Mar. 2nd, 2020

[personal profile] lesliejfernandez
A Review of Shani Mootoo’s Moving Sideways Forward Like a Crab (Akashic, 2017).

By Stephen Hong Sohn

 

This novel was originally published a couple of years ago in Canada. With the help of an enterprising scholar north of the border, I was able to acquire a copy, but if I had waited patiently enough, Shani Mootoo’s latest would find a North American publisher: Akashic. I have to say Akashic is slowly, but steadily building one of the best catalogues with respect to Asian American and Asian Anglophone literatures; it already has published most of Nina Revoyr’s novels and a number of recent highlights, including Avtar Singh’s Necropolis. In any case, this description comes from Kirkus Reviews, which can be found under the editorial reviews at B&N: “A man explores the life story of his absentee transgender parent. Growing up in Canada, Jonathan Lewis-Adey was raised by two mothers, India and Siddhani. When the couple split around Jonathan's 10th birthday, he stayed with India and lost touch with Sid, as she was known. Many years later, Jonathan—now a writer—wants to reconnect but has no success finding Sid in Toronto. Instead, he tracks down a man with the same last name in Sid's native country of Trinidad. Traveling there in the hope he has found a relative, Jonathan instead realizes he has found his lost parent—now living as a man named Sydney in the island nation. Over the course of 9 years, Jonathan re-establishes himself in Sydney's life—but it is only at the old man's death, and through the revelations that follow it, that Jonathan comes to understand him. Mootoo (Valmiki's Daughter, 2009, etc.) is clearly interested in Sydney as a symbol of what it means for a person to exist in a hybrid space: Sid/Sydney's story is as much about negotiating the differing cultures of Canada and Trinidad (where he hailed from an elite family) as it is about spending an uneasy life in the body of a woman and then transitioning to a man. Readers who enjoy rich details of place will find Mootoo's writing about her settings to be luxuriant; we are especially treated to abundant descriptions of Trinidad. But these descriptions can come at the expense of pacing and characterization—Jonathan in particular seems inert and blurry, no match for the vitality of the world he finds himself in. A slow-moving but thoughtful exploration of place and identity.”

 

Sadly, the B&N site did not even have its own editorial description, and I didn’t agree about Jonathan’s characterization as inert or blurry. After all, most of the novel is told through his perspective, so we get quite a lot of information about him and his preoccupation. Perhaps, most evident is that he narrates Sydney’s life through his cisgender, heterosexual perspective. In this way, the novel’s greatest triumph is its painfully poignant characterization of a privileged son, who cannot always embrace the transition that his mother—now father—has made. Even up until the final pages, there is an occasional slippage of gender pronouns: Jonathan still calls Sydney a “she” and part of this failing is evident of the kind of myopia that Jonathan never finally rises above. At the same time, Mootoo is quite careful in creating a narrator who is necessarily pushing himself: he comes to embrace Trinidad and the so-called descriptions of the “settings” as “luxuriant” is of course Mootoo’s way of showing another romance that is occurring. The queerness of this romance is never one that Jonathan can fully see as non-normative, which allies him in more ways with his father than he ever realizes. An outsider to Trinidad who longs to be an insider, who finds something to love even as one cannot necessarily be claimed is exactly what Sydney goes through himself his entire life. So, while the novel generously reveals this lesson, what is blurry is not so much Jonathan but whether or not that he understands the larger lesson not only of Sydney’s painful story of loss, transition, and desire for inclusion, but that he himself still has so much growing to do.

