I was so beyond excited for this book to come out. I could only read it in short bursts, each time I opened it to read I’d become lost and entranced in the poetry but also somehow exhausted, like running a marathon. The text is flowery and introspective and at times daunting, like trying to decode a massive fever dream, but at the same time I felt this pull of understanding between myself and the main character. 

I don’t want to compare, but I’d be lying to say this writing lacks a certain Haruki Murakami otherworldliness to it. Immersive and undeniable. While it wasn’t always easy to understand, I think anyone reading this book would find certain passages they could relate to with their whole life, but I don’t think any two readers will find the same ones. 

This novel felt like a love letter to fandom, while also being unabashed to be critical of it. So many people think kpop fangirls are a monolith, yet Esther Yi created a woman here who is both the best and worst parts of being a devout fan. Believing in something unbelievable and seeking it hungrily. The main character felt so real, even when nothing around her seemed possible.