Source of book: NetGalley (thank you)
Relevant disclaimers: None
Please note: This review may not be reproduced or quoted, in whole or in part, without explicit consent from the author.

So, in the most basic terms, this is a book about gay Chinese men and the women who marry them, the way their lives are tragically entwined by the multi-directional cruelties of patriarchy, homophobia, and--following their immigration to America--racism.  This is also a book about ghosts and about grief, as it follows its protagonists from 1980s rural China to contemporary New York, the past and the present weaving together in a way that gives the whole book a dreamlike, haunting quality.

It opens with one of the central characters, Young Second, leaving his village because he was caught embracing (just embracing) with another boy. When we next catch up with him, he’s in the city of Furzhou where he has fallen in love with a man named Shun-Er, he met at the Worker’s Cinema. The cinema itself is a known meet-up space for queer men, who have sex and, sometimes fall in love, in the screen rooms to a background of ever-repeating war films.  A woman called Bao Mei runs the ticket office, protecting the men within, to honour her brother, another queer man who died in an accident and whose benign ghost she believes is haunting her. In 1980s New York, following the disastrous closing of the cinema and the pain and violence rippling out from that closure, Bao Mei and Young Second are now married (for companionship and convivence, not love). Shun-Er’s wife, Yan Hua, who was involved in the closure of the cinema, now a widow, is also in New York, having made a green card marriage to Frog, another Chinese immigrant. From there, time and circumstance, draw them back into each other’s lives, where ghosts, guilt, a reckoning with the past and the possibility of a future are all waiting.

Y’know even reading my attempt at a plot summary leaves me boggles why anyone who read this, reviewer or reader, came away without being harrowed as fuck. Because I remain as harrowed as fuck. I will say, to be fair, this isn’t tragedy-wanking sad, nor is it gratuitously unpleasant. It tends to deal as much with the subtler anguishes of marginalised identity--the loss of belonging, the erosion of hope for the self--as the more overt cruelties (though there is also violence and the expectation of violence, and a death by suicide). There is also beauty here, especially in Tang’s gorgeous writing, his capacity to find tenderness in situations that tend to be culturally portrayed as sordid (for example, of Young Second, Shun-Er and the cinema, ““The place where they first met, and where love became more than words and gentle touching. It was a thickness in the air. A taste, too: of sweat and saliva, blood in the mouth”), and the intricacy of his character work. Even in moments of terrible violence and suffering, Tang has a way of finding humanity, even if that very humanity is a cause of pain.

"It didn’t hurt. No, really, it didn’t. But the beating shocked and embarrassed Old Second to his core. It was a complex shock: one that began as joy when the cop’s bracelet broke, and that ended as disbelief. Fear, too, and apprehension. Because if a grandmother’s bracelet could snap from the mindless throwing of a man’s fist, what would happen to the person getting beaten? She’d prayed over that bracelet, had gone to temple to bless it with money folded into animal shapes. And now it was nothing but hail pelting a road. How beautiful the hail was. How musical the sound. But the moment the bracelet snapped, the policeman smiled, his face twisted into one of childlike curiosity. And that look, finally, was what broke the camel’s back. It did what the policeman’s fists sought out to do but couldn’t: make Old Second cry. 

He is a youngster, barely a man, Old Second wanted to tell the bystanders. They sent over a child to ruin my life.

And he agreed to do it."

