Yellowface in Literature: Continuing the Conversation on Cultural Appropriation
by Rebecca F. Kuang
This story begins on a typical Parisian afternoon, where my friend Kristina, who commissioned this review, and I, decided to do what we do best when feeling blue: escape into a bookstore. We headed for one of our favorite spots, Shakespeare & Co., despite the influx of female TikTok tourists queuing at the entrance, attempting to capture their version of a “Parisian aesthetic.” , there's an enduring magic to this place.
I’m not sure if it's the legends behind these walls, the meandering journey through narrow alleys lined with infinite sections of books, or the scent of damp wood and paper, but there’s just something about this particular bookstore where I never leave empty-handed. Kristina and I have a little game where we separate upon entry and meet an hour later, each with our finds of the day. And, just like me, she never leaves empty-handed. So, on that typical, dreary Parisian afternoon, I laid eyes on "Yellowface" by R.F. Kuang for the first time.
The vivid yellow cover, adorned with a pair of teasing almond-shaped Asian eyes in the middle, immediately caught my attention. I grabbed the book, turned it around, and read mentions of its status as a New York Times bestseller, though that holds little weight for French readers, along with a few words about the synopsis: “white lies, dark humor, deadly consequences”. I’m intrigued. Yet, it was the words within the first paragraph that drew me in, compelling me to add it to my growing stack of purchases.
In the line at the counter, Kristina told me that "Yellowface" had been on her wishlist for a long time, expressing her delight that I chose it. I’m always impressed by how she keeps track of literary news across the Atlantic.
As we were about to head back to our respective homes, she asked how I planned to go back. She knew I always had two options: the RER B, a mere two minutes away and a quick 3 stops home, or the bus 38, which would take forever to cross 3 different arrondissements. I opted for the bus. She laughed, knowing very well that I couldn’t wait to bury myself in my newly bought book.
"Yellowface" tells the story of two friends, June Hayward and Athena Liu, who met in college and became frenemies.
"Frenemies" caught my attention online while preparing this review, and I became obsessed with it. It refers to the complex relationships between humans who meet in specific contexts where they're expected, if not pressured, to "make friends" despite lacking much in common, sometimes secretly despising each other. The worst is when that context vanishes, yet through social gatherings, you pretend to be happy to catch up with that frenemy, when in reality, you've been anxious about seeing them for the previous 48 hours, barely able to sleep or eat, only to conclude with a fake "we should do this more often."
Just a few days ago, I ran into a childhood friend, M, who also lives in my neighborhood.
We were together in elementary and middle school and always had a healthy affinity for each other despite never being very close. She mentioned to me that she recently met with D, my "frenemy" from middle school, but M doesn't know that. D was the cool girl everybody wanted to be friends with, and I was no exception to that. She was pretty, thin, sporty, funny, and always wore the latest sneakers brought by her infamous big brothers who were into some illegal business. In the Parisian suburb I grew up in, the epitome of cool was to have an older brother who had been to jail at least once. I was the eldest daughter followed by two baby sisters I was scared I couldn't protect. Yet, I felt like the luckiest girl in the world when D made me part of her crew, only to realize that I was only an object of entertainment. I was constantly mocked for different reasons, and for the following two years, I became extremely self-conscious of what I would say, what I would wear, and how I would act to avoid becoming the object of humiliation. I did everything possible to become invisible. Then I turned 14, and deliverance came with a new class. "She's a mom of two now," M told me. I nodded, smiling too much. "She follows you on Instagram! Does she?" I'm already sensing what's about to come. "She said she's impressed with what you've become and your glamorous life!" I laughed internally. Yes, I do work in fashion and get to attend shows, and travel to some good places, but I swear my life has absolutely nothing glamorous. No savings despite having turned 30, no financial education, no prospects of a life partner or family, but yes, I do own some pretty clothes. Of course, I will never tell her that. I like the idea that D thinks my life is more exciting than hers. "She said she'd love to catch up soon and do something together." "Sure," I replied, knowing very well that I will never, ever impose that on me. It is somehow ridiculous because we were literally 12, 13 when D mistreated me, and I'm sure she became an amazing person and an amazing mom, at least I hope she did. But if there's something I learned from this experience early on in my life, it's to easily and unapologetically remove myself from a group or a space where I don't feel appreciated or, in the opposite case, where I don't appreciate.
