Edgier than Min Sook whatever's Free Food for Millionaires, Suki Kim's 2003 Interpreter makes no excuses for her post-college doldrums. Her characters engage in more illicit sex without compunction. This is a Barnard girl! New York creates more gotham-y people than Harvard, with a cooler and more streetwise sensibility. Kim's prose has the advantage of a more jaded and 'cooler' tone, resulting in some neat prose even on the first page. The thing flows and has twists.
High 3/5, near 4. Like many NY ethnic writers, Kim is fascinated by the minutiae of the Immigrant Experience. However, whereas Oscar Wao broadens this out to post-modern word games and a true universal appeal (and hence bestseller status), Kim delivers straight fiction leavened only with some daring in stance and word choice. It's annoying that the 'ethnic writer' doesn't "get it" that majority writers aren't 'celebrating' dominant culture. David Mitchell isn't celebrating England or Englishishism (per intent). He's telling us a story, and somewhere along the line, purely unintentionally, the greater complexity/superiority of anglo-saxon culture is demonstrated, without any attempt or desire to do so. He is, furthermore, experimenting with form, with voice, with story-telling technique. The beat-up ethnic (particularly the Korean) is "responding back" to West culture with a sort of "I can be tough too" creation, but they're just delivering straight narrative, not seeing that they're missing the opportunity to elicit a new literature, a new consciousness, or a new literary breakthrough. There's no post-modernism here. There's no Dissociation Identity Disorder mind-screw. There's no Vonnegut iconoclasm or Atwood slipstream creativity. It's just 3pm on a rainy Sunday in Montauk over and over again. Korean fiction is also heavily marked by the "small store/ dry cleaner / fruit stand" perspective. Chang Rae Lee remains the only KA author to have successfully integrated this into a bigger than life novel. And unlike, say, 'Invisible Man,' there is no larger grasp of America. Just another latte. Just another Montauk.
Suki Kim is still a leap skip and a jump ahead of Free Food for Millionaires, but this is a passable work, and unnecessary for any but a specialist audience. Near 4. It doesn't have a stunner close. There's some notable skill even on the first page, with 'neat' prose and 'edgy' prose, and smart things done here and there. But Native Speaker is still the benchmark here, and to some degree this book is a repetition. Kim is not an incompetent story-teller, but she doesn't quite deserve the 4, and doesn't get deep into the skin of the reader.