 

In terms of Mootoo’s larger publication history, I was especially impressed by the aesthetic experimentation in this work, at least with respect to the narrative perspectives that I’ve seen in previous novels. Certainly, Mootoo’s always had a more fragmented writing style, but I don’t think I recall her using much first person narration. Here’s there’s a metafictive or at least metanarrative element going on because the first section seems to be coming from Sydney’s notebooks. The second portion is referenced as Jonathan Lewis-Adey’s memoir, but this final section (which is most of the novel) is actually a hybrid between his experiences traveling back to Trinidad to visit with Sydney (who is suffering from pneumonia complications) and his detailing of Sydney’s life. What is

evident here is that Sydney is well aware that Jonathan has long felt abandoned and that of his two guardians, Sydney was always the one he gravitated to emotionally, so when Sydney and India break up, that rupture is one he does not take very well. Because India does not want Sydney to have contact with Jonathan, Jonathan develops a long standing grudge that Sydney disappeared from his life without ever really providing him with an adequate explanation. Much of Jonathan’s impulse to come to Trinidad, then, is to find out whether or not Sydney actually loved him, which he obviously did. You want to shake Jonathan at many points because he seems so insecure about this fact and to push him to think beyond this obsessive tendency to direct so much value to this one element of his life. In any case, as you can see, I have strong feelings about the novel, but what’s especially moving is Mootoo’s desire to show us the complicated dynamics of a family from the perspective of a cisgender man.

 

Buy the Book Here:

 

Review Author: Stephen Hong Sohn
Review Editor: Leslie J. Fernandez

If you have any questions or want us to consider your book for review, please don’t hesitate to contact us via email!
Prof. Stephen Hong Sohn at ssohnucr@gmail.com
Leslie J. Fernandez, PhD Student in English, at lfern010@ucr.edu

[personal profile] lesliejfernandez
A Review of S. Jae-Jones’s Wintersong (St. Martin’s Press, 2017).

By Stephen Hong Sohn

 

It’s been a little bit of time, since I’ve sat down with young adult fiction with paranormal themes. Wintersong has already had a lot of buzz, and I recall this book being touted as an anticipated release for 2017. S. Jae-Jones’s debut novel definitely has a unique conceit because it focuses on a fictional world populated by goblins, changelings, and nixies. At this time, I’ve pretty much thought I’d read it all: you have fairies (Julie Kagawa), vampires (Andrew Fukuda and the aforementioned Kagawa), soul-less creatures (Yvonne Woon), angels and demons (Susan Ee), magicians (Evelyn Skye) and magic-wielding entities (Sherry Thomas, Eleanor Glewwe), zombies (Linda Watanabe McFerrin); the list sort of goes on and on. B&N provides us with a pithy description of the plot: “All her life, Liesl has heard tales of the beautiful, dangerous Goblin King. They’ve enraptured her mind, her spirit, and inspired her musical compositions. Now eighteen and helping to run her family’s inn, Liesl can’t help but feel that her musical dreams and childhood fantasies are slipping away. But when her own sister is taken by the Goblin King, Liesl has no choice but to journey to the Underground to save her. Drawn to the strange, captivating world she finds—and the mysterious man who rules it—she soon faces an impossible decision. And with time and the old laws working against her, Liesl must discover who she truly is before her fate is sealed.”

 

This summary is pretty spot on: basically, Liesl must engage in a series of games to win back her sister, Kathe, who has become ensorcelled by the Goblin King. As with Roshani Chokshi’s The Star-Touched Queen, the dastardly Goblin King, we soon discover, is not so dastardly after all, and Liesl begins to realize that there is a context for the construction of any monster. The basis for the reason why the Goblin King must marry a human female is because this marriage allows the mortal world to retain its regular life cycles. The problem is that the Goblin King’s marriage never lasts; the bride eventually wears out and literally begins to lose her senses the longer she stays in the Underworld. In this sense, the author is obviously riffing off of the myths related to Persephone. Liesl ultimately sacrifices herself for Kathe (and this “replacement” narrative is something we’ve seen a number of times in other narratives; we won’t forget the most “famous” one in Suzanne Collins’s trilogy). While Liesl is imprisoned in the Underworld, she begins to understand how the Goblin King has come to be. The knowledge that she gains helps provide her with a better perspective of the Goblin King’s actions, and why the Goblin King so desperately needs someone like Liesl, who contains so much life.

