MAGGIE; OR, A MAN AND A WOMAN WALK INTO A BAR

A light and nimble debut novel about some of life’s most devastating events.

Between trips to the buffet at an Indian restaurant where they’ve gone on a date without their two young children, the narrator’s husband drops this bombshell: “I’m having an affair.” Days later, the narrator is diagnosed with breast cancer. If this feels like the lead-up to a tragedy, you wouldn’t be wrong, and yet what follows is a spry novel that leapfrogs from hopeful to painful to poignant to silly to tender moments in the narrator’s life: telling her children the same bedtime stories based on Chinese myths that her mother told her; making lists of things she hates about doctors’ offices; doing internet research on her husband’s new love, Maggie; drafting a user’s manual for Sam, her soon-to-be ex-husband, with the intention of presenting it to his new girlfriend. (“He hates when his socks don’t match. Also: he loves whimsical socks, but not whimsical ties.”) “I think if enough bad things pile up, they inevitably cross over into comedy,” the narrator reflects. This is true, though the comedy here is never dark or desperate or manic. Instead, the narrator’s dignity and strength make this a novel that crackles with heartfelt intelligence and wit. Having named her tumor Maggie, the narrator decides not to tell Sam about it: a vengeful act wrapped in kindness. It’s one of many steps she takes to affirm her sense of self—quirky, playful, more comfortable with logistics than feelings—and move on with her life.

A funny, stirring novel about resilience.