Book Review – Little Fires Everywhere

Wow. Little Fires Everywhere completely consumed me over the past two days, much like the fires that dance through its pages. As someone who grew up straddling different cultural worlds and often feeling like an outsider looking in, this book hit particularly close to home.

Let me just say – if you’re expecting a light, breezy read about suburban drama, think again. This is a masterfully crafted story that delves deep into motherhood, identity, privilege, and the masks we wear to fit into society’s expectations. The moment I cracked open this book during my evening tea ritual (with my favorite jasmine green tea, of course), I knew I was in for something special.

Celeste Ng sets her story in Shaker Heights, a meticulously planned community where everything from house colors to garbage collection is regulated. It’s the kind of place that would have driven teenage-me absolutely crazy with its rigid rules and expectations. Into this perfectly manicured world comes Mia Warren and her daughter Pearl, nomadic artists who rent a house from the Richardson family.

The character development in this book is simply amazing. Mrs. Richardson (and yes, the formal name usage is totally intentional and brilliant) initially reminded me so much of my high school friend’s mom – that specific brand of liberal white woman who collects good deeds like they’re Pokémon cards. You know the type – the one who wants to be seen as helping others but keeps a mental ledger of every favor.

But here’s what makes Ng’s writing so brilliant – just when you think you have a character figured out, she peels back another layer. Take Mia, for instance. At first, I found myself judging her lifestyle choices pretty harshly (probably channeling my own Asian mom’s voice in my head about stability and proper parenting). But as her story unfolds, Ng forces us to question our own preconceptions about what makes a good mother.

The subplot about the custody battle over baby May Ling/Mirabelle McCullough had me texting my best friend at 2 AM because I desperately needed someone to discuss it with. It raises such complex questions about race, class, and culture that I’m still turning over in my mind days later. As a reviewer, I try to stay somewhat objective, but this particular storyline really got under my skin.

The 90s references scattered throughout the book were like little gifts for those of us who lived through that era. When Sir Mix-a-lot got mentioned, I may have had an embarrassing flashback to attempting to dance to “Baby Got Back” at my first high school dance. (Spoiler alert: it wasn’t pretty.)

One of the most powerful aspects of this novel is how it explores the different fires we all carry within us – the ones that warm and nurture, and the ones that threaten to consume everything in their path. Izzy’s character particularly resonated with me – that fierce determination to stand up for what’s right, even when it makes everyone uncomfortable. It reminded me of my own teenage rebellions, though mine were admittedly more along the lines of dying my hair purple than setting shelter cats free.

The pacing might feel a bit slow at first, but trust me, it’s like watching a pot of water about to boil – all that careful buildup leads to an explosive payoff. By the halfway point, I was completely invested in these characters’ lives. I may have scared my cat when I gasped out loud at certain revelations.

What truly elevates this book is Ng’s ability to write about privilege and prejudice without ever feeling preachy. She shows us how even well-intentioned people can cause harm through their blind spots and assumptions. It’s a reminder that none of us are immune to our own biases, no matter how progressive we think we are.

While the ending left me with a bittersweet ache, it felt true to the story and its characters. Some fires need to burn so new growth can emerge from the ashes. This book will stay with me for a long time, and I’ve already ordered Ng’s other novel, Everything I Never Told You.

Little Fires Everywhere is perfect for readers who enjoy complex family dynamics, nuanced discussions of race and class, and stories that make you question your own assumptions. Just make sure you have some tissues handy – and maybe don’t read it while drinking anything that could damage the pages. Trust me on this one.