 

Readers should be forewarned: there is a fair amount of sexual situations in this novel; some scenes have already been the subject of some controversy in reviews. Another critique that has been levied is the novel’s length; here, the author does tend to allow certain plotting events overwhelm and sometimes even squash narrative momentum. Finally, I’d be interested in exploring a longer conversation about this novel, especially with respect to its European cultural contexts. I know so little about these areas, but I’ve increasingly seen Asian American writers invoking such terrains, geographies, cultures, and historical periods in their work; Marie Lu’s Young Elites series (Italy), Evelyn Sky’s Crown series (Russia), and this Wintersong, with its German cultural milieu, are all clear examples. For those who enjoyed this particular installment, you can expect more from S. Jae-Jones as Wintersong is set to have its sequel come out in 2018.

 

Buy the Book Here:

 

Review Author: Stephen Hong Sohn
Review Editor: Leslie J. Fernandez

If you have any questions or want us to consider your book for review, please don’t hesitate to contact us via email!
Prof. Stephen Hong Sohn at ssohnucr@gmail.com
Leslie J. Fernandez, PhD Student in English, at lfern010@ucr.edu

[personal profile] lesliejfernandez
A Review of Tara Sim’s Chainbreaker (Sky Pony Press, 2018).

By Stephen Hong Sohn

 

Okay, so let’s start out with the fact that Tara Sim’s Chainbreaker is the sequel to Timekeeper, one of my favorite YA reads from last year. I was really excited to see this next installment coming out, and it’s evident by the conclusion that we’re in that requisite trilogy form that’s become so common. The B&N page provides us with this editorial description: “Clock mechanic Danny Hart knows he’s being watched. But by whom, or what, remains a mystery. To make matters worse, clock towers have begun falling in India, though time hasn’t Stopped yet. He'd hoped after reuniting with his father and exploring his relationship with Colton, he'd have some time to settle into his new life. Instead, he’s asked to investigate the attacks. After inspecting some of the fallen Indian towers, he realizes the British occupation may be sparking more than just attacks. And as Danny and Colton unravel more secrets about their past, they find themselves on a dark and dangerous path—one from which they may never return.”

 

This background doesn’t really do enough work for us because there’s quite a few other characters beyond Danny Hart that are critical to this particular novel. Indeed, you’ll find a useful page on Tara Sim’s official website with cool sketches of the major characters thus far in the whole series. Danny Hart heads over to India, but he’s going there with his one-time rival Daphne Richards, who is actually part South Asian. In the world building offered by the first installment, you need to understand that—in this steampunk inspired world, filled with air ships and other similar modes of travel—clocks are vital to keep time running in cities. What occurs in India defies the laws of the fictional universe, as time seems to keep running in those cities even after the clock towers have blown up. Despite the fact that time keeps going, some problems remain: the blowing up of these buildings obviously causes damage and potential loss of human life (for anyone in the local vicinity). For someone like Danny, who has intimate knowledge that each clock tower actually houses a spirit, the tower bombings hold extra significance: he knows that such acts could kill off these mystical beings. Danny goes to India, fully realizing that he is not only helping investigate what is going on, but potentially figuring out how to keep his own romance with Colton safe.

 

The best thing about this installment is Sim’s willingness to engage in the ethnic history and culture of India as part of the clock/ tower world. I had wondered about the use of clocks in other locations, especially because it was mentioned in Timekeeper, so Sim seemed to be telegraphing that query and answering what we were all already thinking. The other cool element is the twinned “queer” romance plots. While Colton’s takes the form of a fellow teenager, the problem with this romance is less about the fact that Colton and Danny are both boys, but that Colton is a clock spirit. Such romances are forbidden. On the other hand, Daphne ends up engaging in her own socially questionable romance when she begins to fall for Akash Kapoor, who is brother of Meena Kapoor, an Indian clock tower mechanic. For all intents and purposes, Daphne’s South Asian background is shrouded in secrecy, effectively leaving her in the closet for a period. The novel thus gestures to multiple forms of “queer” desires that such romance plots more textured than the typical iterations.

