FICTION

BOAT PEOPLE by Mary Gardner. (Norton: $21; 277 pp.) Most novels have strengths and weaknesses that, when put together, form a cohesive impression of a good book with problems, a lousy book with possibilities, or any other combination in between. Not so with Mary Gardner’s “Boat People.” Gardner’s strong suits--her almost supernatural capability to enter the minds of her characters, her amazing eye for detail and poetic ability to express subtle, complex emotions in few words--are nothing short of stunning. Yet “Boat People” is so full of overblown dialogue and a need to show us what life is like for Vietnamese people, that it is difficult to believe this gorgeous, disappointing novel is truly the work of one person.

Told from many different points of view, “Boat People” follows a group of Vietnamese immigrants in Galveston, Texas, as they struggle with bone crushing poverty, mental illness, abuse and a hopeful yet heartbreaking need to assimilate. In a beautiful, ominous scene, Linn, an 8-year-old, tries to help her father who stands halfway through a revolving door, totally baffled. “He was standing still, caught. She gave the panel of glass a sturdy push and watched the movement transmit itself through the other panels. The glass inside slammed into her father’s back, but he braced himself against it. . . . Already the guard was staring.” In the frustrating sections of “Boat People,” Gardner’s own agenda eclipses her vivid characters. Much of the book though is virtually unforgettable.