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FictionDebut Fiction

Sweet and sour

Review by Mari Carlson

Number One Chinese Restaurant, Lillian Li’s darkly hilarious debut novel, exposes what goes on behind the scenes at the Beijing Duck House Chinese Restaurant in Rockville, Maryland. Its vibrant employees serve up not only a glorious duck dinner but also a fiery tale of sabotage, revenge and lasting love.

“The waiters aren’t real people on the floor. . . . More like cartoons,” Li writes. “Little boss” Jimmy Han wants to one-up his father, the original Duck House owner, with his own establishment. But he has to enlist the godfather of the family, Uncle Pang, and undermine his brother and mother to do it. Uncle Pang has his own plans for Duck House, involving Pat, the newest employee. Meanwhile, Pat’s mom, Nan, the longtime Duck House manager, and her best friend, Ah-Jack, play out their feelings for each other.

The novel is tense from start to finish, taking place mostly in close quarters, indoors and internally. Chapters end with cliffhangers as Li navigates each character’s thread of the tale. The pacing is as quick as an industrial kitchen over dinner service, jumping from one emergency to the next. There is a wild fierceness to Li’s writing, as she likens characters to an “agitated collie,” a “trapped rat” and “demon dogs,” both as comic relief and as a clue to the characters’ barely contained energies. This energy explodes, literally and figuratively, in a rousing climax that proves both curse and blessing. After all, fires may be destructive, but they also can provide an opportunity for new growth.

The flavor of Number One Chinese Restaurant is anything but typical, as Li combines broiling anger and slow-simmering love in delicious proportions.

 

This article was originally published in the July 2018 issue of BookPage. Download the entire issue for the Kindle or Nook.

Number One Chinese Restaurant, Lillian Li’s darkly hilarious debut novel, exposes what goes on behind the scenes at the Beijing Duck House Chinese Restaurant in Rockville, Maryland. Its vibrant employees serve up not only a glorious duck dinner but also a fiery tale of sabotage, revenge and lasting love.

FictionHistorical FictionDebut Fiction

Do your part

Review by Carla Jean Whitley

Emmeline Lake has big dreams. She’s already doing what she can to support the war effort as a volunteer telephone operator for the Auxiliary Fire Service. She writes frequent letters to keep her boyfriend up to date and in high spirits while he’s fighting Hitler and the Nazis. But she wants to do even more: Emmy dreams of becoming a war correspondent.

She’s so busy dreaming, in fact, that she doesn’t pay attention during her interview for a job she spotted in The London Evening Chronicle. Emmy daydreams of seeing her byline under important reports from the front. Instead, she’s hired as a typist for another publication: Woman’s Friend. Emmy will spend her days typing up tough-love advice from Mrs. Henrietta Bird, author of the column “Henrietta Helps.”

The problem? Emmy actually wants to help. Mrs. Bird sends any letters containing “unpleasantness” to the rubbish bin. But as Emmy sorts through the mail, she sets aside such letters. Those readers deserve a response, she reasons, and it should be more thoughtful than the harsh advice Mrs. Bird doles out.

So Emmy writes them back. And signs her boss’s name.

It seems like a small offense in the context of World War II. London has so much more to worry about. But as Emmy continues to sort through her boss’s mailbag, she finds that she can provide some hope in the midst of the world’s darkest time.

In Dear Mrs. Bird, debut novelist AJ Pearce draws inspiration from women’s magazine advice columnists of the era. The result is a charming story full of as much pluck and grit as its protagonist.

 

This article was originally published in the July 2018 issue of BookPage. Download the entire issue for the Kindle or Nook.

Emmeline Lake has big dreams. She’s already doing what she can to support the war effort as a volunteer telephone operator for the Auxiliary Fire Service. She writes frequent letters to keep her boyfriend up to date and in high spirits while he’s fighting Hitler and the Nazis. But she wants to do even more: Emmy dreams of becoming a war correspondent.

FictionLiterary FictionDebut Fiction

Don’t worry, be happy

Review by Omar El Akkad

Happiness is an amorphous thing, a kind of fog about which it is easier to speak peripherally—the pursuit of happiness, the idea of happiness, the absence of happiness. In Tell the Machine Goodnight, author Katie Williams considers a future in which the ingredients of happiness have not only been identified but also commodified.

