Forget the melting pot — when raised with a diverse conglomeration of cultures and geographies, you're more likely to feel perpetually displaced rather than abundantly connected. That's why computer scientist turned author Erick Setiawan regularly turned to literature as an escape from a tri-fold identity struggle — born in Jakarta, Indonesia, to Chinese parents, before emigrating to America at 16 — and it makes perfect sense, then, that in his debut novel "Of Bees and Mist," Setiawan concocts a richly drawn private fantasy world where he could for once feel perfectly at home.

It's an undeniably intriguing landscape, and Setiawan's luxuriously paced descriptions and whimsical, inventive devices can be seductive. But not all readers will feel at home here. The simple narrative — led by a clairvoyant narrator who sticks close to Meridia (except for a few unnecessary and momentary slips into others' points of view) — is a magical realism hybrid, despite Setiawan's protestations that he merely siphoned multiple influences, from Chinese martial arts films to English literature and, yes, Marquez. In the town market "a woman grew herbs out of her body ... which customers plucked fresh with their own hands." At Meridia's childhood home, the stairs move about like those in Harry Potter films and each night, her father disappears into colorful mists while her mother remains imprisoned by forgetfulness.

Yet fantastical worlds thrive only when the rules are clearly delineated, and Setiawan dangerously treads the line between an anything-goes fairy tale and meaningful symbolism. Too often the amalgamation of stories and superstitions seem to only fulfill his personal desires — Meridia's father Gabriel disappears in mists because Setiawan likes how Chinese martial arts films use that technique, and a lecherous half-swine man who emerges late in the novel is so drawn simply because Setiawan enjoys the childhood legend. However, what amuses Setiawan isn't always justified within the story, so it's a boon when, midway through, enchanted elements become more purposeful, such as the consistent appearance of bees allowing us to interpret their clever representation.

If it weren't for a grounded, authentic plot, the book might become perilously untethered. The portrait of Meridia's struggles for independence while growing up with unusually distant parents is touchingly sketched. Her marriage at 16 to her first love, Daniel, is a story that pulses with life while at the same time delivers her into Eva's hellishly unyielding grip. And when her sheltered naivete is shattered upon realizing Daniel is blind to his mother's "talent for finding faults, even when none existed," the two families clash spectacularly, like Capulets and Montagues.

Where Setiawan ultimately succeeds is crafting memorable, identifiable characters and an enjoyable story rooted in human emotion — for love, longing, and the pain of compromise is indeed recognizable to all, no matter our culture or geography.

Read more of Christine Thomas's book reviews at www.literarylotus.com.