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Tropic of Orange
This fiercely satirical, semifantastical novel ... features an Asian-American television news executive, Emi, and a Latino newspaper reporter, Gabriel, who are so focused on chasing stories they almost don't notice that the world is falling apart all around them. Karen Tei Yamashita's staccato prose works well to evoke the frenetic breeziness and monumental self-absorption that are central to their lives.-Janet Kaye, The New York Times Book Review
268 pages, Paperback
First published September 1, 1997
281 people are currently reading
3607 people want to read
About the author
Karen Tei Yamashita
26 books193 followersBorn January 8, 1951 in Oakland, California, Karen Tei Yamashita is a Japanese American writer and Associate Professor of Literature at University of California, Santa Cruz, where she teaches creative writing and Asian American literature. Her works, several of which contain elements of magic realism, include novels I Hotel (2010), Circle K Cycles (2001), Tropic of Orange (1997), Brazil-Maru (1992), and Through the Arc of the Rain Forest (1990). Tei Yamashita's novels emphasize the absolute necessity of polyglot, multicultural communities in an increasingly globalized age, even as they destabilize orthodox notions of borders and national/ethnic identity.
She has also written a number of plays, including Hannah Kusoh, Noh Bozos and O-Men which was produced by the Asian American theatre group, East West Players.
Yamashita is a finalist for the 2010 National Book Award for I Hotel.
She has also written a number of plays, including Hannah Kusoh, Noh Bozos and O-Men which was produced by the Asian American theatre group, East West Players.
Yamashita is a finalist for the 2010 National Book Award for I Hotel.
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 305 reviews
June 24, 2021
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This book was a wonderful rumination of what unites and divides us. The characters explore class, race, real or imagined borders and the violent realities of poverty. Emi and Gabriel are a couple who chase after stories, and Buzzworm is a man who has the skills and hope to assist a homeless community. All of the characters serve a purpose and their existence and dialogue works on multiple levels. After a slow start I became completely engaged in how the characters come together to show just how hard existing can be if your not apart of mainstream society. The book covers the span of a week and changes point of views between different connected characters.
The writing is politically driven and there is commentary that makes sense in the context of the LA Riots which happened around the time this book was published. The political nature of the book may turn some people off, but I enjoyed the philosophical musings thrown in between very weird events. The Tropic of Cancer is "the most northerly circle of latitude on the Earth at which the Sun can be directly overhead, " according to Wikipedia. The Tropic of Orange is a tangible representation of the borders that separate our planet's hemispheres and countries. The books' events start to unravel as the Tropic of Orange is moved, LA's highways completely shutdown, and time and space begins to bend.
I admire this book's scope and ability to describe many different cultures, as they collide in people and occupy very different spaces.This book illustrates how important it is to develop an understanding for those we may ignore, and appreciate the value of diversity. The ending wraps up the sprawling events and characters nicely. The magical realism in the book was used well to adapt to the events and feelings that are hard to describe in our reality. I would recommend this book to readers who don't mind a slow start into an engaging politically driven narrative filled with magical realism.
This book was a wonderful rumination of what unites and divides us. The characters explore class, race, real or imagined borders and the violent realities of poverty. Emi and Gabriel are a couple who chase after stories, and Buzzworm is a man who has the skills and hope to assist a homeless community. All of the characters serve a purpose and their existence and dialogue works on multiple levels. After a slow start I became completely engaged in how the characters come together to show just how hard existing can be if your not apart of mainstream society. The book covers the span of a week and changes point of views between different connected characters.
"The assemblage of military might pointed at one's own people was horrific, as was the amassing of weapons and munitions by the people themselves."
The writing is politically driven and there is commentary that makes sense in the context of the LA Riots which happened around the time this book was published. The political nature of the book may turn some people off, but I enjoyed the philosophical musings thrown in between very weird events. The Tropic of Cancer is "the most northerly circle of latitude on the Earth at which the Sun can be directly overhead, " according to Wikipedia. The Tropic of Orange is a tangible representation of the borders that separate our planet's hemispheres and countries. The books' events start to unravel as the Tropic of Orange is moved, LA's highways completely shutdown, and time and space begins to bend.
"Talked about mythic realities, like everyone gets plugged into a myth and builds a reality around it. Or was it the other way around? Everybody gets plugged into a reality and builds a myth around it."
I admire this book's scope and ability to describe many different cultures, as they collide in people and occupy very different spaces.This book illustrates how important it is to develop an understanding for those we may ignore, and appreciate the value of diversity. The ending wraps up the sprawling events and characters nicely. The magical realism in the book was used well to adapt to the events and feelings that are hard to describe in our reality. I would recommend this book to readers who don't mind a slow start into an engaging politically driven narrative filled with magical realism.
January 12, 2011
Yamashita's Tropic of Orange deserves a place among the best hemispheric American literature, alongside Garcia Marquez, Carpentier, and Paz. Tropic of Orange revises 500 years of the Americas' history through the voices, sounds, and vision of otherwise marginal characters in the crux of Los Angeles: Chicano reporter Gabriel, Japanese-American producer Emi, social worker Buzzworm, doctor-cum-homeless conductor Manzanar, Mexican housekeeper Rafaela and her Korean husband Bobby, their son Sol, and the fantastically ancient poet Arcangel. This novel converges at the metropolis as the 20th century comes to a close, merging the historical with the intense, and often problematic, growth of 24-hour media, the internet, and free trade agreements. A most significant fin-de-siecle text that is worth reading.