Set a couple of decades from now, the novel centers on Pearl, a technician working for Apricity, the hot tech corporation of the day. Apricity designs oracles—machines that, given a sample of the user’s DNA, return a number of recommendations to improve the user’s life, to make them happier. The recommendations can be ambiguous or downright cryptic: “Eat tangerines”; “Wrap yourself in softest fabric”; “Tell someone.” More often than not, the connection between doing these things and experiencing greater happiness is unclear, but Pearl’s clients almost always follow the machine’s instructions. And they almost always report feeling satisfied with the results.

The Apricity construct is clever and flexible enough to support the weight of the narrative. Williams does an admirable job of weaving myriad characters’ stories together, with the Apricity machine as the intersection at which all the tales meet. Some of the characters treat the machine with unwavering reverence, others with outright disdain. Its recommendations are used as clues, divine prophecy and the basis for performance art.

But the novel is at its best when it pushes the technology to the background and turns instead to the emotional mechanics of happiness. Williams is a deft observer of small human details, and in moments when she pinpoints these details, the story shines.

For all its imaginative and speculative power, Tell the Machine Goodnight is not a particularly futuristic book. Its primary concern is something so fundamentally human that it transcends time—our insatiable need to feel better, to decipher whatever happiness means.

 

This article was originally published in the July 2018 issue of BookPage. Download the entire issue for the Kindle or Nook.

Happiness is an amorphous thing, a kind of fog about which it is easier to speak peripherally—the pursuit of happiness, the idea of happiness, the absence of happiness. In Tell the Machine Goodnight, author Katie Williams considers a future in which the ingredients of happiness have not only been identified but also commodified.

FictionHistorical FictionDebut Fiction

A healer’s secrets

Review by Annie Peters

In the spring of 1603, Elizabeth I of England is just days from death. While others flee her court to jockey for positions under the future king, Frances Gorges stays by the old queen’s side. There, while dreaming of returning to her family estate and their gardens full of medicinal plants, Frances uses her considerable knowledge of plants and healing to comfort the queen.

Young Frances’ dream of returning home proves short-lived, however, when her ambitious uncle forces her to take a position as a lady to the new king’s young daughter, Princess Elizabeth. Once installed, Frances witnesses the utter debauchery of the king’s court. At the same time, she must tread lightly through endless political intrigues, as the king’s intolerant Puritanism makes it deadly to be called a Catholic or a witch. While the Privy Seal, Lord Cecil, would delight in revealing Frances as a witch for her healing powers, another courtier close to her, Tom Wintour, has a hand in organizing the Gunpowder Plot of 1605. Can Frances survive and protect those she loves in such treacherous times?

Tracy Borman has a Ph.D in history and is England’s joint Chief Curator of Historic Royal Palaces and chief executive of the Heritage Education Trust. She clearly knows her history. Masterfully set in a tumultuous time with well-crafted characters, The King’s Witch is a wonderful first novel that is difficult to put aside. Borman makes historical figures, such as the insecure King James and the intelligent, honorable Tom Wintour come to life on the page. Readers will root for the fictional Frances, who faces impossible odds at times but never loses her sense of self.

The first book of a trilogy, The King’s Witch will have its readers waiting impatiently for the next two volumes.

In the spring of 1603, Elizabeth I of England is just days from death. While others flee her court to jockey for positions under the future king, Frances Gorges stays by the old queen’s side. There, while dreaming of returning to her family estate and their gardens full of medicinal plants, Frances uses her considerable knowledge of plants and healing to comfort the queen.

FictionSpeculative FictionDebut Fiction

As time goes by

Review by Leslie Hinson

An Ocean of Minutes has a premise to thrill. Polly and her boyfriend, Frank, are forced to separate in 1981 when he contracts a deadly flu virus that is sweeping the United States. A company called TimeRaiser offers a drastic option: A healthy person may travel to the future, when the flu has been cured, and the sick person in the present is then treated. This comes at a hefty price and a contractual agreement to work for TimeRaiser for a set number of months or years. Polly and Frank are so much in love that Polly decides to risk everything to travel forward 12 years, at which time she and Frank plan to reunite and have the family they’ve been dreaming of.

