In this episode of NPR's Book of the Day, author R.F. Kuang discusses her new novel and explores how language shapes identity and self-perception. Kuang shares her personal experiences as a heritage speaker, explaining how speaking different languages allows individuals to construct different versions of themselves, and how linguistic fluency connects to confidence and maturity. She also addresses the challenges second-generation immigrants face in preserving family narratives when relatives are reluctant to discuss traumatic histories.
Kuang reveals how she processed her own grief over her grandfather's death through fiction, amplifying her emotions to create her protagonist Lily Chen's story. The conversation also touches on her diverse writing career across multiple genres—from dark fantasy to satirical fiction to literary works—and her refusal to be confined by industry expectations that authors should stick to a single genre.

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R.F. Kuang explores how language profoundly shapes identity through personal experience and literary characters, revealing the complex relationship between linguistic ability and selfhood.
Kuang observes that speaking different languages allows people to construct new versions of themselves with unique emotional and social traits. As a heritage speaker, she notes feeling more docile and obedient when speaking Chinese, as the language carries the "baggage" of childhood family dynamics and former social roles. Conversely, she discusses how language learning encourages identity experimentation through classroom roleplay, where students assume personas that offer a "blank slate" to speak without ego or accent concerns.
Kuang also details the exhausting challenges non-fluent readers face when navigating daily life in a non-dominant language, where deciphering street signs and subway platforms requires constant conscious effort. To authentically represent this experience in her novel, she composed her protagonist Lily's Chinese dialogues first, then translated them carefully to preserve their original logic and imagery for English readers.
The ability to navigate a language fluently, Kuang explains, is tightly linked to confidence and maturity. Her character Lily feels more confident in English but younger and more naive in Chinese—a feeling Kuang mirrors in her own life, noting how non-dominant languages literally shift the "internal architecture" of the individual.
Indira Lakshmanan and Kuang reflect on how second-generation immigrants struggle with preserving family narratives and cultural heritage. Lakshmanan observes that many want to become fluent in their ancestral language to speak with grandparents about family history but often run out of time, leading to deep regret. Kuang shares her own remorse for postponing opportunities to record her grandfather's stories due to embarrassment over her limited Chinese.
The desire to preserve family history is often hindered by reluctance to discuss past trauma. Kuang explains that her efforts to document her family's experiences with the Cambodian genocide were met with silence or fragmented disclosures, with relatives claiming she wasn't entitled to these painful details. She highlights how parents who fled hardship often withhold ancestral narratives, viewing this silence as protection and a mark of successful immigration—ensuring their children never have to confront traumatic family histories.
This clash of perspectives causes intergenerational pain. While Kuang's mother sees withholding stories as protective, Lily feels excluded and disconnected from her family narrative, revealing the deep complexities that silence binds within immigrant families.
Lakshmanan draws parallels between Kuang and her protagonist Lily Chen, noting both are Yale students who attended a summer program in Taipei. Kuang confirms that Lily is drawn from her own experiences, particularly her grief when her grandfather passed away three years prior during her time in Taipei—a loss that left her unable to write for a long time.
Kuang explains that she intensified her own grief, guilt, and shame "to a 10" through fiction. She writes Lily as a 19-year-old with far fewer resources than she had at 30—no support system, greater alienation, and deeper disorientation. This fictional amplification allows Kuang to use fiction as a space to explore how everything could feel so much worse, providing cathartic distance to process and examine the emotional landscape of grief more deeply.
Andrew Limbong challenges the industry notion that authors must stay within a single genre, highlighting Kuang as an example of breaking this mold. Known for her dark fantasy trilogy "The Poppy War," Kuang has also published "Yellow Face," a satirical novel about racial identity and publishing, along with dark academia fantasies and her new literary fiction work "Taipei Story."
Kuang explains that her love of reading widely drives her passion for genre diversity. She expresses a desire to "do everything, write everything," and live "an infinite number of lives through an infinite number of works." For Kuang, restricting herself to one genre would limit her storytelling possibilities, and she plans to return to historical fantasy, proving that genre boundaries need not confine an author's creative output.
1-Page Summary
Language shapes identity in profound ways, affecting not only how individuals interact with the world but also how they perceive themselves. R.F. Kuang discusses these themes through personal experience and the creation of literary characters, highlighting the powerful, complex relationship between linguistic ability and selfhood.
Kuang observes that speaking different languages allows a person to construct new versions of themselves with unique emotional and social traits. She reflects on her experiences as a heritage speaker, feeling expected to be comfortable in Beijing and Taipei, but facing significant mental fatigue and cognitive overload trying to understand what her brain believes should be familiar.
