Yosef Gerschman

“Chinese Cinderella? More like Chinese Chore.” I forced myself through this book and honestly felt like I deserved a medal just for finishing it. The writing is simple to the point of being childish, yet somehow manages to be melodramatic at every turn. Every chapter hits the same tedious note: “my family was mean to me, let me remind you again.” We get it. It reads less like a memoir and more like an endless diary entry that forgot to grow up. Any potential depth about culture, history, or resilience is drowned in repetition and self-pity. If you want to learn about China or inspiring life stories, there are plenty of better options. This isn’t tragic, it’s tiresome. If you want to experience genuine suffering, try making it through these pages without rolling your eyes.