July 11, 2024
Portakal Dönencesi, başta azınlık ve göçmenlerin durumu olmak üzere, Los Angeles özelinde ABD’nin panoramasını çizerken, ABD-Meksika ilişkilerinden hareketle de Birinci Dünya ve Üçüncü Dünya arasındaki dinamiklerle güçlü bir dünya düzeni eleştirisi sunan çok iyi, kurgusu ve anlatımıyla da özgün bir roman.
Japon asıllı Amerikalı yazar Karen Tei Yamashita’nın oldukça geniş bir hayal gücü, özgün bir anlatımı ve güçlü bir kalemi var; bunların sonucu olarak da çokça işlenen bir konuda bile ayrı bir yerde durabilen, hem etkileyici hem okuması oldukça keyifli ve yaratıcı bir kurgu çıkarmış ortaya. Çin, Vietnam, Meksika ve Japonya gibi dünyanın farklı yerlerinden, kendisi ya da ailesi farklı duygusal ve tarihi bagajlarla ABD’ye göç etmiş ve farklı sosyoekonomik sınıflara mensup yedi karakterin yedi gün içinde başından geçen olayları anlatıyor kısaca. Bu kurgu ekseninde de öncelikli olarak, “fırsatlar ve eşitlikler ülkesi” olarak lanse edilen ABD’de işlerin içyüzünü ele alıyor Yamashita. Kültürel emperyalizm ve asimilasyonun nasıl çokkültürlülük kisvesi altında sunulduğunu, ayrımcılık, bölünmüşlük ve gettolaşmayı ve bunların nasıl sermayeyi beslemek için sistematik olarak kullanıldığını çok güzel işliyor. Sonrasında daha büyük resme bakmayı da ihmal etmiyor ve ABD-Meksika özelinde neoliberal küreselleşme politikalarını ele alıyor: Üçüncü Dünya ülkelerinin Birinci Dünya tarafından “kalkınma” adı altında hammadde ve ucuz işgücü tedarikçisi, silah ve uyuşturucu pazarı ve teknoloji çöplüğü haline getirdiğini ince ince ekliyor kurguya.
Anlattıklarının çarpıcılığının yanı sıra, dediğim gibi kurgusu ve anlatımıyla da oldukça farklı bir yerde duran, özgün bir roman Portakal Dönencesi. Çılgın ama işlediği konuları ele alırken ayakları yere basan, hayal gücünün sınırlarını zorlayan ama bunu yaparken de derdini ifade etmeyi atlamayan çok farklı ve güçlü bir kurgusu var. Kendine has karakterlerini zekice ve incelikli bir şekilde birbiriyle ilişkilendirmiş öncelikle. Sonrasında da okuması inanılmaz keyifli ve yaratıcı bir olaylar zinciri inşa etmiş yazar. Ama belki romana en fazla lezzet katan unsur da, Amerikan edebiyatında özellikle bu kadar başarılı örneklerine ender rastladığımız şekilde, Latin Amerika romanlarında olan tatta büyülü gerçekçilik katması bence. Latin Amerika’nın kanlı sömürü tarihi ve mitlerinden beslenen, yaratıcı ve kurguyu derinleştirirken metni de ilginçleştiren, bir kahramanın kitleleri ardından sürükleyerek başkaldırısının hikayesini dahil etmiş kitaba. Bana zaman zaman Amado’nun Kızgın Toprak’ındaki bqzı bölümleri anımsattı ama bununla beraber Yamashita’nın kendi özgün tarzını yaratmayı başarabilmiş bir yazar olduğunu söylemek gerek. Bazı sembolik karakter ya da olayları (Celia’nın işlediği örtü gibi) daha derinleştirse mükemmel bir roman olurdu, tek olumsuz eleştirim bu. Ancak bu haliyle de çok, çok iyi.
Kapağı ve adıyla aslında çıktığından beri ilgimi çeken, okumak istediğim bir romandı. (Gerçi Livera Yayınevi’nin genelde çıkardığı tüm romanları takip ediyorum, büyük kısmını da okudum.) Çok, çok beğendim. Keşke bu kadar bekletmeseymişim.
