Stephen Dau‘s The Book of Jonas is one of those rare, shattering, lingering, breathtaking-at-unexpected-moments debut novels that arrive so perfectly formed you’re left both haunted (wondering what you could possibly read next to dispel the terror) and grateful (utterly so, that you were provided this literary gift).

The Book is actually not a single story, but three: Jonas, who reinvents himself from a sole survivor of his unnamed Middle Eastern (as written on the inside book jacket) or Central Asian (seemingly Afghan by description) village into an American-in-the-making; Christopher, a U.S. soldier stationed far from home, both taking and saving lives, who confesses his wartime actions in a hidden leather journal; and Rose, Christopher’s mother who still waits, if not for her son, then for some semblance of answers. To tell you more of the sparse, intricate narrative would surely be an injustice to your own discovery …

That said, might I share a few suggested details that might enhance your reading … although, I also encourage you to go directly to the book (via the page or stuck in your ears, so elegantly voiced by audible favorite Simon Vance) – I won’t take your redirection personally.

The title clearly indicates the importance of names: “Jonas” is a form of Jonah – as in ‘ … and the whale’ – and is as an Anglicization of the Arab name Younis/Yūnis; Christopher is the patron saint of travelers who protects against accidents and sudden death, usually depicted with a child in his arms. The good book is presented not unlike the religious text it suggests, its chapters marked from “Processional” to “Recessional,” with “Communion,” “Confession,” and “Benediction” in between.

The so-called “inerrant word of God” is filled with “internal inconsistencies,” and “the writings themselves live in metaphor, that they seek not to convey factual information, but to reveal larger truths.” The same might be said of the best fiction.

“‘Unfortunately … our country sometimes has a habit of making a mess with its left hand and cleaning it up with its right.’” Or at least tries to … except that in war, the question of ‘how’ gets impossibly blurred as collateral damage exponentially multiplies.

Pay attention to forms: “For everything he needs to do, there seems to be a corresponding form. …[T]he average person living in America will spend six months filling out forms.”

But be wary of easy labels: Victim, perpetrator, terrorist, refugee, criminal, man, boy, human, alien, arsonist, fireman, archivist, vandal, outsider – ”He can neither place himself into context, nor can he be placed.”

And, if you got this far, heed the final word: READ.

Readers: Young Adult, Adult

Published: 2012

But I digress (again), because the sentence above is actually the opening line to Anna Keesey‘s debut novel, one of those anointed titles that blessedly appears on multiple ‘best-of’ 2012 lists. That might be enough to send you to shopping, so feel free to start ordering now; if you’re hemming and hawing about choosing between ‘on-the-page’ and ‘stuck-in-the-ears,’ be assured that Tavia Gilbert vibrantly animates Century‘s memorably diverse characters.

At 18, Esther Chambers – a city girl from Chicago – becomes an orphan when her mother passes away. With nowhere else to go, she embarks on a four-day journey to the wild West of Century, Oregon, the home of her distant cousin Ferris Pickett. She sees in Ferris her last vestige of family as he is her only living relative; he recognizes in her a business opportunity when he asks her to “help out [her] old cousin,” by lying about her age in order to stake a claim on a nearby homestead. Ferris owns Two Forks, a cattle ranch next to what will become Esther’s new home – a small cabin on a lake called Half-a-Mind – which also happens to be ”the only piece left with water on it east of the mountains.” Ranching, farming, frontier survival all depend on access to water …

Settling into her unfamiliar new life (which Esther records in bittersweetly undeliverable letters to her late mother) is eased by establishing relationships with her fellow residents: the feisty schoolteacher with a past Jane Fremont, the good Reverend Endicott, the nosy busybody Violet Fowler, the portly newspaper editor Mr. Cecil, the enigmatic worldly shopkeeper Joe Peaslee. Keesey’s characters are perhaps imbued with more symbolism than realism, but each has a story – some are local legends, some are just rumor, some are tall tales, and a few are actual truth.

As remote as the town might initially seem, the residents are hardly strangers to the ugly lure of greed and power. Even with the vast, open lands, the struggles for ownership and control are enough to incite regular violence – and worse. Esther begins to question her sense of familial duty, especially when she tentatively welcomes a friendship with an earnest young man from the wrong side of the cliff. All too soon, her Half-a-Mind adventures will need a whole lot of courageous integrity …

Readers: Young Adult, Adult

Published: 2012

He appeared out of the back of the shop, walked through the purple curtain and sauntered over to the door to let me in. I swallowed hard when I saw him. I’d had one sitting with him a few weeks prior. He had made me quite nervous then. I never thought that greaser types were for me, but when I first met him and took in his dark, slicked back hair, tight blue jeans, and strong, tattooed arms I couldn’t help but feel my adrenalin rush. He was a man of few words, but very polite and sweet. His artwork was impressive and I loved the piece he’d started for me. It was flowers and vines, starting above my right butt cheek and snaking around over my hip and across a bit of my belly.

Dusty unlocked the door and let me in. “Hey, how are you?”

“Good. Nice to see you,” I looked into his dark blue eyes and continued talking with much effort. “Thanks for scheduling me so late in the day. I appreciate it.”

“It’s no problem,” he smiled at me. I observed how plump and red his lips were. “I’m all set up back here. I thought we’d use the back room this time. If we sit out here people might think the shop’s open.”

“Oh, okay.” I felt my face flush at the idea of being in a small, private room with him for the next two hours. I followed him behind the curtain and into the tiny, windowless room.

“Go ahead and get comfortable. Lay down on the table face first. I’ll get you a pillow.”

I set my things down and stretched my body out on the black leather massage table. As I shyly inched my t-shirt up to just under my bra, he pulled his rolling chair up next to me and handed me the pillow.

“I’m going to pull your pants down a bit to make it easier. Can you unbutton them?”

I reached down and undid the top button and zipper. God! Why were my hands shaking? It’s not like this was my first time. He gently yanked the down waist band of my jeans until I felt a gentle breeze across the top of my ass crack. Suddenly I felt quite exposed. He picked up his tattoo gun and dipped it into the rich ink.

“Ready?”

“Yep,” I relaxed and buried my head in the firm pillow. The gun buzzed and he began to work. I didn’t wince. It wasn’t painful. I had expected that part of my body to be more sensitive, but it turned out that the feeling of being tattooed there was soothing and mildly sensual. I closed my eyes and let him do his work. I let my mind drift to thoughts of a sexual nature. How could I not be thinking about sex while lying down next to a man like Dusty? I started to imagine what it would feel like if he were to put the tattoo gun down and caress my hip or even gently kiss it. His gun buzzed for a long stretch before he stopped, jarring me out of my fantasy.

“Alison, I’m just going to take a break for a few minutes,” Dusty said quietly, “Seemed like you were almost falling asleep there.” He grinned at me, taking off his latex gloves and rolling away in his chair.

I sat up on the table, swinging my legs over the side. I brushed my dark hair away from my face, hoping I wasn’t flushed from my sexual daydream. Dusty rolled his chair back over to me, stopping directly in front of where my legs were hanging over, spread slightly apart. I looked down, shyly, and realized my pants were still undone. Dusty noticed my glance and laughed.

