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A novel about a mother’s unbreakable love in a world consumed by fear. Twelve-year-old Bird Gardner lives a quiet existence with his loving but broken father, a former linguist who now shelves books in a university library. Bird knows to not ask too many questions, stand out too much, or stray too far. For a decade, their lives have been governed by laws written to preserve “American culture” in the wake of years of economic instability and violence. To keep the peace and restore prosperity, the authorities are now allowed to relocate children of dissidents, especially those of Asian origin, and libraries have been forced to remove books seen as unpatriotic—including the work of Bird’s mother, Margaret, a Chinese American poet who left the family when he was nine years old. Bird has grown up disavowing his mother and her poems; he doesn’t know her work or what happened to her, and he knows he shouldn’t wonder. But when he receives a mysterious letter containing only a cryptic drawing, he is pulled into a quest to find her. His journey will take him back to the many folktales she poured into his head as a child, through the ranks of an underground network of librarians, into the lives of the children who have been taken, and finally to New York City, where a new act of defiance may be the beginning of much-needed change.
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Despite loving Celeste Ng's previous 2 books, this one fell quite flat for me. Perhaps it was partially due to the dystopian setting (which isn't typically something I gravitate towards reading about). I think it definitely touched on some important topics, but it just wasn't my cup of tea.
Favorite quotes:
he turned away, so she wouldn’t have to pretend to be brave. To let her be alone with her grief, or whatever heavier thing she’d put on top to hold it down. (17%)
How porous the boundary was between him and the world, as if everything flowed through him like water through a net. She’d worried about him, moving through a rough world as a tender bare heart, beating out in the open where anything could cause a bruise. (46%)
maybe sometimes, she thought, the bird with its head held high took flight. maybe sometimes, the nail that stuck up pierced the foot that stomped down. (71%)