“Her mother’s approval was everything, her rejection absolute annihilation.” A daily does of annihilation is Anh Le’s lot as the child of a Vietnamese immigrant mother who is “from the ‘I criticize because I care’ culture.” Today, Mẹ, the mother, lives in the carriage house next to her artist daughter, now called Annie, who’s married with a sullen teen daughter, whom Mẹ calls a whore. After Annie finds Mẹ dead, things start to get even more difficult. Despite her OCD related to cleanliness, Annie must clean out the carriage house where her mother refused to throw out anything, even rotten food. At the same time, she takes on a new commission for her local benefactor, an elderly lady who doesn’t acknowledge Mẹ’s death (“China dolls needn’t have troublesome backstories”) and who promptly goes missing. At first, the police refuse to believe there’s any issue, but as further crimes come to light, they and Annie herself, who’s once again crippled by her compulsions, begin to wonder if she’s to blame. Nguyen delves deep into the trauma caused by war and the generations-spanning destruction it can unleash, but anyone who grew up feeling othered will recognize themselves here. A debut to remember, and what a gripping ending.
