MEMORY PIECE

Three girls walk into a bedroom in the New Jersey suburbs in 1983...and many decades later, into a dystopian future.

Soon-to-be seventh graders Giselle Chin and Jackie Ong are hiding from a Fourth of July party, making prank calls in the host’s bedroom, when Ellen Ng walks in and asks if there’s anything else to do for fun around here. The three wander across the street into a parallel gathering and help themselves to someone else’s hamburgers. “This was the beginning, what Giselle would describe, years later...as...the SEEDS of our aesthetics...we saw each other for who we were // masked weirdos, undercover pranksters.” This ominously pretentious-sounding observation appears in one of the year-long conceptual artworks Giselle eventually becomes famous for: Mall Piece, 1995-96; Memory Piece, 1996-97; and Death Piece, 1999-2000. Meanwhile, Jackie grows up to be a visionary software developer, creating a site where people keep online diaries for public consumption and taking part in New York City’s Silicon Alley dot-com boom. Ellen continues her rabble-rousing ways, publishing a zine and then establishing a squat on the Lower East Side. Though they lose track of each other from time to time, the three come to realize that “friendships were circular, that you could never fully lose touch.” After moving their stories across the bridge to the new millennium, the narrative leaps ahead to the 2040s, where the political situation has become a nightmare, though not a particularly intriguing one, and supporting characters proliferate while ones we care about fade from view. Though full of interesting action and sharp observation, Ko’s follow-up to The Leavers (2017) fails to whip up much narrative tension beyond the mystery created by the photographs that appear from time to time, captioned with complicated archival labels. In the end, the book’s elaborate conceptual structure dominates the characters who inhabit it.

A socially conscious novel of art and ideas.