Where Is 'The Expatriates' Set Primarily?

I’ve been diving into 'The Expatriates' lately, and it’s one of those books that feels so real you start wondering if it’s ripped from headlines. The short answer? No, it’s not based on a single true story, but it’s steeped in realities that’ll make you nod along if you’ve ever lived abroad or known someone who has. The author, Janice Y.K. Lee, draws from the expat experience in Hong Kong, weaving together threads of privilege, displacement, and personal tragedy that echo real-life complexities. It’s fiction, but the kind that wears research and observation like a second skin—every detail, from the claustrophobic social circles to the cultural friction, rings unnervingly authentic. The novel follows three women—Mercy, Margaret, and Hilary—each navigating their own version of expat life, and their struggles are anything but imagined. Margaret’s grief after a family tragedy mirrors the isolation of parents in foreign communities who lose their support networks. Mercy’s recklessness as a young Korean-American in Hong Kong captures the dizzying freedom (and pitfalls) of being untethered from home. Hilary’s marital strife feels like a peek into private therapy sessions of couples who move abroad to fix what’s already broken. Lee doesn’t need true events to make this resonate; she taps into universal truths about identity and belonging, which hit harder than any biopic could. What makes it feel 'true' is the setting’s precision. Hong Kong isn’t just a backdrop; it’s a character—its crowded streets, its expat bubble where everyone knows everyone’s business, the way the city’s glitter can’t mask its inequalities. Lee lived there herself, and it shows. The book’s power comes from how it mirrors real expat dilemmas: the guilt of domestic workers’ treatment, the performative charity of the wealthy, the way trauma follows you even when you flee across oceans. It’s not a true story, but it’s truthful, and that’s what sticks with you long after the last page.

'Dancer from the Dance' is set primarily in New York City during the 1970s, capturing the vibrant and chaotic energy of the city's underground gay scene. The novel paints a vivid picture of Fire Island as well, a popular getaway for gay men at the time, where the characters escape to find freedom and hedonism away from the city's prying eyes. These locations are more than just backdrops—they shape the characters' lives, relationships, and struggles. The book's portrayal of NYC is gritty and glamorous, from the dimly lit bars of Greenwich Village to the pulsating dance floors of disco clubs. Fire Island contrasts this with its sun-drenched beaches and carefree atmosphere, but both settings are tied together by the relentless pursuit of love and identity. The duality of these places mirrors the characters' own conflicts between desire and societal expectations.

My favorite thing about 'An Illicit Obesession' is how alive the city feels — it's primarily set in modern-day Seoul, and the author uses real neighborhoods as if they're part of the cast. The story hops between high-rise corporate towers in Gangnam, cramped but charming coffee shops in Hongdae, and the quieter residential alleys of Yeonnam-dong. A lot of key scenes happen in a sleek penthouse and a law office with glass walls, which is where the tension between characters really clicks. The subway rides, rainy nights along the Han River, and neon-lit late-night streets give the whole narrative a pulsing, cinematic energy. Beyond the obvious landmarks, what nails it for me is the little details: delivery scooters weaving through traffic, convenience store lights at 3 a.m., the hum of karaoke from below — those small touches anchor the drama to a very specific, modern Seoul. There are also brief flashbacks to a coastal hometown, but they feel like breathing rooms that highlight how isolated the city can be. All those settings shape choices, miscommunications, and power plays in ways that feel realistic and addictive, and honestly I found myself sketching mental maps while reading because the places are so vivid. It left me craving a rewatch of spots in my head, and I loved that personal connection to place.

The setting of 'Exiles' is a gritty, futuristic dystopia where humanity is divided between high-tech megacities and lawless wastelands. Picture neon-lit skyscrapers towering over slums where gangs rule the streets. The megacities are controlled by corporate oligarchs who experiment with cybernetics and AI, while the wastelands are home to exiled rebels and mutated creatures. The story shifts between these extremes, showing how characters navigate both worlds. The city's architecture feels alive, with holographic ads and drones buzzing everywhere, while the wastelands are all rusted ruins and radioactive storms. It's a world where survival means adapting to extremes, and the line between human and machine blurs more each day.

