In Jung Yun’s SHELTER, three generations of the Cho family are living together for the first time in decades. Initially, Kyung Cho lives with his wife, Gillian, and infant son, Ethan, in a house that they struggle to afford. One morning, while Kyung and Gillian are showing their house to a realtor, a woman approaches in the distance of their 26-acre backyard. It is Kyung’s mother, Mae, who is naked, beaten and incoherent. She lets out the words “help” and Korean phrases that end with “your father hurt me.” It leads Kyung to believe that his father, Jin, a man who has hit her in the past, is responsible. As we ultimately learn, the truth is much darker.

Kyung’s parents, along with their maid, Marina, are victims of a brutal break-in. In the aftermath, Kyung and Gillian take Mae and Jin into their home. Kyung carries this burden, now balancing caring for his wife and son with being under the same roof as his parents, who are dealing with the effects of this violent act. At 36, Kyung is still trying to meet their standards and make them proud, but it’s met with distance and a cold reception. One evening, Kyung recounts to Gillian a time during his childhood when his father beat his mother with a belt before going to an open house at school. The three attended as if the incident never occurred. “We were all too good at pretending to be normal, like the world would end if anyone realized who we actually were on the inside,” Kyung states before Gillian replies, “Is that what you do with Ethan and me?” The realization is that Kyung is capable of such things. It’s in the family.

"[I]n its rich characterization and ability to gradually raise the stakes, the story works effectively. There’s more than enough to appreciate in this above-average debut. Expect great things from Jung Yun."

In the present, Jin is not the same man who raised Kyung. He is calm, helpful, polite and caring towards Ethan, who he buys toys for and shows him the affection he never did for Kyung. It confounds Kyung, who can’t understand how his own father could act this way after being so brutal in the past. As for Mae, after spending days in her room, she is seemingly in control, despite what she has just gone through. She demands to return to the house so she can clean it up, speaking back to Jin in a way that Kyung has not seen before. We’re observing her working out the incident in her own way. She hardly speaks to Jin and seems to be in denial over what happened.

The contradictions in characterization here help disguise the truth and create depth. We’re left wondering who is right. Are Jin and Mae currently putting on a show, as Kyung states?  Is Kyung’s past recollection of a brutish father and submissive mother the right depiction?  Have his parents changed due to the trauma of the break-in? Gillian, outspoken and truthful, is often the voice of reason. People can change, she argues.

SHELTER is all about the past versus the present, guilt versus redemption, forgiveness versus resentment. The build and the concept created by the author are both simplistic and nearly genius. It puts three generations of culture, tradition and personal belief under one roof with the break-in sitting beneath everything.

At times the book is too straightforward, plot-driven and clichéd --- most notably when Kyung sits at the bar and has a back-and-forth with the bartender. Some chapters are far too long, and less happens as we move toward a conclusion. Scenes with Kyung and the police officers feel a bit off, and everything stems from one event, as horrendous as it may be. But in its rich characterization and ability to gradually raise the stakes, the story works effectively. There’s more than enough to appreciate in this above-average debut. Expect great things from Jung Yun.