A clear portrayal of their backstory is essential for the reader to hope that Frank and Polly reunite. The years-long romance is presented in cinematic vignettes. While Polly is not the most compelling woman to grace the pages of literature, the reader still shares in her heartbreak as she learns the devastating truth about the future, which has become her present. Without her knowledge or consent, she is rerouted five additional years into the future, landing her in 1998, while Frank is supposed to look for her in 1993. The United States and America are now two separate countries, and a border separates the couple. Every man she comes across in the future takes advantage of her. The most unsettling discovery of all is that while it took her only a few minutes to travel more than a decade, Frank, now in his 40s, has been living, growing and changing without her.

One of Lim’s greatest successes in her debut novel (her novella The Same Woman was published in 2007) is creating a future that is so completely imbued with bureaucratic nonsense that it as maddening as it is believable. TimeRaiser becomes its own character—one that perhaps rivals the protagonist for nuance.

An Ocean of Minutes has a premise to thrill. Polly and her boyfriend, Frank, are forced to separate in 1981 when he contracts a deadly flu virus that is sweeping the United States. A company called TimeRaiser offers a drastic option: A healthy person may travel to the future, when the flu has been cured, and the sick person in the present is then treated. This comes at a hefty price and a contractual agreement to work for TimeRaiser for a set number of months or years. Polly and Frank are so much in love that Polly decides to risk everything to travel forward 12 years, at which time she and Frank plan to reunite and have the family they’ve been dreaming of.

FictionDebut FictionComic Fiction

Lazy liaisons

Review by Harvey Freedenberg

The weather isn’t the only thing that’s steamy in Charlottesville, Virginia, in Andrew Martin’s debut novel. Early Work is the smart, if rueful, story of a love triangle, with all the painful fallout that usually attends that particular emotional geometric configuration.

When Peter, the novel’s narrator, glimpses Leslie, it’s a case of lust at first sight. But he faces one towering obstacle if he wants to consummate his desire: For five years he’s been in a relationship with Julia, a medical resident and poet, and sincerely believes they’d “continue to be together for the long, inevitably more complicated, run.” And there’s also the inconvenient fact that Leslie has her own attachment to a fiancé she’s left behind in Texas.

Both aspiring writers, Peter and Leslie aren’t doing much more than toying with works in progress—his a novel he fears will “never cohere into the, what, saga of ice and fire” his friends are imagining, and hers a script she’s being “encouraged,” rather than paid, to write. It seems both are ripe to fall into a summer fling, if only as a source of perceived respite from their unproductive literary efforts.

In Peter’s account—one whose tone alternates between self-lacerating insight and something akin to magical thinking—the desultory relationship doesn’t appear to bring much satisfaction to either character as the tension builds inevitably toward the moment when Julia learns of Peter’s infidelity, a scene that Martin portrays with understated grace.

Early Work isn’t interested in rendering moral judgment on Peter and Leslie’s affair, but it doesn’t shrink from portraying the bleak consequences of the mutual self-absorption that seems to be the driving force in their liaison. Even with that quality of reserve, there’s a lesson to be learned from this quiet novel: Sometimes we’re better off not getting what we want.

The weather isn’t the only thing that’s steamy in Charlottesville, Virginia, in Andrew Martin’s debut novel. Early Work is the smart, if rueful, story of a love triangle, with all the painful fallout that usually attends that particular emotional geometric configuration.

FictionWorld FictionDebut FictionComing of Age

Losing childhood and homeland

Review by Lauren Bufferd

The mass killings that took place in Rwanda in the spring of 1994 form the core of Gaël Faye’s Small Country, a miraculous story of before and after, of innocence shattered and of surviving the transformation of paradise into hell.

Already an international bestseller and the winner of multiple awards, Small Country, ably translated from the French by Sarah Ardizzone, tells the story of 10-year-old Gabriel living in Burundi with his family. Life is easy in the comfortable expatriate suburb, and even after Gaby’s parents separate, he and his band of friends spend their days stealing mangoes and smoking cigarettes. Though rumors of ethnic tensions rumble over from the Rwandan border, nothing threatens their carefree spirits.

This changes abruptly when war breaks out. Rumors of horrific violence turn into killings in Gaby’s own town, and even his own street. Gaby’s mother, who had traveled to Rwanda to find her brother and aunt, returns forever changed. The divide between Hutu and Tutsi proves insurmountable, and the lessons learned by Gaby and his friends are brutal.

