A TINY RIPPLE OF HOPE

In Ramon’s novel, a troubled man undertakes a quest to find a missing child.

Los Angeles resident Cole Reeves is 21 years old. After being expelled from university and fired from his job at a coffee shop, Cole’s days tend to be relatively aimless. He goes on long walks through Koreatown, meets his friend Ray for lunch, and plays ping-pong with his other friend Jamal. He “lives for” electronic dance music and has an extensive collection of t-shirts. The t-shirts are more than just clothing—his selection process is something of a ceremony, as he finds that the shirts guide him “through existence each day.” Cole’s existence can be tumultuous:  He takes prescription medicine for his mental health, and Jamal has playfully nicknamed him “51-50,” a nod to the police code for a crazy person. Still, people like Cole; women flirt with him, random children speak with him, and when a local boy is kidnapped, Cole feels a compulsion to help. As Cole goes about his search, struggling with his own mental well-being, people often mistake him for someone else—it seems they may even be mistaking him for the kidnapper. The police certainly have their suspicions. Is Cole experiencing some kind of psychotic break? Is he connected to the kidnapper in a way that he doesn’t fully understand? Perhaps his t-shirts will provide some kind of guidance; maybe a local news personality will understand that Cole is only trying to help. Or could it be that he is just another crazy person in a sprawling city teeming with them?  

Cole is a likeable, memorable, and unpredictable main character. At any given moment, he may vividly recall a traumatic moment he thought he had forgotten or decide that the time has come to go out dancing at an illegal rave. (On the benefits of the latter, he explains, “getting lost in a sea of people makes me feel more alive than anything else.”) Part of Cole’s appeal is the ease with which he shares his feelings. He also reflects on the mundane, such as how a restaurant has “fantastic meat that is not prepared like Korean barbecue even though it’s a Korean restaurant”; it all adds to the catalog of the many joys he manages to find in the world. The idea that Cole could be the same person who is involved in the disappearance of a child keeps the reader on their toes. Some of this intrigue is blunted by his interactions with supporting characters: For instance, he has a friendly relationship with a blind Korean woman named Mrs. Kim. She is a shaman who deals in traditional Korean medicine and is capable of amazing things—like determining which t-shirt Cole is wearing despite the fact that she is blind. When Cole seeks her council about his desire to help with the kidnapping case, she warns him bluntly that this “will be a difficult task” albeit a “noble one”; Cole probably could have figured that much out himself. Still, it’s compelling to see how the whole complicated situation plays out, especially with this unemployed, t-shirt-crazed, ping-pong-playing protagonist at the center.

A multifaceted and lively hero gives this offbeat LA caper a unique flair.