If there is a drawback to this novel, it’s that I felt the plotting and pacing were uneven. There was a point where the exposition really dragged down the momentum, and I impatiently desired to move toward the final pages. Even then, the resolution left a lot to be desired, which is a common issue related to the middle installment in any trilogy. On a final note: I did really appreciate Sim’s exploration of the fictional world’s spiritual belief systems. We get a sense that Gods really do exist in this world and that the clock towers and their spirits are involved in some sort of massive shift in the way time must work. The final installment is tentatively scheduled to be published either in late 2018 or early 2019 and is entitled Firestarter. The title has me exceptionally curious about where the series is actually going. I have no idea why fires would need to be started, so color me intrigued and ready to go for the conclusion.


Buy the Book Here:

 

Review Author: Stephen Hong Sohn
Review Editor: Leslie J. Fernandez

If you have any questions or want us to consider your book for review, please don’t hesitate to contact us via email!
Prof. Stephen Hong Sohn at ssohnucr@gmail.com
Leslie J. Fernandez, PhD Student in English, at lfern010@ucr.edu

[personal profile] lesliejfernandez
A Review of Tarun Shanker and Kelly Zekas’s These Vengeful Souls (Swoon Reads, 2018).

By Stephen Hong Sohn

I always say to myself: wow, this year is truly the busiest working year on record. I’m not sure I will be able to eclipse the amount of stuff I have to do this particular year, though. It’s gotten so busy, I’ve fallen behind on reviewing and just on reading. I used to be able to read about three new books per week. I am lucky if I get through one now. Nevertheless, as soon as the final installment of Tarun Shanker and Kelly Zekas’s trilogy came out, I knew I had to make time for it, even if it was at 2 a.m. in the morning and shorting me on sleep. Yes, as I’ve mentioned before, fans of the X-Men and the Austenian romance plot will find much to love about this paranormal YA: Evelyn Wyndham and Sebastian Braddock’s star-crossed relationship continues to disintegrate in the final volume, These Vengeful Souls (Swoon Reads, 2018). For those that might not remember, Swoon Reads is an imprint of MacMillan based upon audience participation. As writers upload their own manuscripts, the feedback given and audience responses to drafts enable editors to find what might fit within their catalogues and go on to publish them. I’m not sure how the finances shake out, but it’s a unique model in this more digital age.

 

In any case, the description of the plot comes out of this editorial blurb found on B&N: “England, 1883. On the run with the grieving Sebastian Braddock, Evelyn wants two things: to be reunited with her friends, and to get revenge on the evil Captain Goode. Not only has he misused his and Sebastian’s powers to rack up a terrible death toll, but he's also completely destroyed any hope of Evelyn or her friends regaining the life they once knew. Evelyn is determined to make Captain Goode pay for what he's done, but is her revenge worth risking the lives of Sebastian and her friends? Or is it better to flee the city and focus on staying alive? And with the Captain spreading lies about Sebastian in an attempt to flush them out of hiding and turn the populace against them, does she even have a choice at all?”

 

The friends include Evelyn’s sister, Rose, along with a bevy of others introduced in earlier novels. All have “superpowers” so to speak. Sebastian, for instance, has the power to disease, sicken, and make people near him die, while Evelyn is a healer. Captain Goode, however inappropriately named, can cancel out or enhance another individual’s superpowers, while Rose is a manipulative empathy, able to persuade those around her to do her bidding (even sometimes when she does not realize it). Others include Miss Chen, who can explode various items made of things like glass and metal; Mr. Kent, who can ask any question and extract a truthful answer; and later, on, another appearing by Miss Rao, with the power over the elements. There are numerous others, but too many to mention in this short review. The point of the plot is for “these vengeful souls” to enact justice and retribution on Mr. Goode, who had caused Sebastian’s powers to overwhelm him, resulting in the deaths of scores of people at the ending of book 2.

