JOAN IS OKAY

The loss of her father forces a young doctor to confront her past and present.

By most people’s estimation, Joan is more than OK: In her mid-30s, she’s an attending physician in the intensive care unit of a Manhattan hospital. She’s such a dedicated doctor that when her father dies, she flies to China for the funeral and back in a single weekend. (She's puzzled by other characters’ objections to feeling like cogs in a machine at their jobs: “Cogs were essential and an experience that anyone could enjoy,” she muses.) The hospital director is so impressed with her that he’s wooing her to stay with an impressive salary and perks. But she's also different from just about everyone she knows. Straightforward, literal, utilitarian Joan is a puzzle to her wealthy brother, Fang; to her widowed mother, who doesn’t understand why she doesn’t enjoy womanly pastimes like shopping or jewelry; to her new neighbor, Mark, a bachelor trying to figure out how to get beyond her stoic exterior; to her colleague Reese, who feels he may be in the wrong field because he can't keep up with her work ethic. When HR forces Joan on a bereavement break, she's finally left to process her father’s loss and her roles as the child of immigrants, a career woman, and an Asian American. In the wrong hands, Joan’s story could have been a rom-com with familiar contours or a heavy existential drama. But Joan is such an idiosyncratic character, and Wang’s style so wry and piercing, that the novel is its own category: a character study about otherness set partly against the backdrop of early-pandemic anti-Asian sentiment that manages to be both profound and witty.

A novel as one of a kind as its memorable main character.