Shanghailanders by Juli Min
Reviewed by Bryn Robinson
Oh, Juli Min’s Shanghailanders is something to behold.
A lush, tight tale, Shanghailanders effortlessly weaves alternating perspective primarily between the father Leo, mother Eko, and the three daughters, Yumi, Yoko, and Kiko. (At times, other points of view are shared on the family: Those of the maternal grandmother, Daphne; the family driver; the girls’ nanny.)
These are wealthy, beautiful people who want for nothing material but still struggle with defining themselves as unique, vibrant voices. And while, on the surface, this could have you believe you are bracing for a tired narrative of bored rich folks searching for more, it works because of how Min expertly unravels their story — in reverse. Beginning in 2040, and ending in 2014, the story peels back the layers of their emptiness: strata of regret, resentment, wishes unfulfilled, and the desire to truly be seen. (Particularly poignant in a city with roughly 30 million residents.)
At one point, a character repeats a quote from a favoured manga (Ghost in the Shell):“Can you offer me proof of your existence?” And as the family ebbs and flows through time, who they were and who they became, their identities are rooted in relation to how others see them. As the book progresses, the reader can only increasingly see this as the fraught, fragile endeavour it is.
All of the characters crave deeper human connections, placing themselves in situations to try and be seen by another. A missing piece, though, is their collective inability to experience that crucial feeling (sometimes called “sonder”): That the others are wrestling with similar complexities. At one point, Eko remarks to herself that only a mother could know and understand what it means to be “amoebic”, stretching over time until one no longer held a shape with defined boundaries. In another story, the youngest daughter reflects on her Chinese studies: The Chinese characters for “sad” and “happy” are “broken heart” and “open heart”, respectively — and how having an “open heart” (to others) is technically to have one that is broken. Indeed, life and love are never simple, single-sided affairs.
Recently issued in paperback format (the original hardcover edition published in May 2024), Min’s first book is a perfect escape for those of you searching for a summer read with substance.
About the Author
Juli Min is a writer and editor based in Shanghai. She studied Russian and comparative literature at Harvard University, and she holds an MFA in fiction from Warren Wilson. She was the founding editor of The Shanghai Literary Review and served as its fiction editor from 2016 to 2023.
About the Reviewer
Bryn Robinson (she/her) lives in New Brunswick, Canada, where she uses her PhD in experimental psychology to help her support mental health research in the province. She prefers contemporary fiction, narrative non-fiction, graphic novels and poetry that is emotional, reflective, and if it can do it with humour, all the better. Bryn also writes on Campfire Notebook, where she regularly features original poetry. When not reading, she's searching for birds in the New Brunswick forests and seascapes, camera in hand.
Book Details
Publisher: Spiegel & Grau
ISBN: 9781954118607
Paperback / softback
8 in x 6 in - 288 pp
Publication Date: 20/05/2025