Dandelion is a novel about family secrets, migration, isolation, motherhood and mental illness. When Lily was a child, her mother, Swee Hua, walked away from the family and was never heard from again. After becoming a new mother herself, Lily is obsessed with discovering what happened to Swee Hua.

She recalls growing up in a British Columbia mining town where there were only a handful of Asian families and how Swee Hua longed to return to Brunei. Eventually, a clue leads Lily to Southeast Asia to find out the truth about her mother.

Dandelion will be championed by pastry chef Saïd M'Dahoma on Canada Reads 2025.

The great Canadian book debate will take place on March 17-20. This year, we are looking for one book to change the narrative.

The debates will be hosted by Ali Hassan and will be broadcast on CBC Radio One, CBC TV, CBC Gem, CBC Listen and on CBC Books.

You can read an excerpt from Dandelion below.

My father's older sister Auntie Choo Neo placed chicken satay sticks on the backyard barbecue. She shot a dirty look at Mother. Auntie complained that Mother didn't cook the way Father liked and often referred to her as "Father's light-skinned child bride." She told mother to stop playing and start cooking. Mother rolled her eyes behind Auntie's back. My little sister, Bea, and I laughed with her.

Auntie Choo Neo came over every weekend to cook dinner. It stung Auntie that we lived in the Heights. She and Uncle Stephen had bought a small bungalow near downtown Sparwood, a more modest house than ours given that there was just the two of them. She visited weekly, hoping her presence in Sparwood Heights would elevate her status, our Mother whispered to Bea and me. I asked Mother why Auntie needed more stature when she was already tall, with broad, sturdy shoulders. Mother replied that status was more than just physical, that Auntie wanted to appear rich, powerful, and all knowing. Whenever she came, Auntie Choo Neo proudly wore her kebaya Nyonya, a brightly coloured, fitted, embroidered blouse paired with a batik sarong.

I hopped off the swing and ran over to Auntie Choo Neo. Although she picked on Mother, she was my elder, and one of the few people I had known my entire life. The oldest of Father's siblings, she loved to lecture, correct, and order Mother around, but not me. Auntie would let me hover, but she kept a careful distance. If I inched too close, to rest my hand on her or hug her, she would pull away as if afraid she would catch something.

The turmeric in the marinade must have brought Auntie some warmth that spring day in 1987, as she taught me how to make satay. As she was preparing the sauce that accompanies the skewers, she told me, "The secret to this recipe is to allow the nutty spices to make space for one another." She permitted me to dip my fingers into the dark, rich sauce, to savour the flavours dancing in my mouth.

"Lily!" Mother bellowed. "Stop sticking your fingers in the bowl!" She was sitting at the picnic table, rubbing her ankle, tracing her fingers around the bones on both sides of her foot. She had told me she had injured it as a teenager in a bicycle accident, and it was never the same after that.

"Ayoo, Swee Hua," Auntie Choo Neo scolded. "No need to yell at Lily. She is learning how to make satay from the best."

Mother's eyebrows furrowed and her eyes narrowed, like a cat watching its prey. Then, as though retreating on soft paws, Mother dutifully set the table.

Auntie Choo Neo reminded Mother to set an extra space at the table for those who could not join us. My cousin, her son, Winston, was the only missing guest. The only person who defied Auntie Choo Neo, he chose not to come to Canada despite her efforts, and now she talked of Winston as if he were dead. I had heard Mother describe Auntie Choo Neo's "eulogies" as if she were kao peh kao bu, crying about dead parents.

Auntie talked about Winston as we ate dinner. "Aya, jin hao se, so young and yet a life already wasted."

Uncle Stephen sighed. "Gao liao, enough already."

"You give up on your only son so easily," Auntie growled back. "If you were a good father, he would be here. He would not be stateless. He would be Canadian."

"Aya, Choo Neo," Mother said. "He's got permanent residence in Brunei. He's not without status. You should be proud of him. He has started his own business. He's building his future. He's not living in a long house with the Iban."

Auntie Choo Neo scoffed, surprised that my mother would dare challenge her. "He might as well be with the orangutans in Temburong on the Brunei River! How can you think he has a future when he is nobody! His car dealership is like that plastic bag blowing in the wind. It's flying high now towards the clouds, but once it falls, it will be treated like the garbage it really is."

"Choo Neo, at least you know we're safe in Canada," Uncle Stephen reminded his wife. "Thanks to Ah Loy's foresight to sponsor all of us, we are not without status."

Auntie Choo Neo turned to Father. "Yes, Ah Loy is a dutiful brother. But what good is it for us to be here when my son is languishing back home?"

"It's never too late," Father said. "You should continue to talk to Winston, put some sense in him."

Mother laughed bitterly. "Time will tell if there is any sense in moving here. What would Winston do here? Work in the mine with you and Stephen, Ah Loy? He's running his own business back home, driving a nice car, and living in a nice house that is being cleaned by an amah. He's his own boss, and he has youth on his side. That is more than I can say for the two of you."

Father shifted in his seat, set down his satay, and pushed his plate towards the centre of the table. "You envy Winston, Swee Hua," he said, "but his life is a house of cards. He relies on a Malay to even have his business. His name is not on the ownership papers. Everything he has built could be taken away just like that. One day, a storm will come, and everything will tumble down. No amount of money could help him crawl out from under the rubble and rebuild. If I were Winston, I would ask, 'Why would I put my life and that of my children's at risk?'" Father wiped his mouth with his napkin and continued. "We are nothing to those in power. They don't recognize you. They don't look at you. They can discard you and kick you out. Winston, like all of us stateless people, is expendable, and I don't want to wait for the day when my life and the lives of my children come crashing down. I'm sorry, Choo Neo, but you do have reason to worry. If I were his father, I would drag him out of that jungle and bring him here."

Bea grabbed the last satay stick and placed it on her plate, pausing to see if I would protest. I didn't. Everyone saw Winston so differently.

Mother chimed in again. "Here, yes, you have papers, but nothing else, Ah Loy. We live in a valley far away from the city, and you work underground. Our children are separated from so much family. They are not learning their language or their culture. The other day, I heard Beatrice tell someone that she doesn't know Chinese because she doesn't need it. The air here can freeze you to death, and the food is flavourless. Think about the asam fish head soup back home, with fresh galangal and lemongrass. The green everywhere and the mangos growing in our backyard. Think about the pungent smell of durian."

Even Auntie Choo Neo nodded slightly and murmured in agreement.

"I can see why Winston chose to stay where he is," Mother said."Let me ask all of you: What's holding us back? We have citizenship now. We can go back home."

…

"It's not right. We can't go back," Father said. "We chose this place, and it chose us. We have to give back the way it has given to us."