THINGS WE FOUND WHEN THE WATER WENT DOWN

A young woman investigates her mother’s disappearance and lifelong traumas in this stylistically rangy novel.

Lena Bailey, the narrator of Swanson’s brash, atmospheric debut, has grown up in a region full of conflict. Beau Caelais, located in an area loosely modeled after northern Minnesota, has been ravaged by decades of mining. Hugo Mitchum, one of those miners, has a history of physical abuse and sexual assault, and he’s long detested Lena’s hippie-ish mother, Marietta Abernathy, for being a “goddamn witch.” So when Hugo turns up dead, Marietta is the lead suspect; her disappearance from police custody only intensifies that sense. But though Swanson’s novel includes news stories, police interviews, and other elements of a detective story, it resists easy categorization. Swanson shifts from footnoted just-the-facts police interviews to lyrical prose poems to visual collages; the cast of characters is similarly diverse, encompassing hardheaded miners to the occupants of a bar that’s a refuge for “femmes and boi-dykes and faeries and two-spirits and nonbinary bodies.” In time, it becomes clear that the tragedy in Beau Caelais runs deeper than Hugo’s murder and Marietta’s disappearance; a “World Below” is occupied by decades of female victims of abuse and murder. Swanson’s approach is impressionistic and heavy on allegory—the body of water key to the story is called Ruin Lake, and before her disappearance, Marietta gathered a “menagerie” of artifacts—silt, weeds, feathers, minerals, leaves, ashes, fur—intended as an offering to heal both the wounded land and its damaged ancestors. Swanson handles this in a witty, sober manner, so the effect is less New Age–y and more earthy and strange, like a Joseph Cornell shadow box.

An inventive and beguiling debut.