As anyone who has read a few of my reviews will know, I'm a huge fan of Asian literature, particularly in novella form, so when I saw this pop up on NetGalley, I immediately knew I needed to read it.

Braised Pork opens with the protagonist, Jia Jia finding her husband dead, face down in the bath. Her grief is mingled with revulsion and a surprising lack of emotion, until she discovered a hastily scrawled drawing of a 'fishman' in the bathroom. Jia Jia becomes infatuated with the fishman and a mysterious 'world of water' that takes her at seemingly random times throughout the novel. As Jia Jia strives to find meaning behind the drawing, her grief also gives way to a journey of self-discovery. She fears and craves her newfound freedom, feeling untethered, but embarks on a quest for the identity that her marriage and society have slowly worn away over the years.

It's this exploration of identity that really stands out. Whilst Jia Jia's own development is incredibly powerful, there's many other characters who are tackling their own identity. Whether it's her aunt, who is trying to define herself whilst being coupled with a partner who is a constant source of difficulty and strife, the old man she encounters in a Tibetan village who is haunted by experiences from the past, and the married woman she agrees to paint for. Each character has an almost dreamlike impact on Jia Jia's life, but their appearances are full of life.

In style, the book is unconventional. It's heavily permeated with dreams and visions, leading to a finished product that is surrealist and hallucinogenic. Accordingly the plot doesn't make a huge amount of sense, but it doesn't necessarily need to. The character's journey is so powerful, even if the steps along the way don't even make sense, that the plot's shortfalls don't leave too much to be desired.

The one plot element that left me a little cold was the huge amount of convenience involved. Jia Jia just seems to end up in a lot of places that prove vital to the plot without too much explanation. It's jarring enough to pull you out of the story, but largely forgivable as it's so dreamlike anyway.

Overall, I enjoyed the experience of reading this book. Jia Jia is an interesting character and the insight into Chinese society is fascinating. The writing is lyrical and weird and a constant journey, but I was left feeling mildly unfulfilled by the end. I'd recommend if you're a fan of Asian literature or surrealist literary fiction, but otherwise it's perhaps marginally too obtuse for most readers.

I received an advanced review copy via NetGalley in exchange for an honest, unbiased review. Many thanks to Vintage for approving my request.

An intriguing, mesmerizing, mystical journey of self discovery, of going from "floating through life" to actually having purpose.

I read this in one sitting on a flight and was glad to be able to do this,as it's a book to read slowly.It has a very dreamy quality and tells the story of JiaJia,a young artist living in Beijing who is trying to get her life back on track following the unexpected death of her husband..He leaves behind a mysterious drawing of a fish with a man's face,which sends Jia Jia in search of its meaning of this and asks more questions than it answers.
There are images of water throughout the book,which I found very beautiful to read. It also gives a very realistic impression of life in modern China which I found very interesting.The book ends on a hopeful note and I was satisfied with the outcome.
Recommended for anyone looking for something a bit different and beautifully written.Thanks to the publisher and Netgalley for an ARC in return for an honest review which reflects my opinions.

I'm often drawn to these quiet stories focussed on one person's psyche, unfortunately this one didn't capture me completely, but it takes a lot to grab me with a solely character-focussed story

We follow Jia Jia who, at the opening of this novel, finds her husband dead in the bathtub. All that her husband has left behind at the scene is an unusual drawing of a half-man, half-fish creature. We then see Jia Jia begin to deal with her husband's death, and having to support herself, physically, logistically, and emotionally

This novel reminded me a lot of Japanese literature I've read, although it was set in China and written by a Chinese author. That isolated story, or one person's experience, amongst a sprawling metropolis is a vibe I really enjoy

I'd recommend this one if you tend to enjoy Japanese literature or if you love character studies

Braised Pork pulled me in from the start, Jia Jia's journey is intriguing and compelling, and her quest to work out the riddle of and find the Fish-man had the strange dream-like quality reminiscent of Murakami. An Yu's prose is beautiful and the book is a real page-turner that also told me a lot about Chinese culture and Tibet today.

Braised Pork begins with Jia Jia discovering her husband dead in the bath, and from there readers go on a dreamlike journey as she breaks free from the constraints of her previous life, and into the world of water.

