Who owns a story?
This is the thought lingering in my mind after reading Yellowface. R.F. Kuang, after her widely acclaimed dark academia novel Babel, ventures into satirical literary fiction, focusing on the publishing industry.
The book features a small cast of characters—June Hayward, an aspiring writer, and her friend Athena Liu, a successful author. Athena dies in an accident, and June discovers her unpublished manuscript. Believing it to be Athena’s final work, June takes it upon herself to get it published. However, beneath this decision lies a deeper truth—June has long harbored mixed feelings about Athena’s success. More often than not, she sees Athena as privileged from the start.
June goes on to publish Athena’s work under her own name, justifying her actions by convincing herself that she put in the effort necessary to complete it. She struggles with guilt but eventually frames herself as the victim, feeling as though the world is against her and that no one could possibly understand her reasoning. She argues that the publishing industry favors “diverse” writers and stories like Athena’s, while white American authors like herself are increasingly sidelined.
After a while, the book becomes unsettling. For me, it blurred the lines between reality and fiction. The internet is flooded with book reviews and critiques, and in many ways, it is a democratic space—anyone with access can share their thoughts and opinions. Personally, I hesitate to call myself a reviewer, as I mostly write about my personal takeaways after finishing a book. I understand that reviewing literature is nuanced and requires a careful approach. That’s why I found Kuang’s portrayal of online reviews as a major metric for literary success somewhat shortsighted.
In my opinion, Yellowface is not truly satirical. Rather, it feels like a culmination of Kuang’s own thoughts and perceptions of the publishing industry. It’s blunt—perhaps even biased—especially considering that Kuang herself has had a relatively successful publishing journey compared to her peers. As I continued reading, I found myself less focused on the book’s themes of racism and cultural appropriation and more preoccupied with the limited, one-dimensional perspective of the industry. At times, it was difficult to read because Kuang struggled to fully establish her characters as either right or wrong.
That being said, don’t get me wrong—I thoroughly enjoyed the book. It’s gripping, and I couldn’t stop myself from turning the pages. Kuang’s vivid narration and rich details are irresistible. Through Yellowface, I gained insight into the hidden workings of the publishing world and how stories make their way to readers.
Rating: 4/5
Lit Loom 