Project Bookshelf: Sophia Zhang

This summer, I moved to Boston to stay with my sister and start a local internship. While packing, I had extremely limited luggage space and no idea of the size of my sister’s summer dorm. So I only brought one book—The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo—gifted to me from a dear friend. This has since been joined with the first volume of American Short Fiction, which I picked up from the used book store Brattle Book Shop for $3. Over the last month, I’ve been slowly working my way through both on my daily commutes.

At home, our family’s bookshelf (photos courtesy of my mom!) is flush with books pressed up against each other. But in all honesty, it’s a facade. Most of these books are from my childhood: dozens from the Magic Tree House and Boxer Children series; a copy of Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire that’s been read so many times the cover has been torn and the spine literally split into two; even some rhymes by Dr. Seuss.

Because to my own disappointment (just think of the aesthetic!), I haven’t been a fan of purchasing physical books for years. I probably wouldn’t have enough books I’ve bought to fill up a single row. In April, I won a $50 gift certificate for a bookshop that I have yet to even feel tempted to use.

Instead, I adore electronic books, particularly pdf copies. There’s something about the mindless scrolling that a pdf allows for—the blurring of time—that in combination with my terrifying screen time addiction, makes electronic books intensely more satisfying for me to read. And when I really felt the need for a physical book, I’d put in a request at my local library.

So while I no longer (or never did) have physical copies of these books, they’ve still played a pivotal role in my growth as a reader/writer. I fell in love with reading via the fantastical animals and worlds of Redwall. But it was in 5th grade, when I read Amy Tan’s The Joy Luck Club that I first saw my own life and experiences as a Chinese-American daughter reflected in what I was reading, when I resonated so deeply with a character’s experiences that I physically hurt, and in turn, when I understood the power for human connections stories and words could hold.

In middle school, I went on an enormous memoir kick. Think The Glass Castle, Wild, Angela’s Ashes, and more recently, I’m Glad My Mom Died. I still love memoir and draw inspiration from these books and more for my creative nonfiction.

During my junior year of high school, I read numerous books on Chinese history including women’s history, revolutions, and the Chinese Communist Party while researching a paper I was writing on the contributions of women in the Chinese Communist Party’s rise to power. It was during this time too that I began to consistently read poetry. I discovered Ocean Vuong, then Chen Chen, then Ada Limón and Mary Oliver and Danez Smith and Ross Gay.

Most recently, I’ve been enraptured by Ling Ma. Severance was by far my favorite read of 2023. Its dissection of experiences ranging from alienation caused by capitalism to mother-daughter relationships and the Chinese-American diaspora fascinated me. They’re ideas that I hope to continue processing in my own creative work. Severance is the only book I’ve been tempted to buy with my $50 gift certificate. And as I’m increasingly exposed to talented and emerging new writers during my time as an intern with Sundress, I can’t wait to hopefully expand my physical bookcase.

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Sophia Zhang is a Chinese-American writer from California. Her poetry and memoir—which centers around diaspora, joy, and womanhood—has been recognized by YoungArts, Columbia College Chicago, The Pulitzer Center, and others. In her spare time, she likes to browse thrift shops and binge movies. She is an incoming undergraduate student at Harvard University.