We meet Henry Park, a first generation Korean American, in medias res when his wife Leila tells him that she finally decided to take that trip she'd been thinking about, a trip that means separation from him and likely a divorce. She's getting away from the marriage for a while to think things over, but before she leaves, she gives him a list of faults and problems she notices about him, and he quickly becomes obsessive over the list, committing her criticisms deep into his memory, as one does.
Henry now needs a path forward in light of his likely divorce from his wife. That and her criticisms send Henry into an existential crisis where every aspect of his life comes into question, not least of which is his job of spying on immigrants like himself and reporting their behavior to companies that use it to hurt his community. Suddenly he realizes his tax-collector status, and what's worse, he's starting to not even do that job well.
Not surprisingly, his attentions turn to culture and heritage, and he is left to reassess the worldview of his father in light of these trying times. He discovers that although his parents were thoroughly Korean, he doesn't really know how he fits into that heritage, and he begins to question the identity he found in his sense of self.
Suddenly, he realizes that he is trapped in a quandary. On the one hand, he finds his work meaningful and he appreciates the stability. On the other hand, it is becoming more and more clear to him that the real purpose for his work is the continual disenfranchisement of the Korean people, putting an ironic twist on his whole "Am I really a Korean?" issue. Is he betraying himself? Or has his time in America erased what used to be the Korean in him?