I remember 'The Expatriates' getting some serious recognition in the literary world. It won the 2016 National Book Critics Circle Award for Fiction, which is a huge deal in the book community. The novel was also a finalist for the Dayton Literary Peace Prize, showing how its themes of displacement and cultural clashes resonated with readers. Author Janice Y.K. Lee's portrayal of expatriate life in Hong Kong struck a chord, earning praise for its emotional depth and vivid storytelling. The book made several 'best of' lists that year, including The New York Times Notable Books of 2016. If you haven't read it yet, I'd pair it with 'The Piano Teacher,' another Hong Kong-set novel that explores similar themes of identity and belonging.

I binge-read 'The Expatriates' last summer and scoured every interview with the author Janice Y.K. Lee about potential follow-ups. As of now, there's no official sequel or spin-off announced. The novel wraps up its core story about three American women in Hong Kong pretty conclusively, but Lee has mentioned in podcasts that she's fascinated by side characters like Mercy's family in Seoul or Hilary's husband's backstory. She left enough threads that a spin-off could explore Margaret's life post-China or Essie's upbringing in the Philippines. For now, fans might enjoy Lee's other book 'The Piano Teacher'—it shares similar themes of displacement and has that lush, atmospheric writing style.

I recently got hooked on 'Foody Wars', and the setting is one of the most vibrant parts of the story. The action primarily unfolds in Neo-Gastronomia, a sprawling futuristic city where culinary battles dictate social hierarchy. This metropolis is divided into districts named after cooking techniques—Grill Quarter, Sauté Heights, and the infamous Fermentation Alley. Each area has its own distinct culture, from street vendors dueling with flaming woks to high-tech labs where chefs genetically modify ingredients. The city's architecture mirrors its food obsession, with buildings shaped like giant utensils and neon signs advertising 24-hour cooking tournaments. What makes Neo-Gastronomia special is how food permeates every aspect of life. The harbor docks are piled with rare spices from across the globe, and the underground markets trade illegal ingredients like dragon-pepper and moon-salt. The ruling council holds court in a coliseum where disputes are settled through live cooking duels broadcast nationwide. Beyond the city limits, there are hints of other locations—rumors of a hidden valley where ancient recipes are guarded by monk chefs, and a desert region where nomadic tribes cook with solar energy. The world-building makes you crave not just the food, but the entire culture surrounding it.

The filming location for 'The Expat' is quite intriguing! The movie was primarily shot in Colombia, which the filmmakers chose for its stunning landscapes and vibrant culture. It's fascinating how filmmakers often select locations that not only serve as backdrops but also enrich the storytelling experience. In the case of 'The Expat', Colombia perfectly encapsulates the essence of the story, transforming what could have been just another action film into a visually striking experience. The decision to film in Colombia is especially significant because it offers a mix of urban and rural settings that can evoke a wide array of emotions and atmospheres. From the bustling streets of Bogotá to the lush greenery of the countryside, every shot feels alive and teeming with character. I can't help but appreciate how location scouting can influence the overall vibe of a movie; it’s almost a character in itself! Plus, the culture, the color, and the warmth of the Colombian people really shine through, making the film feel authentic. Additionally, this choice highlights the growing trend of filmmakers seeking to head to countries that are often overlooked for major productions. Colombia has some truly unique landscapes and historical sites that many audiences might not immediately associate with a modern thriller. It's like uncovering a hidden gem; once you see it, you can’t help but want to explore more. I think it’s such a testament to how storytelling and location can intertwine beautifully in film, creating something memorable and unique. Isn't it amazing how a film can do more than just entertain? It can also transport us to places we've never been, broadening our horizons! I always walk away from these movies feeling not just entertained, but educated, especially about the culture and geography of their settings. It's exciting to see what future productions might choose to showcase next.Different regions have so much to offer, and I really love getting a little glimpse into them through film. Overall, 'The Expat' reaffirms my belief in the power of great cinematography paired with stunning locales!

The main female characters in 'The Expatriates' are three women whose lives intersect in Hong Kong. Margaret is an American expat dealing with unimaginable grief after a family tragedy. She’s trying to rebuild her life while navigating the expat bubble. Mercy is a young Korean-American woman struggling with identity and purpose, hopping from job to job and relationship to relationship. Her story is raw and relatable, especially for anyone who’s ever felt adrift. Hilary is wealthy and seemingly perfect, but her marriage is crumbling, and her desperation for a child leads her down ethically murky paths. Each woman’s arc is distinct yet intertwined, showing different facets of expat life—privilege, isolation, and the search for belonging.