Elaine Hsieh Chou

But the moment he shut the apartment door, Ingrid couldn't help but feel a drop of relief. Although self-pity could be magnified when others corroborated it, in truth it was best enjoyed alone. Now she could sink into her lowness, really swim around and bathe in it. She also had no intention of calling anyone.

Ingrid Yang has always worked hard. Currently, she's stalled out on her dissertation, mainly because the subject matter, the famous Chinese-American poet Xiao-Wen Chou, isn't a subject show more that interests her, but is the subject that puts her in the running for a tenure-track job after she graduates. An accidental discovery sends her on a wild investigation, helped by her best friend Eunice Kim, that leads her to a startling discovery about the poet and into the middle of campus politics.

By all accounts, Stephen Greene was plain. He had a plain, thin face and plain brown hair. He wore plain glasses and preferred plain clothes paired with plain, unpatterned socks. He had the face of an unremarkable passerby or, when he stood in shadowy lighting, of someone on the sex offender registry.

Ingrid is a wonderful character and this novel is a lot of fun, even if it is sometimes heavy-handed in its parody of campus politics, especially as the rotate around the subjects of race and gender. Ingrid has always kept her head down and worked hard and now that she's faced with the destruction of all her years of study, she's determined to do the right thing, if only she can figure out what that is. I do love campus novels and this one has reinforced my love of them. show less

Ingrid Yang isn't always the most sympathetic heroine, with her infuriating lack of confidence despite all she's got going for her, but I couldn't help feeling for her anyway. We meet her when she is nearly at the end of her long path -- working on her PhD dissertation but totally blocked for reasons that become clear later on. She is in a stable, steady relationship with a stable, steady guy, which by her own account is exactly what she wants and needs. But then everything changes when she show more receives a cryptic note, which she follows up in the innocent hope that the information she might find will help her get over the hump and finish her dissertation. Instead, it leads to the unraveling of everything she has clung to for safety and stability (yes, that is a very important concept to Ingrid). This is billed as a satire, and I suppose it is, and maybe I haven't read a lot of satire (okay, I haven't read a lot of satire), but this work of "academic fiction" (I'm coining that particular subgenre) delves into much more than the insidiously corrupt vagaries of the academic elites. This is a story about how people will believe anything if it's tied up in a pretty, charismatic package, and it doesn't take much for people to fear and despise anything that is different from their own experience. It explores Asian fetishism (that is, white fascination with Asian culture and people -- and vice versa) and where preference might tilt dangerously into that territory. I've always liked stories that take place in academia, a path I flirted with, myself, and into which my daughter has her feet firmly pointed, but for her sake, I can only hope this satire contains more invention than reality. show less

At first, it strikes you as a quirky tale of academia, of identity crisis, love, hope, rebellion - hysterically witty, at times with dark overtones. But then it gets more serious - the author pokes serious fun at important political and moral issues of the day, even if exaggerating them somewhat. Bitter notes creep in, but justifiably so. The plot line that holds everything together has an unusual premise. Plus, it's always refreshing to see surrounding life through the eyes of an immigrant show more (or a so-called immigrant - as the protagonist, a daughter of Taiwanese parents, was born in the US), as well as frank ideas of what, according to the main character (or the author) many white people think (but maybe not say) about Asians. And of course, the title has more than one meaning! show less

In Disorientation, by Elaine Hsieh Chou, PhD candidate Ingrid Yang is halfheartedly at work on her dissertation when she stumbles across a weird note in the Xiao-Wen Chou archives. After this discovery, Ingrid pretty much stumbles into everything in this plot, meandering confusedly across campus and into self-discovery.

There's a lot to enjoy and to recognize in this novel, especially for comp lit readers and teachers. The description of Chinese-American poet Xiao-Wen Chou, with his show more accessible, marketable quotes on tea boxes, felt almost too realistic, and so did Ingrid's struggle to turn in some pages that would have some new scholarship to contribute, please her advisor, and not be so boring she'd fall asleep while writing it. Meanwhile, the descriptions of loud white men (with quiet Asian wives) in the East Asian Studies department felt way too familiar. I really enjoyed the scenes satirizing the school, and I particularly enjoyed how the author skewers literally everyone on campus, with snark and cutting insight, while Ingrid herself remains fairly clueless.

But Disorientation is uneven in parts, and the book drags in a few places where an interesting moment becomes an interminable scene. Sometimes this novel is a goofy story of Ingrid's madcap adventures trying to get out of working on her dissertation, but at other times, it's a harsh and insightful look at academic life, and at other times, it's a satire of stolen stories and faked experiences. I enjoyed each side, but by including so much at once, the novel as a whole feels disjointed.

Basically, I felt like I was reading two novels (maybe three?) at once. There's a silly, over-the-top comedy of Ingrid's goofy adventures. Ingrid, while avoiding her advisor, claims basically every illness she can think up. It's a buddy comedy where Ingrid and her best friend, Eunice, run insane investigations wearing goofy costumes and giving goofy spy signals. Our clueless heroine Ingrid is constantly right on the scene for key information to fall into her lap. It's fun, more like a pantomime than a novel.

But in the midst of the silliness, there are some dead-on insights and some fun snark. There's a clever commentary about who owns an experience, whether that's claiming to have written Chinese poetry, claiming to have written a website denouncing a fake author, claiming to speak a foreign language, claiming a relationship, claiming an identity, or just claiming the experiences of being alive. The book questions performed identity, too, like when a western character ostentatiously collects Chinese pottery to display his cultural expertise (and then trashes it when that no longer suits his needs). And then there's a look at who gets a second act screaming about free speech or who gets a contract for a book about being a Japanese translator who can't speak Japanese.

There's also snarky commentary about academic life, department rivalries, and publishing pressure. Throughout the story, academic characters seem to ask: sure, insightful writing is great, but can you turn it into money, tenure, healthcare? And if you can, does that mean a bit of networking and sucking up to the right people, or repackaging and rebranding, or... what? Anyone who's taught at a university, or tried to turn scholarship into money will recognize and enjoy this part.

Disorientation is an engaging but sometimes uneven book, with a lot to like in both the screwball comedy scenes and the clever satire scenes, but a disjointed feeling from both aspects blended in one novel. show less