Book review: Vibes aplenty in excellent debut novel

Souvankham Thammavongsa is one to watch, and this debut is a certifiable knockout

Souvankham Thammavongsa is a winner of numerous awards and 'Pick a Colour' suggests further high-profile accolades in her future. Picture: Steph Martyniuk

• Pick a Colour 
• Souvankham Thammavongsa 
• Bloomsbury, €18.85 

Souvankham Thammavongsa’s exceptional debut novel, which follows her acclaimed short story collection How to Pronounce Knife, takes place in a busy nail salon in an unidentified city over the span of a single day.

The owner and protagonist, Ning, is an undemonstrative former boxer who lives alone in a small apartment above the salon and is happy with her lot: “I am a family of one.”

She gives all staff the same name tag, Susan: “So many girls come and go. I don’t want to bother getting new name tags each time. Besides, you know, it’s never difficult to pronounce a name like Susan. None of our clients notice.”

Ning and her Southeast Asian colleagues converse in an unnamed language, keeping the tone of their commentary bland so that the oblivious English-speaking customer base cannot tell they are the subjects of gossip.

Of a former employee who only spoke English, Ning says: “We were a little embarrassed for her about that. I mean, how were we supposed to talk shit about people with her?”

Power and who gets to hold it is a central question of the narrative, and superficial ideas about class and status are turned on their heads: 

“Looking at the two of us, them sitting on a chair above me, and me down low, you’d think I am not in charge. But I am.”

Ning and her reader recognise it’s not just about the beauty treatments — to her regulars she is a confidant, a de facto therapist soaking up secrets and fears that can’t be expressed elsewhere.

A compact novel which prioritises atmosphere over plot — for the majority of its 180 pages nothing much happens — the vibes are as immaculate as the manicures provided within. 

Ning is meticulous in her work: “I can get so focused on a detail, on what’s in front of me, in my hand, everything around me dims.”

Similarly, Thammavongsa draws on the interior of the salon and the patch of road out front for the novel’s immediate action, outlining the ordinary in incandescent detail.

Ning has lost her ring finger, only a nub remains, but she sees it as “a kind of superpower” — extra space for a polished toe or finger to rest. 

Banter with her co-workers offers light relief, yet as a boss she is mindful of getting too close. 

Skills honed in the ring as a boxer are brought to the beauty arena, and a ferocity bubbles underneath the story’s sleek surface.

Of her name, Ning says: “You barely have to open your mouth to say it. You could even say it with a jaw wired shut.”

Although she is quite happy alone, Ning creates a fake boyfriend, Bob, to revisit in conversations with clients: 

“They don’t know what to make of a woman alone, and content. Weird, they say. It’s how people think.”

In these subtle societal observations the novel reads as quietly revolutionary, and its well-crafted characters and impeccable prose distinguish Thammavongsa as a particularly thrilling talent.

A winner of numerous awards, this work suggests further high-profile accolades in her future.

Like an athlete holding back in a heat in order to conserve energy, I suspect Pick a Colour, although incredibly accomplished in its own right, is also a warm-up for an impressively decorated career. 

Here Thammavongsa has chosen to perform, like her boxer, within a confined space, but I get the feeling she could do anything.

She is one to watch, and this debut is a certifiable knockout.