“You know, Alison, you have gorgeous skin. It’s perfect for tattooing.” He gently grabbed my right arm and ran his hands over my first tattoo.

“It holds the color really well.” He looked up at me with a slight, coy smile.

“Thanks…” I didn’t know what else to say at that moment. He moved his hands down to my knees and cocked his head to look up at me. I felt my breath quicken. I looked straight into his eyes. His hands slowly moved up my thighs and to my hips. He stood up and yanked me forward, forcing me to open my legs farther apart as he stood between them. He kissed me, just as he had done in my fantasy. He was gentle at first, but his mouth deepened within seconds, his tongue finding mine. He moved his hands up my body, pulling me closer to him. His firm fingers gently traced the curve of the vine that he had so recently planted on my tender torso. My legs wrapped around him, and I could feel his erection grow against my groin. Was I still dreaming?

He pulled my shirt off and pushed me back onto the table. He took his own shirt off and revealed a taut and smooth upper body, covered almost entirely with vivid ink. I reached up and ran my hands over his stomach and down to his jeans. I unbuttoned them quickly and revealed his cock. It was as wonderful as I had imagined it. I gave his long, firm shaft a quick squeeze. He smiled at me and finished undressing and then yanked my jeans and panties off in one swift movement. He looked down at me, naked on his table.

“You are beautiful,” he said in a near whisper. “I’ve been thinking about doing this since the first time you came into the shop.”

“So have I.” I reached up and pulled him down on top of me and kissed him, loving the feeling of his body and his erection pressing urgently against me. His mouth moved to my breasts and he suckled and bit them with the right amount of roughness. His probing hand found my pussy, and he slowly entered me with two fingers.

“You’re so wet for me Alison,” he breathed into my ear, his breath warm — almost moist. He ran his tongue up the length of my neck and bit my earlobe. “I’m going to fuck you now.”

I sucked in my breath, anticipating his entry. He gave me a hot, wet kiss as he pushed into me. It was exquisite. My hands immediately moved to his ass and I pushed him as deeply into me as possible, savoring each thrust. Every time he sank into me I felt his pelvis grinding against my clitoris. I felt my climax begin to rise. I knew it wouldn’t be long before I came. Dusty moved in and out of me at a steady pace. He breathed heavily into my ear, “I want you to come for me.” Just as soon as he commanded it, I felt it happening. As I came I let out a long, loud moan and dug my nails into his ass, savoring the deep thrust and the delicious orgasm.

Dusty gave me another lusty kiss and nipped my bottom lip as he pulled away. He then lifted his body off of mine.

“I’m not finished with you. Turn over.”

I did as I was told. After I turned over I felt him pull my legs off the edge of the table. He positioned me so that my ass was facing him and my toes barely reached the ground. I gripped the table in anticipation. The raw flesh of my new tattoo stung delightfully as his flesh met it. I felt his hands grab my hips tightly and then he entered me from behind. He was slow and tender at first but his rhythm soon picked up. He let out some low growls and I felt my next orgasm start to build. His cock sank deeply into my pussy with every thrust, hitting just the right spot. He reached down and grabbed a handful of my long hair. He yanked on it, pulling my head back. I moaned as I felt him lean forward and put his face next to my ear.

“Now I’m going to come for you,” he hissed and bit my neck. I pushed my ass back against him, willing his cock deeper inside me. I was on the edge of coming as I heard him let out a guttural groan. He kept pumping me as he came, and this was all I needed to reach my climax. I called out as I came and felt the explosion of pleasure through my entire body.

He pulled out of me and picked his clothes up off the floor. I sat up and tried to collect myself. I found my own clothes and, as if in a daze, or waking from sleep, began to get dressed. Dusty pulled on his jeans, sat down in his chair and leaned back. His flushed face and shirtless body made me feel giddy inside. He looked at me and gave me a lascivious smile.

“Let’s get back to work on your tattoo. In a little while I would love to take another break.”

I smiled and lay back down on the table, and closed my eyes.

Scant documentation survives about Princess Pari who was the favored daughter of Tahmasb Shah (1514-1576), the second ruler of the Safavi dynasty which reigned over one of the most significant Persian empires. In Sun, the few known major events of Pari’s royal existence are a vehicle for Javaher to share his enthralling, detail-laden experiences – and Amirrezvani makes exceptional use her fictional freedom – both inside the carefully-guarded harem and considerably beyond the palace gates.

Javaher joins Pari’s service, personally chosen by the revered, celebrated Shah. In order to prove his loyalty to the same royal court that accused and executed his father on distorted charges, Javaher has shockingly emasculated himself as a young man – much later than his fellow eunuchs who were made so in early boyhood. Javaher is determined to reclaim both his shattered family’s honor … and their former power. When the Shah dies unexpectedly without naming his chosen heir, Pari (and much of the court) knows that as his favored protegé, she is by far the best prepared, most knowing successor … if only she were not a woman. More and more, Pari’s brilliant, dangerous machinations rely on Javaher’s silence, his devotion, his intelligence, and his access to outside connections.

Because this is Javaher’s story, Sun moves beyond his royal service with intriguing subplots that include his personal quest to seek revenge on his father’s accuser, his determination to save his younger sister from their greed-driven aunt, and (with enough detail to make one blush at least a few shades of grey) his surprising romantic liaisons (birth control measures not required). Untethered by recorded facts, Amirrezvani’s fictional hero is a fascinating creation, fully aware of his Machiavellian choices, unbending in his determination to succeed: “If this book were discovered by the wrong man, I could be executed, for I have committed monstrous deeds and made mistakes that I would prefer not to reveal – although what man hasn’t?” he muses. “Man is flawed by his very nature. His ears hear only what they wish; God alone knows the absolute truth.” Amen to that.

Readers: Adult

Published: 2012

Johnny Tom, who escapes famine and death in his native China, arrives in the new world only to be repeatedly enslaved. From the spirit-breaking labor of the Hawai’i sugar plantations, he escapes to the mainland, only to be kidnapped and shipped to New Orleans where he is offered up on the auction block as a cheaper alternative to black slaves. His brief respite as a free man, contentedly sharing life with his hapa Native American wife and their daughter, is stolen from him when the Civil War breaks out, and the town’s men are conscripted to serve in the Confederate Army. Refusing to fight for slavery, he defects to the Union side, answering promises that his loyalty will be rewarded with citizenship upon victory. He stays alive talking story, managing to turn away from the racist barrages, concentrating on nurturing the weaker and younger with his tales of travel, relationships, and survival when nothing else is left.

In another camp, Johnny’s teenage daughter has escaped her own slaughter, only to witness to thousands and thousands of unthinkable tragedies. Thinking the only way to find her father will be through her own military service, Era Tom is caregiver, comforter, savior … and spy. She tends to the Confederate wounded with genuine empathy and selfless caring, even as she gathers intelligence for the other side. She will not serve the slavers, and yet she will do everything she can to keep their butchered boys alive. When she falls headlong in love with a soldier whose mangled arm she helps to remove then hopes to heal, she must somehow find a way to justify heart, mind, and soul with her traitorous emotions …

Relying on her own ancestral history, bestselling Hawai’i author Kiana Davenport renders a little-known, vital moment of American history and bears testimony to its remarkable Chinese American survivors. When the Civil War finally ended, the U.S. government abandoned Chinese and Chinese American soldiers, revoking their promise of citizenship. Post-Civil War, Chinese Americans fell victim to one of the most virulently racist, anti-Asian periods in American history, marked by murderous purgings of whole communities throughout the American West. Racism became institutionalized, culminating in the Chinese Exclusion Act of 1882, which remained legal until 1943, but effectively enforced until 1965 when race-based immigration quotas finally lifted. Not until 2003 – almost 150 years! – were Civil War soldiers of Chinese descent recognized very posthumously with citizenship; the descendants, as Davenport notes, are still denied veteran pensions.