4.5/5
Japon asıllı Amerikalı yazar Karen Tei Yamashita’nın oldukça geniş bir hayal gücü, özgün bir anlatımı ve güçlü bir kalemi var; bunların sonucu olarak da çokça işlenen bir konuda bile ayrı bir yerde durabilen, hem etkileyici hem okuması oldukça keyifli ve yaratıcı bir kurgu çıkarmış ortaya. Çin, Vietnam, Meksika ve Japonya gibi dünyanın farklı yerlerinden, kendisi ya da ailesi farklı duygusal ve tarihi bagajlarla ABD’ye göç etmiş ve farklı sosyoekonomik sınıflara mensup yedi karakterin yedi gün içinde başından geçen olayları anlatıyor kısaca. Bu kurgu ekseninde de öncelikli olarak, “fırsatlar ve eşitlikler ülkesi” olarak lanse edilen ABD’de işlerin içyüzünü ele alıyor Yamashita. Kültürel emperyalizm ve asimilasyonun nasıl çokkültürlülük kisvesi altında sunulduğunu, ayrımcılık, bölünmüşlük ve gettolaşmayı ve bunların nasıl sermayeyi beslemek için sistematik olarak kullanıldığını çok güzel işliyor. Sonrasında daha büyük resme bakmayı da ihmal etmiyor ve ABD-Meksika özelinde neoliberal küreselleşme politikalarını ele alıyor: Üçüncü Dünya ülkelerinin Birinci Dünya tarafından “kalkınma” adı altında hammadde ve ucuz işgücü tedarikçisi, silah ve uyuşturucu pazarı ve teknoloji çöplüğü haline getirdiğini ince ince ekliyor kurguya.
Anlattıklarının çarpıcılığının yanı sıra, dediğim gibi kurgusu ve anlatımıyla da oldukça farklı bir yerde duran, özgün bir roman Portakal Dönencesi. Çılgın ama işlediği konuları ele alırken ayakları yere basan, hayal gücünün sınırlarını zorlayan ama bunu yaparken de derdini ifade etmeyi atlamayan çok farklı ve güçlü bir kurgusu var. Kendine has karakterlerini zekice ve incelikli bir şekilde birbiriyle ilişkilendirmiş öncelikle. Sonrasında da okuması inanılmaz keyifli ve yaratıcı bir olaylar zinciri inşa etmiş yazar. Ama belki romana en fazla lezzet katan unsur da, Amerikan edebiyatında özellikle bu kadar başarılı örneklerine ender rastladığımız şekilde, Latin Amerika romanlarında olan tatta büyülü gerçekçilik katması bence. Latin Amerika’nın kanlı sömürü tarihi ve mitlerinden beslenen, yaratıcı ve kurguyu derinleştirirken metni de ilginçleştiren, bir kahramanın kitleleri ardından sürükleyerek başkaldırısının hikayesini dahil etmiş kitaba. Bana zaman zaman Amado’nun Kızgın Toprak’ındaki bqzı bölümleri anımsattı ama bununla beraber Yamashita’nın kendi özgün tarzını yaratmayı başarabilmiş bir yazar olduğunu söylemek gerek. Bazı sembolik karakter ya da olayları (Celia’nın işlediği örtü gibi) daha derinleştirse mükemmel bir roman olurdu, tek olumsuz eleştirim bu. Ancak bu haliyle de çok, çok iyi.
Kapağı ve adıyla aslında çıktığından beri ilgimi çeken, okumak istediğim bir romandı. (Gerçi Livera Yayınevi’nin genelde çıkardığı tüm romanları takip ediyorum, büyük kısmını da okudum.) Çok, çok beğendim. Keşke bu kadar bekletmeseymişim.
4.5/5
Read
January 12, 2023haven’t got lost in a book for literal ages but tropic of orange reminded me what i love most in a novel… the ability to articulate complex ideas about what it means to live in and amongst others in a way that academia fails to, spec-fic which is rooted in the urgencies of its moment (here the late 90s/early 2000s), a distinct set of voices with their own complications and misunderstandings that nonetheless have complex and important relationships with one another. I love love love how LA unfolds through the novel, how twisted it is and how the novel’s conceit plays that out further, how class war literally unfolds through the text. stunned!!!!!
May 6, 2011
I have to be honest. I was frustrated while I was reading this book because I really had no idea what was going on. I knew somehow it all made sense, and I constantly told myself that, but up until the ending of the book, I asked myself: "What the heck did I just read?" Not until after my California Fiction class discussed this book did it really start to make sense. Not perfect sense, but I realized how it made sense. From the beginning of this novel, an insignificant little orange becomes the most fantastical, most magical thing the characters ever known. It actually becomes the most hated fruit in the book (and you'll see why when you read it), but it represents more than what it seems. Everything in this book is more than it seems, that's why you must read it with an open mind.
To perhaps assist anyone who is still trying to figure out what's going on, an invisible, (yet visible to some characters) line starts moving from the South (Mexico) to the North (specifically Los Angeles in Southern California). So basically, the line, that is usually an arbitrary line on a map that represents what the borders of an area are, actually "comes to life" as it physically moves the geography. Once you start to realize that, many other things start to make sense. Think about the gangs that Buzzworm talks about. They take over certain areas of the urban area, but what do they really "own"? Is this really a novel about California, or does this book comment on other nationalities as well? Remember the Japanese American reporter Emi? Remember Bobby who came from Singapore? Remember Gabriel who came from Mexico? And Rafaela who takes care of his house in Mexico?
