It’s been some time since I last read a novel that so beguiled and baffled me in equal measure as An Yu’s debut. In an unsettling, utterly captivating opening, Jia Jia discovers her husband Chen Hang drowned in a half-filled bath. Next to him is a strange sketch of a “fish man,” which Jia Jia believes is related to a dream he had during his time in Tibet, of a similar lurid creature. Was Chen Hang so haunted by his nightmare that he chose to end his life? Or was his demise just an unfortunate accident?
Either way, the death of her husband completely upends Jia Jia’s life. Although theirs was a marriage of convenience, the repercussions are devastating on a practical and emotional level. As she struggles to regain equilibrium, Jia Jia determines the best path to closure is by recreating Chen Hang’s trip to Tibet to find this mysterious “fish-man.”
Boasting overtones of Murakami, An Yu has crafted a novel saturated in magical realism that totally runs against my literary proclivities. Braised Pork worked best for me when Yu explores the human relationships rather than the ‘unreality’ of the water world, and the mystical figures Jia Jia meets in Tibet. Metaphors abound, but for me, they’re elusive; I didn’t quite comprehend all of the symbolism, which is less the fault of the author’s, and more the fact I’m not the smartest reader. When I was done, I was left oddly dissatisfied; not because of the quality of Yu’s fiction, or indeed her prose, which is beautifully lyrical; but because of my inability to truly understand it all. This’d be a great one for book clubs.
Format: Paperback / softback
Imprint: Harvill Secker
Publisher: Vintage Publishing
Publish Date: 9-Jan-2020
Country of Publication: United Kingdom