THIS SUMMER, newcomer Min Jin Lee enters the literary scene with her solid and evocative debut novel, "Free Food for Millionaires," a book that's justifiably raising the profile of Korean-American literature.

Lee's protagonist, Korean-born and American-raised Casey Han, is tall and large framed, smart and relatively outspoken. The daughter of a laundry-owner father and church-soloist mother, the 22-year-old college grad is intimidating yet unsure, self-conscious about dating outside her race, but tired of waiting for a nice Korean boy to ask her unsuitable self out. She's also constantly comparing herself to her petite and soft-spoken younger sister.

After her father chucks her out of the Queens homestead for disrespect, "Millionaires" follows Casey as she navigates the materialistic Manhattan world she aspires to join (not to mention the strict Christian, middle-class world of her family that she's ambivalent about leaving behind).

With a Princeton degree (on scholarship), wardrobe and accoutrements (on credit) and a gateway internship at an investment bank, Casey has the basic ingredients for a charge to the top of the heap. But she soon becomes enamored with a money-obsessed world and lifestyle she lacks the means to support, and she's borrowing heavily against her future.

But her world isn't set up to make her spend-now-pay-later plans attainable. Unto whom much is given, even more is given, but it's too-bad-so-sad for the ones on the bottom, in actual need—hence the "free food" for the titular "millionaires," where wealthy day traders scramble and gloat over their company-provided lunch, donated by whichever team has sold the best deal.

Casey isn't so much looking for an identity or for self-understanding; she's looking for the means to present herself to the world, to control what other people think of her. Riches are the solution to everything, she thinks. But Casey must ultimately come to terms with the fact that she simply isn't going to get any, not in the quantities she dreams of, and that money alone likely wouldn't be enough to assuage the roots of her dissatisfaction anyway.

Lee captures the excruciating nature of a transplanted community's intergenerational conflicts, the misunderstandings and resentments between parents and children united by blood and separated by culture. The frame of reference is entirely different, the vocabulary to communicate with one another is just not there, and love isn't always enough to overcome that. Anyone torn between two cultures must learn: if the "mainstream" won't respect you on your terms, at some level you have to realize that it's their problem, not yours. You can't make them absorb you, just as you can't force abrupt change on the parent culture; you must derive your self-esteem and satisfaction from within, and find your own way to compromise.

"Millionaires" is an engrossing, if troublesome, read.

Lee gives us a look into an American subculture that all too often gets overshadowed, a "well-behaved" minority that can be safely ignored (gaining attention only in terms of the dreadfully out-of-the-ordinary event, like the Virginia Tech shootings.)

In the vein of Zadie's Smith's "White Teeth" and Jhumpa Lahiri's "The Namesake," Lee provides us with lots of rich cultural detail, particularly illustrating how Christianity and Korean culture enmesh within the American identity (some of us whose dabblings into Asian culture consist mostly of Bollywood and anime might still be rather surprised by the prominence of Protestantism in South Korea).

There is an unpleasant consumerism running through the novel, although the reader is not really encouraged to approve or disapprove. This hands-off, nonjudgmental tone is effective in a way: Lee's omniscient narrator allows for thorough explanations of the personalities and drives of nearly every character, and we're encouraged to interpret all this information on our own terms. But at the same time, this clinically expository style brings in a certain amount of distance; with a few powerful exceptions, it's difficult to really feel for anyone. Casey is particularly problematic. While it's nice as a reader not to be nudged and manipulated, it's a challenge to empathize with a heroine who's broke and hungry when her suit is couture and she insists on wearing shoes that cost several hundred. (Every so often, I found myself growling, "Quit doing that!" aloud.)

"Millionaires" meanders a great deal, and it stops so abruptly that we can't be entirely sure if Casey ever finds her "third way," although strong positive hints are given. There are a couple of significant threads (a custody battle, for instance!) left unresolved by the final page, which feels more like forgetfulness than intent, and there are characters (in particular, Casey's Korean boyfriend, Unu) who could have done with a greater share of the interior monologuing parceled out to other, less significant characters.

Still, it's a worthwhile read. This book is best for its wealth of glimpses and insights, less for any unifying plot, but it manages to be a satisfying and enlightening read despite its problems.

"Free Food for Millionaires" by Min Jin Lee is now available in hardcover wherever books are sold. Available in paperback in fall 2007. •