 

What I have appreciated all throughout the books is not so much the plot, but the wit that comes out of the pens and minds of Shanker and Zekas. They are especially attuned to the comic elements of their story, using Mr. Kent’s power to maximum advantage to tease out the hilariousness and absurdity of their lives. One of the most entertaining moments occurs when Mr. Kent’s power is used to give the heroes more time, so they request that he ask a question to a villain that would take a long time to answer. He asks this individual about the favorite thing he likes to punish with his power. LOL. You get the picture. And spoilers are forthcoming here: while you can expect the big bad to be vanquished by this merry band of heroes, you can’t help but wonder if there will yet be more adventures by the novel’s end. The trilogy may be closed, but the fictional world that Shanker and Zekas have created obviously leave the possibility of more  


Buy the Book Here:

 

Review Author: Stephen Hong Sohn
Review Editor: Leslie J. Fernandez

If you have any questions or want us to consider your book for review, please don’t hesitate to contact us via email!
Prof. Stephen Hong Sohn at ssohnucr@gmail.com
Leslie J. Fernandez, PhD Student in English, at lfern010@ucr.edu

[personal profile] lesliejfernandez
A Review of Tiffany Tsao’s The More Known World (AmazonCrossing, 2017).

By Stephen Hong Sohn

 

Tiffany Tsao’s follow-up to The Oddfits, The More Known World, is finally here! Since this title is an Amazon related one, we’ll let that site provide us with the narrative description: “The Quest of the quirky Oddfits continues—and this time, beyond the Known World lies something unspeakable… Two years after Murgatroyd Floyd joined the Quest to understand and catalogue the wonders of the More Known World, the rash-prone, blue-eyed Oddfit starts having doubts about his exploratory skill. And while that’s enough to give his mentor, Ann Hsu, pause, it’s not what’s bringing the Quest to a grinding halt. Blame that on a series of murders that sends Ann and Murgatroyd to a strange new Territory to investigate. Cambodia-Abscond, awash in shades of red, can drive outsiders crazy. With its vermilion foliage, crimson trees, and garnet soil, it screams carnage. Fitting, considering that its settlers are a shady bunch with catastrophic histories who live in a society where no questions are asked, and the official language is silence. Fitting, too, that Cambodia-Abscond is where Ann’s recollections of her own nightmarish past seem to come crawling back out of the bloodwood. Apparently, there’s more to the More Known World than Ann and Murgatroyd expected. And if their Quest has a dark side, the two Oddfits have found it.”

 

This description gives us the basic set up to this narrative. Unfortunately, I did have a harder time getting immersed in this book, especially in comparison to the last one. There was something that felt more abstracted to me about The More Known World and its various absconds, so the challenge for me was to get a sense of what kind of space these characters were moving through and how it varied from our own. Tsao does have some intriguing creatures, such as the bovquitoes, which seem to be one of the main biological fauna of the absconds. The bovquitoes seem to be variations on mosquito species which have undergone forms of adaptive radiation. There is also an intriguing colonial and anthropological impulse to this text, as it becomes apparent that Ann and Murgatroyd have stumbled upon a group of people who seem to exist as some rough analogue to an “untouched” tribal population that is under threat by the Quest. Tsao’s analogy seems to find the most resonance in this colonial metaphor: just because the Quest is invested in exploration doesn’t mean that this process is somehow only solely good.

 

Another complication that this novel sets up is the process by which Oddfits are even recruited into The Quest in the first place. Though Oddfits would eventually find their abilities and their lives destroyed by living in the Known World, otherwise understood as our “reality,” their movement into the More Known World and the Quest requires them to relinquish their attachments to their human lives and their families. This fact becomes ever more important, as we get a stronger sense of why Ann is so tortured. Growing up, she was primed to become a pageant queen by her mother, who had ferociously doted on her. So, when Ann makes the catastrophic break for the Quest, that separation is itself that weighs heavily on her throughout the novel. Tsao’s development of Murgatroyd’s character retains his optimistic attitude, and his growing attachment to a character named Nutmeg is one of the highlights of this work. It remains yet to be seen whether or not there will be another installment in the Oddfits series, but the conclusion (which I have not spoiled completely) suggests that there will be more issues to discover and that the Quest is hardly over.

