MOTHERS AND SONS

An overworked immigration lawyer and his religious mother work to finally face their pasts.

Haslett’s third novel is partly narrated by Peter Fischer, a New York City lawyer working for a nonprofit handling asylum cases. There, and in the rest of his life, he handles things with assurance but little joy—his lover, Cliff, has little more depth than a dating-app hookup, and he avoids conversations with his snarky and unfiltered sister, Liz. But he’s unsettled when he takes on the case of Vasel Marku, a young gay Albanian man seeking asylum over fears he’ll face homophobic persecution. Peter’s narration of his unusually deep involvement in Vasel’s case is braided around third-person narration about his mother, Ann, who leads a women-focused spiritual retreat in Vermont with her partner, Clare. Ann’s breakup with her husband (and Peter’s father) after falling for Clare disrupted her life, and it’s clear that both mother and son have been swallowing a lot of unspoken hurt. The strength of Haslett’s storytelling is its deliberation, slowly peeling back the veneers of Peter's and Ann’s professional accomplishments and cool public personas to reveal storms of guilt and fear. The two share complex queer sexual coming-of-age stories—Peter as a teenager falling for a handsome and emotionally distant classmate, Ann as a middle-aged woman falling for a woman, shipwrecking her marriage and career as a pastor. They share losses, too—Peter’s father’s death from cancer and a withheld event that gives the novel its emotional payoff. It’s “practically mandatory,” Clare observes, for women to “hide in other people’s pain,” just as men like Peter are asked to never feel it. And though the outlines of the novel suggest sentimental family-trauma fare, Haslett’s sophisticated grasp of the ways that people over-police their feelings makes it a remarkably acute and effective character study.

A family-in-crisis story that keenly captures deep-seated fears and regrets.