I loved the last three pages. Overall, this made me sad (duh) but it was a beautiful concept. ( )

This short novel imagines a series of conversations between a grieving mother and her dead son. Ostensibly it is about grief and the questions that arise after the sudden loss of a loved one. A loved one that should not have died first. However, I really didn't find this book all that emotionally moving. Some people will describe the mother/son interactions as witty, but for me, the son's voice is very snarky. In some ways, this tone keeps the book from being maudlin. But I will admit to thinking to myself on occasion, "are you sure you miss this kid?" Of course, as a mother, I know how what kids say and what kids feel can be entirely divorced from one another, but the banter kept me from feeling as much empathy as perhaps I was supposed to be feeling.

Putting all that to the side for a moment, this book is about something else beyond loss and death. It is about words. And for me, that was the most compelling reason to read this book. If you are a person who likes to think about the language, how it used, and what it really means, you will love this piece of literature. I see this book as one that will be used in college lit classes forevermore. There's so much to discuss and unpack here that I truly regretted reading it alone. ( )

Yiyun Li is onder andere een in China geboren schrijfster. Tevens is ze een moeder van een zoon die op 16-jarige leeftijd zelfmoord heeft gepleegd. En is ze een vrouw die in 1996 naar Amerika is gekomen en daar succesvol is als professor en schrijfster. In Waar geen reden is verslaat ze op poëtische en nuchtere wijze de gesprekken met haar dode zoon, die door gaan na zijn plotselinge zelfmoord. Wat knap is aan haar verhaal, is hoe ze haar zoon krachtig, eigenwijs en puberaal laat zijn. En hoe zij als moeder van hem niet de kans krijgt te vluchten in clichés en verdriet. Je begrijp dat er weinig is wat ze niet had willen doen om hem te laten voortleven. En je begrijpt dat ze geen schijn van kans had om hem te redden. Het leven is gewoon niet perfect. Een gegeven waarmee haar zoon niet wilde leven. En zij allang heeft leren accepteren. Ook als er geen reden is.

I think this book would get 5 stars from me with a second reading - it is so heady and thought/feeling intense that I struggled to follow sometimes. The entire story takes place in the fictional narrator's mind. She too is a writer and has an immense respect for words and often digresses into words' meaning and origins and connotations. I personally enjoyed this, as a word nerd, but could see where it might bog others down. Currently, where words are failing the narrator (unnamed) is in her ability to understand her 16-year-old son's recent suicide. The entire book is a conversation (in her mind) between her and Nikolai. Rather than hashing over the past, this is taking place in the present as if he is still alive, or at least existing in some state/place where it is possible for him to respond to her thoughts. What makes this so beautiful and so well-done is that she doesn't come across as crazy or disturbed in her grief and Nikolai's input is so mundane and sometimes teenage prickly, that it comes across as everyday life. And yet the shadow of how different life has become is ever-present. The narrator copes well with this tension and it seems to see her through this devastating time. A sample I love: Nikolai: "You can add 'un' to many words and undo yourself." Narrator: "Undo, I thought. Undone. They are among the words that I did not say aloud, yet I had heard them used in connection to Nikolai. Even if people could refrain from saying them, these words were still not far, hovering with patience. Words are the falcons, our minds the trainers." "No, our minds are the targets, he said, the prey." (123) This shows both the wordplay and the nature of their relationship, which apparently was complex, but completely grounded in mother-love. It's also indicative of the challenge of following this mental journey. Worth the effort though! ( )

4.5/5

It is a difficult book to rate or review. Despite being merely 170 pages, it is not easy or quick to read at all. It doesn't have a story, it does not have a setting, it is simply an emotional journey of a mother trying to connect with her teenaged son whom she lost to suicide. It is an attempt by her to come into terms with the loss, to ponder upon the 'would-have-beens', to relive certain memories, to just have a playful banter, to simply keep him there with her. It was so beautifully written, you could just immerse yourself in the writing and just try to feel what the mother felt. I won't say it is my favorite book but it certainly is one of the most impactful books I've read. Also, I feel it is a book I'd definitely reread again and again and again. ( )