So out of the many reasons I hated June Hayward, the narrator of Yellowface, this was the biggest of them. June clearly hates Athena. She kinda liked her when they were in college but has been despising her since they graduated as Athena became a more and more successful author enjoying both literary world acknowledgment as well as commercial success while June did not. She says she doesn't understand why they're friends or why they're still friends and is pretty convinced the only reason Athena wants to see her is to brag about her Netflix deal and amazing life, yet she willingly goes to that drink she can't seem to enjoy, even worse decides to follow her to her apartment led by her sickening jealousy and curiosity when she could've easily excused herself. At this point, I'm curious about Athena's point of view, how she perceived June. Does she genuinely like her or does she use her as June says to remind herself of her success? If so, why would she do that? Did something happen in college? Did June ever do or say something that would make Athena want to take a sort of social revenge on her, or is Athena simply completely oblivious to the effect she has on her friend? We will never know because Athena dies in a quite ridiculous and frightening way that same evening while she invited her friend over to her apartment to celebrate her Netflix deal.
Here, in the midst of shock, June decides to leave the apartment once the ambulance and the police arrive to declare her friend's passing, with the latest secret manuscript Athena ever showed anyone but her minutes prior to her death.
For the next few days, June is not mourning her friend but rather shocked by her sudden death and confused by what she should do with that manuscript. Still, she quickly tweeted about her "distress" and "sadness" about losing her friend and being the last person she was with simply to enjoy the online attention she was receiving for the occasion.
As she's about to lose her contract with her agent who's been pressuring her to write something, anything, June decides to submit Athena's manuscript that she filled with her own research and some personal preferences. By the time her agent put the book in auction for publishing houses, June had claimed total ownership of it.
There begins the real story because, you see, June genuinely thinks that Athena is not that talented but just happens to be the right person at the right place at the right moment. Athena is a pretty Asian charismatic woman while June is white and "uninteresting" in an identity crisis America where every institution "unfairly" swears by diversity and inclusivity, especially in the publishing world. Which is quite ironic considering that despite being white, several publishing houses will bid to acquire Athena's manuscript, which she submitted under her very white name, but June believes that is because of her talent for rewriting Athena’s story even better than her.
What is absolutely frightening is how the system will believe her credit and legitimacy to publish a story about Chinese laborers sent to World War I by the British government and even worse consciously blur her white identity for book marketing issues. They suggest she uses her middle name Song instead of Hayward and suggest a photoshoot that will make her appear tanner, thus racially ambiguous.
When the editor's assistant, an Asian employee at the publishing house and part of the editing team, suggested that they should hire a sensitivity reader, June strongly objected. When the assistant insisted and reminded her that she wasn't part of the Chinese diaspora and a Chinese sensitivity reader could double-check on some used Chinese terms and accuracy, June groaned, "I knew it. She's the only one who doesn't like me," and will eventually get her fired.
Reading Yellowface is a disturbing journey where you frustratingly root for annoying June to reach the heights of her stolen success, only to see her fall harder in the most public and humiliating way, providing you with a much-needed satisfaction. That satisfaction comes in the form of a mysterious Twitter account metaphorically named Athenaliughost, marking the beginning of June’s end while she happens to be literally haunted by Athena’s ghost outside of the Twittersphere. The rest is for you to read.
For the purpose of this review, I’ve read several critiques on the overly simplistic language used by R.F. Kuang and the superficial treatment of the literary world according to some serious editions. I couldn't agree simply because, as a non-native speaker, I, on the contrary, appreciate the simplicity and sharp choice of words from the author and the knowledge I’ve gained regarding the lengthy process of actually publishing a book.
Some others criticized the unrealistic main character and lack of growth. This made me pause. What personal growth could be expected from a character like June? Yes, for the purpose of fiction, some decisions she might have taken seem unrealistic, but outside of the redemption of her lies and manipulating people to conceal her lies, especially Athena’s heartbroken mother, it’s impossible to envision June’s character growing. That's because the story is precisely tackling today’s completely divided society on social and especially racial issues.
I have personally long given up on the idea of being understood by the white majority. I don’t need it. I am conscious of the limitations of one’s understanding of my identity and racial situation, and I’m fine with it. What is important to me is my personal growth without compromising my identity or having my identity be a subject in any space I delve into. I refuse to be a token, or perceived as such. June will never understand Athena’s being and will never realize her entitlement. That is the reality we live in today.
When the question of her legitimacy to write about the narratives of Chinese laborers is raised during a conference, June replies that “it is dangerous to censor artists and writers about subjects they’re allowed or not allowed to write about”. This is a current debate outside of the context of the book. This reminded me of the time I bought a book during a very quick lunch break about a Moroccan man whose father had just passed and for whom he had to organize the funeral in Morocco. I immediately bought it because this was way too close to home. I was reading the first pages when something caught my attention. A neighbor came in to present their condolences and nobody asked her to sit, the house was empty, and also, blasphemy, the main character served Moroccan mint tea in a mug. I choked, immediately looking for the author’s name. A white French man. Clearly someone who didn’t take the time to hire a sensitivity reader. I never finished it. That was the last time in my existence I bought a book without looking at the author’s name.
Thus, for the first time, June said something I agreed with because, as a reader, I'm the one in power to decide whether to buy a book or not. I would have never bought hers.