very modern.
The cover for this book attracted me to it, it's so beautiful and artsy, so when I read the first paragraph of the first story, I started laughing. The first paragraph of this book is about shit. Yes, poop. 😂
Each of these stories are from the perspective of young girls living in New York in the 90s whose parents are from China. I am especially partial to stories from these perspectives. I guess I relate to Zhang's stories, as well. I too was a young girl living in a big American city in the 90s with immigrant parents.

This is a work of genius. These stories are difficult to read, but so evocative. They will make you feel.

“We Love You Crispina” (= first 13%): I enjoyed this story about the string of awful hovels a family of Chinese immigrants is forced to move between in early 1990s New York City. You’d think it would be unbearably sad reading about cockroaches and shared mattresses and a father’s mistress, but Zhang’s deadpan litanies are actually very funny: “After Woodside we moved to another floor, this time in my mom’s cousin’s friend’s sister’s apartment in Ocean Hill that would have been perfect except for the nights when rats ran over our faces while we were sleeping and even on the nights they didn’t, we were still being charged twice the cost of a shitty motel.”

I don’t know if it’s that I’m out of practice reading short story collections, but after I finished this first story of the book I felt absolutely no need to move on to the rest.

Sour Heart is a collection of short stories about experiences of Chinese immigrants living in New York.
After reading this I was initially unsure how I felt about it. The basic thread of the story was intriguing and the beginning was promising but there were parts of the book that I felt were just there for no reason.
The stories in Sour Heart have the common theme running through them of immigrants trying to find their own identity separate from their families and their home countries.
One of the main struggles I had with Sour Heart was that there was no character I felt was particularly likeable or even overly memorable. This made it difficult to identify with any of them and difficult to care enough about the story to persevere, the only reason I read the whole book was because I hoped the promise shown in the initial story would be present throughout.
There was one story in particular that put me off this collection and that was the one where the children performing forced sexual acts on each other. It was uncomfortable reading which in itself wouldn’t put me off but it seemed like it was gratuitous.
The very first story in the collection, ‘We Love You Crispina’ was witty and interesting. Focusing on an immigrant family living in poverty it presented their life in miniature. It was everything a short story should be.
“Back when my parents and I lived in Bushwick in a building sandwiches between a drug house and another drug house, the only difference being that the dealers in the one drug house were also the users and so more unpredictable, and in the other the dealers were never the users and so more shrewd – back in those days, we lived in a one-bedroom apartment so subpar that we flattened cockroaches in our bedsheets.”
I suppose what I have to say about this book is that it wasn’t for me but I don’t think that means it won’t be a great book for other people. It just wasn’t to my taste.

Sour Heart is a collection of 7 short stories about Chinese immigrants.

I think the first story, "We Love You Crispina" was probably my favorite. There were a couple of tales that were cringe-worthy and uncomfortable, and a couple were a bit dry and boring.

This is not really my usual genre of choice for reading, but I enjoyed it nonetheless.

Disclaimer: I got an eARC of this from NetGalley in exchange for an honest review.

Interesting read about the struggles with immigration in the 90’s. I liked how the stories intertwined.

Thank you for the opportunity to review this work. She has a strong voice and if the description appeals to you, then do not hesitate to give Sour Heart a read!

This book was absolutely not for me, sadly. I'm not squeamish in any way, but the first two stories were so difficult to read and so graphically gross, I just couldn't read anymore.

Sour Heart is a fantastic collection of seven short stories that not only shines a spotlight on immigrant history, but also on the transition these families undergo from generation to the next, passing on their burdens and sharing their own stories.

While each of these stories looks at different people and situations, there is a red thread connecting them all: their interaction with one family in particular. This central family begins and ends this collection, like bookends, introducing us to the way poverty, culture, and family intersect. And waving us goodbye with a story that looks to the future, examines the scars of the past on each generation, as we witness the beginning of another.

In this way, these two stories were my favorite, because of Zhang’s powerful and compelling narration in the first, unlike I have ever read before. And finally, because of Zhang’s ability to encapsulate all the experiences in between within the span of a single story, reminding us that the next generation goes forward with a careless freedom for never having to experience the struggles of the previous, but shaped by it nonetheless.

While I enjoyed these two snippets the most, the five stories in between were like looking into shards of glass. Each had its own distinctive flair and point to be made. The interwoven history of the families within this collection made it feel like we were reading the history of one big family. And in a way that’s exactly what it was. This community of immigrants, united by their shared feelings of hopelessness, of dreams withered, and the exhaustion of the daily, formed a tight knit community that acted as a pseudo family organism.

Some major themes throughout was the sacrifice of parents for children, the hollowed out remains of the American dream, the entitlement of future generations, and the strain of immigration on the entire family. No small feat, and Zhang explores these issues within the span of seven stories comprised of varying narration styles and voices that come together into a chorus.

I do not want to delve into each story individually, but I think that this collection is perfect for those that grew up in New York City, any Chinese or Taiwanese-American immigrants, or anyone who is curious about the way the interaction between the second generation immigrant individual and their family.

Zhang's Sour Heart is a skillful anthology that leaves the reader wanting more.

With multiple characters and intersecting story lines, these stories give us an insightful look into the immigrant experience, the shifting boundaries of identity, and the relationships that anchor us and our families. I look forward to reading more of Zhang's work and though she does seem to belong, in some part, to the "Miranda July school of Gross-Out Literature" she has an incredible, engaging voice that I would like to hear more of!

Exciting new stories from a great new voice. Honest, funny and uncomfortable, just like life.

Hilarious. Uncomfortable. Honest.
These are the adjectives that instantly come to mind after reading Sour Heart.