 

Buy the Book Here:

Review Author: Stephen Hong Sohn
Review Editor: Leslie J. Fernandez

If you have any questions or want us to consider your book for review, please don’t hesitate to contact us via email!
Prof. Stephen Hong Sohn at ssohnucr@gmail.com
Leslie J. Fernandez, PhD Student in English, at lfern010@ucr.edu

[personal profile] lesliejfernandez
A Review of Traci Chee’s The Reader (G.P. Putnam’s Sons Books for Young Readers, 2016).

By Stephen Hong Sohn

 

This book has gotten a ton of advance praise. Fortunately, I didn’t read any reviews or had seen the accolades before I read it. The folks at B&N can give us some useful editorial blurbage: “Sefia knows what it means to survive. After her father is brutally murdered, she flees into the wilderness with her aunt Nin, who teaches her to hunt, track, and steal. But when Nin is kidnapped, leaving Sefia completely alone, none of her survival skills can help her discover where Nin’s been taken, or if she’s even alive. The only clue to both her aunt’s disappearance and her father’s murder is the odd rectangular object her father left behind, an object she comes to realize is a book—a marvelous item unheard of in her otherwise illiterate society. With the help of this book, and the aid of a mysterious stranger with dark secrets of his own, Sefia sets out to rescue her aunt and find out what really happened the day her father was killed—and punish the people responsible.”

 

There’s quite a lot going on narratologically with this book. The third person narration shifts between at least three different diegetic contexts and potentially even temporalities. The main one obviously follows Sefia and her quest to attain revenge upon those who killed her father and kidnapped Nin. Sefia lives in a complicated fictional world based upon a fantasy-type reality in which there are various cities and empires and peoples who are at war with each other. There are individuals who have the ability to wield various forms of magic, while others harness the power of young boys and force them to fight each other. Sefia is able to save one of these young boys,—the editorial description calls him “a mysterious stranger with dark secrets of his own”—and the two become allies. The young boy, Archer, is particularly skilled in hand to hand combat due his time being forced to fight and kill other boys. Much of the novel is spent following these two characters on their quest. Their plot eventually catches up with another related to Captain Reed, who is on a treasure trove quest aboard the high seas. At some point, Sefia and Archer inadvertently become stowaways on Captain Reed’s ship. Due to a highly trained assassin attempting to kill Sefia and Archer—indeed, the mysterious book that Sefia possesses is the subject of much conflict—they must come out of hiding and take their place amongst the colorful crew aboard the ship. Readers will have already noticed that Captain Reed is a character contained in the book Sefia is carrying, so it becomes evident that the magical tome that Sefia wields is one that contains the story of all the peoples ever in existence. You’d expect this to be one gigantic book, but guess what? This world is MAGICAL, so the book isn’t so heavy; a diminutive, resourceful young girl like Sefia can still hold it, even as assassins and deadly forces follow her everywhere to try to obtain it. Eventually Captain Reed and Sefia/ Archer have to part ways. Sefia is still on her quest for revenge, which takes her finally to meet the big bad of book 1. I’ll end there in terms of that particular storyline.

 

The other diegetic/temporal sequence involves a man named Lon and an Assassin; this plot line is totally confusing at first. It has seemingly NOTHING to do with Sefia’s plot except we generally know that it’s occurring within the same fictional world. When an assassin emerges in Sefia’s own part of the world, we know that there may be a stronger connection between the two narratives, but it is not apparent until the conclusion when the Big Bad reveals more information about Sefia’s past. Needless to say, Chee does follow the formula inherent to most YA paranormal fictions: she’s a not-so-ordinary young teen, who must defeat a tremendous evil force, all the while capturing the affections of an appropriately aged, gallant-of-heart man. The other element that readers will eventually enjoy and perhaps understand is the fictional conceit of a world in which the very act of reading is outlawed. Books are banished. We are thus lead to participate in an act of defiance anytime we engage in Sefia’s quest, which is not unlike a kuntslerroman in the sense that she’s coming into her consciousness as a reader and possibly a writer of words. The next installment is called The Speaker, which will be published in not too long. I can’t imagine that the last book will be anything other than The Writer to round out the all-hallowed trilogy sequencing.

