“Our Missing Hearts” by Celeste Ng

review by Meredith McKinnie

“Who ever thinks, recalling the face of the one they loved who is gone: yes, I looked at you enough, I loved you enough, we had enough time, any of this was enough?”

In Cambridge, Massachusetts, 12-year-old Noah Gardner, aka Bird, attends school and comes home to his father, a linguist who now works in one of the fading libraries across the country. Formerly an accomplished professor, Bird’s father shunned his profession in light of the country’s passing of PACT – the Preserving American Culture and Traditions Act. Libraries are quickly becoming abandoned structures, a few surviving only due to the donations of wealthy patrons. As town after town instituted book bans under the guise of protecting children from anti-American sentiment, people fear doing or saying anything that might mark them as unpatriotic, as now children are frequently being taken from homes and placed in more “suitable” environments. In an effort to ensure security, Americans have sacrificed their freedom. In fear of becoming targets, people stay silent as the atrocities creep into their neighborhoods.

Nine years prior, Bird’s mother vanished into the night. Bird’s father refuses to speak of her and warns his son of the risk of trying to contact her or even inquire about her whereabouts. As far as his father is concerned, Bird’s mother is dead. When a cryptic note shows up and reminds Bird of a Japanese fairytale his mother used to read to him before bed, Bird begins a quest to find his mother and know the truth about what happened to his near-perfect family. He goes to the only place he thinks he might find the truth tellers – the librarians who know and respect the value of information. “If we fear something, it is all the more imperative that we study it thoroughly.” As fears of Others grow in this environment, and Asian Americans are a primary target of everyone’s frustration, Bird risks drawing attention to himself and his father on his quest to understand.

This novel knocked my socks off. The eeriness of the world Ng created seemed too close to an emerging reality. As book bans and censorship are debated and instituted under the guise of “protecting the children,” Ng forces us to ponder what values we’re willing to sacrifice for the appearance of security. What is the next monster in the closet, and might it affect someone we love? And if simply we stand by, are we not sanctioning such acts? Escapism is found in literary worlds other than the one we inhabit; this one has the feel of the freakishly familiar, chilling me to the bone. I give this book my highest recommendation for the reasons herein. 

“It happened so slowly that you might not even notice it at all, like the sky turning from dusk to dark.”