It's real and surreal all at once, an uneasy tension resting under everything; An Yu's writing is sparse but envelops through isolation, independence and mysticism. The mystique of the fish-man is interesting, yet the main draw is the reserved and intriguing protagonist as she gradually embraces a new freedom.

This is a book I started late at night just to see how it was and really didn't want to put down. Sharp writing, strange and brilliant book; it flows in unexpected ways. A unique read.

Just finished this book and although it was well written and a pleasant read, I did not understand it. It left more questions than it answered, why did jai jai's husband die? What did the fish man represent?

This is a weird little book and I'm not quite sure I fully understand it even now, particularly with some of the references that seem to lie in the magical realism realm of things. That said, I have to admit to really quite enjoying the novel despite this. It's a slow novel, focusing very heavily on the characters and I found myself drawn in despite myself.

The death of Jia Jia's husband is a shock to her, particularly considering the odd circumstances surrounding it; found upside down in the bath, the description of his body are borderline grotesque. It isn't long before we learn that the marriage between them was one build on convenience rather than of love, but that doesn't stop Jia from being left reeling in the aftermath. Was it suicide or a freak accident? We never know. All we do know is that he left a strange drawing behind, that of a figure with the body of a fish yet the head of a man. This sets Jia on a strange quest to learn more about this figure, perhaps in an attempt to understand or rationalise the meaning behind her husband's death. To my mind, this is where the heart of the story lies; a young widow trying to make peace with what has happened and find some form of understanding, only to find it slipping through her fingers like water.

This is a slow, quiet and contemplative book and for much of it, not a great deal actually happens. Somehow, this isn't as much as a negative as it could have been though as instead the pacing of the novel draws you into Jia's new loneliness and confusion. This isn't a book ringing with action, but it is a book that will make you think. In honesty, much of the symbolism of the world of water and the fish man passed me by as I was reading it and I found it somewhat aggravating that this was not really resolved to any form of satisfaction. Thinking on it, I suspect the dark and empty water world is symbolism for a form of depression perhaps? It's not made at all clear though and I am no more the wiser at the end of the book than I was at the beginning. But I did warm to the characters quickly and found myself investing in Jia as she journeyed to find her new self in this unfamiliar world.

In conclusion, this is beautifully written and balances themes of love, loss and grief along with the strange other world of water and darkness. I admit, I am just as lost now as I was to begin with and I think that further expansion and exploration of the water world would make this more accessible, but it's a fine - if a strange - little read.

Thanks to NetGalley and the publishers for my free copy of this novel as an ARC.

I was sent a copy of this book in return for an unbiased review.

I wasn’t sure what to expect from this book, the title is odd and a bit obscure and the description was intriguing but gave little away. I have to say though I was pleasantly surprised at every turn, from the shocking opening, the emotional twists and turns leading from that and right on through the quasi-mystical journey our protagonist goes on.

The book as a whole is very deftly written, talking plainly where necessary, alternately delving deeply or skimming over issues and situations as they arise, based on how the narrative is best served and the central mystery of the story is at once compelling, satisfying, and never fully revealed.

It’s just a thoroughly enjoyable book to read, highly recommended, I can’t fault it.

Set in present day Beijing, this is a story about a woman who finds her husband drowned in the bathtub. Jia Jia's husband was a very wealthy businessman but he leaves all his money to his family apart from the apartment he shared with his wife, which is the only thing he leaves to her, apart from a strange drawing of a half-man half-fish, scribbled on a piece of paper and left by the bathtub.  Jia Jia falls into despair after her husbands death.  His family disown her and she worries how she will manage for money as her husband never allowed her to work.  And Jia Jia gradually becomes more and more intrigued by the fish man drawing, obsessed even.  Why did her husband leave such a strange thing for her when he died?
This is a slow burning and sometimes surreal tale about finding oneself, with a touch of folklore and superstition.   A slightly weird but quite wonderful little story.

As a fan of contemporary Chinese literature I was eager to check out Braised Pork, which follows a young Beijing woman - Jia Jia - who embarks on a journey to understand a sketch which appears next to her husband's body when she finds him dead in the bath.