I think what really gripped me about Cinema Love, in the end, was not necessarily the semi-familiar stories of queer longing and queer loss, but the inclusion of Bao Mei and Yan Hua. Bao Mei I struggled with slightly because so much of her own identity felt subsumed into the lives of the gay men surrounding her - first her brother, then Young Second, then all the men of the cinema she briefly and poignantly attempts to memorialise in fake letters home, charting happy endings for all these strangers - but perhaps that was the point. Yan Hua, though, for me, became the novel’s triumph. While her actions lead to the closure of the cinema, and indeed, her own husband’s death suicide, the book is very clear that she is ultimately as much a victim of her own pain as anyone else in the book, and while she informs on the cinema, it is ultimately those in power who move against the cinema and the men it shelters. That she lives such a large proportion of her subsequent life in guilt and shame for these actions, to me, just ended up emphasising how cruel, misleading and ultimately futile it is to cast individuals as the villains in stories of marginalised people, when--and I’m sorry to be so trite--it is the context that matters. That shapes us all. That teaches hatred of others and fear for ourselves, like the young policeman, with his broken prayer bracelet. 

I’ve seen some reviews mention, with disappointment, that the book touches only briefly upon one of its themes, that the queer men at its centre “had to humiliate their wives to satisfy their desires (but this was easy to forget in the throes of love)”. I actually rather strongly disagree with that, because of the importance both Bao Mei and, especially, Yan Hua play in the narrative. I think in any other book Yan Hua would have been the antagonist. But I was sincerely glad that--eventually--she did seem to find her way to some kind of happiness, some kind of selfhood. And that, to me, was the deepest magic of Cinema Love. Perhaps it’s why so many people insist the book is soft, tender, lovely, when I found it mostly heart-breaking. If we commit to the book’s central thesis that hatred and fear are learned--that they belong to society, not to individuals, who are mostly driven by the same drives, hope for happiness, a longing for connection--then Cinema Love taught me to unlearn them. Taught me to unlearn them for Yan Hua. Yes, she’s fictional, but she does a lot of damage to people who--moving aside complexities of time and race and lived experience--are still some degree “like me.” 

And obviously it’s easier to practice things in fiction than it is in life.

But it’s a start. 

Because if life teaches us rejection, fiction teaches empathy, and I know which I’d rather learn.

An amazing heartbreaking story. Every single one in this book was captivating. Definitely will read more of this author in the future.

A tender, bittersweet novel about loneliness, love, and community among Chinese immigrants in New York. Moving, quiet, and beautifully observed.

Cinema Love was a tender, emotional read and my enthusiasm for this book snuck up on me. This story centers around closeted queer Chinese men and the women who are married and/or love them, and their connection to the Workers’ Cinema: a rundown theater where gay men cruised without fear. I had a hard time following the characters at first, but once I got invested and the story unfolded, it was easy to follow. I loved the 3rd person, multiple points of view and the intricacies and complex relationships between the characters. The writing was so descriptive I felt like I could picture the characters perfectly, from their appearance to their smells, a unique reading experience for me. I loved this book and cannot wait to read more from this author. Thank you to NetGalley, the author, and publisher for providing this book to me as an arc. 4.5/5

The writing was beautiful, the characters felt real. It was a very emotional book that was quite well done. I will definitely be recommending this. Thank you to NetGalley and the publisher for this ARC!

poignant and touching, but could have worked better as a short story collection in my opinion as it felt a bit disjointed at times.

Cinema Love by Jiaming Tang is a poignant and moving novel that explores themes of love, loss, and the enduring power of memory. This beautifully written story of forbidden love in post-socialist China will stay with readers long after they finish the final page.

Many thanks to the author, publisher, and NetGalley for sharing this book with me.

Thank you to Netgalley and the Publishing Company for this Advanced Readers Copy of Cinema Love by Jiaming Tang!

I usually don't save quotes, but the writing in this was so magical to me.
"A relationship with only the good isn't a relationship at all." The people in this are complicated, and interesting, and passionate. From one scene to another, the settings feel haunted by the characters, even though they're alive.
The cinema was especially haunted, and a character describes the "gay men, those squalid and impolite dreamers who wanted nothing but to live without fear." I wish I had this kind of talent, or that I could even find this kind of talent more often. This book is so interesting and beautiful. Thanks to NetGalley for letting me read this.

