sure. wait. what?

Joan is Okay is more akin to a detailed character profile than a plot-driven narrative typical of most novels I read, which is to say that I did not read and/or finish reading Joan for the supreme reason of finding out what happens next and/or what happens at the end. All good though, because tales of/insights on immigration always have a room in my dusty-ass brain, and while I do not consider Joan to be a “fun” read, I still find immense satisfaction in getting to know a character like Joan who, in my opinion, embodies the complexities of being a capital-O Other while perfectly assimilating into a machine as a useful cog, something that made me revisit my own otherness as a Filipino outside the Philippines and as a corporate peon who, like (in my reading of) Joan, often finds herself stitching her worth and identity to labor, as if the feeling of belonging will always remain elusive anyway, so why bother with other superficialities of Life when we can focus on Work and nothing more? These are my own depressing conclusions, of course. Joan ends on a slightly more positive note, and that small story shared at the end made the nearly 7-hour drag and the micro-decisionssss to not give up on the book well worth the time.