 

Buy the Book Here:

 

Review Author: Stephen Hong Sohn
Review Editor: Leslie J. Fernandez

If you have any questions or want us to consider your book for review, please don’t hesitate to contact us via email!
Prof. Stephen Hong Sohn at ssohnucr@gmail.com
Leslie J. Fernandez, PhD Student in English, at lfern010@ucr.edu

[personal profile] lesliejfernandez
A Review of Vaddey Ratner’s Music of the Ghosts (Touchstone, 2017).

By Stephen Hong Sohn

So, I’ve been reading some books as part of a distance reading group. It’s been very fun! It also gave me a chance to catch up on books I’ve been meaning to review, including Vaddey Ratner’s Music of the Ghosts (Touchstone, 2017). Ratner moves out of the “first publications club,” with this title. Her debut was In the Shadow of the Banyan, which some of my students know I have taught in the past. Let’s let B&N set the scene, as per usual: “Leaving the safety of America, Teera returns to Cambodia for the first time since her harrowing escape as a child refugee. She carries a letter from a man who mysteriously signs himself as “the Old Musician” and claims to have known her father in the Khmer Rouge prison where he disappeared twenty-five years ago. In Phnom Penh, Teera finds a society still in turmoil, where perpetrators and survivors of unfathomable violence live side by side, striving to mend their still beloved country. She meets a young doctor who begins to open her heart, confronts her long-buried memories, and prepares to learn her father’s fate. Meanwhile, the Old Musician, who earns his modest keep playing ceremonial music at a temple, awaits Teera’s visit. He will have to confess the bonds he shared with her parents, the passion with which they all embraced the Khmer Rouge’s illusory promise of a democratic society, and the truth about her father’s end. A love story for things lost and restored, a lyrical hymn to the power of forgiveness, Music of the Ghosts is a “sensitive portrait of the inheritance of survival” (USA TODAY) and a journey through the embattled geography of the heart where love can be reborn.”

 

This description doesn’t do the best job of giving us a sense of the expansive character-system. Teera returns to Phnom Penh in the wake of her Aunt’s (Amara) death. Amara and Teera were two of the very few to survive from their family, so Amara’s death is particularly jarring, the kind of event that forces Teera to reconsider her heritage and to hazard a trip back to a place that was filled with so much death and destruction. Once Teera arrives there, she sees a society still reverberating from years of conflict and massacre, but there are glimpses of change. Her relationship with Narunn (a doctor who runs a medical clinic) is, in part, a reflection of some progressive movement, a sense of home and new beginnings amid so much death. As for the Old Musician, we begin to get some backstory regarding his life as a former revolutionary. We discover that he once loved Teera’s mother, Channara, and that he must live in the shadow of that unrequited love. Eventually, he will cross paths with Teera’s father, while both are subjected to incredible torture.

 

Here, I am going to provide the spoiler warning: the novel starts off with Tun, the Old Musician, wanting to confess something to Teera, and to give her something that her father once owned, a set of musical instruments. Reader can likely guess what has happened, but not the circumstances that led to it. The conclusion reveals that the Old Musician was compelled to commit a mercy killing, as Teera’s father was subjected to medical experiments that were slowly killing him. Ratner’s prose is, as always, elegant, sparking though all of the brutalities that are being depicted. For readers of the first novel, they will notice how much Ratner has pushed herself aesthetically. Ratner uses alternating third person perspectives, primarily shifting between Teera and the Old Musician. Complicating matters is Ratner’s decision to use a number of analepses, many of which are based upon traumatic memories and flashbacks. Thus, the shifting perspectives and temporal dynamics sometimes make the novel a bit challenging to stay enmeshed within, especially if you take some pauses in between reading sessions. Ratner’s novel also possesses an intricate political texture: her story seems to resonate best as one attempting to find a bridge between the atrocities committed by revolutionaries and the victims who suffered under the Khmer Rouge. There are no easy answers and no easy source of responsibility,   