The amazing thing about this book is the way it is broken up into parts. The are seven chapters in the novel each representing the seven main characters. There are seven chapters for each of the seven days. Each character is unique and fun to read about. I like the way each character has his or her own individual voice, especially Bobby who is actually told in third person point of view like the rest of the characters except for Gabriel (who I will get to later). Bobby's chapter is always written in colloquial language to show the complexity of his character. Quoted directly from the book, Bobby is a "Chinese man from Singapore with a Vietnam name speaking like a Mexican living in Koreatown." Now how cool is that? I found myself looking forward to Bobby's chapter everyday, but the other characters were interesting to read about too. Like the Japanese American Manzanar Murakami who conducts invisible music from traffic overpasses, but is the music really invisible? Or the highly outspoken Emi who constantly makes politically incorrect statements. And let's not forget Gabriel who is the only character told from first person point of view. Now why's that? Hmm, who knows? But let me suggest this: read the short story "A Very Old Man with Enormous Wings" written by Gabriel Garcia Marquez. Think about it and look into Arcangel's character.
Now what's the point of combining these various unique characters? Why did Yamashita choose them specifically? Each one adds a little of their culture to the big picture. What's the significance of the maps? They are a physical representation of what humans have created. If you travel to the border of any region, is there a real line that marks the border? No. So what do you think Yamashita is trying to say?
Now I apologize if I've said too much and you still haven't read the book, but if you have and this helped you, I'm glad. If you haven't read it and this review got you stoked to read the book, great! If you understand everything I've written, but you're still trying to really make sense of the book. Well, then good luck!
To perhaps assist anyone who is still trying to figure out what's going on, an invisible, (yet visible to some characters) line starts moving from the South (Mexico) to the North (specifically Los Angeles in Southern California). So basically, the line, that is usually an arbitrary line on a map that represents what the borders of an area are, actually "comes to life" as it physically moves the geography. Once you start to realize that, many other things start to make sense. Think about the gangs that Buzzworm talks about. They take over certain areas of the urban area, but what do they really "own"? Is this really a novel about California, or does this book comment on other nationalities as well? Remember the Japanese American reporter Emi? Remember Bobby who came from Singapore? Remember Gabriel who came from Mexico? And Rafaela who takes care of his house in Mexico?
The amazing thing about this book is the way it is broken up into parts. The are seven chapters in the novel each representing the seven main characters. There are seven chapters for each of the seven days. Each character is unique and fun to read about. I like the way each character has his or her own individual voice, especially Bobby who is actually told in third person point of view like the rest of the characters except for Gabriel (who I will get to later). Bobby's chapter is always written in colloquial language to show the complexity of his character. Quoted directly from the book, Bobby is a "Chinese man from Singapore with a Vietnam name speaking like a Mexican living in Koreatown." Now how cool is that? I found myself looking forward to Bobby's chapter everyday, but the other characters were interesting to read about too. Like the Japanese American Manzanar Murakami who conducts invisible music from traffic overpasses, but is the music really invisible? Or the highly outspoken Emi who constantly makes politically incorrect statements. And let's not forget Gabriel who is the only character told from first person point of view. Now why's that? Hmm, who knows? But let me suggest this: read the short story "A Very Old Man with Enormous Wings" written by Gabriel Garcia Marquez. Think about it and look into Arcangel's character.
Now what's the point of combining these various unique characters? Why did Yamashita choose them specifically? Each one adds a little of their culture to the big picture. What's the significance of the maps? They are a physical representation of what humans have created. If you travel to the border of any region, is there a real line that marks the border? No. So what do you think Yamashita is trying to say?
Now I apologize if I've said too much and you still haven't read the book, but if you have and this helped you, I'm glad. If you haven't read it and this review got you stoked to read the book, great! If you understand everything I've written, but you're still trying to really make sense of the book. Well, then good luck!
April 8, 2012
It's a rare thing for me to come across a book that I so vewhemently dislike. Yamashita takes everything -- every metaphor, every character quirk, every list -- about four or five paces too far. I just wanted to scream "okay, I get it!" through so much of this novel. The book switches between narrators, some of whom are first person and some of whom are limited third. The chapters about Bobby, a Chinese Signaporean immigrant living in a Latino world, were especially awful because of the overly-colloquial narrator. Half formed sentences, bad grammar. It's clearly aiming for authenticity, but it falls way short, landing in the territory of stereotype. Also, the magical realist element of this novel felt contrived and inorganic. At one point a villain -- who is called a villian, even, by the 3rd person narrator -- can't walk to the bathroom because his feet keep taking him in a circle. It felt like random nonsense. This book is so heavy handed, it literally included a character who put on a set of angel wings and sat in cage, impressing Gabriel Garcia Marquez, who was in attendance at this art installation. Ridiculous. This book could be published as an instruction manual on what NOT to do when trying to write about serious social issues. Like preach. Or use completely transparent, unoriginal symbolism. Part of the joy of reading is putting things together, like a puzzle. I don't want a writer to spoon feed me every little message -- it insults my intelligence. Finally, this book provided a great example of how too many technological references can quickly date a novel -- descriptions of cell phones with antennas, fax machines, character's telling each other "you hafta get on the net!" (annoying slangy dialogue and all) made it clear this book is set in the 1990's, alienating me as a reader in 2012. I honestly can't believe this book was assigned to me in a college course.
