When I first opened this book, I was not sure what to expect. The front of the book reveals its two main gimmicks: the "writer" of the book is Baba the cat, and Baba will feature prominently in various costumes throughout. I thought this would be a silly, charming little read about cats, something that would be a fun time. And my brother got this for me for Christmas so I felt an obligation. Little did I know this would actually be a well-researched and insightful exploration of cats. The book is not very long, so there is not a lot of depth—the book is a lot of charming anecdotes—and there is a heavy European focus, but I did learn a lot of interesting facts. While the conceit got a little tiresome at times, I generally was charmed by the narration style and the commitment to the bit. 

I would definitely recommend picking this up if you're in the market for a cozy little history of cats. 

I have been trying to figure out how to write about this book since I finished it a few days ago. While I was reading the book, I was heavily invested, especially in the fate of Makatea. I was sure the book was going to be five stars. The ending disappointed me, but I'm not one to let a somewhat weak ending get in the way of an otherwise strong book, so I initially rated this book 4.75/5. But the longer I think about the book, the more I question it. The ending was disappointing for being a little too trite, but the more I think about that triteness, the more I wonder if that is in fact the perfect ending for a pretty but trite book that relies on a level of emotional manipulation rather than world-building or character development. Was this why I was so invested initially? Did I just let myself get swept away by the melodrama? Perhaps, since I greatly enjoyed The Overstory, I just wanted Powers's most recent book to have the same magic. Playground tries to capture some of that magic, but ultimately it fails. I'm not saying this is a bad book; I still gave the book 3.25/5 stars. However it does not succeed in being a nuanced critique or exploration of any of the themes or issues it touches on. Rafi's experience as a black man is gestured to, but never explored; the fate of Makatea is hinted at it, but never stated; Evelynne's life is left as this bittersweet tragedy for no obvious reason. And perhaps the most offensively of all the story is left, primarily, in the hands of a white billionaire. The ending is so deeply ambivalent to ultimately say nothing. It is a beautiful book about the ocean and relationships, but it is not a book that says much. 

Before reading this book, I knew nothing about this company except that they made phones. Or that they released a smartphone that made a big splash when I was a teenager maybe...? In other words, only the haziest idea of what I was getting into—my favorite way to enter a history book.

What I learned was fascinating. I was on an entire journey through time learning so many things I didn't know I didn't know. Dou presented the information in such a straightforward manner that someone (like myself) with no frame of reference for the history of telecommunications and only a small frame of reference for the history of China could understand enough of the pertinent context to understand the story's details. The book is meticulously, almost obsessively, researched. Barely any detail could go by without a note. (If you are like me and went looking for what the superscript numbers were referencing but could find no end- or footnotes, you're not crazy, they aren't in the book; you have to get them off the author's Twitter/X or website. I wish the publisher had included something clearly directing you to that resource.) I feel like I have a decent conversational knowledge of this topic and its implications; not anything to match an actual expert, but I feel at least knowledgeable.

At the same time, the book's rhetoric couldn't decide what it wanted to be. For most of the first half of the book, the narrative was entirely facts-based. Dou's experience as a journalist is obvious in reporting the straight facts. For some, this almost recitation of information might be boring, but I found the subtleties of this presentation style engaging. All of the little ways I kept catching myself imposing American arrogance and assumptions on people with zero of the same philosophical, moral, historical, or cultural touchpoints as myself or almost anyone I know; all the moments Dou would slip into the chronology to remind us that much of the first few decades of this history is hazy and based on self-reports from people with a vested interest in telling a very specific story—all of these slips gave what could be a dry presentation of information a bit of life and kept the reader's 21st-century context present if de-centered. But as the book's timeline and the reader's present draw closer, this nuance slips away to center on the trial of Meng Wanzhou.

I had no idea who Meng Wanzhou was until I read this book, and the implication is that the reader is "waiting" to get to this point. I understand the trial's significance now, but I think Dou (or her editor, publisher, etc.) might've misread her audience. The target audience of this seems to be someone who does not have much or any background information on Huawei or the major players in its history and is looking to learn more. Someone who has been following telecommunications history probably would already know quite a bit of this information. Perhaps that audience is primarily drawn from having learned about the company via the trial, but that was not the case for me, and the end of the book left me feeling like an outsider to the book.

In short, the book was informative but if you're looking for something that's action-packed or adds emotional stakes to the story, this won't give you that. If you're more interested in delving into a complex and rich piece of modern history, I would definitely recommend checking it out, just be forewarned the ending goes a little sideways rhetorically speaking.

The writing style doesn’t make sense. The author seems to be going for an “old timey” style but novels weren’t invented in the 1500s so she ends up just sounding ignorant 

This is not an unmitigated five-star review, but any time I cry at the end of a book I feel obligated to give it five stars for moving me so completely. I rarely cry when reading, so when an author can move me to tears, I have to respect them. Before the last quarter or so, this book was sitting at a comfortable four stars, so my emotional outburst did not cause a sudden reversal of my opinions; it was just a supremely pretty bow on an already pretty nice package.

The book follows the lives of two high school lovers, separated by a fateful decision due to the whims of history, only to be reunited in their eighties. The pair grew up in Shanghai and the various occupations, revolutions, de-colonizations, and immigrations send the two down very different life paths, trying to make the most of the lives they've been given. Their choices often matter little when standing face-to-face with the force of history, but they have to keep making decisions nonetheless. This was definitely the most relatable part of the book to me; not that I have lived in a war zone or grown up in an occupied city but that we are constantly making decisions without knowing even a fraction of all the factors involved. From our point of view, we can look back in time and ask why someone did something at some time because "couldn't they see what would happen soon?" Well, maybe they didn't. Or maybe they did and wanted to live in denial. Or maybe they did and just wanted to taste freedom and happiness before everything came crashing down on them.

One of the conceits of the book is that the story is being told in two timelines; Suchi is telling her story chronologically while Haiwen is telling his story backward. For the musical theater nerds out there, you've probably already spotted this is the same narrative structure as The Last Five Years. Unfortunately, the musical pulls this off much more effectively. I'm left wondering if Chen is familiar with the show because there are some neat narrative solutions there that would've helped the novel quite a bit. Ultimately the dual time-line point of view narration mostly served to just structurally reinforce the pair's differing life philosophies rather than serving a narrative function, unlike in The Last Five Years.

I've made you wade through my other yapping to what you really want to know: Why did I cry? An epilogue I didn't see coming that is told from another point of view entirely. Both characters are burdened by the guilt of who they've left behind, and the end of the book leaves us with some small balm for that wound. I won't say more than that so you also can have the unique pleasure of feeling pain for fictional characters.