Like his protagonist, Faye was born in Burundi to a French father and Rwandan mother. Faye’s family moved to France after the Rwandan genocide in 1995. Small Country is his first novel, but he’s had previous success as a songwriter and rapper, with songs that uniquely bridge the gap between French pop and African beats. Like Faye’s music, Small Country packs multiple experiences into a small space. The end of childhood, the demands of family and the coming of war, all seen through the eyes of a young person, are told simply and soulfully in under 200 pages.

The mass killings that took place in Rwanda in the spring of 1994 form the core of Gaël Faye’s Small Country, a miraculous story of before and after, of innocence shattered and of surviving the transformation of paradise into hell.

FictionDebut Fiction

Changing the narrative

Review by Trisha Ping

A resourceful, resilient teen heroine is at the heart of Meghan MacLean Weir’s propulsive debut novel. Demure and obedient, 17-year-old Essie has played the perfect preacher’s daughter for years—she’s the youngest of the brood that makes up “Six for Hicks,” a hit reality TV show starring her family. But now Essie is pregnant, and she won’t name the father. As the novel opens, Essie’s image-first mother is debating whether to arrange an abortion or secret adoption, or somehow try to pass off her grandchild as her own.

Essie, however, has other plans: After all, what gets better ratings than a wedding? Essie already has her eye on a groom: Roarke Richards, an athletic high school senior. The two barely know each other, and Roarke is skeptical—but once he realizes the deal includes enough money to save his parents’ business and pay for his dream college, he’s in. As Roarke and Essie try to sell their sudden wedding as a fairy tale and not a shotgun, the reader (and Roarke) gradually realizes that there’s more to Essie’s story (and her plan) than it first appears.

Weir, a doctor whose first book was a memoir about her pediatric residency, doles out the details of Essie’s past slowly but steadily, gaining a momentum that keeps the pages turning. As a pastor’s daughter, Weir is also adept at using the language of evangelical life, lending an authenticity that takes the book beyond a Duggar-family pastiche. The tentative trust that grows between Essie and Roarke gives The Book of Essie emotional depth, and the questions at its center have a surprising moral weight. Readers will root for Essie through every twist and turn of her story.

 

This article was originally published in the June 2018 issue of BookPage. Download the entire issue for the Kindle or Nook.

A resourceful, resilient teen heroine is at the heart of Meghan MacLean Weir’s propulsive debut novel. Demure and obedient, 17-year-old Essie has played the perfect preacher’s daughter for years—she’s the youngest of the brood that makes up “Six for Hicks,” a hit reality TV show starring her family. But now Essie is pregnant, and she won’t name the father. As the novel opens, Essie’s image-first mother is debating whether to arrange an abortion or secret adoption, or somehow try to pass off her grandchild as her own.

FictionSpeculative FictionDebut Fiction

An allegory with teeth

Review by Arlene McKanic

A title like A People’s History of the Vampire Uprising suggests a story that is way cool, with lots of spine-chilling action and armies of vampires and vampire slayers. Of course, we think we know who wins in the end. But Raymond A. Villareal’s novel doesn’t quite work like that. His tale is a little disturbing, and that’s a good thing. It functions somewhat as an allegory: The vampires are the 1 percent and everyone else is, well, everyone else.

In Villareal’s world, vampirism is the result of a plain old virus—though there’s nothing plain about a virus that imparts superhuman speed and strength, a greatly lengthened life span, infertility and the obligation to drink human blood and stay out of the sun. Like the vampirism of folklore, the condition is passed along via a bite, a practice that the vampires, who call themselves Gloamings, are reluctant to talk about. But that’s pretty much the only thing they’re modest about. Determined to take over the world, they’re choosy about who they “recreate.” The lucky few tend to be rich and powerful. Folks from the 99 percent are exsanguinated before their bodies are dumped in roadside ditches, or they’re kept on “farms” as a ready blood supply.

Villareal brilliantly and stealthily examines how Gloamings have abandoned being human. Amoral in ways that normals can’t comprehend, the Gloamings only act to advance their situation. This might mean donating blood to sick children, getting Gloaming-friendly legislation passed or murdering political opponents or anyone who’s in their way. These creatures use the levers of government, society and religion to get what they want. And a lot of people fall for it. This becomes the new normal.

