How do you uncover the truth when no one truly knows what happened? This question lies at the heart of Patmeena Sabit's captivating debut novel, Good People (Crown Publishing Group; 400 pages), in which an affluent immigrant family confronts an unspeakable tragedy, and deciphering the events proves to be anything but simple.

In the late 1990s, Rahmat and Maryam Sharaf and their young son, Omer, arrived in Northern Virginia as Afghan refugees. Despite being penniless and without friends or relatives in the area, the family is aided by a strong Afghan community. Soon after settling, the family adds a daughter, Zorah. Initially, Rahmat struggles to find work; a family friend describes him as "an illiterate villager. A mannerless donkey." But the same friend also notes, "In some things he had the grace of a natural born prince." In time, Rahmat builds a multi-million-dollar business empire as Omer and Zorah grow into teenagers and the family adds two younger children. The Sharafs move into an affluent neighborhood, but despite their impressive finances, they begin to lose touch with the community that initially welcomed them. "From the first to the last it was about one thing and one thing only: They forgot who they were," a friend of the family states. Their troubles begin when teenage Zorah starts to rebel, making decisions that stain the family's reputation within the Afghan community. Zorah's actions and the ensuing backlash lead to a tragic incident that eventually receives national attention.

Good People reads like a mystery, although not in the classic Poirot-style whodunit tradition. Rather, as the story progresses, a series of questions are answered (or not): What happened? To whom did it happen? Why? Is everyone telling the truth? It's structured like a written documentary, with an unnamed interviewer stating at the opening, "The following interviews were carried out with individuals close to the people or events described therein." Expository information is provided through the recollections of individual characters, and Sabit is deliberate about the pace at which the information concerning the story's central events is revealed. At times, the voices of the individual people within several different groups—friends of the family, attorneys, and neighbors—start to sound similar, and it can be difficult to track each of the individuals involved. However, if each character statement is read as part of a particular group rather than from a specific individual, the issue doesn't interfere with the story.

The varying narratives told by different characters also serve as an opportunity to obfuscate the truth and provide the reader with a chance to draw their own conclusion. For example, to friends of the Sharaf family, Zorah has the freedom of an American teenager, rather than adhering to the standards set forth by her culture. But Zorah's friends at school see the family as oppressive and controlling. Similarly, an incident at the Sharaf house in which a character unsuccessfully proposes his son marry Zorah is rehashed by close to a dozen different characters, each with their own spin and interpretation. Part of the reading experience lies in trying to interpret all the possible outcomes and decipher the truth from each kernel of second-hand testimony. It's a game of telephone, and it's easy to get the sense that some facts are lost in translation.

And while the mystery propels the book's plot, Sabit also uses the differing points of view to explore larger themes. When the family's tragedy elicits national attention, the Muslim community faces significant backlash. Sabit deftly articulates how racist misconceptions and underlying beliefs fuel the perception of a population and lead to a harmful backlash. As one particular character muses, "It was just a wonderful excuse for them. To hate us in the open the way they hate us in their hearts." The text also uses newspaper articles to show subtle changes to the language used to describe the family's tragedy over time. What was once an idea floated as a possible theory is soon adopted into a near fact by the media. Outsiders use the family's tragedy to espouse their own viewpoints and agendas, and by the end of the book, it's up to the reader to form an opinion on what's real and what's not.

Good People is easily one of the best books of 2026, and the joy of reading it ultimately comes from uncovering the mystery without any preconceived notions of what happened. It's like putting together a thousand-piece puzzle with only a vague picture on the box. But it's certainly worth putting forth the time and effort.