"Does love need a reason?" from Masao Wada's "Terrace House" is the quote you'll read before settling into Bryan Washington's poignant debut novel "Memorial." You may ask yourself this question several times as you become privy to the complex four year relationship of Benson, an African American kid- averse daycare worker, and Mike, a Japanese American chef whose specialty is Mexican food. They live together, sometimes uncomfortably, in Houston, but when we meet them they are separating for an unknown period of time. One can't help but feel the mix of relief, worry, and resentment that permeates the air.
Both sets of parents have long been divorced, alcohol and violence as factors, so readers will wonder if their memories have stunted Benson's and Mike's ability to communicate with each other and share their deepest feelings. Washington creates a melancholy sense of two people who are just going through the motions, unable to fully commit to the relationship but too needy to walk away.
Mike has just invited his estranged mother, Mitsuko, to come to Houston for a reconciliation visit. At almost the same time he decides to fly to Osaka to be with the dying father he hasn't seen since childhood. This selfish move lands Benson in the awkward position of entertaining a woman he's never met and who, he's convinced, does not approve of her son's relationship with a man, let alone a Black man!
The novel is set up in halves so that we first see Mike only through Ben's eyes. As Ben and Mitsuko warily dance around each other, finally bonding through the meals that Mitsuko lovingly prepares, Ben learns more about Mike through Mitsuko than he ever got from Mike himself. And Mike, from his precarious situation in Osaka where he's running his father's barroom, meeting with doctors, and parrying the verbal taunts of an angry old man, reminisces about his childhood, his meeting Ben, and his failures in the relationship.
Bryan Washington is a major talent whose first book of short stories, "Lot," was widely praised. He excels at realistic street dialogue while crafting lovely sentences full of anger, despair, and hope. Like Ocean Vuong, Washington juxtaposes graphic, mindless sex with scenes of tender beauty. This brave exploration of race, culture, familial dysfunction, love, and grief, didn't quite make Library Journal's top ten this year but it's certainly one of my favorites.