Even when these stories are funny and hopeful, an inescapable history is always waiting.
Posthumous debut from an author whose short fictions appeared in the New Yorker and n+1.
In “Maly, Maly, Maly,” Ves and his cousin Maly escape to get high and watch porn while their family prepares for a party where monks will declare that another cousin’s baby is the reincarnation of Maly’s mother, Somaly. In “Somaly Serey, Serey Somaly,” that baby, Serey, has grown into a nurse who is caring for the great-aunt who raised Maly after her mother died. Ma Eng is suffering from dementia, but her insistence that Serey is her dead niece Somaly fits a pattern in Serey’s life. Presented with the chance to pass her haunted legacy onto Maly’s daughter, Serey thinks twice about what she’s doing but can’t resist the possibility of being free of her family’s history. Generational trauma is an undercurrent throughout this book. The protagonists of these stories grew up in California, but they are constantly aware that their parents and grandparents and aunties and uncles witnessed genocide before escaping Cambodia. This awareness manifests in different ways across the collection. Set in the aftermath of a lavish wedding, “We Would’ve Been Princes!” follows brothers Marlon and Bond as they try to find out if a wealthy relative stiffed the bride and groom of a cash gift at the reception. The answer to this question is important because Marlon and Bond want to please their mother by delivering this bit of gossip, but it also reveals differing attitudes about what refugees owe each other—and it involves some trickery by a Cambodian singer flown in for the nuptials. In “Human Development,” Anthony, whose newish career is teaching private school kids about diversity, is at a party surrounded by insufferable tech bros when he connects with another Cambodian guy on Grindr. Anthony’s reaction to the relationship that develops is shaped, at least in part, by how much he wants his own past and the collective past he has inherited to define him.
Even when these stories are funny and hopeful, an inescapable history is always waiting.Pub Date: Aug. 3, 2021
ISBN: 978-0-06-304990-1
Page Count: 272
Publisher: Ecco/HarperCollins
Review Posted Online: June 15, 2021
Kirkus Reviews Issue: July 1, 2021
BOOK REVIEW
PERSPECTIVES
PERSPECTIVES
It's being called a novel, but it is more a hybrid: short-stories/essays/confessions about the Vietnam War—the subject that O'Brien reasonably comes back to with every book. Some of these stories/memoirs are very good in their starkness and factualness: the title piece, about what a foot soldier actually has on him (weights included) at any given time, lends a palpability that makes the emotional freight (fear, horror, guilt) correspond superbly. Maybe the most moving piece here is "On The Rainy River," about a draftee's ambivalence about going, and how he decided to go: "I would go to war—I would kill and maybe die—because I was embarrassed not to." But so much else is so structurally coy that real effects are muted and disadvantaged: O'Brien is writing a book more about earnestness than about war, and the peekaboos of this isn't really me but of course it truly is serve no true purpose. They make this an annoyingly arty book, hiding more than not behind Hemingwayesque time-signatures and puerile repetitions about war (and memory and everything else, for that matter) being hell and heaven both. A disappointment.
Pub Date: March 28, 1990
ISBN: 0618706410
Page Count: 256
Publisher: Houghton Mifflin
Review Posted Online: Oct. 2, 2011
Kirkus Reviews Issue: Feb. 15, 1990
SEEN & HEARD
IN THE NEWS
SEEN & HEARD
This book sings with the terrible silence of dead civilizations in which once there was valor.
Written with quiet dignity that builds to a climax of tragic force, this book about the dissolution of an African tribe, its traditions, and values, represents a welcome departure from the familiar "Me, white brother" genre.
Written by a Nigerian African trained in missionary schools, this novel tells quietly the story of a brave man, Okonkwo, whose life has absolute validity in terms of his culture, and who exercises his prerogative as a warrior, father, and husband with unflinching single mindedness. But into the complex Nigerian village filters the teachings of strangers, teachings so alien to the tribe, that resistance is impossible. One must distinguish a force to be able to oppose it, and to most, the talk of Christian salvation is no more than the babbling of incoherent children. Still, with his guns and persistence, the white man, amoeba-like, gradually absorbs the native culture and in despair, Okonkwo, unable to withstand the corrosion of what he, alone, understands to be the life force of his people, hangs himself. In the formlessness of the dying culture, it is the missionary who takes note of the event, reminding himself to give Okonkwo's gesture a line or two in his work, The Pacification of the Primitive Tribes of the Lower Niger.
This book sings with the terrible silence of dead civilizations in which once there was valor.Pub Date: Jan. 23, 1958
ISBN: 0385474547
Page Count: 207
Publisher: McDowell, Obolensky
Review Posted Online: April 23, 2013
Kirkus Reviews Issue: Jan. 1, 1958
BOOK REVIEW
BOOK REVIEW
BOOK REVIEW
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