The Astonishing Color of After

 Emily X.R. Pan

Rating: ⭐⭐⭐
Genre: Magical Realism + Young Adult

Initial Impression

This was one of my Book of the Month book releases. For no particular reason, this novel sat on my shelf for a long time. I was eager to see if the story lived up to the hype and the praise the book and the author received. 

Summary

The Astonishing Color of After opens so strongly that, for a moment, I genuinely thought I’d found a new all-time favorite. Leigh’s grief, her mother’s death, and the surreal appearance of a red bird that she believes is her mother, all of it hits with an intensity that feels almost electric. The opening chapters mix emotion and magical realism in a way that feels fresh, like the book is promising something huge. I was fully ready for a 5-star ride.

As Leigh travels to Taiwan to learn more about her mother’s past, the story appears to be heading toward an emotional and cultural breakthrough. And at first, parts of it work; there’s something fascinating about watching her try to connect the dots between her mother’s memories and the life she never got to see. But soon the narrative gets stuck in a kind of loop. Scenes start to feel like variations of the same moment—Leigh wandering, remembering, questioning, wandering again. It’s not that nothing happens; it’s that what does happen often feels like a repeat of what happened fifty pages earlier.

The relationships in Leigh’s life—her father, her best friend, and the boy who might be something more—add some texture, but even these threads start circling around the same emotional points. I kept waiting for a shift, a real push forward, but the story hesitates so often that the momentum just slips away. What was riveting at first slowly becomes predictable, like being stuck in a dream that keeps resetting before it reaches the part you actually want to see.

Still, there are moments that stand out. Some memories from Leigh’s mother’s life are sharp and genuinely touching, and the cultural atmosphere of Taiwan sometimes brings the story back to life for a few pages. Those little bursts remind you of how powerful the book could have been if the pacing didn’t keep sagging. It never regains the spark of the beginning, but the emotional core peeks through every now and then.

Characters

Leigh herself is probably the strongest part of the book. She’s messy, confused, and trying desperately to make sense of a tragedy, and her emotional swings feel believable. Even when the plot stalls, her internal struggle still has moments that feel painfully real—especially the guilt she carries about her mother’s death and the way she keeps revisiting old memories from different angles.

The rest of the cast is less defined. Some characters appear with hints of complexity but then fade out before they become fully formed. Leigh’s father, for example, seems like he could have a meaningful arc, but he spends a lot of time drifting at the edges. Friends and extended family members show glimpses of personality, but the book rarely gives them enough space to feel like actual people. It’s as if they’re meant to support Leigh’s journey without really having journeys of their own.

Writing Style

The novel is written in a lyrical first-person style that leans heavily on imagery. You have colors, sensations, and fleeting thoughts. At its best, it’s gorgeous and atmospheric. But the same poetic tone that makes the beginning feel magical also slows things down later on. The writing wanders, sometimes beautifully, sometimes aimlessly, and that may contribute to the feeling that the plot keeps circling instead of progressing.

Setting and Atmosphere

Taiwan is probably one of the book’s biggest strengths. Emily X.R. Pan writes about the country with obvious affection, from temples buzzing with incense to small alley shops to humid streets lit by neon signs. The sense of place feels real and specific enough that you can almost picture Leigh getting lost in those neighborhoods at night. Still, a few scenes linger longer than they need to, and the setting starts to feel more decorative than essential in certain stretches.

The atmosphere begins with this heavy, almost dreamlike quality that mixes grief with magic. For a while, it’s spellbinding. Then the repetition kicks in, and the mood shifts from haunting to slightly numbing. You can feel what the author wanted the atmosphere to do—hold you in that vulnerable space between reality and memory, but the longer the story repeats its beats, the more the initial spell thins out.

Final Thoughts

I honestly wish I could give this book a higher rating, because those opening chapters are some of the best I’ve read in a long time. They’re emotional without being manipulative, and they set up a story that feels like it’s going to hit hard. But somewhere along the way, the book starts spinning in circles. Every time I thought it was about to land another emotional punch, it backed away into another round of wandering or reflection.

By the end, I wasn’t angry or disappointed so much as tired. The beauty is still there, maybe scattered or even fragile, but the pacing doesn’t support it, and the story’s emotional payoff never quite arrives. It’s a 3-star read for me: a book with a phenomenal beginning, a heartfelt core, and a middle and end that just couldn’t keep the spark alive.

Key Themes

• Grief and Loss
• Memory and the Unreliable Nature of It
• Family Secrets and Generational Trauma
• Identity and Self-Discovery
• Culture and Heritage
• Mental Health
• Magical Realism|
• Communication