This isn't a journal, it's a book report

Finished China Mountain Zhang. Didn't find the ending at all depressing; in fact, as my experience with Maureen F. McHugh goes, it's remarkably uplifting, since the main character ends the book with upper-middle-class credentials, a new business in the works, and a cute new boyfriend. (Makes an oddly capitalist summary, for a book in which America is Communist. Oh well. It was the Chinese model of Communism anyway.)

Mostly this proves that I'm more attuned to subtlety than my fourteen-year-old self, which shouldn't surprise anybody except perhaps the fourteen-year-old self, who is luckily not available for comment. And I suppose all the sex must have confused me. But it also proves that my world view is significantly more jaded; I'm taking a suicide and a date rape in stride. Fictionally, of course.