 

Buy The Book Here:

Review Author: Stephen Hong Sohn
Review Editor: Leslie J. Fernandez

If you have any questions or want us to consider your book for review, please don’t hesitate to contact us via email!
Prof. Stephen Hong Sohn at ssohnucr@gmail.com
Leslie J. Fernandez, PhD Student in English, at lfern010@ucr.edu

[personal profile] lesliejfernandez
A Review of Viet Thanh Nguyen’s The Refugees (Grove Press, 2017).

By Stephen Hong Sohn

It’s been ages since I’ve had a chance to feast on some magisterial short stories. Lucky for us that Viet Thanh Nguyen is a publication machine and has gifted us with The Refugees so soon after Nothing Ever Dies and The Sympathizer. Let’s hope he keeps churning these gold nugget publications out. In any case, B&N doesn’t really do such a good job of giving us some background on the book, so I’ve gone elsewhere. The Grove Atlantic site gives us this pithy description: “With the coruscating gaze of The Sympathizer, in The Refugees Viet Thanh Nguyen gives voice to lives led between two worlds, the adopted homeland and the country of birth. From a young Vietnamese refugee who suffers profound culture shock when he comes to live with two gay men in San Francisco, to a woman whose husband is suffering from dementia and starts to confuse her for a former lover, to a girl living in Ho Chi Minh City whose older half sister comes back from America having seemingly accomplished everything she never will, the stories are a captivating testament to the dreams and hardships of immigration.” I’m not sure I would call The Sympathizer or The Refugees “coruscating,” but I’ll still give the copy writer an A+ for a great adjective.

 

Nguyen’s got a deft hand with the short story; the compact style suits him. Each entry in the collection has a fable-like quality. The first, “Black-Eyed Woman,”,  sets up the stakes of the collection at large, as a daughter and her mother grapple with ghosts of the past. In some sense, Nguyen is beautifully dredging up the past for the aesthetic purposes of representational resurrections. My favorite story hands-down was “The Other Man,” which details a refugee’s arrival in the United States and his acculturation in San Francisco in the years prior to the AIDS epidemic. In “War Years,” a family grapples with the aggressive fundraising of an anti-communist activist in the Vietnamese community. This story was a tough one, focusing on the complicated political allegiances of families in the wake of war. “The Transplant” was one of the quirkier stories in the collection; the protagonist wants to connect with a family member of the individual who has donated him a liver. In this case, and I’m providing a spoiler warning here, the person who he believes is that family member is someone else entirely.

 

“I’d Love You to Want Me” was the most poignant collection, as a woman (who very much enjoys working at her local library) deals with the caretaking duties of her husband (a professor), who is slowly losing memory (due to Alzheimer’s. “The Americans” details a family who visits their daughter, who is living in Vietnam. The father is a Vietnam War veteran and returns to Vietnam with mixed emotions. I especially found the conclusion to be affecting. “Someone Else Besides You” explores the life of a recently divorced man; his father is a widower, and he has begun dating again. “Fatherland” involves a young woman who returns to Vietnam to visit her biological family, which she was separated from due to circumstances of the war. Her younger sister realizes that her life in the United States is a fantasy. Nguyen is always at his past looking at the complicated and dysfunctional relationships that bloom among family members. The intricacies of these links flesh out the multifaceted lives of the many refugees that populate these stories.

 

Buy the Book Here:

 

Review Author: Stephen Hong Sohn
Review Editor: Leslie J. Fernandez

If you have any questions or want us to consider your book for review, please don’t hesitate to contact us via email!
Prof. Stephen Hong Sohn at ssohnucr@gmail.com
Leslie J. Fernandez, PhD Student in English, at lfern010@ucr.edu

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