History – often presented via sterilized facts and surreal figures – always becomes more real with names and faces attached. Davenport vividly journeys coast-to-coast with her fearsome ancestors, stopping in some of the most gruesome, blood-soaked battlefields, and to dream and hope in some of the most majestic open frontiers. Their intertwined stories beckon … you merely need to turn the page and listen in.

Readers: Adult

Published: 2012

Like Donoghue who has “gone stray, stepped off some invisible track [she] was meant to follow,” her characters begin in one place and are driven out, run away, move to, or search out somewhere else. In “Man and Boy,” two “self-made prodigies” are willing to accept “[w]hatever Barnum offers” – yes, as in P.T. – and prepare to sail from London in 1882 across the Atlantic toward waiting audiences. A young woman living in 1854 London in dire circumstances in “Onward” finds a surprising benefactor (I hope you’ll be as tickled as I was to learn his identity!) who offers the possibility of a reinvented life in the new world. In “Last Supper at Brown’s,” a slave and his missus flee 1864 Texas, leaving the master “facedown in the okra” (not my favorite veggie, either!).

In “Counting the Days,” plans for reunion between a waiting husband in Canada and his Irish wife and young children are tragically thwarted. A lawless woman of the Wild West captures a wayward prospector, and acting as her own “judge and jury,” decides to return him to his family with a few adventures along the way in “The Long Way Home.” In “The Gift,” a destitute new mother gives up her daughter in 1877 and spends the rest of her life trying to reclaim her. The private lives of a 1639 Cape Cod community are transgressively revealed, then recanted in “The Lost Seed.” And, in my personal favorite, “Daddy’s Girl,” a young woman learns the true identity of her father only upon his death.

Harnessing her own searching spirit, Donoghue ventures through centuries and continents, across oceans and cultures, to present a unique collection of peripatetic characters, each ready to confront, challenge, or flee what life presents next. Be assured: Going rogue never read this good.

Readers: Adult

Published: 2012

Given the monumental (continuous) changes post-Arab Spring, my recent (ongoing) search for women’s voices before and after led me to an unusual writer who defies many expectations of what it means to be internationally literary: Alifa Rifaat lives and works in a traditional Egyptian Muslim society (this collection was first published in English translation almost three decades ago), she does not have a university education (her family married her off instead), she speaks a single language which means her reading is restricted to literature available only in Arabic, and the only time she has left her provincial Egyptian life is for religious pilgrimages to Mecca and Medina.

“At first consideration this would appear an uncompromising background for a writer of fiction,” notes her translator Denys Johnson-Davies (the notable nonagenarian and revered translator of Nobel-ist Naguib Mahfouz, Mahmud Darwish, Tayed Salih, and many more), “yet it is these very limitations that have imposed upon her writing its freshness and actuality. Most of her stories express, implicitly rather than explicitly, a revolt against many of the norms and attitudes, particularly those related to woman and her place in society.” Rifaat’s protests are less political than they are just simply human: men should behave kindly towards women – “as enjoined by the Qur’an” – and when they don’t, women turn to “contempt and rebellion.”

In the titular “Distant View of a Minaret,” a woman long denied fulfillment in marriage surprises herself by calmly pouring herself a cup of coffee immediately after her husband’s death. In “An Incident in the Ghobashi Household,” a woman figures out to save her daughter and therefore her family. In “Badriyya and Her Husband,” a lonely wife whose husband returns from prison, is proverbially “the last to know” but she finally contemplates how she will “find the strength not to open the door to him.” In “My World of the Unknown,” a woman embarks on a mysterious affair that may or may not be real, but more importantly provides her great joy and pleasure. In “The Flat on Nakshabandi Street,” an elderly maiden aunt who lives with her bachelor nephew watches life go by (and plots her daily machinations) from her window seat overlooking the street below.

The majority of Rifaat’s 15 short stories here underline how difficult basic consideration between the sexes seems to be. In her immediate world tightly circumscribed by traditional, religious, and societal expectations, a sense of resigned regret undeniably looms, but lest you dismiss the Rifaat’s writing as bleak and disheartening, be assured that many of the women here find their own ways of surviving, and even thriving.

Tidbit: What a surprise to find the eminent Denys Johnson-Davis on BookDragon (!) as the author of a children’s book, Goha the Wise Fool. Clearly I don’t even know my own content, but Johnson-Davis’ creativity sure is prodigious!

Readers: Adult

Published: 1983, 1985 (United Kingdom), 1987 (United States)

The late Yutaka Kanzaki’s description of his Seventh Apostle ends with an enigmatic reference to “the eternally to be finished Sagrada Família,” the Barcelona church designed by Antoni Gaudí which remains incomplete more than a century after construction commenced in 1882. The search sends adopted-just-before-his-death son Issei Tomine to Napa Valley. His chosen traveling companion is (surprise, surprise) Loulan, his hapa Japanese Uyghur guide and savior (vital to finding Apostle #2) who now apparently seems to be his assistant of sorts. Issei’s ‘brother’ and rival Shizuku Kanzaki considers the ‘new worlds’ of South America, South Africa, and New Zealand, but eventually flies to the Australian Outback with his usual sidekick Miyabe Shinohara.

While discovering and enjoying some of the new world’s best wine offerings, Issei and Loulan outsmart gun-toting merchants while Shizuku and Miyabe help prevent greedy lumber exporters from setting fire to precious forests. Returning to the Kanzaki mansion with such unique adventures … and a single bottle each, the elusive Apostle is about to be revealed …

In case you hadn’t noticed, New World (which doesn’t have a volume number) is out of synch with the other four published translations thus far; the previous volume (#4) was a search for the Second Apostle, but New World jumps forward five bottles (and at least as many volumes) to the Seventh. We can only hope that fab publisher Vertical, Inc. will both fill in, then resume, this holy oenophilic quest sooner than later … oh please, please, please?

Readers: Adult

Published: 2012 (United States)

If Door is any indication, Keret’s writing surely defies easy categorization. Robbie finds a hole in the ground in which he can meet the incarnations of his many lies. Orit has to identify the body of a stranger who happens to be her husband even though she’s not married. Miron spends his mornings in a café meeting random people who mistake him for someone else. Ella unzips one lover to find another inside. A black man, a white woman, and a yellow priest confront a silvery, disabled God. Oshri the insurance salesman didn’t have any of his own when a man fell on his head. Ari’s girlfriend only sleeps with men named Ari.