April 23, 2017
This is not a good book. Published in 1997, it reads today like a parody of an overly-academic attempt at fiction that just can't resist wearing its recently acquired postmodern learning on its sleeve. It's overflowing with all-too-obvious and on-the-nose references to standard hits of late-nineties Los Angeles-related pomo obsession (e.g., "City of Quartz," "Ecology of Fear," "Blade Runner," film noir, cyberpunk, "Neuromancer," Kuhnian "paradigm shifts," NAFTA, etc.), and at times, it feels as if Yamashita (as another reviewer here has noted) can't decide whether she's writing fiction or a critical essay to be included in some kind of compilation called "Postmodern L.A." or "L.A.: City of Postmodernity," to be published by Verso in 1997. The heavy handedness and clunkiness of the writing can at times leave the reader literally rolling her eyes. For example:
The book leaves no impression: the characters are flat parts of a cutesy, schematic plan, that devolves into a sloppy mess at the end -- an ending for which I feel confident the author had little to no idea what point was trying to be expressed (the facile late-90s pomo reply would be "that is the point!").
Beyond all of that, there are weird, distracting solecisms and tics that just piss off the reader: "Angel's Flight [sic]," the constant use of "Oouuu [sic]," "gamelons [sic]," "bee ess [sic]," "healing capitol [sic] of the nation," etc. I kept thinking, for a book that spends so much time waxing poetic about the "Net," a new and strange thing in 1997, Yamashita could've used that powerful tool to, I don't know, spellcheck her book.
They straddled the line--a slender endless serpent of a line--one peering into a private world of dreams and metaphysics, the other into a public place of politics and power. One peering into a magical world, the other peering into a virtual one. "Will you wait for me on the other side?" she whispered as the line in the dust became again as wide as an entire culture and as deep as the social and economic construct that nobody knew how to change.Page 254.
The book leaves no impression: the characters are flat parts of a cutesy, schematic plan, that devolves into a sloppy mess at the end -- an ending for which I feel confident the author had little to no idea what point was trying to be expressed (the facile late-90s pomo reply would be "that is the point!").
Beyond all of that, there are weird, distracting solecisms and tics that just piss off the reader: "Angel's Flight [sic]," the constant use of "Oouuu [sic]," "gamelons [sic]," "bee ess [sic]," "healing capitol [sic] of the nation," etc. I kept thinking, for a book that spends so much time waxing poetic about the "Net," a new and strange thing in 1997, Yamashita could've used that powerful tool to, I don't know, spellcheck her book.
July 28, 2019
4.5 stars rounded up. Though this book didn't receive any prestigious literary awards like the other books I rated 5 stars this month, it is nonetheless a wondrous, not entirely outdated, witty, piercing look at life in multicultural Southern California.
I guess my next step will be to read David Foster Wallace sometime this year.
I guess my next step will be to read David Foster Wallace sometime this year.
December 31, 2024
5 Stars
Easily one of my favourite books.
It is hard to write reviews for books I truly love. Hard to put into words what makes these books stand out so strongly in my mind. I will try though...
This is a magical realism story set in two locations and following two converging story lines. The way Yamashita weaves these threads of story together is exquisite. She tells a tale that is magical, weird, and interesting on the surface, but holds so much more if you dig a little deeper. This is a story about relationships, love, and family. A story about human perseverance and hope. A story that tackles the difficult topics of classism, human trafficking, and immigration in a way that's woven seamlessly into the plot. Ultimately, it is a story about the threads that bind us all to each other.
The magical way that we are introduced to the narrative pulled me in immediately and I continued to be intrigued as we bounced between the seemingly unconnected story lines. These characters live in such different places that it almost seems like they are from different worlds; one magical and one mundane. I found myself enjoying the most random of moments and becoming attached to characters and storylines so easily because of the beautiful writing style which gives me a similar feeling to reading Gabriel García Márquez or Ben Okri.
I can not stress how much I love this book; however, this will not be for everyone. This story meanders, and is filled with vague descriptions that keep you guessing throughout. If you are some one who gets confused easily by too many plot threads/characters, and likes everything to be clearly stated at all times... you probably will dislike this story.
I recommend this to fans of magical realism (true magical realism).
Easily one of my favourite books.
It is hard to write reviews for books I truly love. Hard to put into words what makes these books stand out so strongly in my mind. I will try though...
This is a magical realism story set in two locations and following two converging story lines. The way Yamashita weaves these threads of story together is exquisite. She tells a tale that is magical, weird, and interesting on the surface, but holds so much more if you dig a little deeper. This is a story about relationships, love, and family. A story about human perseverance and hope. A story that tackles the difficult topics of classism, human trafficking, and immigration in a way that's woven seamlessly into the plot. Ultimately, it is a story about the threads that bind us all to each other.
The magical way that we are introduced to the narrative pulled me in immediately and I continued to be intrigued as we bounced between the seemingly unconnected story lines. These characters live in such different places that it almost seems like they are from different worlds; one magical and one mundane. I found myself enjoying the most random of moments and becoming attached to characters and storylines so easily because of the beautiful writing style which gives me a similar feeling to reading Gabriel García Márquez or Ben Okri.
