On the surface, we have a novel about privileged people behaving badly in the suburbs, with the lesser-privileged caught in the tailwind, and a few delicious moments of pettiness and clever revenge sprinkled throughout—mostly doled out by the teenagers. Going deeper, the coyote metaphor becomes clear ... Fantastic, unnerving.
Electric ... Carefully constructed ... Tenderhearted readers will appreciate the thoughtful outcomes Hua creates for her extensive cast, most of whom manage to learn from, if not profit by, their mistakes.
Witty ... Alternates perspectives seamlessly ... California, Hua acknowledges, is full of natural beauty but also natural terror — earthquakes and wildfires and unneighborly neighbors. Coyoteland ponders that beauty, and what it will take to fight against the forces seeking to limit its accessibility.
Nimbly scrutinizes a community in conflict, deftly exposing performative hypocrisies ... Hua writes with scathing clarity about half-truths and corrosive lies, exacerbated by post-pandemic amnesia eliding civility and kindness that inevitably leads to conflagratory altercations.
Peers deeply into the confounding asymmetries of American life ... Hua’s novel winds suspensefully from suburban complacency to its fiery consummation. Her style is breezy, with slang and tech talk galore, but at its base it is coolly literary and illuminating, with well-drawn characters, especially the girls, the women, and the Jin father figure.
Simmering ... Riveting and impressive ... A standout in the wave of 'dark suburbia' novels coming out of the dystopian realities of the embattled West Coast.
