In some ways, I hate stumbling upon books that I love. While I enjoy becoming deeply engrossed in a piece of literature, a sense of loss always follows the conclusion. My experience reading The Piano Teacher last week was no different.

Janice Y. K. Lee’s first novel is breathtaking. A former editor at Elle, she skillfully intertwines the lives of Hong Kong elite with British expats both during and after World War II. Lee’s language is beautifully sparse, and none her characters are particularly likeable, which makes their idiosyncrasies all the more intriguing.

In 1951, Claire Pendleton travels to Hong Kong with her husband Martin, an engineer. She is hired as a piano teacher by Victor and Melody Chen, a wealthy Chinese couple, and quickly finds herself more at ease in the stifling humidity of China than she ever was in her predictable British life. As she emerges from her shell and begins an affair with Will Truesdale, the Chen’s driver, the story returns to 1941, when Will was head over heels for the Eurasian Trudy Liang. The women are opposite in looks and personality–”Claire, with her blonde and familiar femininity, English rose to Trudy’s exotic scorpion”–yet both pique Will’s interest.

While the chaotic Japanese invasion and occupation of Hong Kong also play a central role in the novel, Lee’s rapidly disintegrating characters are most engrossing and make this a piece worth reading (I foresee Keira Knightley as Claire in the inevitable film adaptation).