STRAW DOGS OF THE UNIVERSE

Chinese immigrants grapple with violent racism in 19th-century California.

Ye, a poet, short story writer, and translator, begins her first novel in 1876 as, amid famine in rural China, 10-year-old Sixiang is sold into quasi-slavery by her grandmother. Soon, the girl is on a ship bound for California and a life of toil and exploitation. But Sixiang (her name means “remember home”) is no “straw dog of the universe,” which is to say, she doesn’t perceive herself to be “spent and disposable.” So spirited that even as a small child she refused to endure ritual foot-binding, Sixiang has an agenda of her own: She intends to find and retrieve her father, Guifeng, who came to America to build the transcontinental railroad before she was born and has since vanished. It’s a bold, naive plan worthy of a Disney cartoon heroine and Sixiang would make an exemplary one. Chapter by chapter, Ye weaves together the harrowing stories of Sixiang and Guifeng as well as Feiyan, the fiery woman Guifeng loves, and Daoshi, a Taoist priest who tries to preach and practice spiritual detachment, “not accumulating more than the bare minimum, nor craving more than a few diversions.” The quartet of immigrants endures whippings, diabolical bosses, sanctimonious missionaries, leg amputation, brothel work, sexual assault, opium addiction, opium withdrawal, existential despair and, above all, nonstop abuse at the hands of monstrous gweilo (white people), who are sneering at best, murderous at worst. “They were all the same,” one character reflects. “All wanted to see the Chinese burn and die.” Setting her novel amid well-documented episodes of anti-Asian violence, Ye imagines a ghastly and luridly perilous world reminiscent of a horror story.

A choppy, fast-paced historical novel informed by a 21st-century critique of whiteness.