Based on that 1/5 sampling of the collection, words like quirky, zany, wacky, might suffice. But then Keret will surprise you with wrenching: a man commits suicide over unrequited love; a newly widowed woman would rather open her restaurant to be with strangers than mourn alone. He offers even a few glimpses of the almost-mundane: a father who gives in to his willful young son; a woman who plans her husband’s 50th birthday surprise party for which only three near-strangers show up. And then there’s the personal favorite: a documentary filmmaker collecting answers about a talking goldfish which grants three wishes gets inadvertently murdered by a Russian immigrant whose  … uh … talking goldfish convinces him to make a final wish.

To read is to believe, even that which your brain might deem impossible. Keret offers quite the mind-boggling, head-scratching, heart-cracking literary trip, provided in convenient segments just right for our overstimulated, deficit-ed attention spans. Go ahead, answer that knock … let your unexpected journey begin.

Tidbit: Ironically enough, I did not stick Keret’s Door in my ears. I think I really missed something: the stories are read “by an all-star cast” including Ira Glass, Willem Dafoe, Michael Chabon, Nicole Krauss, and Nathan Englander (who also translated some of the stories!)! WOWOWOW! You can currently tune in to a few of the recordings on the homepage of Keret’s website. No clue how long those links will be available, so take advantage now!

Tidbit2: Talk about timing! This came through on my Twitter feed this morning – a five-foot wide house in Manhattan known as the “Spite House,” the story of which could even be a Keret creation!

Readers: Adult

Published: 2012 (United States)

Rewind five months back: at the end of his third year of arts college, Andy announces to his buddies he’s quitting school: “I can draw! I can paint! I don’t see why I have go through another year of watercolor blends and contrapastos just get a piece of paper that says I can.” Two months later, he’s still couch surfing and living with his parents who finally pass him the “Help Wanted” section. Luck isn’t on his side at first – Andy’s thinking “Assistant Editor,” but the employer’s offering mailroom or janitor. Then he walks into an office and meets 481(4)-0427.05.03.D86 and 503(4)-0717.04.23.B101, whose employment contract offers a hefty salary, weekends off, three weeks of vacation, generous pension, health and dental benefits, and they’ll even throw in child support. But the job isn’t exactly local, and Andy’s just found out that the love of his life might not go unrequited after all. To sign or not to sign … Andy’s about to take the ride of his life!

Derek Kirk Kim who won the graphic industry triple crown – Eisner, Harvey, and Ignatz – with his debut collection, Same Difference and Other Stories, proves to be an epic jokester in this boisterous adventure, complete with goofy boy bonding, generational culture clash (“ai-goo” indeed!), coming-of-age first romance (queue soundtrack, please!), and intergalactic parallel universe science fiction. Kim’s also having quite the laugh, channeling his fellow buddies (did I mention goofy boy bonding? – page 123 is priceless!) including pop culture maven Jeff Yang and graphic artist Gene Luen Yang with whom Kim co-authored The Eternal Smile.

The “Book 1″ on the cover together with the “To Be Continued” on the final page promises more escapades ahead. I’m definitely (can’t resist …!) staying Tuned.

Readers: Young Adult, Adult

Published: 2012

Justice is at the heart of Erdrich’s latest, The Round House, this year’s National Book Award winner. The second title in a planned trilogy that began with The Plague of Doves, (2009 Pulitzer finalist), House undoubtedly succeeds as a stand-alone volume. That said, characters in House and Plague overlap and intertwine, and reading the titles sequentially amplifies the experience of both. Small phrases in House such as “A local historian had dredged that up and proved it,” would not have nearly the significance (“rough justice,” an unfinished love story) without the back-story revealed in Plague. [If you choose the audible route, although Gary Farmer reads evenly and admirably, to have Peter Francis James continue his narrating from Plague would surely have resulted in an even more resonating recitation.]

In House, Erdrich narrows her focus on one of Plague‘s four narrators, Judge Antone Bazil Coutts, a man of the law whose wife has been gravely violated. When Geraldine Coutts’ errand to retrieve a file from her office one Sunday has her still missing by the afternoon, the good judge and his son decide to go looking for her: “Women don’t realize how much store men set on the regularity of their habits,” observes 13-year-old Joe, also called “Oops” as he was a “surprise” in the late-in-life marriage of his parents. “Our pulse is set to theirs, and as always on a weekend afternoon, we were waiting for my mother to start us ticking away on the evening. And so, you see, her absence stopped time.”

After borrowing a relative’s car to search around town, father and son finally find Geraldine in their own driveway, her hands still clutching the steering wheel. Her withdrawal into a silent, isolated world of her own will shatter the small family. Joe’s determination to somehow heal his mother – fueled and abetted by his (teenage-boy, testosterone-driven) best friends – recognizes no limits. Twins separated at birth, a drowned doll full of wet bills, a priest who gives out Dune in addition to the good book, a Romeo-and-Juliet-like separation, all come together as young Joe works to restore his shattered family.

Like its teenage narrator, Round House moves urgently, rarely pausing for breath. Once begun, the story barrels toward the conclusion, shocking and reassuring both. Grab hold: don’t miss this phenomenal ride.

Readers: Adult

Published: 2012

In this latest volume, psychic Kuro Karatsu and hacker Ao Sasaki return from a beach vacation (yes, together, but it’s definitely not what you – or the fellow Deliverers – think!). They’re immediately summoned to the morgue because it’s quickly filling with lifeless male bodies that each happen to be wearing matching cartoon-character caps. The corpses have suddenly stopped talking to Karatsu, so dowser Makoto Numata and channeler Yuji Yata (and his alien sock puppet Kereellis) need to help Karatsu find a mysterious schoolgirl whose powers are literally out of this world.

Sasaki takes the stand in the next adventure, playing lay judge in a murder case. As the body count goes up, she has only the late poet Arthur Rimbaud and a handful of colored pencils to provide answers from beyond. In the volume’s final undertaking (couldn’t resist), the three male Deliverers (plus alien Kereellis) are hired to clear an overgrown urban park, but what should have been an afternoon of menial labor turns into quite the nightmare ceremony.

As always, do NOT skip the endnotes … how else will you find out about Indy (as in Indiana Jones)’s literacy challenges, that Ezekiel 4:12-13 reveals the food of the chosen people is not exactly manna (“sh*t sandwich,” anyone?), and so much more? We need to sooo appreciate the translation-into-English team for enlightening our Kurosagi experience every time! Thank you, thank you … and now may we have some more, please?!!!

Readers: Adult

Published: 2012 (United States)

“If I’d known, I wouldn’t have spent all my time studying and done all the things I really wanted to do,” thinks Yukari Hayasaka, dramatically believing she’s about to die. As a diligent 18-year-old preparing for high school final exams, her academic goals have thus far masked all thoughts of anything else: “I guess there wasn’t all that much I really wanted to do.”

When Yukari wakes up to three concerned looming faces – fashion design students in search of a model for their upcoming runway show who have brought her to their atelier workshop to recuperate after passing out on the street – she panics and bolts, but not before she drops her student ID. After safety-pinned punker Arashi, anachronistically cross-dressing Isabella, and little-girl-who-never-grew-up Miwako fail to entice Yukari (rechristened Caroline) to join their ParaKiss (short for the titular Paradise Kiss) atelier, smooth-talking, beautiful boy George manages to track her down at school the next day. Showing up in his flashy convertible, he delivers Yukari to an “international-level hair and make-up artist” who transforms her. He returns her to the atelier, garbs her in one of ParaKiss’s frothy creations, and suddenly Yukari barely recognizes her glamorous new self.

