On the surface, this story is a tense battle of the Type A mother and the mother who migrates with the wind, but Ng so craftily weaves conversations on race, wealth, and the common denominator of good motherhood into her second novel, “Little Fires Everywhere.”
For those who missed the memo or are unfamiliar with this book, it takes place in Shaker Heights, Ohio, a fictional, “progressive” suburb that was intended to allow residents the utmost success — by culturally morphing them all into one another. Each home looks exactly the same: cookie-cutter brick homes all with the same coat of paint, and that even have a grass height requirement. Let it grow over naturally, and receive a fine.
Enter the unofficial policewoman of Shaker, the upholder of rules and regulations (but as she sees fit) Elena Richardson, and her family of 5: herself, her husband and lawyer Bill Richardson, and their children Lexie, Trip, Moody, and youngest “problem child” Izzy. Right from the get-go of the novel, there has been a disastrous fire at the Richardson residence and the family is watching and waiting outside, minus Izzy. It is already implied that she is culprit #1, but not much can be determined besides the fire marshall’s diagnosis that the fire was set, as there were, “little fires everywhere” in the home. The remainder of Ng’s novel is told in flashback, 11 months before this night, to explain how the family got there, what the motive could be, and what happens when a disruption of law and order and a challenge of the status quo changes perspectives forever.
All is seemingly well with the Richardson family, with each’s future in line for them. Trip is a star athlete, Lexie is on her way to a Yale acceptance, Moody is finding his place in high school, and Izzy… Izzy is flourishing into an opinionated, whipsmart young woman, though this doesn’t sit well with her mother. Izzy challenges authority constantly, questioning why things are the way they are instead of using them to her advantage. And nothing bothers Elena more. Izzy is the perfect foil to her mother and provides just the kind of fresh air the reader needs to be constantly reminded that they aren’t supposed to believe in the beauty of Shaker, they are supposed to see through it.
The flint of the novel comes in the form of Mia Warren and her daughter Pearl. Mia is a nomadic artist who is equally as compelling as she is mysterious, bringing her bright high schooler Pearl along for the ride. The pair have migrated all their lives, never staying in one place for too long, as it dampens Mia’s creative juices, or so she tells Pearl. Pearl is sweetly naive and loyally follows her mother’s direction, no matter where it takes them. But, when it winds up taking them to Shaker, Mia questions whether this is the right fit, but settles in with Pearl into a rented home, given to them by no other than Elena Richardson.
The clash of these two families is monstrous and dramatically alters both of their courses. Elena becomes obsessed with her new tenant and cannot settle for her mystique, diving deep into Mia’s past to discover traumas that she should have never known. Pearl, wanting badly to belong, befriends young Moody and the rest of the Richardson kids and intertwining lives with them all. Moody has a crush for Pearl he cannot shake, whereas Pearl keeps her eye on older brother Trip and never lets him out of her sight until she captures him, secretly, of course, a la her mother Mia. Lexie leans on Pearl when she has no one else to go to. And Izzy? Her fascination lies with Mia, and she becomes her art apprentice, spending hours per day with this woman who she begins to wish was her own mother instead of Elena.
The drama doesn’t stop there. Though the familial drama does take center stage, right alongside it is a custody battle that rings close to our two mothers. Elena’s best friend, Linda McCullough, recently took in an abandoned baby she dubs Mirabelle, and Mia’s work friend, Chinese immigrant Bebe Chow, recently gave up her baby at a firehouse in a post-partum stupor, fearing for her life, but would do anything to get her back. Coincidence? Of course not. And after some investigation, Mia tells Bebe just where to find her baby, truly named May Ling, and the battle for custody begins.
Ng incorporates racial tension in subtleties, reflective of how easily some feel racism is solved in today’s America. During the trials for custody, Bebe’s lawyer questions Mrs. McCullough by asking if her family intends to stay connected to May Ling’s culture. She answers yes, and says Mirabelle loves the stuffed panda they got her and they intend to learn more about Asian culture. The issues here are presented so simply, so reflective of institutionalized racism. This white family does actually believe they’re doing the most for their Chinese daughter, and that the fact she is Chinese, “doesn’t matter to them.” But it does matter. It is everything. In Lexie’s words to her boyfriend, Brian, who is black, she notes “I mean, we’re lucky. No one sees race here.” It is with that authority of tone that we as the reader pick up on the blatancy of racism and how it was far from being erased in the 1990s, or even in narratives of today.
The utopia of Shaker does not exist, in any form, and Ng lets her characters break it down completely themselves. Mia’s purpose in the novel is to act as a mirror and allow the characters to fully see their errors in new light. Though Mia has skeletons herself, it is Elena’s undying quest to unearth them that we can notably tell is the problem. I love how authoritative her character is without honestly doing all that much. Her background is beautifully bled into the story, and I will leave that unspoiled. As well as who started the fires. In a way, they all did.
The book is a 5/5. It is a must-read, which is why so many people are. The series is now adapted for Hulu as well and is a great reflection of the book. I highly recommend getting your hands on the book, and quickly.
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