I've been thinking about what you asked, said Tan, about home.
Really, I said.
Really, said Tan.
And what have you decided?
That loving a person means letting them change when they need to. And letting them go when they need to. And that doesn't make them any less of a home. Just maybe not one for you. Or only for a season or two. Bu that doesn't diminish the love. It just changes forms.

Back in 2019, I read Bryan Washington's short story collection, Lot, which wound up being one of my favourite books of that year, so I was thrilled to find out that he had a debut novel due to come out in 2021 (in the UK). I decided to make it the first book I read this year and it didn't disappoint.

We first meet Benson and Mike when they've been together for four years and their relationship has sort of stumbled. Both of them are overcrowded with doubts about whether or not they should stay together but before they can vocalise these feelings, Mike announces that he is going to Japan to see his sick estranged father and that his mother is coming to stay in their flat. Benson is, understandably, very confused and hurt, as well as overwhelmed by the fact he is meeting his partner's mother for the first time. He is also dealing with his own family issues, primarily his father who had been abusive towards Benson's mother when he was growing up.

The first part of the book is told from Benson's perspective as he attempts to navigate this brand new relationship with Mike's mother, Mitsuko, and assess what he wants for his future relationships with his boyfriend and his family. The second part is from Mike's point of view as he arrives in Japan and meets his dad, Eiju, who is drastically different from the man Mike knew him to be when he was a child. Mike and Eiju try to get to know and accept one another as they are now, while at the same time dealing with Eiju's illness.

Memorial is, at its core, about relationships be they romantic, familial, or platonic, and the ways in which they contribute to us as individuals. What I particularly loved about Washington's approach to this was how none of these relationships were clearcut or easily fixable - in fact, I think the beauty of this book is how unfixable all of them were. Every single relationship is complex and comes with its own scars and bruises, which can't be completely cleaned away even when apologies are made or an understanding is established. There isn't a way to unhurt someone, and I think Washington explores this really effectively and even beautifully. This isn't a book about forgiveness, necessarily, but rather acceptance and moving forward, which can mean together or apart.

Washington's prose is generally understated; I'd hesitate to dub him a flowery writer but there is a sense of honesty that pervades his writing and there are many instances where that shines through in an achingly moving way. One of his greatest gifts is his characters - from what I've experienced of his work so far, he's not necessarily a plot-driven author but he does have this amazing way of unfolding his characters until they bare their most vulnerable parts of themselves to the reader. It can be an insecurity, a memory, a hope...it makes them so much more complex, and even forms a relationship between them and the reader. I wanted to connect with this characters, I cared about them, I wanted them to succeed, and not many writers can make me feel like that, especially in just over 300 pages.

Washington's debut novel is an insightful and sincere exploration of love and the various different ways it can shift, fluctuate, and grow.