I tore through this book really quickly. I'm a sucker for characters who get what coming to them, and this book was not a disappointment. What I didn't expect was that there was no tidy resolution. June's act of literary appropriation is discovered and interrogated, but the resolution is anything but tidy. I'm being vague to avoid spoilers, but this is a messy book, with messy characters and a messy resolution. So much of the drama unfolds online (which is probably par for the course with authors these days), which one of June's editors lambasts and says that most readers won't care, authors are all too online. I was left with a melancholy feeling at the end, when it was clear that none of the characters were willing to break free of the spiral that their actions brought on.

Yellowface is a deliberately uncomfortable read about appropriation and identity. The central relationship between POV character June and her classmate/friend/idol/rival Athena is the strongest part of the book, lending an undercurrent of racially motivated jealously to the whole narrative. This toxic relationship is utterly fantastic, and I wish there was more.

My biggest issue with the book was the lack of nuance — the extensive sections dedicated to online criticism undermined the novel’s attempts at successful satire. It made for a grippingly cringey read, but sometimes felt too exaggerated for the sake of the narrative. (Not that racism isn’t ridiculous or can’t be blatant and infuriating, just that June sometimes came across as an unbelievable character.) The best parts of her POV were when she tried to convince herself she wasn’t a hateful person, rather than the times she excused her behavior: then her delusion felt more realistic and satirical.

I really enjoyed the way white guilt operates in the novel along with the thinly-veiled criticisms of the publishing industry; the passages about tokenization, especially for authors of color, were compelling and relevant.

Overall, I couldn’t put this book down, but I struggled with some of the execution. When it works, it’s brilliant. When it doesn’t, it’s disappointing. Still, it was creative, frustrating, and intensely personal, as many of Kuang’s work is. Even with its issues, Yellowface is a scathing indictment of white feminism, corporate diversity, and public vs. private identity. I enjoyed this deviation from her previous work, and remain excited to read whatever she puts out next.

Many thanks to NetGalley and the publisher for an ARC in exchange for an honest review.