Beta Vulgaris

Sarsfield’s ambitious and delightfully bizarre debut portrays the yearning and misfortunes of a white 20-something migrant worker in the Midwest. In September 2014, Elise travels from Brooklyn with her boyfriend, Tom, to work the harvest on a Minnesota beet farm. Both, as Sarsfield wryly puts it, are hoping to return to Brooklyn with the highly valued “social currency” of “hardscrabble Steinbeckian authenticity,” though Elise is genuinely broke while Tom comes from family money. At their camp, they meet a cast of crusty punks, train hoppers, and other seasonal workers, including Sam and his girlfriend, Cee, whom Elise is attracted to. As the grueling labor begins, Elise struggles to come to terms with the wind and cold. She can’t afford new boots, or anything to eat beyond the peanut butter and cheese sandwiches provided at a nearby soup kitchen, which she refuses out of an aversion to processed food. After a mysterious charge on Elise’s credit card deepens her financial woes and causes tension between her and Tom, the beets begin talking to her, or so she thinks (“Return the dirt,” she hears them say). Another voice already in her head, which she attributes to her eating disorder, tells her how worthless she is. When Tom leaves with Cee and doesn’t return, Elise’s hold on reality becomes even more tenuous. Sarsfield perfectly captures the vulnerability Elise feels as a result of being at the mercy of things outside of her control and her terrible sense of self. It’s a knockout. (Feb.)