I can not stress how much I love this book; however, this will not be for everyone. This story meanders, and is filled with vague descriptions that keep you guessing throughout. If you are some one who gets confused easily by too many plot threads/characters, and likes everything to be clearly stated at all times... you probably will dislike this story.
I recommend this to fans of magical realism (true magical realism).
June 27, 2016
Like other readers who have posted their thoughts, I wanted to like this book and it disappointed me. To be honest, it's fairly awful. The plot is convoluted and slow-moving (kind of like the 405 on a Friday afternoon, but in this case the imitative fallacy is not working in Yamashita's favor). The structure of the book tries to liven things up, but instead it backfires and prevents us from getting truly involved in any of the 7 narratives. I could give a laundry list of problems here, but the worst transgression is simply that the prose is sloppy and often listless. Scenes are handled ineptly, setting is lazily drawn, and some of the sentences are straight out of Harlequin romance: "Gabe turned on his heels, impassioned anguish embodied in his dark figure..."
It's not all bad news. I liked Bobby's chapters, mainly because he was the only character who really seemed to want something beyond abstractions. Occasionally Yamashita's prose does hit a nice rhythm. The chapter titles were pretty cool.
It's not all bad news. I liked Bobby's chapters, mainly because he was the only character who really seemed to want something beyond abstractions. Occasionally Yamashita's prose does hit a nice rhythm. The chapter titles were pretty cool.
August 14, 2020
Cool premise, but the execution was a bit heavy-handed. Felt like it was written for academia.
May 3, 2021
So far I've read Through the Arc of the Rain Forest, Tropic of Orange and I Hotel. And I liked all three so much that I think I'm just going to continue and read all of Karen Tei Yamashita's books. And I haven't done anything like that in a while.
May 19, 2020
Kan inte beskriva denna bok med något annat ord än bisarr.
September 22, 2020
I don't know what I just read.
Not my thing.
Not my thing.
July 13, 2017
I added this book to my shelf when I was in graduate school, since it was exactly the sort of thing I was studying there and came highly recommended by trusted sources. What irony that I had to leave school in order to have time to read it.
The story alternates among seven characters of various races and backgrounds living in an L.A. that’s starting to unravel. A series of catastrophic car accidents leaves the highways impassable except on foot, toxic oranges are banned from the city, and rumors of infant organ trafficking abound against a backdrop of social and political commentary on homelessness, racism, and boundaries.
The writing in Tropic of Orange is surprisingly accessible given how little I understood of it. Yamashita’s prose shifts expertly among her characters, and it’s easy to tell within a few lines whose consciousness we’re intruding on. She has the ear for voice of Don DeLillo, the fondness for plots and conspiracies of Thomas Pynchon, the magical realism of Gabriel García Márquez, and a political and racial acuity that’s all her own. I’m not sure if this likeness to Pynchon is emulation or satire, but it’s probably a little of both. There are patterns if only we can discover them, but the cost of chasing them down may be a loss of human connection.
The novel’s biggest strength is its characters, who come from richly diverse backgrounds. Emi is a Japanese-American television executive with no desire (or option, really) to explore her background, dating a Latino reporter, Gabriel, with a pipe dream of remodeling a house in Mazatlán. Buzzworm is an African American Angel of Mercy with the wisdom and the resources to help the people who are passed over by the rest of society, and Bobby is a Chinese man from Singapore who speaks Spanish and has a Vietnamese name. They all determinedly break out of both racial and class-based stereotypes to assume entirely original voices and agendas. While they come from various backgrounds, their real backdrop is L.A., and Yamashita skillfully captures that sense of place. Gabriel’s chapters are the only ones told in first person. I have a suspicion that it’s an amusing comment on his self-centeredness. (“After all, it was my story,” he says.)
The plot of the novel is more difficult to follow, given all the strange events and the bending of time and space. Space actually comes to mean very little as the Tropic of Cancer moves north, and the boundaries between haves and have-nots in L.A. begin to shift. The preoccupation with maps and borders isn’t new to the contemporary fiction conversation, but I like that Yamashita tells it from the perspective of voices that aren’t usually heard. The novel shows what L.A. looks like from the perspective of the people on the ground, the people in the margins, the people who don’t just drive from one air-conditioned destination to the next, along with the catastrophic (but ultimately necessary?) consequences when lines and borders begin to shift.
In some ways, these marginalized people see the reality of L.A. better than anyone. Buzzworm’s network is one of human connections, and Manzanar’s conducting from the freeway overpass is a tuning in to the very human flow of traffic; it’s no surprise that few others can “hear” what he hears in it, but that this magical symphony begins to connect some of L.A.’s most disenfranchised. Tropic of Orange is likely a novel I’ll return to in the future, since I suspect it requires several readings to really get a handle on it. As Emi points out, “Just cuz you get to the end doesn’t mean you know what happened.” Fortunately, what happened isn’t anywhere close to the point.
I review regularly at brightbeautifulthings.tumblr.com.
The story alternates among seven characters of various races and backgrounds living in an L.A. that’s starting to unravel. A series of catastrophic car accidents leaves the highways impassable except on foot, toxic oranges are banned from the city, and rumors of infant organ trafficking abound against a backdrop of social and political commentary on homelessness, racism, and boundaries.
