Tag Archives: BARD

Book Review: Dust Child, by Nguyen Phan Que Mai

Posted on by John

I’ve noticed recently a proliferation of books about the Vietnam war, most of them emotionally wrenching and thought-provoking. But this novel, which the author discloses at the end took nearly seven years to complete, tells a different story than we’re used to hearing.

It speaks of the American soldiers who, traumatized by war and feeling far away from home and the romantic partners they may have had there, often found “bar girls,” women they picked up in bars created for this purpose, and had sex with them among other things. Of course this resulted in children being born who often didn’t know their fathers, and in some cases didn’t know their mothers either.

These Amerasians as they were known, were ostracized from Vietnamese society and seen as the children of the enemy. They were doubly mistreated if their skin made it clear that their father had been African American.

The author explores all of these things in two characters who spend the novel searching. One, an American soldier who had wronged a Vietnamese bar girl with whom he had slept, wished to relocate her. The other searcher was a Vietnamese man who had been dropped off by his mother at an orphanage and was left to be raised by nuns. Wanting to take advantage of the Amerasian homestead Act, a real thing I’d not heard of by the way, he had tried repeatedly to be sent to the U.S. He understood that his chances would be better if he could locate his parents.

The book is powerful, filled with twists that leave the reader emotionally shaken but mentally more aware of the cost of this horrible war, not just for the Americans, as I, a U.S. citizen, very much understand, but to the Vietnamese as well. They still face challenges rought by the fighting and its aftermath. If you do read this, I would recommend listening to the audio, narrated by Quyen Ngo. She reads many novels set in Vietnam, and given the copious amount of Vietnamese in this book the audio will make it much easier to follow. Of course all of the things rendered in that language that require explanation for us English readers are explained, and Ngo adds a powerful element to the story with her portrayal of the characters and probable reactions to the scenes that play out (I’m thinking a few tears were shed).

Book Review: I Know This Much Is True

Posted on by John

In honor of today’s Readathon, which asks people to continuously read books over a 24-hour period, I thought I’d post a review of my best read of 2014 thus far. While I think the idea behind Readathon is cool, I know I couldn’t do it since I like to take my book in small bites and really digest the plot. But to those who are doing it, enjoy, and probably drink lots of coffee!

So I’ve just completed my second really long book of the year. The first was The Valley of Amazement by Amy Tan, which I may review at a later date. This one though is titled I Know This Much Is True, by Wally Lamb.

On posting that I was reading this on Facebook, it quickly became clear that I’m the last person on earth to pick it up, not surprising I guess, given that it came out in 1998. Many immediately said they loved it also, having some deep sense of connection to and empathy for the characters.

The main characters are twins Thomas and Dominic Birdsey, (last name may or may not be spelled correctly but for that you can blame the fact that I read it in audio). We meet Thomas just as his Schizophrenia leads him to profoundly injure himself in an attempt to stop the oncoming Gulf war of the early 90s. He takes this action in a library, and other patrons and the librarian demand that he be put away quickly. He had already been in a lower-level facility, but they decide to escalate him to one with greater security, and a lot less flexibility for him and his family.

Much of the rest of the story is essentially told in flashback: through Dominic’s therapy sessions, thoughts from their stepfather, and a diary that their grandfather wrote about his coming to the US from Sicely at the turn of the 20th Century. It is a fascinating tale of hardship, bombast, and the strength of a special kind of love that only people with a fairly rare relationship can understand.

I think my favorite parts of the story were those concerning their life in the 1960s. How Dominic met someone at a place called the Dial Tone Lounge, a bar with tables that allowed people to dial in the number of another table if they saw someone attractive there. Did such establishments exist? That sounds like fun.

Of course, not all was great for them then. We get a glimpse of how their stepfather Ray treated, and often mistreated, Dominic, their mother, and especially Thomas. As with other books I’ve read, I can really feel Thomas’s discomfort, enduring taunts that he was a “sissy” and too girl-like, as my biological parent very regularly said such things to me as well. Later in the story, Ray claims that he had a hard time not doing this as he had been raised in an era where men were taught to always display a tough exterior. That’s sad.

I also liked the complexity of Dominic’s feelings. While he often yearned to have his own life and space, he nevertheless continued to fight vehemently for his brother and whatever his brother wanted. He did this even to the extent that it hurt his relationships with women. It was certainly a tough fight with a less-than-desirable outcome.

I would definitely recommend this book, though probably not as one to consume during the readathon. I’m not sure how many print pages it is exactly, but at 30 hours of audio it has to be of a pretty good size. It will however make for a great summer read, as there is lots of talk of waterfalls, beaches, and entertainment. There is also a deep exploration of those characteristics that make us beautifully made, if flawed, human beings.