In Bryan Washington's quietly powerful novel Palaver, a queer Black man who's swapped Houston for Tokyo reconnects with his estranged mother and rebuilds his mental health, thanks to his chosen family.
The central players are only ever "the son" and "the mother." He's found a niche in Japan as a private English tutor and is sleeping with a married man; she came from Jamaica via Canada to raise a family in Texas. They have been out of touch for years when he phones her. Concerned about the son's safety, given his previous suicide attempt, she takes a break from her dental tech job and flies over unannounced. The son lets the mother stay in his apartment and takes her for meals, but they circle each other uneasily, irritable and quick to take offense. Much remains latent between them, particularly the physical abuse and homophobia that led to their estrangement.
The low-key plot builds through memories and interactions: the son's with his students or hook-ups; the mother's with restaurateurs as she gains confidence exploring Japan. Apart from a trip to the shrines of Kyoto and Nara, they stick around the son's neighborhood. But the close third-person narration expands the view by slipping from present to past and back, drifting to Jamaica and Houston. Along with the lack of speech marks, this creates fluidity and emphasizes how trauma sparks later mental health crises. Satisfying parallels emerge between the pair's nascent romances and past ties with their brothers. As in Washington's previous novel Memorial, the characters' cool affect conceals deep emotions. And as in Family Meal, the protagonist gets by with a little help from his diverse friends--here, those who orbit the gay bar Friendly: Fumi, Binh, Iseul, Santi, and Tej. Trans bartender Alan and the son's kitten, Taro, are additional highlights of the lively secondary cast.
Through words and black-and-white photographs, Washington (Lot) brings settings to life vibrantly. His fiction tends to recombine recurring elements: Texas and/or Japan, queer multicultural characters, and abundant descriptions of food. Familial and sexual relationships play out against similar backdrops. Always, blood and found family are of equal importance. Palaver's broken parent-child bond starts off as defining but melts into part of a whole network of connections. As Tej remarks, others "help us see ourselves clearer." Alan adds that simply "showing up" for oneself and others is a vital act of courage. This is Washington's best and most moving work yet. --Rebecca Foster, freelance reviewer, proofreader and blogger at Bookish Beck
Shelf Talker: Bryan Washington's emotionally complex third novel explores the strained bond between a mother and her queer son--and their support systems of friends and lovers--when she visits him in Tokyo.