The writing in Tropic of Orange is surprisingly accessible given how little I understood of it. Yamashita’s prose shifts expertly among her characters, and it’s easy to tell within a few lines whose consciousness we’re intruding on. She has the ear for voice of Don DeLillo, the fondness for plots and conspiracies of Thomas Pynchon, the magical realism of Gabriel García Márquez, and a political and racial acuity that’s all her own. I’m not sure if this likeness to Pynchon is emulation or satire, but it’s probably a little of both. There are patterns if only we can discover them, but the cost of chasing them down may be a loss of human connection.
The novel’s biggest strength is its characters, who come from richly diverse backgrounds. Emi is a Japanese-American television executive with no desire (or option, really) to explore her background, dating a Latino reporter, Gabriel, with a pipe dream of remodeling a house in Mazatlán. Buzzworm is an African American Angel of Mercy with the wisdom and the resources to help the people who are passed over by the rest of society, and Bobby is a Chinese man from Singapore who speaks Spanish and has a Vietnamese name. They all determinedly break out of both racial and class-based stereotypes to assume entirely original voices and agendas. While they come from various backgrounds, their real backdrop is L.A., and Yamashita skillfully captures that sense of place. Gabriel’s chapters are the only ones told in first person. I have a suspicion that it’s an amusing comment on his self-centeredness. (“After all, it was my story,” he says.)
The plot of the novel is more difficult to follow, given all the strange events and the bending of time and space. Space actually comes to mean very little as the Tropic of Cancer moves north, and the boundaries between haves and have-nots in L.A. begin to shift. The preoccupation with maps and borders isn’t new to the contemporary fiction conversation, but I like that Yamashita tells it from the perspective of voices that aren’t usually heard. The novel shows what L.A. looks like from the perspective of the people on the ground, the people in the margins, the people who don’t just drive from one air-conditioned destination to the next, along with the catastrophic (but ultimately necessary?) consequences when lines and borders begin to shift.
In some ways, these marginalized people see the reality of L.A. better than anyone. Buzzworm’s network is one of human connections, and Manzanar’s conducting from the freeway overpass is a tuning in to the very human flow of traffic; it’s no surprise that few others can “hear” what he hears in it, but that this magical symphony begins to connect some of L.A.’s most disenfranchised. Tropic of Orange is likely a novel I’ll return to in the future, since I suspect it requires several readings to really get a handle on it. As Emi points out, “Just cuz you get to the end doesn’t mean you know what happened.” Fortunately, what happened isn’t anywhere close to the point.
I review regularly at brightbeautifulthings.tumblr.com.
January 24, 2017
i! loved! this!
May 1, 2020
A very LA book. That is, a massive traffic jam, illegal child organ markets, and drugged oranges with a healthy dose of magical realism mixed in unravelling the world surrounding the characters. No doubt a political book, it left me feeling like I wish I knew LA better. Explores themes of immigration, class, race, and homelessness. Too many Latinx historical references mixed in for me to completely wrap my head around the Arcangel's role, exposing my ignorance, which is never a bad thing. Would recommend if any of these themes interest you, as this book is due for a re-read after I read up more on these topics.
January 24, 2025
Okay the regularly scheduled mid December to late January depression has ended and I can read again. We're back. The global resurgence of fascism can't hold me down, I love books!
Also this book is amazing btw.
Also this book is amazing btw.
December 17, 2009
OK. So. Look.
This is one of those books that I should, according to all my usual thyme and reason, enjoy. It possesses just enough magical realism to meet my needs (because I read primarily for escapism), engaging character voices, and initially presents itself as if I'm going to need to pick out the meaning and undercurrents and themes -- the whats, whys, and wherefores of what's going on -- as if it's *meaty*. I enjoy disjointed story lines (because jigsaw puzzles are my friends) and unreliable narrators and weirdness.
What I *require* is very simple--I can't stand to be preached at. Yamashita? She kinda preaches. She is as subtle as a tommy gun. Arcangel, one of the characters narrating his part of the story, spells it out in blunt poetry that I don't even have to try to tease apart. That's boring.
I adore some of the imagery, I'm confused by some of the minor plot lines (baby parts? what? so?) and connections she is obviously trying to make, and the ending doesn't quite deliver the punch that I think she means for it to. Which is kind of a shame.
But the whole apocalyptic overtones meant I spent some time brushing up on apocalypses in general, and that's never a bad thing.
We're all gonna die!
This is one of those books that I should, according to all my usual thyme and reason, enjoy. It possesses just enough magical realism to meet my needs (because I read primarily for escapism), engaging character voices, and initially presents itself as if I'm going to need to pick out the meaning and undercurrents and themes -- the whats, whys, and wherefores of what's going on -- as if it's *meaty*. I enjoy disjointed story lines (because jigsaw puzzles are my friends) and unreliable narrators and weirdness.
What I *require* is very simple--I can't stand to be preached at. Yamashita? She kinda preaches. She is as subtle as a tommy gun. Arcangel, one of the characters narrating his part of the story, spells it out in blunt poetry that I don't even have to try to tease apart. That's boring.
