Yiyun Li's new collection of nine short stories assembles a mournful cast of characters, from the wily ageing spinster with a stuffy widower firmly in her sights to the nervous young woman ruthlessly admonished by a lonely old man for an act of promiscuity she has not yet committed.
These are claustrophobic tales of Beijing life. Li's stuttering courtships and human failures offer a tiny lens through which to view the culture and mannerisms of modern China. Emotional and physical loss dominate the landscape, and characters seem condemned to spend their days endlessly scrutinising their past in an attempt to make sense of their present. The muted narrative style only adds to the tension: "I am a 41-year-old woman living by myself in the same flat where I have always lived," says one. "A bad marriage is like a bad tooth," declares another, "it is better to remove it."
Contemporary China, with its creeping commercialism, has rarely appeared as oppressive and gloomy as it does here, though Li, who won a MacArthur "genius" grant this month, has a certain amount to smile about.