Enthralled with her makeover, Yukari reluctantly, uncertainly agrees to be the group’s model, knowing that her exam preparations can only suffer. But she’s smitten with gorgeous, unpredictable, openly bisexual George, and his friends at second meeting are far more interesting than anyone at school – except for maybe Tokumori who has always made her heart flutter. As student Yukari morphs into model Caroline, she begins to question her decisions – or, more accurately, other people’s decisions which she merely accepted. Until now.

As volume 2 opens, the all-important fashion show is mere weeks away, and Caroline is forced to admit her growing truancy to her demanding mother. Banned from returning to the atelier, Caroline instead leaves home. Arashi initially takes her in, gently warning “Don’t get too deeply involved with [George],” but she can’t stay away from George’s luxurious apartment – or sharing his bed. Desperate to establish some semblance of independence, her job search leads her to Miwako’s older sister’s highly successful clothing company. Is modeling what she really wants? Should she stay with George? Why doesn’t her mother seem to care at all?

Already widely popular in its native Japan and far beyond in its various iterations – manga, anime, live-action film, too – Kiss is a more serious coming-of-age drama than the swirling, high-fashion illustrations might seem to suggest at first glance. [That said, the well-timed moments of meta-comedy (references to the fashion magazine Zipper in which this series originally appeared, warnings about page limits in the least appropriate panels) provide ticklish comic relief.]

Beyond the Cinderella-like story of fashion dreams about-to-come-true, Yukari/Caroline faces serious challenges to her relationship with her domineering mother and her absent father (not to mention her manipulative little brother), her growing sexuality and troubling relationship with boy George who has a few troubling attachment issues of his own, and (most importantly) learning to pay careful attention to her own thoughts and feelings in spite of other people’s distracting chatter. She’s about to take center stage … and she needs to be ready.

Readers: Young Adult, Adult

Published: 2012 (United States)

Plague, a 2009 Pulitzer finalist (Elizabeth Strout’s Olive Kitteridge won that year), opens with the brutal murder of almost an entire family (a baby survives), is haunted throughout by the “rough justice,” wrongful round-up and hanging of innocent Indian men who are accused of the crime, and closes with the inevitable oncoming death of a troubled small town. But in between such tragedies and endings are the complicated, vibrant, interwoven lives of Pluto’s Native and non-Native communities, whose members repel and attract, nurture and avoid each other, who love, hate, marry, and betray one another.

Evelina Harp – whose family ancestry reaches back to a direct affiliation with Louis Riel, the legendary political and spiritual leader of the Canadian Métis (Native Americans of mixed indigenous Native/First Nations and European heritage) – is the novel’s most youthful voice, who is plagued throughout by impossible love. When she’s not suffering from impassioned self-absorption, Evelina channels the stories of her near-centenarian grandfather, Mooshum; even as his tall tales often prove unreliable, his venerable age makes him the town’s de facto historical harbinger.

What Evelina doesn’t or can’t share is filled in by Judge Antone Bazil Coutts, Evelina’s uncle-by-marriage, whose distinguished demeanor masks an obsessive dead-end love story gone awry; Marn Wolde, the suffering wife of a magnetic evangelical preacher who was once a paid kidnapper; and Doctor Cordelia Lochren, the area’s first female doctor, who retires in her later years as the first and final president of Pluto’s historical society.

Like proverbial puzzle pieces, a recognizable picture forms by story’s end – more specifically, what emerges most clearly is a gnarly family tree with branches both brutally pruned and surprisingly intertwined. That said, not every question gets thoroughly answered … with two-thirds of her trilogy to come, Erdrich still has a lot of explaining to do for her very, very lucky readers. Stay tuned …

Readers: Adult

Published: 2008

“What am I doing here,” Scott wonders as he wakes to another day of strenuous training with mostly-naked behemoth men following the absolute orders of a tiny-in-comparison UCLA-sweatshirt-wearing master. Welcome to the world of sumo somewhere in Japan. After being dumped by his longtime girlfriend when his NFL career didn’t happen, Scott made a radical decision to move to the other side of the world and reinvent himself.

Now in his new life, he’s passing out regularly and tired of doing the dishes. He can cook a mean pot of nabe, the food of choice for his fellow wrestlers, although he only seems to get the leftovers. His one new friend is the master’s daughter, whose UCLA education explains both her English and her father’s sweatshirts: “Where I come from UCLA sweatshirts are like FUBU for Asians,” Scott explains to a speechless Asami. [I had to look up that acronym, and I can't give you the translation here because I'm not allowed to use that sort of language in print, tsk tsk (but hee hee ho ho!).]

With his recently dyed-to-black hair (and his new Japanese name, Hakugei), Asami notices Scott is looking more like a rikishi, a professional sumo. But he’s got to prove himself and get to the next level. The most important tournament of his career is on … “You better decide now if you want this,” his master warns, “because … if you don’t … you should leave now.”

Pham creates a simple, resonating, colorful palette for Scott’s life – a rich earthy brown for sumo, a distant shadowy periwinkle for his past, a welcoming slightly minty green for the present – which all ultimately comes together on the final pages, a collage of potential and promise.

Oh, and that final page handprint with the two kanji characters? That’s Hakugei, Scott’s new moniker … literally ‘white whale.’ Hmmm … I’m just translating here …

Readers: Young Adult, Adult

Published: 2012

Camille Preaker’s two-year-old job with Chicago’s fourth largest paper, the Daily Post, has her busy with “consistently fall[ing] short of expectations.” Her editor thinks it might be “good” for her to go home to Wind Gap, Missouri – “‘[s]pitting distance from Tennessee and Arkansas’ … one of those crummy towns prone to misery” – and dig up what will hopefully become prizewinning coverage behind the murder of two young girls. Not wanting to further disappoint his faith in her, she heads south toward Dysfunction (capitalization intentional).

Arriving unannounced at the perfect Victorian mansion she hasn’t visited in eight years, Camille is hardly a welcome guest in her own childhood home. Mommy Dearest has no open arms for her eldest daughter, a reminder of the teenage folly no one ever dares talk about. Despite her three-decades-old marriage, even older money, and still-gorgeous looks (never mind the missing eyelashes), Camille’s mother (named Adora! – I kid you not!) is still mourning her would-have-been-perfect-if-she-had-only-lived-middle daughter, who just happened to pass away on Camille’s 13th birthday. Her youngest – precocious, spoiled, ominously 13, and named Amma (as in ‘mother’ in many languages, but also sounds like ‘I love’ in many others, egads!) – turns out to be the alpha mean girl everyone obeys, fears, and envies. And that’s just Camille’s own family! Once the town’s residents realize that Camille’s prodigal visit is not exactly social, she quickly becomes the local pariah … and yet some secrets just can’t stay hidden forever.

