Kwok is mostly more interesting and subtle than that. Indeed, the book is at its weakest in moments of fervid romance: the chiselled jaws, parted lips and tight muscles tip towards steamy cliche. Villains tend to be very villainous (there’s a wicked stepmother straight out of central casting) beautiful people are very, very beautiful. Take Sylvie starting cello lessons, for instance: really, who begins to learn an instrument while visiting a dying grandmother? Occasionally the manoeuvres needed to keep the wool over readers’ eyes result in clunky elisions, diversions or plot devices.
Some are satisfyingly shocking others stretch believability. She carefully maintains the mystery of Sylvie’s disappearance till the final chapters, where accusations, twists and revelations suddenly come thick and fast. Stylistically, Kwok’s work is held in a fine balance between coolly measured literary prose and a pacier thriller. And what I assume is an attempt to translate some Dutch has a fatally stiffening impact on the dialogue: “Has all hope sailed?” and “goes it all right?” do not sound like they come from the mouths of globetrotting thirtysomethings. These add an unusual flavour but can also jolt the reader. Searching for Sylvie Lee is enriched with proverbs and phrases, from the sublime – a mother referred to as “my heart stem” – to the ridiculous – “a floppy dick in rosewater”.
Kwok attempts to reflect the languages her characters speak – Chinese, English, Dutch – being fluent herself in all three. She carefully maintains the mystery of Sylvie’s disappearance till the final chapters Secrets pile up, as chapters move between Amy’s search and Sylvie’s account of the months leading up to her disappearance. Her little sister, Amy, is stuttering and timid, until she finds herself travelling across the world to work out what’s happened.
Sylvie is brilliant: clever, beautiful, successful, with a rich husband and good job.
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