For heritage speakers like Kuang, linguistic choices are complicated by historical family ties and developmental experiences. Kuang notes that when she speaks Chinese, she feels more docile and obedient, as most of her Chinese-speaking context involves family and memories from childhood. The language comes with the "baggage" of former social roles and expectations, coloring her sense of self when using that language.
Kuang also discusses how language learning encourages identity experimentation through classroom roleplay and personas. In her Japanese classes, students would assume roles—such as a student’s mother or someone’s girlfriend—allowing them to speak without the burden of ego or personal association with words or accent. This roleplay offers a "blank slate," providing the freedom to temporarily become someone else and experiment with new ways of being.
Kuang details her and her character Lily’s struggles with reading in a non-dominant language, where even mundane tasks present challenges. She describes how navigating daily life in Taipei required significant effort to decipher street signs, subway platforms, and information that would be instantly understood at home. This constant need to consciously process written language became exhausting, highlighting how automatic and "lubricated" daily life is when reading is effortless.
Non-fluent readers face persistent barriers to meaning, turning everyday reading into a laborious, deliberate act. The challenge extends beyond understanding words to navigating an entire environment where meaning is not instantly accessible.
Kuang wanted to authentically represent this language experience in her novel. Most of her protagonist Lily’s conversations in the n ...
Language and Identity
Indira Lakshmanan and R.F. Kuang reflect on the challenges faced by second-generation immigrants in preserving their family heritage and narratives. Their stories reveal the complexities of generational memory, linguistic barriers, and the pain of unspoken trauma that pervades immigrant families.
Both Lakshmanan and Kuang discuss the deep regret many second-generation immigrants feel over lost family stories and cultural heritage. Lakshmanan observes that individuals like Lily want to become fluent in their ancestral language to speak with grandparents about family history, but often run out of time, leading to deep regret when elders pass away before these conversations can happen. Kuang echoes this sentiment, sharing personal remorse for postponing opportunities to record her grandfather’s stories due to embarrassment over her limited Chinese, ultimately losing that chance forever.
The desire to preserve family history is frequently hindered not just by lost opportunity or language, but by a reluctance to discuss past trauma. Kuang explains that while she wished to document her family’s history, especially relating to the Cambodian genocide and her relatives’ experiences in labor camps, her efforts were met with silence or fragmented disclosures, according to the comfort of relatives. Lingering trauma among immigrant parents often results in an unwillingness to revisit or share painful memories. As Kuang recounts, any time she sought more details, she was told: “this is a very hard thing for us to talk about. In fact, we don’t want to talk about it at all and you don’t really have a right to know, so we’re going to move on.”
Kuang highlights the rationale behind this reticence: from the parents’ perspective, the goal of escaping hardship and resettling in the U.S. is precisely so that their children, like Lily, will never have to confront or dwell on traumatic family histories. The withholding of these stories becomes, for some, an emblem of successful immigration, a way of offering children a new start free from the burdens of the past.
Silence around family history leaves many descendants with only fragmented knowledge, and the selective sharing of traumatic histories shapes the contours of memory and identity.
Family Heritage and the Immigrant Experience
Indira Lakshmanan draws parallels between the author R.F. Kuang and her protagonist, Lily Chen, noting that both are students at Yale, attended a summer program in Taipei, and have immigrant Chinese parents. Kuang confirms that much of Lily Chen is drawn from her own experiences. She shares that she was in Taipei three years prior when her own grandfather passed away, a loss that left her unable to write for a long time. Kuang emphasizes that the motivation behind her work as a novelist was to understand her family and honor their experiences, and this personal trauma directly informs the emotional core of her fiction.
R.F. Kuang explains that, in shaping Lily’s journey, she decided to intensify her own grief, guilt, shame, and humiliation "to a 10" through fiction. While Kuang was 30 at the time, she writes Lily as a 19-year-old who deals ...
Processing Grief Through Fiction
Andrew Limbong challenges the common industry notion that authors must stay within the boundaries of a single genre, such as a legal thriller writer being confined to legal thrillers or a family drama writer exclusively producing family sagas. He highlights R.F. Kuang as an example of an author who breaks this mold. Kuang is known for her ability to transition between genres, starting with her acclaimed dark fantasy trilogy "The Poppy War," which draws from Chinese history. She has also published "Yellow Face," a satirical novel exploring racial identity and the publishing world. Additionally, Kuang wrote two dark academia fantasy novels and now ventures into literary fiction with her new novel about language and family, "Taipei Story." Each genre allows her to explore distinct narratives and engage with different thematic inquiries, demonstrating that writers are not limited to a single style or subject.
Indira Lakshmanan notes Kuang's broad body of work, spanning bestsellers across several genres. Kuang explains that her love of reading widely drives her passion for genre diversity. She expresses ...
Writing Across Multiple Genres
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