Are girls that carelessly treacherous? Are small town women who never leave really that desperate and manipulative? Is evil a contagious disease in these hothouse communities? Given all the death and destruction titles I read (poverty, oppression, deprivation, neverending war), my undeniable shock here makes me sound like Pollyanna, I realize … but I admit to being far more disturbed when inexplicable evil happens in environments of utter plenty.

Nightmares aside, you won’t be able to put this down (did I mention less than a day?). Flynn, who was the TV critic for Entertainment Weekly in another life, certainly figured out how to keep short attention spans transfixed. Get ready for twists and turns, thrusts and parries, all right in the gut … O-M-G.

Readers: Adult

Published: 2006

Amina is an educated young woman, although not as degreed as she had wanted to be, due to her parents’ financial limitations. At 24, she’s old enough to dream of something more than tutoring wealthy children to help them get the education she couldn’t have. When she’s unable to secure entry into an American university with a full scholarship, she takes the next best option (inspired by a Voice of America radio broadcast!) and registers with AsiaEuro.com to get her MRS. On the other side of the world, in a Rochester suburb, George – so aptly named Stillman, as in ‘still a man,’ and ‘still waters run deep’ – wants to find a “‘straightforward’” woman who “did not play games, unlike some women he knew.”

Their online relationship has a few interruptions, but eventually George travels to Dhaka with a family heirloom ring in hand – although he doesn’t go for the “down on one knee or anything like that” – and Amina is soon making the arrangements for her transcontinental move. Marriage happens, although in a town hall rather than the Muslim temple Amina promised her parents before her immigration. The new couple settles into their culturally-crossed life together … but being virtual strangers, their emotional intertwining is more challenging, especially since both have deeply held secrets, one that’s happened and one that has yet to occur.

In a Q&A with the New Yorker (where Freudenberger once worked as an editorial assistant, where she was named one of the covetously regarded “20 Under 40” in 2010), she reveals that Amina is “loosely based” (with permission) on a friend she met on an airplane, who was also an internet bride from Bangladesh on her way to meet her American bethrothed.

Perhaps because Freudenberger tells someone else’s intimate real-life story is why the novel never feels quite convincing. Her characters are smart, layered, and occasionally, welcomingly unpredictable, especially Amina who is much more than the wide-eyed new bride in a strange new land than she lets on. While Freudenberger’s writing is certainly admirable (George’s mendacious lost-soul cousin has some of the best lines, and is also especially richly-voiced by narrator Mozhan Marnò), too much about the story feels distanced, as if we’re watching practiced actors rather than getting to know real people. Yes, it’s a novel, but you still want to believe …

Readers: Adult

Published: 2012

Early this year, at almost 18 years old, Kaya Press flew the nest. Leaving behind the comfort and familiarity of New York’s publishing world, the non-profit indie specializing in “books from the Asian diaspora,” moved offices across the country to Los Angeles. Now comfortably ensconced in the Department of American Studies & Ethnicity on the University of Southern California campus, Kaya has a new address, new community, new books, new staff, and is definitely basking in new energy.

With all the latest changes, the one Kaya constant is Sunyoung Lee… although she does have the fairly new title of “Publisher and Editor.” Founded in 1994 by Soo Kyung Kim, a postmodern Korean writer, Kaya was originally intended to house a journal of Korean literature-in-translation, which eventually morphed into Muae, a spirited anthology highlighting the newest in Asian Pacific American writing that Library Journal named one of “The Best Magazines of 1995.” Muae fell victim to the Korean economic collapse of 1997, but under the bolstering management of Juliana Koo and Lee, who took over that year as managing editor and editor, respectively, Kaya managed to survive – and thrive – living up to its namesake: “Kaya was the name of a tribal confederation of six Korean city-states that existed from the middle of the first until the sixth century CE,” their website officially explains. “Although the Kaya kingdom was an iron-age culture, it is remembered as a utopia of learning, music, and the arts due to its trade and communication with China, Japan, and India.”

Kaya Press channels that international history, feeding its artistic vision by regularly pushing the boundaries of the Asian Pacific Islander (API) diaspora through the titles the tenacious press has published thus far. A small sampling might include an enhanced reprint of the groundbreaking 1937 classic East Goes West by the first Korean American novelist Younghill Kang; American Book Award-winning The Unbearable Heart by Japanese German American poet Kimiko Hahn; Chinese Australian Brian Castro’s already-major-award-winning-in-Australia novel, Shanghai Dancing; the lauded Commonwealth Prize-winning Where We Once Belonged by Sia Figiel, which was the first novel by a Samoan woman to be published in the United States; and Migritude by Kenyan-born, South Asian-descended, citizen-of-the-world performance artist Shailja Patel.

The word “kaya” echoes the diversity of its authors: in addition to its ancient Korean representation, in Japanese, Kaya is also “summer night” or a type of yew tree that withstands harsh environmental conditions; in Malay, kaya means “rich”; in Indonesian, “prosperous”; in Tagalog, “to be able”; in Sanskrit, “body”; in Turkish “rock”; in Zulu, “home.”

For Lee, home is where the press is. In order to sustain it, she’s worked endless day jobs and freelance gigs – from Billboard magazine to Publishers Weekly – in addition to teaching the requisite composition classes, to pay the bills so she could nurture Kaya well into its teenage years. Now that she’s settled into rooms of her own at USC, Lee’s ushering out the next set of Kaya titles: Lament in the Night, which includes two 1920s Japanese American novellas by Shōson Nagahara, translated by Andrew Leong; The Hanging on Union Square, an experimental novel originally published in 1935 by H. T. Tsiang; Water Chasing Water by Seattle-based poet Koon Woon; and Korean American adoptee Nicky Sa-eun Schildkraut’s debut poetry in Magnetic Refrain.

It’s been a full decade since we officially talked about Kaya. So, what’s your latest, greatest news?
The biggest news, as you know, is that we moved to LA this year. We’re publishing a bunch of new books, and a lot of wonderful new people are working with us. This is the largest group of people we’ve had involved with Kaya. USC gives us funding to pay for two part-time grad students – they’re 25% part-time – and we also get a lot of volunteers. Their involvement – both undergraduate and graduate students – means while they learn hands-on about the publishing process, I’ve been able to do more strategic work, to put more energy into Kaya, and that’s been really gratifying. [... click here for more]

Publisher interview: “Feature: Sunyoung Lee and Kaya Press,” Bookslut.com, December 2012

Readers: Adult

In the holy city of Mashhad – the second largest in Iran after Tehran – Andalibian and her family lived in luxury in her father’s hotel. “The Rose Hotel and I shared a rare destiny: I was born the day my Baba’s grand hotel opened.” As the only daughter of a devout, wealthy Muslim family, Andalibian grew up both privileged and protected.

The events leading up to the 1979 Iranian Revolution – marked by the creation of an Islamic republic under Ayatollah Khomeini after overthrowing Shah Mohammad Reza Pahlavi –  too soon destroys the family’s comfortable life. Trouble literally arrives in the hotel’s entrance when Andalibian’s father is asked to imprison, then is later forced to employ, two young men who are known rapists, who allegedly repent their vicious crimes. “If only Baba had never allowed the Ayatollah to turn his hotel into a prison; if only Maman had not relented …,” Andalibian, who was just 4 at the time, writes in hindsight decades later.