A People’s History of the Vampire Uprising is an unsettling book. It’s also a warning.

 

This article was originally published in the June 2018 issue of BookPage. Download the entire issue for the Kindle or Nook.

A title like A People’s History of the Vampire Uprising suggests a story that is way cool, with lots of spine-chilling action and armies of vampires and vampire slayers. Of course, we think we know who wins in the end. But Raymond A. Villareal’s novel doesn’t quite work like that. His tale is a little disturbing, and that’s a good thing. It functions somewhat as an allegory: The vampires are the 1 percent and everyone else is, well, everyone else.

FictionLiterary FictionDebut Fiction

Before, after and during the wedding

Review by Jeff Vasishta

A Place for Us has been guaranteed a certain amount of prerelease publicity as the first novel under actress, producer and designer Sarah Jessica Parker’s new imprint, SJP for Hogarth. The author, Fatima Farheen Mirza, is a 26-year-old graduate of the highly respected Iowa Writers’ Workshop. The novel concerns itself with the lives of an Indian-American Muslim family living in California. The opening scene is the wedding of eldest daughter Hadia. The bride’s prodigal brother, Amar, has returned after an absence of several years, and the reasons for this absence unfold in ensuing chapters.

Hadia and Amar, along with sister Huda, are the children of Layla and Rafiq, and the interior lives of these characters are explored in continually shifting timelines. Early on, these multiple points of view and the seeming lack of plot make the story confusing, but A Place for Us gains traction when Amar is bullied at school around 9/11. He is also involved in a forbidden romance with Amira Ali, the daughter of a well-respected local family whose eldest son died in a car accident.

Overshadowing all these events are the parameters of a deeply traditional Muslim culture—arranged marriages, the differing set of standards and expectations for men and women, the pressure for academic achievement—and the looming sense of being an “other” in American society.

Immigrant novels often center on conflict and the juxtaposition between Old World values and modern Western culture. In seeking a better life for their children, Layla and Rafiq must contend with this and the effect it has on their family. A Place for Us resonates at the crossroads of culture, character, storytelling and poignancy.

 

This article was originally published in the June 2018 issue of BookPage. Download the entire issue for the Kindle or Nook.

A Place for Us has been guaranteed a certain amount of prerelease publicity as the first novel under actress, producer and designer Sarah Jessica Parker’s new imprint, SJP for Hogarth. The author, Fatima Farheen Mirza, is a 26-year-old graduate of the highly respected Iowa Writers’ Workshop. The novel concerns itself with the lives of an Indian-American Muslim family living in California. The opening scene is the wedding of eldest daughter Hadia. The bride’s prodigal brother, Amar, has returned after an absence of several years, and the reasons for this absence unfold in ensuing chapters.

FictionLiterary FictionDebut Fiction

Bearskin

Review by Mari Carlson

Part thriller, part crime novel, part dreamscape, James A. McLaughlin’s Bearskin refuses to be contained.

The bears on the Appalachian nature preserve overseen by Rice Moore, the novel’s on-the-run main character, need protection from hunters—much like Rice. He is used to being alone and operating outside the law, having fled from a drug cartel in Arizona. Rice is thankful for a break from the guns and violence of drug-running, but the bear poaching he encounters in his mountain refuge might be more than he can handle—and he finds help in the most unlikely of suspects.

The book begins with Rice’s prison sentence in Arizona and traces his tumultuous journey from confinement to hard-won freedom. Rice is employed to survey and maintain the Appalachian preserve, but the discovery of bear carcasses—as well as the story of the previous caretaker’s tragic departure—trigger in Rice a desire for revenge. In homemade camouflage, Rice spends more and more time on the mountain, watching for bear hunters and becoming like a bear himself. Wonderfully lucid prose in the climactic middle section starkly conveys Rice’s descent into a wild existence: “Hysteria fluttered like a moth in the back of his throat.” When Rice is attacked, the previous caretaker and other mountain people—including an ex-soldier turned criminal, a locksmith, a reclusive beekeeper and hillbilly brothers working their way into a nefarious biker gang—play their parts to bring about old-fashioned justice.