I adore some of the imagery, I'm confused by some of the minor plot lines (baby parts? what? so?) and connections she is obviously trying to make, and the ending doesn't quite deliver the punch that I think she means for it to. Which is kind of a shame.
But the whole apocalyptic overtones meant I spent some time brushing up on apocalypses in general, and that's never a bad thing.
We're all gonna die!
Read
April 20, 2018She's going for the David Foster Wallace kind of story here, complete with the characters of Mr. Name Unlikely (in this case, "Manzanar Murakami"), dizzy allusions to the cultural landscape of the '90s (white Broncos and all), a look at our mediated landscape, and general ridiculous in the geopolitics of a near-future North America.
Is it as good? No.
Is it bad? Not really, but I just wasn't as drawn in. The thing is, it's just aged so badly, what with the Baudrillard and Mike Davis touchstones (if you want this sort of thing, just go and read City of Quartz). Reading a book like this some 20 years after its relevance is a bit like looking at an old Geocities page, and the experience is literary vaporwave.
Is it as good? No.
Is it bad? Not really, but I just wasn't as drawn in. The thing is, it's just aged so badly, what with the Baudrillard and Mike Davis touchstones (if you want this sort of thing, just go and read City of Quartz). Reading a book like this some 20 years after its relevance is a bit like looking at an old Geocities page, and the experience is literary vaporwave.
February 1, 2018
Like a hard boiled LA noir re-imagined as a beat poem, this reads like Cien Años de Soledad, but written by Neal Stephenson. No wait, that’s not it at all. It’s a magic realist dystopia except that it’s set in the present (written around the time of the LA riots). It’s a political fable about race, class and the end of the world. Maybe. It’s a story about the border between rich and poor, North and South, white and everyone else, and what happens when that border begins to shift, and maybe even dissolve. It’s open to interpretation (clearly) and it’s very very good.
October 9, 2019
The story is a late 90s indictment of socio-economic and political systems which victimize the poor/powerless. Many of the points are just as applicable today. The story is a magical realism ride, with characters who are largely two-dimensional, but as developed as they need to be in order to drive the main thematic elements of the satire.
May 25, 2011
Had to read this book for an English class. It became too convoluted for my taste.
February 27, 2025
An amazing book filled with diverse characters and will make you think about the complexity of life of being an immigrant and being American. The characters I've honestly enjoyed all of them and the writing style of each of them in each chapter to differentiate them is honestly well done. I read and listened to it in audio book and both are done beautifully. I reccomend this to anyone who wants a more slightly complex read ^_^
Read
March 11, 2025dnf, gereğinden fazla, edebi lezzetini yok edecek kadar akademiye dönük buldum. bir de kitabın çeyreği los angeles'ta yaşamayan birine hiçbir şey ifade etmeyen detaylarla dolu, elbette edebiyat eserinin böyle bir zorunluluğu yok ama anlaşılması zor bir yerellikte buldum. ben avrupalı göçmen öykülerini hep daha çok seviyorum galiba. :')
December 22, 2024
Truly a kaleidoscope of the varied lives in Los Angeles in the mid-1990's. Took awhile to immerse myself into these lives- so much detail to process in this serious and, at times, mystical depiction of modern life's unrelentlessness, savagery and loneliness. Helped me to better understand the racial and cultural diversity of Los Angeles beyond the stereotypes.
December 18, 2018
This novel follows 7 characters in LA and Mexico in the 90’s surrounding some surreal events (like cocaine oranges lol) and how the different events affect marginalized groups. Yamashita has a beautiful and poetic writing style, and I thought she addressed a lot of social issues in a clever and intriguing way. Unfortunately, the reasoning behind some of the magical elements went over my head (specifically, the wrestling match) but not enough to impair my enjoyment of the novel. The characters were very distinct (which is necessary with so many points of view) and there wasn’t a specific character I wanted to skip over when reading their chapters. I really want to see a movie adaptation of this that’s very 90’s (like Romeo + Juliet), which isn’t a profound comment but I’m just pouring my heart out, okay? I think a lot of the chapters could be pulled out and analyzed with students because Yamashita addresses so many big issues in short chapters.
July 3, 2013
This book is amazing. I haven't liked magical realism in the past, but it was the perfect medium for all that she wanted to convey (plus the organizing grid at the front of the book soothed the engineering/objective/positivist side of me). There are sentences and whole paragraphs that I want to pull out and turn into visual art, if that was something I could do, like the listing of neighborhoods by geography (the hills Beverly and Rolling, the woods Holly Ingle Brent and West, etc.) and the traffic descriptions every time Manzanar conducts. It's transportation planning de-abstracted (if that's a word) back into actual human flows related to all the various natural and man-made webs overlaid on the region. Each character's voice is distinctive and they all come to mesh really really well. The back cover says "essential reading for the 21st century." I wholeheartedly agree.
January 18, 2020
A lot of disjointed stories that seemed interesting but didnt fit together all that well. The magical realism only goes so far without a good overarching narrative
August 29, 2025
disorderly dreams
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