FICTION

DAUGHTERS OF THE HOUSE by Michelle Roberts (William Morrow: $18; 224 pp.). Food, objects and their connections to us play an important role in “Daughters of the House,” an odd, pleasantly itchy novel about two cousins growing up together in post World War II France.

Leonie and Therese have a difficult, symbiotic relationship, made more so by the secrets their parents allude to, but never really explain. Why are people so strange about the cellar? What happened at the shrine in the woods? Told in short, angular chapters that all use objects for titles (“The Ironing Board,” “The Red Suitcase”), “Daughters of the House” is so rooted in the physical world it becomes almost surreal. Here is a passage where even vegetables seem about to explode. “ . . . On one side of them was a sprawl of turquoise cabbages, frilly and tight-waisted, ready to bolt. On the other, the big green umbrellas of the zucchini plants, the orange swell of pumpkins.”

Although the sensuality of Michelle Roberts’ prose ultimately carries the book, there are some problems with the way the story unfolds. For example, neither Leonie or Therese ever actively dig for the hidden information, instead it’s just revealed to them, one, two, three, near the end. Also, some sections are overly melodramatic. But overall, “Daughters of the House” feels like a cross between Nancy Drew and David Lynch, and that’s an interesting thing.