I’ve seen Falling Leaves around a lot the last few years because when I worked at a bookstore, it was on the local students’ required reading list. I seem to have a thing for Asian authors and genres, so I decided to give it a go. Little did I realize, I kind of read the child’s version Chinese Cinderella more than a decade ago.
It’s been too long for me to remember much of Chinese Cinderella–all I can recall is my twelve-year old self sobbing uncontrollably in the middle of the night because of this damn book. It was good, but totally gut-wrenching.
So basically, that’s what I was expecting of Falling Leaves. I was pretty much ready to be really sad for a few days.
But that wasn’t so much the case.
AYM goes into detail of what her childhood and life was like, but she seemed much more factual and less emotional in this book than she was in CC. In fact, far from being devastated, I was actually kinda ehhh during the whole thing. I wanted passion, I wanted tears! It was just a little too chronological and dry for my tastes, especially after reading CC.
Damn public schools, always gotta pick the boring books to kill kids’ love of reading…
3 ducklings of 5