PINK MOUNTAIN ON LOCUST ISLAND

In this hallucinatory, impressionistic novel by a 23-year-old Australian writer, a girl’s involvement with an artist opens up a world preoccupied by money and drugs.

Fifteen-year-old Monk lives in a dingy Chinatown apartment with her dad, a lapsed art professor who, after Monk’s mother left him, spends most of his time on their brown couch watching nature documentaries and nursing a dependency on alcohol and anxiety medication: “Xanax as a white hunk. Dad takes his with Earl Grey tea. Little yellow sappy sags for eyes.” Monk meets a high school senior named Santa Coy and quickly becomes obsessed with him, but once she starts inviting him to her apartment, Santa Coy begins making “Basquiat-lite” art in the kitchen for her father. The two men host exhibitions of Santa Coy’s work in the apartment, attend art shows, and start having muttered discussions about paint and profit. Monk begins to feel left out, though it’s unclear whether she wants Santa Coy’s or her father’s attention all to herself, to make art herself, to have art made of her—or all of the above. Santa Coy and Monk’s father suddenly come into a lot of money, and Monk’s father is just as suddenly attacked and ends up in the hospital. Perhaps, Monk thinks, it’s because she asked her friend’s mother, a “healer” named Honey, to help her with her situation, which only draws her further into an underworld suffused with scammers and violence. The novel is told in a series of titled, hyperassociative, impressively strange vignettes. The entirety of “This Generation Asks for Signs,” for instance: “Do you think in Heaven everybody will be the same amount of appealing, and never stop? In the mirror my body’s becoming a tree.” Lau narrates the drug-laced high school parties and booze-drenched art world parties Monk moves through with the same ambiently threatening mood—selling “fake art” and selling “fake drugs,” it’s clear, are much the same thing. The prose is laden with significance, repeated references to jazz and cowboys and panthers and deserts that can get so dense it’s unclear, in the end, what it’s all supposed to mean.

Hypnotizing and inscrutable.