If you've ever wondered if the service professionals for whom English is not their first language are talking about you, they probably are. Or at least that's the case if PICK A COLOR, Souvankham Thammavongsa's debut novel set on a single day in a nail salon, is to be believed.

The salon is called Susan's, and every employee wears nametags that read "Susan," even though they all have their own names in Vietnamese. The owner, Ning, barely thinks of herself by that name anymore: "I've been here so long my old name feels like it belongs to someone else."

"Careful readers will marvel at how much is revealed despite the book’s slim length and its protagonist's deliberate self-distancing..."

But Ning does have a name and a history that predates her time at Susan's. She's in her early 40s now, but years earlier, she was a promising boxer whose career ended when she put another fighter in a coma. Adrift and without other professional options, she was offered a job at a different nail salon and never looked back. Except, of course, she does look back despite herself, as her first-person narration reveals. 

By design, Ning maintains a high level of emotional distance from her clients and employees --- and even, some may argue, from herself. She concerns herself with the mundane tasks of running a small business: ensuring the sandwich board is set up on the sidewalk, refilling supplies, drumming up walk-in customers, filling shifts when employees call in sick or just disappear.

But Ning’s cracks start to show every once in a while, such as when she allows her mind to wander to her past --- full of darkness that readers only glimpse --- or when her employees grant her an unexpected kindness, like bringing her lunch: "I don't want them to know I wanted this. I don't tell them thanks. I don't tell them I want anything. I was hungry. And they thought of me."

At times, Ning's extreme emotional reserve can make her narration feel distanced or even chilly, so readers must do some (eventually rewarding) work to look beyond the surface at how things are said, or what remains unsaid. PICK A COLOR is also surprisingly funny, especially in the women's interactions with one another and their commentary on their clients.

What shines through, despite her detachment, is the extent to which Ning relies on this work and these women for her sense of self. Careful readers will marvel at how much is revealed despite the book’s slim length and its protagonist's deliberate self-distancing: "I like the distance," she insists, "and the thinking I do from there." Ning's enigmatic story will prompt plenty of thinking in readers as well.