I loved Duan's voice more in her pieces about her mother and her sister. There was a force, which was more than anger, and it didn't demand sympathy nor did it wallow in self-pity. I enjoyed those parts in this spoken-word poetry collection. The other pieces were lukewarm.

An interesting collection of poetry focusing on the second-generation immigrant experience and reconciling American and Chinese culture. Duan rakes up powerful emotions of isolation and belonging, both with regards to her race and her sex and brings to light the prejudice caused by both. There are some sucker-punch verses that leap right off the page: My mother Does not own a Laundromat or A take-out restaurant; She waters orchids And doesn’t look Your president In the eye Your white classmate sees you. Does not. White men claim you. Do not. You are small, fierce and evil: with Two palms and a chest. There are boxes made for you to check. Chinese / American. Chinese / American. Your mom calls. She tells you to Stop Writing about race. You could get shot, she says Many were too dilatory for me. While I could feel the emotion I couldn’t really connect to the words. For me, this style of poetry is too loose and unformed, the structure appearing random rather than considered and the metaphors, while striking, are too often over-wrought and hollow at the centre.