I don’t know why this one. No really “good” reason. I just saw this one around a lot and it seemed everyone was enjoying it. So, I gave it a try. 

 

In a blurb that borrows heavily from Goodreads: Real Americans begins on the precipice of Y2K in New York City, when twenty-two-year-old Lily Chen, an unpaid intern at a slick media company, meets Matthew. Matthew is everything Lily is not: easygoing and effortlessly attractive, a native East Coaster and, most notably, heir to a vast pharmaceutical empire. Lily couldn't be more different: flat-broke, raised in Tampa, the only child of scientists who fled Mao’s Cultural Revolution. Despite all this, Lily and Matthew fall in love. In 2021, fifteen-year-old Nick Chen has never felt like he belonged on the isolated Washington island where he lives with his single mother, Lily. He can't shake the sense she's hiding something. When Nick sets out to find his biological father, the journey threatens to raise more questions than answers. And in the near future, Nick and his grandmother cross paths unexpectedly, and the full story of the family history all comes out. Can the family relationships mend and recover or are they broken forever? 

 

This is written in that common “contemporary” lit fic writing style. There’s an easy cadence to the writing, it’s well-paced, smoothly written, easy to follow, sort of conversational (but in a thought-out way, not stream of conscious), and the dialogue is really natural. Just, quality generic writing/storytelling. And I mean that in a complimentary way. 

 

The intergenerational perspectives that tell this story, and the jumps in time between them, really help maintain the mystery and unfolding drama over the course of the book. I was invested in all three characters’ narrations, even as they were such diverse voices/experiences and I personally identified more with some than others. It was impressive that Khong made all three as authentic as each other, despite how different they were. There were so many major topics and themes that were explored in these pages, from belonging to politics/history to science to morality (and more), all delivered within a framework of super high-intensity family drama, and a plot of intrigue and secrets. I loved that combination; it made for a page-turning reading experience. Perhaps a few holes/things that fell flat, with so much included, but overall very successfully done. And the ending…it was open-ended and not “clean,” but with a path towards reconciliation clear (if still not fully chosen by everyone) and that made, for me, a realistic and satisfying, and quite touching (tbh), conclusion. 

 

As I mentioned, there were a ton of complex questions Khong addresses in these pages. And I want to share a few of my primary takeaways, reactions/reflections, or otherwise just listing the themes that I thought Khong explored well.  

-          A really interesting take on making a difference/making the world a better place. Can it be done from the “inside,” as it were, or is it better from a grassroots effort? When considering a safer/healthier future, is forced genetic sciences a reasonable option or should we put effort into creating a world in which that doesn’t matter, because the framework (equality) is better? (I know where I lean…the latter.) 

-          Looking further at equality, Khong demonstrates how easy it is to cleave to money/power, whether born to it or adopted into it (and it is easier) versus the bravery to step away. Which actually allows a person more freedom (in general, like with temporal/financial independence, and as far as choosing a path for themselves)? Where is the perfect line between the two? Fascinating conversation. 

-          The always heartbreaking reality of how each generation wants the same for the next: freedom, choices … and yet due to our own experiences and the way time changes, how we choose to provide that has its own limitations. So, often, despite all our best efforts/intentions we can never achieve that singular goal. 

-          Whoa, the morality of genetic therapy (and the enduring strength of genetic ancestry/connection) is explored in a fascinating, engrossing way. A totally unexpected aspect of the novel for me. 

-          What an emotionally devastating look at how there is never enough time to do/be everything we want. And how yearning for more time so often causes us to lose the present (the time that we do have) even more/faster. 

-          As a sub-theme, which feels like a surprise because of the title, the question of what - internal and external - makes one believable as a “real” American. This is such a widely felt and explored concept in literature, and this book is a well-done addition to that body. 

 

There was a lot going on in this book, but each piece – plot, settings, characters, themes, writing – were developed fully in their own rights. It kept me totally entertained the entire time, and has a little something for a lot of different kinds of readers. I’d recommend this one for sure. 

 

“But the truth was something else - a reluctance to acknowledge a reality that made me uncomfortable. In the act of giving I conceded that I had more than I needed, and some had far less than they did. It was for no real reason, it wasn't fair. It shattered the illusion of my own free will - that I had made choices, and those choices had resulted in my life. To look away was easier.” 

