Loss, Loneliness, and Love in Yiyun Li’s Latest Collection

“Welcome to the land of the unfortunate and the deserted,” intones a character in the newest collection of fiction from rising literary star Yiyun Li. This melancholy statement serves as an apt introduction to the nine perfectly-realized worlds in “Gold Boy, Emerald Girl.” Alongside her tales of the miserable and despondent, however, Li’s enchanting prose also nurtures a distinctly more uplifting message. Ultimately, “Gold Boy, Emerald Girl” thrives on a constantly pulsing, energetic undercurrent: a triumphant depiction of the power of interpersonal connection.

“Gold Boy, Emerald Girl” is Li’s second collection of short stories and follows her critically-acclaimed novel, “The Vagrants.” These earlier works have garnered an impressive roster of awards, including The Paris Review’s Plimpton Prize and the Frank O’Connor International Short Story Award. Recently named one of “20 Under 40” top writers by The New Yorker, Li has been drawing considerable attention as a vivacious new talent.

Regardless of her status as a relative newcomer to the literary world, Li’s fiction embodies a mature, fully developed richness. This quality lends to each story the property of flawlessly immersing a reader into an alternate universe. Nowhere is this power more palpable than in the collection’s briefest and most penetrating tale, “Souvenir.” This story incorporates the emotional substance of a lengthy novel into mere pages, masterfully chronicling the narrative of a man’s fruitless pursuit of an unnamed young girl and her devastatingly hopeless love for another. The tale comes to a crescendo with the girl’s unforgettable speculation: “[s]he wondered how much they understood love, and love despite the fatality of humankind.”

Similarly somber, emotionally wrought circumstances reappear in each of the worlds that Li creates within “Gold Boy, Emerald Girl.” The narratives are littered with heartbreaking moments; in the novella “Kindness,” a father presumes to apologize to his adoptive daughter for a lifetime of shortcomings. Li’s characters are overwhelmingly lonely, often faced with the dilemma of whether to open their hearts to another or to resign themselves to the safety of isolation and reticence.

Nevertheless, the beauty of human connection permeates, and ultimately dominates, the text. Sometimes, this uplifting theme radiates from nondescript corners; in “Kindness,” it’s the associations that Moyan forms with other women that serve to shift her to a less-pessimistic worldview by the novella’s end. In other stories, human connection is the centerpiece, as in the deep and unexpected bond that develops between two men in “A Man Like Him.” (In describing this nascent connection, the protagonist delivers one of the work’s rare but charming moments of humor, stating: “[h]e imagined that a friendship between two men should start over harsh liquor and variety meats.”) In “Prison,” a woman who has lost her child tentatively develops a bond with another woman whom she has hired as a surrogate mother.

Thus, no matter how harrowing the circumstances, Li finds a way to elevate human connection to the forefront of narratives littered with heartbreaking tales of loss and solitude. Despite this remarkable achievement, the collection does veer slightly toward the melodramatic. Li’s plotlines are a relentless revolving door of tragic fates, crippling loneliness, and innumerable deaths. The reader occasionally becomes desensitized to yet another heartrending demise of a spouse or an additional relative succumbing to debilitating illness. Nevertheless, the collection’s emphasis of the beauty surrounding the pains and tribulations of existence offsets this numbing quality.

Alongside these universal themes, “Gold Boy, Emerald Girl” also explores the culture of its setting, Li’s native country of China. Chinese culture saturates every aspect of the work, including Li’s use of figurative language: in “Kindness,” Moyan describes “a quilt and a blanket, both dark green, folded as though they were sharply cut tofu.” The depiction of Chinese culture extends to direct historical references describing political oppression and life in the Chinese army, and is particularly prevalent in describing gender relationships and the culture of organized matchmaking. More than a mere establishment of setting, Li’s cultural exploration is one’s of the book’s central thematic components as she investigates the interface between new and old cultures in her home country.

Ultimately, Li’s artful prose and her portrayal of human connection infuse the collection with optimism and a unique beauty. Each story plunges the reader fully into a world in miniature, allowing for complete emotional immersion. Succinctly conjuring personal histories and emotional ranges for her characters, Li ensures that her poignant depictions of loss, loneliness, love, and transforming cultures achieve a commanding emotional resonance.

­—Staff writer Jenya O. Godina can be reached at godina@college.harvard.edu.