I think this novel will be enjoyed by many others, but unfortunately the story was a bit vague and meandering for my liking. I'd recommend this for fans of more contemplative and quiet novels rather than those that are more plot-driven.

Braised Pork is an unusual book, detached and contemplative in equal measures. Not all that much happens, but the storytelling is rich with metaphor and emotions the characters struggle to understand or define.

There were moments when the narrative became a little too impenetrable, but on the whole I found Jia Jia to be an interesting and empathetic navigator. I particularly enjoyed the reflective passages: there are some wonderful evocations of loneliness and finding yourself when all else is lost.

Braised Pork is a strange and beautiful book. It's captivating with its dream-like storytelling and emotive use of magical realism, as immersive as the world of water Jia Jia strives to find.

I’m all for new writers and new voices and so I was very excited to read Braised Pork by An Yu, which is being published in January. Set in contemporary Beijing, the novel weaves themes of isolation and fragile human connections with a dose of magical realism as it follows Jia Jia, newly widowed, who finds her husband dead in his bath with a drawing of a half-man half-fish creature close by.

Never happily married, Jia Jia responds to her husband’s unexplained death by trying to reconnect with herself and who she was before she married. However, unable to find answers, she instead finds herself increasingly obsessed with the merman drawing her husband left behind and sets off to Tibet to find the source or inspiration behind it.

Now, there’s much to enjoy here, most especially in the moments where Jia Jia finds herself lost in the water world where the half-man half-fish creature lives; a world whose walls become increasingly porous with our own. However, you can’t help but feel that this is the subject for a short story only; there is insufficient material here for a novel.

This curious tale reminds me of Margaret Atwood at her most curious, or Samanta Schweblin’s gloriously dark collection, Mouthful of Birds. Braised Pork fits beautifully amongst these but, even though the book is only about 200 pages long, it’s still too dragged out.

You see, Jia Jia does very little for about 60% of the book; her husband dies in the first few pages and it’s not until we are over halfway that she decides to go in search of the fantastical creature. All the time in between these two points is rather wasted. There’s little character development or revelation and Jia Jia is not someone we ever really get to know.

I love An Yu’s vision and creativity and I’m looking forward to seeing what comes next; perhaps her first novel should have been more tightly edited, however.

Dark and strange and wonderful and mysterious - a book to think about a long time after you've finished reading it.

‘We explain things that we don’t understand by using other things that we don’t understand.’

When Wu Jia Jia finds her husband dead in their bathroom, bent over the bath with his head submerged (we never find out if it is suicide or an accident), her life is totally changed. Left with only the apartment they shared and a small amount of money, she frequents a local bar where she meets Leo, has a brief affair, and ultimately moves in with her aunt and grandmother to save money. All this time she is haunted by an enigmatic drawing left by her husband in the bathroom, a fish with a man’s head. She is tormented by dreams where she finds herself immersed in the ‘world of water’, and as she struggles to sketch what she sees we are drawn into a world where the surreal, the magic realist, mingles with what we assume is real.

Following in her husband’s footsteps, Jia Jia takes a trip to Tibet, and from here the story unravels in a series of remarkable inter-connections where memory and reality become blurred with this myth (or vision) of the fish-man, whose connections with Jia Jia go deeper then even she could imagine. Along the way she meets Ren Qi, who is searching for his missing wife, and Grandpa, an enigmatic old man who has some connection to the fish-man carvings in a small Tibetan village.

This wonderful book reminds me of the world of the magic realists mixed with the cinematic vision of Guillermo del Toro. As Jia Jia’s story becomes a quest to find the truth about the world of water, it also becomes a search for who we are, about family, and about finding ‘home’. The braised pork of the title refers to a small incident late in the book where Jia Jia has a meal with her estranged father, who finally reveals the truth behind the fish-man story. The simple act of eating braised pork, her favourite meal as a child, releases a wave of emotion for Jia Jia that signifies a re-connection with her past, her memories and her family.

