I've never once met a Briton to whom it had occurred that perhaps I spoke English because I am from one of their colonies. It is as if I were a piece of chess in a game played by people who never looked down at their hands. [loc. 330]
Short, sweet novella, presenting the diaries of Jade Yeo, a Malaysian immigrant to 1920s London. She makes a living writing for the Oriental Literary Review, which is run by her friend Ravi. Slating the new novel (The Wedding of Herbert Mimnaugh) by a darling of the literary scene, she encounters the author at a party and quickly discovers that he is dashing, romantic and married: and that 'any bauch he ever had has long been removed'.
Grist to the mill, thinks Jade ...
Jade Yeo is a thoroughly sensible, modern and pragmatic heroine. Her diary entries are written in a distinctive voice, sometimes hilarious, sometimes perceptive, sometimes both simultaneously. And she knows her own mind (at least most of the time), and her limitations.
Described by the author as 'basically Bloomsbury Group fanfic': can confirm. Delightful, fizzy and buoyant.
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