The Hunger We Pass Down

This lush and eerie exploration of intergenerational trauma from Lee (Superfan) finds Chinese Canadian Alice Chow attempting to juggle running a business out of her home, having primary custody of her two kids, and developing a relationship with a handsome bartender, all while increasingly drinking too much from the stress. So when she starts waking up to find her home cleaned, her products packed for shipping, and food already waiting for her children, it feels like a miracle, though her theory that she herself is doing all this work while drunk or sleeping and then forgetting about it is thin, even in her own mind. She also can’t remember conversations that her boyfriend swears they had; her daughter’s night terrors worsen; and her ex-nanny sees Alice transform into something monstrous. Whoever—or whatever—has been helping Alice has its own agenda, and it’s not satisfied living only half her life. Lee effortlessly shifts between dual timelines, twining the little agonies of modern-day motherhood with flashbacks to the struggles of Alice’s ancestors. After the subtle creeping dread built through the bulk of the novel, an abrupt late-narrative shift into more traditional supernatural action feels jarring. Still, Lee’s exploration of the love—and misery—of family is nuanced and emotional. It’s a haunting excursion. (Sept.)