This is one if those books where I did not personally connect to the story or the characters or the narrative, but I still thought it was gorgeously written and I have no doubt that others will. I felt like I was reading their story at a remove, as opposed to being fully absorbed in it. It was a bit like looking at a beautiful painting that you just don't quite understand.

Incredibly well-written heart-rending and lovely. Characters felt very real with hopes and dreams. I felt their devastation when bad things happened and their happiness when good things happened. It's been quite a while since a book made me cry.
4/5 stars

Many thanks to NetGalley and the publisher for my review copy!

I tend to go into books trying to avoid any description of what it is about. This one truly gave me NO clue as to what it contained with that process. It turned out to be a very unique LGBTQIA+ novel with unexpected characters, and stories of love and loss. It brings readers from China to America, following couples immigrating and their struggle to make it America, while staying true to themselves.

There is some hateful verbiage, which may be challenging for some.

I didn’t vibe with this book but that’s okay because I do genuinely think that other people will LOVE this book!

Thank you NetGalley and Penguin Group Dutton for the ARC! A beautiful and tender love story - I hope this one gets more visibility. A perfect blend of vignettes - pick this one up!

3.5 Stars
Thank you to Penguin Group Dutton and NetGalley for this ARC.

This is a complicated book to review. It took me a long time to get through it, and I wasn't a huge fan of the pacing, so that's why it has a 3 star review. However, Jiaming Tang did an amazing job at creating a cast of complicated, multifaceted characters. They were messy, and complicated with difficult feelings, but it didn't feel outlandish or extra to me. It felt realistic and I appreciated the realness of the flawed characters and their emotions. I loved that this story spanned so many years, and featured so many people. I think the way that the author worked to connect them all was also really impressive. This book shone a light on what it might be like to be member of the LGBT community years ago in China, as well as what it must have been like for many immigrants, and I appreciated those perspectives. My only other complaint would be that at times it was confusing how many years had passed, or from what person's perspective we were reading from. I think this could've been easily remedied with names and dates being placed at the start of each chapter, but maybe there was a reason why the author didn't want to do this.

Overall, I would recommend this book. I think it would be the best fit for individuals who like stories with multiple points of view that span multiple decades, as well as people wanting to know more about the difficulties both LGBT folks and immigrants faced over the past 50--60 years.

Cinema Love focuses on the lives of Chinese immigrants living in New York City, including their early lives and the events that lead to the choice to come to America. While I really enjoyed the parts of the story set in provincial China, of Old Second's coming of age and experience of queerness in a communist country, I feel like the story gets very scattered during the flash forwards to the characters' lives in New York. It took a while for me to find my footing in the novel and made the book feel really slow-paced and fractured.

Cinema Love is a gorgeous book about the heartbreak of being gay in rural China, the joy of a refuge within that world, the loneliness of being a wife to a gay man, the power of female friendship and the hell Chinese immigrants have been forced to live through. There was no part of it that didn't make my heart feel for everyone just trying their best and endlessly struggling.

I found the end unsatisfying, but I'm struggling to figure out why. Time jumps definitely felt off, and maybe that was a big part of it.

A tale that spans decades and continents following a cast of characters all linked by their connection to the Worker's Cinema, a theater in rural post-socialist China where gay men cruised for intimacy, conversation, and love without fear. Its a tender tale about love, family, guilt, and forgiveness. If you want to feel something, and want to read beautiful, lyrical prose, I highly recommend this book.

Thanks to NetGalley and the publisher for an advanced copy in exchange for an honest review.

This was a beautifully written story about queer men in Fuzhou, China in the 80s and what follows them when they immigrate to Chinatown in NYC around the turn of the century. The description states that "Cinema Love is a big-hearted and heart-shattering novel about desire, secrets, grief, how we care for one another, and how we survive," and I would whole-heartedly agree. This book broke my heart but also deeply touched me, and left me thinking.

I requested this for consideration for Book Riot's All the Books podcast for its release date. After sampling several books out this week, I decided to go with a different book for my review.