A novel about loneliness, love, labor, and class, an intimate and sharply written book following a nail salon owner as she toils away for the privileged clients who don't even know her true name.
A feat of economy, unspooling Ning’s emotional journey amid the cage of her salon ... Punches above its weight. Thammavongsa’s minimalism conveys a range of tones and psychological nuances as she grapples with the stubborn prejudices of class ... Wily and caustic, the book condemns petty Western narcissisms yet allows for bursts of radiance.
Impressive ... One of the challenges of the circadian novel, especially when it’s also a closed-room novel, is to channel enough backstory through the present moment to establish the significance of what might be dismissed as too routine or trivial for literary attention ... Thammavongsa achieves this, though there is one threadbare moment ... Beautifully understated sadness at the end ... The constrained setting, deep investment in a feminised and minoritised experience and disengagement from plot will alienate some readers. They will miss a highly crafted, layered and clever novel.
Bitey ... Lets us into the secret yet ubiquitous world of nail salons, skilfully opening up the experience of those who work there, who are often Asian immigrants ... Thammavongsa captures the role of beauty salons as modern confessionals ... Richly observational, this us-versus-them tale illuminates a rarely seen slice of life. It probably won’t make you laugh or cry, but it will certainly make you think twice before getting a new set of acrylics.