Tragedy begets tragedy: Andalibian’s eldest brother runs away and is arrested by an unforgiving regime. The family seeks impossible assistance to reclaim their son, moving from refuge to refuge throughout Iran and beyond. Their scattered lives converge temporarily in London, until what is initially presented as a vacation to California becomes a permanent move.

Beliefs are challenged, morals as twisted, fortunes are lost and made and lost again, and most painful of all, multiple family schisms cause irreparable damage. In the midst of neverending chaos, well-intended lies, and wrenching tragedy, Andalibian comes of age caught between the stifling traditions of a world long gone, and the young adult’s need to push boundaries and establish independence. She mourns, falters, grieves, hopes, celebrates, and – clearly helped by committing 33 years of what she has “questioned, listened, and investigated” to the page – finds self-acceptance and peace.

As literary narrative, Hotel suffers especially from uneven pacing, moving from too much information to sudden gaps; the writing wavers, too, between overly simplistic and unnecessarily florid. Having decided to call it a ‘novel’ – clearly marked on the book’s cover – Andalibian seemingly gave herself room to mold and shape her story. Making a few further adaptations to her experiences would undoubtedly have resulted in a better novel. Once begun, however, the pages will keep turning; like a train wreck, averting the eyes from Andaliban’s ‘you-can’t-make-this-stuff-up’-life story proves nearly impossible.

Readers: Adult

Published: 2012

When a mysterious creature with an imbedded bullet turns up, Fi and her scientist father head to the town of Calico – linked “to the rest of the country! and the world!” by a single bridge. They’ll be staying with Fi’s Uncle Simon, the younger brother of Fi’s late mother.

Insulated by headphones, Fi seems to distance herself from what’s going on around her. Her vision of the world is mitigated by one of those pre-digital age instant cameras, watching the photographs slowly develop into something other than what’s visible right in front of her.

In Calico, Fi meets Jaden, a young boy everyone knows but who doesn’t seem to belong to anyone, although he has a special relationship with Grandmama, an elderly food cart vendor who keeps him well supplied with her delicious bao (steamed buns). Jaden is no ordinary child – he has seemingly imaginary friends, he can fly, and he just might be able to save the world from the corporate out-of-towners who are snapping up all the empty spaces of unsuspecting Calico.

With elements of save-the-planet, good-vs.-evil, reclaiming the mother-daughter bond, celebrating heritage, and even a hint of Totoro-like faith in the impossible (while visually reminiscent of Taiyo Matsumoto’s dystopic TEKKON KINKREET: Black & White), Indonesian-born Australian artist Diana Thung creates a magical, mystical adventure for all ages.

Intrigued? How could you not be?

Readers: Young Adult, Adult

Published: 2012 (United States)

Ghastly humor aside, the tragic joke barely disguises the inhumane policies of the world’s most secretive, repressive regime. In Escape from North Korea: The Untold Story of Asia’s Underground Railroad, former Wall Street Journal journalist Melanie Kirkpatrick documents the desperate, dangerous flight of North Koreans toward an uncertain new life. Drawing parallels with American slaves seeking freedom 150 years and continents apart, Kirkpatrick traces North Korean journeys through a network of clandestine routes, safe houses, and courageous individuals willing to compromise their own safety to help others.

For North Koreans attempting to escape starvation, torture, repression, and worse, the “new underground” begins just over the border in China. Because of China’s official political support of North Korea, the Chinese government refuses to recognize escapees as refugees (even though China has signed the Geneva Convention on the Status of Refugees). Nor does China allow the Office of the United Nations High Commissioner for Refugees to operate in the country.

North Koreans in China live constantly under threat of arrest and repatriation. Women are often trafficked, sold as “brides” in response to a shortage of partners in China (due to that country’s history of male preference that has created a “sex imbalance … [of] epic proportions).” The children of these North Korean/Chinese unions perhaps suffer the most, trapped in stateless limbo: The fear of exposing a North Korean mother’s illegal status prevents a Chinese father from officially registering the child who, in effect, doesn’t exist and therefore has no access to education and healthcare.

Within and beyond China, remarkable heroes extend the escape networks into numerous Asian countries as they work to send North Korean escapees to freedom in South Korea and beyond. These heroes include: Steve Kim, founder of 318 Partners (named for Article 318 of the Chinese criminal code which sent him to jail for aiding North Koreans in China); “Mary and Jim,” a retired couple, who run orphanages in China for mixed children abandoned by missing North Korean mothers and desperate Chinese fathers (the undocumented status of these children makes them ineligible for adoption); and “Mr. Jung,” who has undergone face-changing surgeries to repeatedly fool Chinese authorities while rescuing South Korean prisoners of war held illegally in North Korea since 1953.

The tenacity of such brave individuals is sharply contrasted with the failure of the world – especially South Korea, the United States, even the United Nations – to confront and combat North Korea’s atrocities. Kirkpatrick convincingly argues that escaped North Koreans – from starving children to highly-placed officials – will prove to be the best weapon against toppling the despotic, third-generation Kim regime.

Kirkpatrick is a methodical writer, and Escape from North Korea is a solid, matter-of-fact title that falls somewhere in between the unrelenting brutality of Blaine Harden’s recent Escape from Camp 14: One Man’s Remarkable Odyssey from North Korea to Freedom in the West, and the flowing narrative of Barbara Demick’s lauded 2010 National Book Award nonfiction finalist, Nothing to Envy: Ordinary Lives in North Korea. As literature, Escape from North Korea is efficient at best; it reads like a series of separate articles patched together. Certain details are unnecessarily repetitive (such as explaining yet again who North Korean founder Kim Il Sung is, two-thirds through the book). Other details seem oddly missing and sometimes surprisingly inaccurate. Kirkpatrick refers to the underground railroad-multiplying organization LiNK (Liberty in North Korea) as “founded at Yale University in 2004 by two Korean-American students,” but identifies only one founder (whose story is one of the book’s most inspiring). Meanwhile, however, Kirkpatrick neglects to tell readers about the never-named co-founder who was actually already a California college graduate when LiNK began.

Quibbles, inaccuracies, and typos aside, Kirkpatrick undoubtedly offers an eye-opening opportunity to explore an overlooked, pressing topic. She shares with readers the harrowing testimonies, the wrenching struggles, and the inspiring successes. Regretfully, in its current incarnation, Escape reads like a powerful draft waiting for a diligent editor’s transformative prowess.

Review: Christian Science Monitor, November 26, 2012

Readers: Adult

Published: 2012

So I finally opened Wager with trepidation, and then because I couldn’t read while driving, running, folding the endless laundry late into the night, I also stuck the story in my ears (admirably read by Feodor Chin) whenever the book wasn’t open in my hands. No reason to interrupt four generations of Chen men because daily life must go on!

Wager pivots around Percival Chen, the titular headmaster of a Saigon English-language academy. Chinese-village born, British-educated by way of Hong Kong, Chen enjoys a privileged, wealthy life – gambling and womanizing being two of his favorite pastimes – in Cholon, the predominantly Chinese section of Saigon. He holds on to his perceived Chinese superiority, disdaining the locals as less-than-equals, especially dismayed when his only son is caught associating with one of the academy’s students.

