Book Review: Vera Wong’s Unsolicited Advice For Murderers by Jesse Q. Sutanto

I absolutely devoured this by turns heart-warming and heart-wrenching tale of a lonely old teahouse owner who finds a new lease of life by meddling in a murder investigation. As always, Jesse Q Sutanto writes about Asian and Southeast Asian diasporas with brilliant insight, empathy and humor. This is absolutely one of my favorite books, not only of hers but of the year so far.

We begin with the daily routine of the titular Vera Wong, owner-proprietor of San Francisco’s very own (and probably trademark infringing) Vera Wang’s World-Famous Teahouse. Unfortunately, business isn’t very busy. Worse, her only child Tilly rarely finds the time to reply to her constant texts. She’s very proud that he’s a big-shot lawyer now, but as her clientele dwindles, her loneliness increases, such that all the determination she begins each day with slowly turns into a glum longing for oblivion by the time she trudges up the stairs in her shophouse to bed.

That all changes when she comes down one morning to find a dead body in her shop. She’s watched enough television to know that she shouldn’t interfere with the corpse itself, but can’t help tidying up around it so that the cops will be impressed by the prettiest crime scene they’ve hopefully ever come to. She also prepares for them several pots of mind sharpening tea, and is put out when they rebuff her generous offer. In fact, the cops are being overall very disappointing, bringing in no crime scene investigators or any of the other exciting things she’s come to expect from TV. To her chagrin, they’re all too ready to consider the death the result of a freak accident. A crime-free corpse is not a verdict she’s willing to accept:

“What about drugs?” she blurts out.

 

Officer Gray stares at her. “Drugs? What do you mean? Ma’am, did you touch the victim? Did you go through his belongings?”

 

Only very carefully, Vera wants to snap out, but she manages to hold herself back and say, “Of course no. I just think he look like the kind that have drugs, you know? I can tell, very bad sort.”

 

Officer Gray’s eyes narrow and Vera feels like a wayward child being reprimanded by an elder. Oof, she hasn’t had that feeling in a looong time, and she is not a fan.

Vera soon realizes that she’s going to have to take matters into her own hands. Reasoning that the killer will want to return to the scene of the crime—perhaps in order to recover the item that she may have, oops, forgotten to mention taking to the cops—she devises a plan to lure the murderer back to her teashop. When they arrive, she’ll be more than ready for them.

What Vera doesn’t count on is the appearance of not one but four viable suspects. First is Riki, who claims to be a reporter (he’s not.) Then is Sana, who claims to be a podcaster (she’s not.) By the time Vera has added the dead man’s distraught widow and estranged brother to her suspect list, she’s gleefully considering how she’ll figure out whodunnit, to the overwhelming acclaim of both the cops and her Chinatown neighbors, if not the world.

Trouble is, Vera finds herself growing more and more fond of her four suspects as she brazenly interferes with their lives, often changing them for the better. But someone is definitely a murderer, no matter what the police might say. Will Vera be able to find justice for the dead man, even if it means breaking her own heart in the process?

This cozy mystery is absolutely astonishing in managing to be simultaneously humorous, deeply intelligent, and a precisely delivered target strike to my many already complicated feelings regarding being both Asian and Asian American in the 21st century. Ms. Sutanto has done excellent work in her previous books, mysteries or otherwise, but this novel may be her best yet. Vera is both deeply irritating and highly lovable, reminding me of my own relatives and reinforcing the importance of compassion in keeping relationships alive and healthy. The rest of Ms. Sutanto’s main characters are equally imperfect but also charming, with often astute observations of their own on the many different kinds of immigrant experience, as told in each character’s viewpoint chapters:

Sana eyes the towering piles of old newspapers and magazines, the cobwebbed sewing machine, an old typewriter missing half its keys, and boxes probably filled with similar unusable items. It’s a familiar sight to her. Her parents’ house is pristine because her mother is ruthless about keeping her house immaculate for the many interviews and videos she shoots for her fans, but as a kid, whenever Sana visited her friends’ homes, especially the first-generation kids, she’d often find houses filled with crumbling boxes of stuff. Mementoes from their parents’ homeland, too old to use, too precious to throw away, too painful to look at. So they are left to age gently, a reminder of everyone who was left behind.

I spent most of a Saturday devouring this book instead of doing anything else, and felt like I’d definitely chosen the best use of my time. I laughed and cried and felt very, very seen. I adored this tremendously large-hearted and cleverly crafted novel and hope you will, too.