 

“Once she had believed that connection meant sameness, consensus, harmony. Having everything in common. And now she understood that the opposite was true: that connection was more valuable--more remarkable--for the fact of differences. Friendship didn't require blunting the richness of yourself to find common ground. Sometimes it was that, but it was also appreciating another person, in all their particularity.” 

 

“I'd thought transporting me to another setting was all that was needed to render me normal. I'd failed to consider that I might be the same person here.” 

 

“Without time, ambition is worth nothing: It is only frustration. Time was what I wanted, more than anything.” 

 

“Time passes, indifferent to me. So much of my life I have let slip by, because I have not attended to it. All this while, instead of seeking more time, I could have been paying attention.” 

 

“This was what love had always been for me - denying your own reality in order to protect another person.” 

 

 “Hearing a story, what did it accomplish? Nothing. And everything.” 

This book is completely immersive—I read 100 pages in the first sitting! I’ve read a lot of good books, but I love the feeling of being completely sucked in and invested in how the story unfolds. 
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I LOVE intergenerational family stories, and this really hit the mark for me. I was somewhat confused by the prologue, but I enjoyed how everything comes full circle in the end. This book is divided into three parts, one for each character (generation). Lily and Nick’s sections were more coming of age stories (which I also love), but I really, really appreciated Mei’s section and perspective. Initially, when transitioning to a new character, I felt like I was left with many unanswered questions. Even though there are some gaps, I eventually became comfortable with this—I don’t need everything perfectly tied up. This also mirrors the “gaps” between the generations and the characters themselves. 
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The structure of the three different narrators fosters a strong sense of empathy and understanding. It made me rethink some of my initial judgments, and I like books that really make me think about the “gray areas” of life. It also left me to reflect on how parents do what they believe is best for their children (even if it doesn’t always work out that way). 
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This book explores some BIG topics, and while there are no “big answers” or revelations, I am okay with this. I think this story captures a lot of different human experiences and perspectives. It also grapples with some questions that have no definitive “right” or “wrong” answer. I do wish there was a little more time spent discussing the genetic aspect of this story. I am also curious about the order of the narrators—is it important we hear from Mei last?
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The ending does feel very neatly wrapped up. I don’t necessarily feel like it needed to be, but it’s not super off putting for me either.
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The reviews for this book among my friends were all over the place, so I didn’t know what to expect. But I really liked this one. I would teach this book if I were a college professor. I love contemplating existentialism and ethics in conjunction with each other and some of the biggest what ifs of our lives.

This is really excellent — I read a comp that suggested this is for readers of Tomorrow, and Tomorrow, and Tomorrow, but I think Pachinko is a more accurate comp for me. It has a similar grandly-sweeping time span, with deep and devastating insights about history and humanity through the lens of more closely personal and interpersonal moments.

I struggled a bit with the back third — the pacing of it overall and the use of the second person made it slower for me, and somehow it felt more practical: it landed more like the way the book needed to wrap up structurally than what needed to take place by emotional necessity. Ultimately it didn’t hit as deeply and personally as I wished, though as I said it’s totally excellent; I longed for more catharsis, more emotional outpouring perhaps, but that is also not the affect of the book or of the storytellers inside it.

Definitely recommend — I am curious about Goodbye, Vitamin now, though it make take me a while to get to Khong’s backlist. I’ll for sure take note of her future novels, if not immediately dive into them.

Real Americans is one of those books where the plot is different than what it's about. There are only a few major events (with the exception of the flashbacks in the third section, which I found the most compelling and, incidentally, plot-driven), but they're woven together with so many little scenes that tell a rich story that goes beyond the plot.

The story we're told is about race, about class, about belonging in America, in a hundred different ways. Lily's experiences as a Chinese-American are heavily contrasted with her son's, who looks entirely white and has a wealthy father, and both of them have a distinctly different experience than May, who grew up in China during the Great Leap Forward and the Cultural Revolution. The three narrators give us three different perspectives on these intersecting lines of privilege and power, and they illuminate the question posed by the book's title: What makes a real American?

I enjoyed each section of this book, but my favorite was the last third, especially as May describes her childhood in China. I'm increasingly drawn to historical fiction set in times and places I'm unfamiliar with: it brings a human element to history that is just fascinating to me. Learning more about May makes Lily's section more poignant, too; I think particularly of how May is so lively and happy chatting with Lily's hired help Jenny in Mandarin, but becomes much quieter when English is being spoken.

Overall, Real Americans was an entertaining and fulfilling read, especially once I understood that most of the story was going to take place at parties, in dorm rooms, and in little moments between friends and lovers.