In 1966, Vietnam’s turbulent politics literally arrive on Chen’s door. The secret police present Chen with a document demanding that “Vietnamese language instruction must be included in the curriculum of all schools, effectively immediately.” For Chen, who has never even bothered to learn well the language of his adopted country, the insult does not go unnoticed, nor does his uncooperative response sit well with authorities. When his son goes missing, Chen must rely on his confidante and employee, Mak (Lam’s most surprising, awe-striking creation – not to play favorites, ahem), to barter for his son’s life. Chen’s life all too soon becomes unrecognizable, as one of the most traumatic periods of modern history sweeps through.

Inspired by his Chinese expatriate Vietnamese family history, the Canadian-born Lam chooses a pivotal moment – the period before the Vietnam War – still relatively little known in western literature. He intertwines Asia’s violent colonial history (the French, Chinese, then American control of Vietnam, the British in Hong Kong, the Japanese in Hong Kong and China) and its internal civil destructions (the north/south Vietnamese split, the Chinese Cultural Revolution) with one family’s multi-generational, multi-country rise and fall from impoverished villager to American immigrant-to-be.

The result is another miraculous (literary) cure indeed. And with an utter sigh of relief, I can say with all confidence: Lam’s debut novel was well worth the wait!

Readers: Adult

Published: 2012

Here, ‘then’ belongs to 1923 and Evangeline English – who could not be more ironically named. Never far from her trusty bicycle, she finds herself traveling to Kashgar, East Turkestan (in today’s western China), where the sight of “a woman riding [said bicycle] is simply unimaginable.” She and her “unadventurous” younger sister Lizzie have escaped the “damp, phlegmatic dreariness of an English winter” to accompany the fiery Millicent Frost (oh these names!), a woman blinded by her missionary zeal, more arrogant bulldog than convincing emissary. Early into their journey, the trio discovers a young local girl, 10 or 11, “with a belly as ripe as a Hami melon.” Millicent delivers a tiny baby right there in the desert, but loses the young mother in childbirth. “[We] find ourselves in a situation,” Evangeline writes on the first page, one that eventually continues into “London, Present Day.”

In central London, peripatetic Frieda (take note of that name, as well) has just returned from her latest “research job”-assignment. In the wee hours of a lonely first night home, she gives up on waiting for her unreliable married lover, and instead finds a strange man sitting just outside her door. Instead of calling for help, she silently passes him a blanket and pillow; in the morning, she finds a drawing of a large bird she doesn’t recognize on the wall next to her door. Later that day, she will open her life to another complete stranger, the late Irene Guy who has inexplicably named Frieda her ‘next-of-kin,’ whose possessions Frieda must be clear out from her in-demand Council flat (subsidized government housing) within the week.

Dislocation, secrets, misconnections, legacies, incompatible pairings … and, mysterious birds (!), all play a part in this multi-pronged, multi-cultured, multi-perspective journey of discovery, even if questions outnumber eventual answers. I should also add that discovery might be best enjoyed unmitigated; narrator Susan Duerden gives Frieda an impossibly young, thoroughly grating persona which surely doesn’t exist on the page.

For would-be writers, Suzanne Joinson explains on her website “About” page how the purchase of “a box of letters from Deptford Market in London” led her to writing a short story about her “quest to find out who [the letters] belonged to.” The story won a prize generous enough to buy a laptop and provide a year’s mentoring which led to writing this debut novel. In both Map and Guide, connecting such mysterious letters are – no surprisingly – integral to the storytelling. Joinson herself adds a useful moral for literary wannabes: “go to flea markets! And car boots … and don’t get me started on the buried stories to be found in second hand and thrift shops.” Bestselling inspiration indeed.

Readers: Adult

Published: 2012

Here’s a minimal peek between the covers (to reveal any more would be utter injustice). Hazel Grace Lancaster is 16. In spite of being diagnosed with Stage IV thyroid cancer three years ago, her “Cancer Miracle” keeps her alive. At Support Group, she meets Augustus Waters, 17, a survivor of osteosarcoma. He fears oblivion. She suggests he ignore it. He insists she needs to see V is for Vendetta ”now.” She responds, “I hardly know you, Augustus Waters. You could be an ax murderer,” but goes home to watch the movie with him anyway. End of chapter one. That’s all you need to know … except that you’ll giggle, laugh, sigh, wonder, appreciate all the way through.

If you choose the audible route (the version inspiringly, wrenchingly narrated by Kate Rudd – small warning: hard to run and cry at the same time), you’ll get a bonus interview with John Green at story’s end. He’ll tell you straight out that he doesn’t have any plans to ever write for us old folks, although he appreciates that so many of us do read his books. I confess I’m gluttonously enjoying a John Green-binge currently and have only his first left to go (posts coming). He’ll also mention that he doesn’t think he has quite the right voice for a 16-year-old girl (he does a surprisingly funny growl to prove his point), but you can listen to him (and see him in humorously awkward action!) here.

Book in the hand, stuck in your ears, glued to your screen … doesn’t matter how. Just do. You’ll thank me. Really.

For the rest of the John Green oeuvre on BookDragon, click here.

Readers: Young Adult, Adult

Published: 2012

So a (renowned) poet friend alerted me to this slim collection when I mentioned that contemporary Egypt was my latest literary destination for my other major project, 10×10: Educate Girls | Change the World. The tiny book itself is an exquisitely bound creation – designed by Allison Hanabusa, a just-out-of-college artist clearly talented far beyond her youth – that is as much about its sparse content as the experiences not included, missing, forgotten, overlooked. I’m still not quite sure if I should read it as one epic piece or many related snippets … I decided (perhaps because of my penchant for prose) to go with the former.

Defying categorization, Revolution is part travelogue, part mocking commentary, part surprised questioning, part cultural rediscovery. Over not-quite 70 pages, the Seattle-based Maged Zaher journeys twice to his native Cairo, his travel commencing six months after the Egyptian Revolution initially erupted in January 2011. “The revolution happened and you didn’t call me,” he expounds.

Like most of the world, Zaher’s revolutionary participation happened virtually, from a great distance: “if you follow the attached link / The state will happily deliver its violence to your computer screen.” Zaher seems to both channel and contrast the oft-cited 1970 poem by Gil Scott-Heron, “The Revolution Will Not Be Televised,” which demands immediacy: “You will not be able to stay home, brother / You will not be able to plug in, turn on and cop out / … The revolution will be no re-run brothers; / The revolution will be live.”

Zaher’s transnational identity makes him both insider and other in both the U.S. and Egypt: “It is Cairo,” he writes during his first return. “So I am up all night / Texting flawed translations.” His multi-lingual, postponed participation of what happened in his homeland is both privileged and distanced, as he questions, “What would it look like without this second language”? He watches with sharp eyes the latest mutations of “a city under heavy rebranding,” complete with “bearded men / And lovers / Walking to McDonald’s / (The one next to the armored vehicle).” He finds himself in a “coffee shop,” “[s]urrounded by judgmental cops / And fear of imagined violence / … As I am watching the world go digital.”

Fear looms. Uncertainty remains certain. But that ubiquitous digital connection will make sure that the next revolution, every revolution, will be televised, an infinite loop playing over and over again, live participation ever optional.

Readers: Adult

Published: 2012