This is a novel about music and sex, and the performance of both. The author nails her colours to the mast early. I use ‘mast’ advisedly: it’s a good phallic signifier. The author is not so coy. Her prose is transgressively graphic. This is not the story of a ‘good’ Asian girl.
Jena Lin is a musical prodigy who first toured at age eight and suffered a breakdown at 15. She is a violinist and has always been a soloist, but is now auditioning to join an orchestra. She succeeds and even secures an exchange position in New York.
There are hints at her past and the reason for her breakdown. To achieve success in music requires huge sacrifices: physically, mentally and socially. When Jena discovers sex, it’s approached with the same dedication. How much is she willing to subject herself to? With each recital came applause. No-one applauds her after sex; she is just used and discarded.
Much like watching a horror film, we want to scream at Jena to not go to bed with that man … but she does. This level of self-degradation cannot last (but it goes on for much longer than you want it to). Tables are turned at the denouement, but at what cost?
The sentences and chapters are short and sharp. This lonely girl is hurrying to the next musical or sexual assignation. The positions of power, both musically and sexually, are held by men. That sense of gendered control is strongly evident throughout. The first-person perspective is very powerful, but not pretty. Several times I needed to put the novel down and move away. In the end, I learned a little about orchestral music and way too much about sexual kinks.

Reviewed by Bob Moore