On 90 Charles Street in Green­wich Vil­lage, New York City, the doors do not close, and the dead and the liv­ing move seam­less­ly togeth­er. Jen­nifer is raised to be seen but not heard in this reli­gious Jew­ish house­hold, where she becomes a keen observ­er of her immi­grant family’s jovial unhap­pi­ness while strug­gling to learn the qui­et prob­lem-solv­ing abil­i­ties required of Ortho­dox women. Her moth­er, who fled from Switzer­land in 1938, cre­ates rou­tines, reg­i­ment­ing every minute of the day, while her father’s child­hood, his depor­ta­tion from Poland to the Sovi­et Gulag in Siberia, casts a shad­ow over the mun­dane tex­ture of life in New York. When her par­ents die, Jen­nifer is left to nav­i­gate the colos­sal mess — of their house, and of their lives. As she ren­o­vates the fam­i­ly home, she finds her­self grap­pling with decades of clut­ter both inside the house and in her mem­o­ries. She uncov­ers sto­ries, fam­i­ly secrets and lay­ers of his­to­ry. 90 Charles Street ulti­mate­ly reck­ons with what it means for a house to hold the voice of a family.