I can truly say that this book surprised me. It was NOT what I was expecting. In fact, I knew very little about this book when I began reading it; I received it as an ARC, so I didn't check out the description too thoroughly when requesting it.
In fact, until I finished the book, I was under the impression that it was nonfiction! Needless to say, I feel like an idiot.
For those of you who have had the chance to read it before its upcoming release in August, you understand the shock I experienced being under the impression that this book was a true-story collection of seven girls' actual experiences growing up in New York City!
Moving on...

I have to say I LOVED the first story, "We Love You Crispina"! From the first couple pages, I was literally laughing so hard I was crying!! (And let me tell you, this happens rarely for me.) The narrator's descriptions of her father's never-ending string of girlfriends had me in stitches, while her explanation of how the family was so destitute that they couldn't even use their own toilet when Mother Nature came calling shocked me beyond belief.

And these opposing feelings--horror and humor--pretty much set the tone for the entire book. One minute you're appalled, the next you're wiping your eyes from laughing so hard. Strange.

This being said, "The Empty the Empty the Empty" had me so disturbed that I could hardly get through it.
Let's just leave it at this: If you don't have the stomach for vivid descriptions of children performing forced sexual acts on one another simply for the sake of performing forced sexual acts on one another, then it's safe to assume that this is NOT the book for you. I have read many disturbing things in my lifetime, but this particular story was over-the-top disturbing.

After that, the book seemed to just kind of taper off and remain at a semi-interesting level. Just......blah. I had a difficult time remaining motivated to read it except for my personal motto of never giving up on reading a book unless it's horrifyingly terrible.

I think the problem was that I had high hopes for it remaining a good book because the first story entertained me so well.
*sigh*

I will say, though, that I'm sure Zhang's accounts of the Chinese immigrant families Dumpster diving for every meal, living in neighborhoods rife with dangerous gang activity, and living in cockroach-infested apartment buildings while sleeping ten or twelve to a room had quite a bit of truth to them.
I can't even begin to imagine the horrors that real-life Chinese immigrant families, such as the ones the book is loosely based off of, had to go through during their first few years in America.
And I cannot begin to comprehend the level of disappointment they experienced when they actually arrived and discovered that America, like every other country in this world, is not all that it's cracked up to be--it has flaws (BIG ones), just like every other place--and these flaws are never more evident than in the poorest neighborhoods of the most crime-ridden cities of the most populous states.

Although this book shocked me, it also resonated with me. I walked away feeling grateful for my childhood and the conditions in which I grew up. They weren't perfect, but they sure as hell were not as bad as the ones described in the book.

After reading Sour Heart, I feel like I have a little insight into the struggles that immigrant families must endure as they adjust to a new life, and I can empathize a little better as a result.


*This was an ARC provided to me by the publisher and author in exchange for an honest review.*
May 14, 2017

I was excited to pick up Jenny Zhang's short story collection, Sour Heart, after hearing so much hype both about this author and the first book out from Lena Dunham's new imprint. The stories primarily speak to the immigrant experience (China to US) and many of them specifically deal with the added points of view of lower class life and the experiences of children and young people. Reading the first story, I had to do a double take to see whether this was memoir or fiction, the writing is so personal and raw. In that sense, these stories had the feel at times of Bonnie Jo Campbell's Mothers, Tell Your Daughters. Sometimes difficult to read because they do feel so intimate, but so real and necessary, you can't stop reading.

What a vivid glimpse into the Asian American immigrant experience! These stories aptly conveyed the model minority myth and anti-blackness that is often rampant in these communities.

This book is a complicated collection, both in Zhang's sentence structure - often meandering, run-on statements, that require your full attention - and in character development.

I received an ARC from NetGalley in exchange for an honest review.

I was excited when the publisher granted my request for this ARC because I knew it was going to be on Lena Dunham's new imprint (I am a huge fan of her HBO show and one of her recs I recently read - author Chelsea Martin - did not disappoint). Jenny Zhang has already published and while her work is new to me, I was excited to see what she would do here.

For those coming along because of this association, fans of GIRLS or of Dunham's work will likely enjoy these stories, as Zhang challenges narrative forms and plays with limits of comfort and discomfort the way GIRLS does. However, the so-called millennial "shallowness" that has plagued critiques of Dunham's work isn't noticeable here. The characters in the stories are flesh and bone and while often flawed, cannot be written off as "vapid".

These stories tackle family, immigration, poverty and more, and do so with a poetic, ambitious beating heart. Some are easier to read than others (some are quite dark), but my favorite story was one that centered around the protagonist's relationship with her brother. I am happy I have been introduced to Zhang's work!

“She looked like an alien. (But then again, I was an alien, too; that was the box I had to check on every form. Did aliens have unalienable rights? Were we entitled to liberty and justice?)”

Let’s get this out of the way, there are a couple of stories at the start of the collection that some readers may find disturbing, particularly the sexual encounters between Lucy and Francine and the horrible treatment of Frangie. In fact, some people will stop reading there. But not all the stories carry on in that vein and it would be a shame to miss out of Zhang’s solid writing. Too, the children running wild on the streets of Shanghai, coming into power, turning in parents, abusing and punishing their elders, naming any and everyone at their whim as a counterrevolutionary is beyond humiliating and horrific. History is not pretty. I will revisit this collection in coming months, because it’s not out until the fall of 2017 and I want to wait to finish my review when it’s closer to the release date. But I was riveted by their struggles against poverty, trying to acclimate to a completely new culture and how it touched the lives of their children. Every immigrant experience is different, I have much more to say when we’re closer to the actual release date. These are not light stories. When I got deeper into the book, they changed tone- the characters were fascinating. Watch this space.

Publication Date: August 1, 2o17

Random House Publishing

Lenny