Loveboat, Taipei

Loveboat, Taipei Book Review by Abigail Hing Wen 

This book is solid. The few people I’ve foisted conversation onto about this book have heard me lavishly declare it to be the YA teenie-bop version of Crazy Rich Asians. 

And while I maintain that my statement above is still true, the book also contained some other elements that either came across as a breath of fresh air or a polluted cloud of toxicity that made me cough and wheeze. 

As for the general synopsis, it’s pretty simple all things considered. You have Ever Wong, a senior who is stressed about college applications, her own future potential, disappointing her parents, and ignoring the unrequited love she has for her best friend’s boyfriend. She also happens to be Chinese-American. 

Ever’s identity as growing up Asian in the predominantly white-as-bread state of Ohio is kicked off quite strongly from the get-go. Ever talks about how the said pining of her best friend’s boyfriend could have not been pining and instead could have been her, but that he was unwilling to put up with her crazy Asian parents and their strict limitations. 

She talks about how her dad, a revered surgeon in Taipei, has been relegated to pushing medical carts in hospitals in the States for the last twenty years as they wouldn’t recognize his medical degree. 

She discusses how she and the only other Aisan kid in her class have an unspoken rule of not looking at each other or calling attention to one another as to not emphasize their Asianness. 

As you can probably tell without having me list off a litany of other examples, this book heavily concentrates on race, identity, family, and self-control. At the beginning of the novel, Ever is a shy, timid girl whose willing to give up her dreams of dancing because it’s what's expected of her after all her parents have sacrificed to raise her in America. 

But then her mother sells her black pearl necklace to send Ever to Chien Tan, an immersion program in Taipei where thousands of Asian-American kids are sent for the summer, for the purpose of learning the culture, language, and other specialized skills like Chinese medicine, calligraphy, ribbon dancing and stick fighting. 

Ever is reluctant at first, desperate to stay back and find a way to keep dancing, but as her mother literally throws her leotard in the dumpster, Ever knows it’s a losing battle. 

So she goes. And she is amazingly transformed. 

The rest of the book details Ever’s excursions with finding friends and love, immersing herself in the culture that Taipei has to offer, coming to terms with her own identity and race, growing up, making mistakes, hitting a low point, and then getting back up again to achieve her dreams and fight for what she believes in. 

Now, the highlight of this book is definitely the representation, the talk of race and culture, and the actual experiences of Chien Tan, more commonly referred to by the kids who attend as Loveboat, drawn from the author Abigail Hing Wen herself. 

Loveboat, as they call it, is an actual program that the author Wen and others attended and still attend. It’s obvious just from reading how much of Ever’s experience is drawn from the author’s herself and that IS ALWAYS AN AMAZING THING. 

One of the first pieces of writing advice I Ever (hahahha sorry, not sorry) received was to write what you know. Wen does this and knocks it out of the park. Loveboat comes alive with her writing, flowing from page to page seamlessly. She crafts it with such care and consideration that you feel like you’re there yourself, down to what the dorms look like with sticking doors, what they serve for breakfast, and the electives offered for academic selections. All of these little details brought such life and realism to the story and it made it an incredibly engaging read. 

Add on Wen’s real talk of race, racism, identity, and the struggle for identity, and you indeed have a delectable concoction of raw representation from a person of color who has experienced these things first-hand. 

Authors of color and representation in YA of characters of color have improved drastically in the last few years, but it’s still something to be expanded upon, drawn from, and encouraged and explored. Wen’s story is almost entirely made of Asian teenagers of differing backgrounds and experiences, and it was honestly so nice to not read about another white girl from a white girl. The story was real and filled with culture and struggle, but also beauty, friendship, and acceptance. 

All of these things hark back to why I call this book solid. 

Now onto why I don’t call this book great. 

I legitimately would have preferred if this book focused more on Ever’s identity as Ai-Mei, her struggle between wanting to be a dancer and not crushing her parents’ soul by rejecting the medical career they so want her to be in, and immersing herself in all the wonderful sights, smells, and experiences Taipei had to offer.