Smart and sophisticated, with animals both wild and domestic acting as metaphors, Bearskin is a gritty, down-home tale told with brute force. Rice is a memorable, reluctant hero for both his community and the animals in his charge.

Read more: James A. McLaughlin shares how he dug in deep to write Bearskin.

Part thriller, part crime novel, part dreamscape, James A. McLaughlin’s Bearskin refuses to be contained.

The bears on the Appalachian nature preserve overseen by Rice Moore, the novel’s on-the-run main character, need protection from hunters—much like…

FictionSpeculative FictionDebut Fiction

The Book of M

Review by Stephenie Harrison

Imagine a world in which shadows are more than simple physical phenomena that occur whenever light strikes a surface. What if our shadows were the guardians of all our memories and the core essence of who we are? What kind of darkness might descend upon the earth if one day people’s shadows suddenly began to vanish without an explanation, taking with them biographical details and threatening to unravel reality? This is the terrifying premise of Peng Shepherd’s outstanding and unforgettable The Book of M.

Our guides to this dystopian future are Ory and his wife, Max, who have quarantined themselves in a mountain lodge in Virginia while the mysterious plague of shadowlessness gradually sweeps across the planet. Despite all their safeguards, Max has recently lost her shadow, and it is only a matter of time before she begins to lose herself. In an attempt to stave off her forgetting, Ory gives Max a tape recorder to act as a repository for her memories. However, one day Ory returns from a scavenging trip to discover Max gone, prompting him to venture into a savage, chaotic world on a desperate and foolhardy mission to reunite with her. Even if the day should come when Max no longer remembers him, Ory knows he will never be able to forget or give up on Max.

Shepherd has constructed an exceedingly thoughtful and clever story that is perfectly paced and intricately plotted, producing a narrative filled with a genuine sense of urgency, thrilling twists and jaw-dropping revelations. Instantly absorbing, The Book of M is a scary, surprising, sad and sentimental story that will be deeply felt by readers while capturing their imaginations and hearts.

Readers shouldn’t be surprised if the only times they can bear to put this book down are when they feel the need to confirm that their shadows are still firmly intact.

This article was originally published in the June 2018 issue of BookPage. Download the entire issue for the Kindle or Nook.

BookPage Top Pick in Fiction, June 2018
FictionWorld FictionDebut Fiction

Swept away by a family’s history

Review by Mari Carlson

In his debut novel, Arif Anwar gathers stories in the manner that wind and waves build in a massive storm. The central character, Shahryar, not only survives the devastating 1970 Bhola cyclone in East Pakistan but also faces his family’s history leading up to that catastrophic event. Armed with talismans from the past, he confronts his uncertain future with dignity and ferocity. With the ethos of A Long Way Home (upon which the movie Lion is based) and the epic quality of The Kite Runner, The Storm provokes and inspires.

With no job prospect and his American visa about to run out, Shar may not be able to remain in the country with his American-born daughter. He meets an immigration lawyer who promises to help. This leads Shar toward legal and political risks not unlike those faced by his family in Bangladesh and India when India gained its independence in 1946.

Anwar constructs his novel like a cyclone, beginning at the onset of the 1970 storm, leaping forward to Shar in 2004 and then catapulting back to 1946 Calcutta. Laced with symbols and mysterious mementos—like a sash left by a Japanese soldier that is later discovered by a studious Hindu girl, and a fishing boat painted with eyes—chapters swell to suspenseful endings that dovetail with each other.

Anwar describes his settings in poetic detail, and readers will wish the dialogue were as well wrought: “The valley is flooded with the light of the dying sun, cradled by the jagged outlines of the Arakan Yomas and the Irrawaddy’s shimmering curves, studded with countless temples both spired and blunt-topped.” From visa troubles and Hindu-Muslim relations to child custody and starvation, Anwar tackles the gamut of modern challenges with style and care.

In his debut novel, Arif Anwar gathers stories in the manner that wind and waves build in a massive storm. The central character, Shahryar, not only survives the devastating 1970 Bhola cyclone in East Pakistan but also faces his family’s history leading up to that catastrophic event. Armed with talismans from the past, he confronts his uncertain future with dignity and ferocity. With the ethos of A Long Way Home (upon which the movie Lion is based) and the epic quality of The Kite Runner, The Storm provokes and inspires.

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