wow, that was a good book

The first thing that jumps out at me about The Language of Blood is how Jane Trenka plays with time while always leading the reader forward.
One moment we are with her as a young child in a new home, the next we are with her as she considers her love life from an adult point of view, and the next we are the audience in a deeply personal play. This technique of letting her memory be her guide works very well for the way she has set this memoir up. While at first it seemed chaotic to me, I never felt confused, or second guessed where Trebka was taking me on this journey to self discovery and self acceptance. "...there is a moment of disorientation that collapses times and swirls the years together so that my present is indistinguishable from my past. These moments are...a reminder that although time seems to pass in orderly, pie-shaped increments, I am wherever-and whenever-my memory drops me." (p.80), live in the moment, any moment; be who you feel like you are today even if it changes tomorrow; that's how a less skilled writer may have called our attention to the fluidity of time and the shades of grey that constitute memory. In her text, Trenka changes her mind, about the past, about the future, about who she is; what defines her. She uses informal jargon, making the reader feel like a close friend she is sorting things through with; but throws in Korean words that ostracize the reader, makes them feel as left out and out of place as she did/does. Trenka shows us her struggle to be the daughter she has always wanted to be; "Some things I will never know; others I am learning gradually, with effort and determination." (p.148);and how not being able to understand her dying Korean mother's wishes make her feel as out of place as not understanding her American mom's wishes to have had her own little boy. Both of these are things that Trenka must come to terms with she travels back in time in her own mind, as well as traveling half way around the world to find her "place" where not understanding word doesn't matter as much because there are other, more profound ways to understand each other.
Trenka is navigating her way through her own memory in these vignettes, searching for truth, searching for a place where she can be herself. As she loses her Korean mother to cancer, Trenka gains a deeper understanding of herself; she is able to see where she truly comes from, "I saw for the first time what you as a mother already knew: that I am made in the image of you; I am a daughter after your body and after your heart." (p.160). Not being the only non-white face was a large enough shock; but to then see that she was more than just similar to other Asians; she belonged to a family who had the same blood running through their veins was what ultimatly helped Trenka to finally see herself as a part of something outside of herself. In her American family, her sister and herself were often critized for things we later see are family traits, like shuffling while they walk. She leads the reader to ask: did this American family really do what they could to help these girls? We ask ourselves the same question Trenka asks: Why would they never speak of the adoption, was it because it made them see themselves as failures; unable to create their own family? We see how these questions lead Trenka to explore her own past, both in America and abroad, trying to collect and connect the pieces that make her who she is.