Known for her books on Arab-American themes, Crescent, Arabian Jazz, and The Language of Baklava, Abu-Jaber makes a departure here, into a whole new world of mystery, alienation and unanswered questions. Lena Dawson is a fingerprint expert in Syracuse, New York, at the time that SIDS is, unaccountably, on the rise. When cribs start showing up in the evidence lab, everyone is uncomfortable, Lena more than anyone. She doesn't believe in coincidence; she thinks that there is a serial baby-killer loose.
Lena doesn't know where she came from. Her foster parents tell her only so much, and her mother keeps insisting that their loving presence should be enough for her. Why didn't they ever adopt her? Lena asks the question over and over again, to no avail. Her earliest memories are of a rain forest, an ape mother, fur and leaves and a canopy of trees...was she really raised by apes until she was found by humans and put in foster care?
Abu-Jaber has done a masterful job of keeping the suspense going right to the very end. The story is compulsively readable; once you start, you can't stop until you find out what the real story is. Lena's origin has something to do with the crib deaths, but what is it? How could they possibly be connected? With the help of a detective who is more than a friend and an understanding boss and his wife, Lena pursues the question relentlessly, at her own peril. She could be the next victim.
Lena also has an ex-husband who is well-meaning most of the time, but really is a certifiable jerk, colleagues who are gossipy backbiters and a goofy neighbor, just to up the ante in this absolutely original (no pun intended) story of identity. Lena is socially inept, reclusive and possessed of an uncanny sense of smell and an intuitive approach to every question. Her character dominates the book, and as she uncovers more and more about herself, her personality opens up and, by story's end, she is becoming what she was meant to be. A departure for Abu-Jaber; a treat for readers. --Valerie Ryan
The story begins vague, tentative and elicited the thought, "What happened to the rich, compelling characters of Diana Abu-Jaber?" Determined to read on after the disappointing first chapter I quickly realized my mistake - hardly "disappointing!" The persona of Lena, the narrator, matches her perfectly and as she becomes a more complete, whole person, so does the narration.
Flitting in and out of situations and memories, Lena slowly creates a picture, her picture, of her past that makes her more substantial. Even though you want to find the focus knob and fiddle with it until you can force her into clarity more quickly, you soon realize that's the mastery of this book, this story, this character. Every detail of this work IS Leana and at her own pace.
The language, word choices, reactions, emotions - all of it gives the reader a gradual and deep knowledge of Lena that is authentic, true. There aren't glaringly out-of-place passages that make you roll your eyes and turn the page wondering what the author could possible have been thinking when she wrote THAT.
Vague Lena evolves into a solid, real Lena who, in the end, IS one of those rich, compelling characters that make Diana Abu-Jaber's books worth reading. What a fabulous shift from one genre to another!
Technically, Diana Abu-Jaber's Origin is a mystery.
But it completely transcends the genre.
This is mostly because her writing is so spectacular. Her characters are quirky and deep, but it is her description of THINGS that is so amazing. It is thrillingly precise. Things--the setting, the ordinary concrete details of everyday life--suddenly take on a hallucinatory intensity.
Then they take on a surreal life of their own.
This is completely appropriate: they are seen through the eyes of the narrator, Lena Dawson, who sees things sometimes with hypnotic clarity, sometimes with clairvoyant prescience, sometimes with psychedelic, kaleidoscopic wonder or horror.
The mystery depends on such perceptiveness, and so does the complete unfolding of Lena's character.
So this book is to most mysteries what Moby Dick is to most adventure-tales: a book that uses, but completely explodes, the form.
I have not seen prose that scintillates like this since Patrick White.
All the more amazing, since the setting is not the lurid rain-forest that Lena is always glimpsing, but drab, gunmetal Syracuse, New York in the dark of winter.
Her description of Trevor Haystraw, the pre-cognitive boy, is little short of a wonder.
I too enjoyed this book. (I listened to the audiobook version). The main character was interesting and had a depth that I had not experienced in any book of recent memory. In fact all of the characters were somehow unique in their combination of flaws, talents and words. I look forward to reading more from this author.