Quietly understated, full of slightly elusive imagery and metaphors, An Yu’s novel is a complex and moving story of one woman’s search for meaning. There is sheer beauty in her use of language, finding depth in simplicity: ‘She could not remember the details, only the existence of details’. This is not a novel that shows you the answers, only the questions. It is a novel to make you think and rethink the issues of loss and grief, of family and the intangible space between our ‘normal’ world and what lies beyond. Elegant and profoundly moving, this is a stunning debut from this Chinese-American author, and clearly signals an important new voice in fiction. 5 stars, no question.

(With thanks to the publisher and NetGalley for an ARC of this title.)

A beautifully written story that will make you think. It is a quick easy read.

Thank you to Netgalley for my copy.

An Yu's novel is a poignanty quiet and contemplative tale of family and finding oneself with a bit of magical realism mixed in; the main protagonist, Jia Jia dreams and/or hallucinates about the 'world of water', and this dream-realm proves crucial to her identity as well as being a key part of her background.

This is an unusual book and hard to describe. The best I can come up with Is Chinese magical realism. Other reviewers have given an outline of the plot, which is in part the story of a recently widowed young woman in China who travels to Tibet after a dream about water and a half fish, half man figure. What follows becomes an account of love, grief, loss and resentment, carried from early childhood and trapping the adult woman. Its strangeness to a UK audience is one of its strengths I think. Having said that I read it in a day on a long journey and it isn’t a difficult read at all, but complex enough to stay with you.

An understated and rather beautiful novel - nothing much happens, but I was captivated - the atmosphere reminded me of "The Garden Of Evening Mists." A tale of relationships, family and self and an effective exploration of character.

An Yu’s debut novel Braised Pork starts with the grotesque death of businessman Chen Hang in his Beijing apartment. His young wife Jia Jia discovers him drowned in a half-filled bath, face down and “his rump sticking out from the water”. Is it suicide or a freak accident? Jia Jia can’t really say, especially since the couple have long been drifting apart and Chen Hang rarely opened up to her. Jia Jia only has two clues to try to get to the heart of the mystery. One is the strange sketch of what she calls “the fish-man”, a fish with a human head, which she finds in the bathroom close to her husband’s lifeless body. Another is a related, unsettling dream which Chen Hang had whilst on a solitary trip to Tibet and which he had uncharacteristically phoned to tell her about.

Jia Jia’s marriage was built on convenience, not love. Yet this does not make it any easier for her to come to terms with her loss and with the upheaval – both practical and emotional – which her husband’s death brings. This unforeseen tragedy also triggers memories of older pains, including her parents’ separation and her mother’s death. Jia Jia believes that the solution of the “fish-man” enigma might give her the replies she craves, and she finally decides to get to the bottom of the mystery, by recreating Chen Hang’s trip to Tibet. It will become a voyage of (self-) discovery.

An Yu has given us a strange little novel which I’m not sure I managed to come to grips with. There is a strong element of magical realism, characterised by mythical figures (such as the “Grandpa” character Jia Jia meets in Tibet) and obscure dream sequences featuring a mysterious “water world”. Indeed, imagery relating to water permeates the whole novel – a Kindle search tells me that the word “water” is explicitly mentioned 107 times in the book. That, of course, does not include other more oblique allusions and images, including the aquarium bought by Jia Jia’s aunt, the description of the lakes and rivers of Tibet and the smog-tainted snow of Beijing, and even the unexpected mention of Maurice Ravel’s Jeux d’Eau in the final paragraphs of the novel. Jia herself is compared to water: Leo, the barman with whom she attempts a relationship, tells her she is “like water…your beauty is soft and quiet”.

The meaning behind these watery metaphors remains frustratingly elusive. Do they symbolise tears of grief? Is the dark “watery world” a symbol of depression? Few answers are given. And perhaps the author’s intention is precisely that. The magical elements add an aura of mystery and lyricism to what is, at heart, a touching portrayal of a young widow struggling to overcome her loss and make peace with her past.

Braised Pork is an unusual dish, and I’m not sure all its ingredients fit together. But despite my head-scratching, I certainly enjoyed reading it. Apparently, Harvill Secker bought 26-year old An Yu’s debut after a seven-way auction, and have committed to publishing her second novel. This author is going places.