 Of course, love and friendship and drama should play a role, this is YA after all, but personally I felt like the romance dominated the book almost entirely, shoving the questions of race and identity and struggle to the backdrop of a pretty redundant love triangle. 

Which. We’re over the love triangle people, stop writing them. 

But really, I understand that the two don’t need to be mutually exclusive, and oftentimes, Ever’s struggle with her race and identity went hand-in-hand with her struggles for romance, but there was JUST. SO. MUCH. OF. IT.  

It was like an episode of the Bachelor if the Bachelor would stop casting white people as their main lead. Every other chapter was a pretty cliched rendition of some kind of romance trope: the bad boy that draws, the arrogant boy that predictably has a heart, but also a girlfriend, the so-called girlfriend flying out to Taipei, the evil stuck-up girl, literal running into chests moments, shirtless of course, and so many more to offer. 

For an author doing incredible things on the front of representation and real talk about stereotypes, racism, and prejudice, I found her book pretty stereotypical of a YA romance itself. 

There were several plot points that were also just incredibly predictable (the nude photos, my god, saw that from a mile away) that made reading this book just a little bit lackluster when I otherwise was really enjoying it. 

Unfortunately, the biggest turn-off this book had for me other than the recycled plot and the ridiculous, predictable, ramplant love triangle were the characters themselves. They all kind of...sucked. 

They aren’t awful, by any stretch of the imagination, but they’re also not special either. Other than the fact that they’re Chinese, Chinese-American, or identify as another minority, and the implicit struggles and nuances that come with it, they were like any other archetypal character that I tend to dislike. By that I mean that many of the characters I found extremely one-dimensional. 

Each character had about two things about them that defined their whole characters. 

Now, not to blind you with my nerdiness, but other than books, I also am quite the connoisseur of anime. This book, in a lot of ways, comes across as a printed form of anime to me. There is a term in anime called Isekai which roughly translates to “accidental travel” and is saturated with shows all about people falling into magical worlds unpredictably. 

Additionally (stay with me here), anime is also quite infamous for having very archetypal characters where one or two traits dominate their whole being so completely as that is the only thing about them that comes across. 

Loveboat, Taipei in my eyes, is literally a print form of an Isekai. Which is not a compliment.

I really wanted to like Ever, Sophie, Rick, and Xavier, the predominant characters along with a whole cast of others. But I kind of...didn’t. Frankly, there wasn’t much to like or know about them. Ever’s character was dominated by her love for dancing and her determination to break from her parent’s protective shell, Sophie was a bossy bitch, Rick was Wonder Boy incarnate, Xavier was brooding and artistic-see where I’m going here?

Even the side characters were all identified by one thing-Marc with politics, Matteo with anger, Benji with being baby-faced. I understand that this is one novel and that it’s extremely hard to flesh out characters and unfold nuances and depth, but I personally found Loveboat, Taipei to be lacking in this quality, exceptionally so. 

Ever especially I found irritating. On some levels, I understand that Wen was trying to depict her as a flawed character who makes mistakes and learns from them, trying to represent the growth of her character and blooming into herself, but more often than not, I found her selfish, immature, and aggravating. 

When you add on that Rick is head-over-heels in love with her (as is Xavier) for reasons that don’t really make sense or are legitimately earned in the story, then the romance feels forced and falls apart, hence me wishing Wen focused more on other elements rather than romance. 

This plot contrivance, everyone, is what I lovingly call Bella Swan Syndrome-when a hot guy or vice versa falls in love with someone who legitimately doesn’t deserve it or the love is inorganic or just flat out doesn’t make sense. Wen attempted the whole hate-to-love thing, which I love, but also which I genuinely think failed here due to the romance being subpar and undeserved. 

Combine my lack of any real attachment to any character with the trite that was the romance, but mix it in with the praises above of realism and representation and you end at solid. 

Recommendation: If you are sick of the white people, I hear you. If you’ve been looking for books heavily centered on POC characters or written by authors of color, then I’m with you there as well. This book is a great novel for discussions of race and identity and for those Crazy Rich Asians fans out there. However, do not expect this to be the pinnacle of romance, story, or characterization, which unfortunately, falls below average on this one. 

Score: 6/10