Book Review: "Top of the World" by Ethan Joella

Five years ago, I received a surprise piece of bookmail: Ethan Joella’s debut novel, A Little Hope. I loved that book fiercely, and each subsequent book cemented him on my list of favorite authors. Thanks to Scribner and NetGalley for the advance copy of his upcoming book, which was utterly beautiful!

“My dear, you’ve got to focus on the pieces. We will never forget what we’ve lost, we will never be the same because of it, but we can build something new. That’s the key. That’s what your brother taught me. Remember what’s lost, but try to build something else.”

In the summer of 1975, Maggie is reeling from the death of her older brother, Chip. She’s just graduated from high school and the thought of being home, dealing with her grief and her grieving parents, is totally unappealing. She needs something, but can’t figure out what that is.

A year earlier, after Chip graduated from high school and received bleak news about his health, he needed to get away. He left home and headed to the Poconos, to find a job at the luxurious Red Maple Lodge. He was gone for the summer but when he came back, he didn’t tell his family where he was or what he did, only that it was his experience.

Maggie decides to follow in her brother’s footsteps. She heads to the Red Maple Lodge, in the hope that she can find people who knew Chip, and could tell her about his last summer. She finds that in a few short months, Chip left an indelible mark on those he worked with and for. Maggie is able to start healing and planning for her future, thanks to the memories that people shared.

Ethan Joella’s writing weaves a spell with its simple beauty, through evocative imagery and rich emotions. His books always touch my heart and make it soar, and this one was simply amazing.

It will publish 6/30.

Book Review: "Adam & Evie's Matchmaking Tour" by Nora Nguyen

My travel bucket list is really quite long, and I hope to actually get to some of the places I’ve read about. Interestingly enough, I hadn’t ever thought about visiting Vietnam. Until I read this book.

As if losing her beloved Aunt Hao wasn’t bad enough, Evie’s life is completely falling apart. She’s been secretly dating the chair of the English department—and her boss—at the college where she teaches. And then she discovers his secret plan to fire her. Needless to say, that relationship is toast.

Now she’s at loose ends. But her aunt has left Evie her fantastic San Francisco row house, where Evie spent a great deal of time as she was growing up. Of course, there’s a catch: Evie must travel to Vietnam and participate in a matchmaking tour. She doesn’t have to fall in love, she just has to try.

Adam is in charge of marketing his sister’s matchmaking tour business. There’s a great deal of competition among companies like this in Vietnam, so Adam puts everything into his work. But given that he can’t land a successful relationship of his own, his sister dares him to join the company’s maiden tour, and he agrees.

From their very first encounter, Adam and Evie dislike each other. Adam is too stiff for Evie; Evie is too flaky for Adam. Yet every time they turn around, they run into each other again and their irritation—not to mention their chemistry—grows. Have they fallen into an enemies to lovers situation of their own?

This book was fun and romantic, and the storytelling really made me feel as if I were seeing the sights myself. That isn’t a surprise, considering Nora Nguyen is the pen name for Thao Thai, who wrote Banyan Moon. Was this predictable? Sure. But it definitely gave me the feels!!

Book Review: "The Women" by Kristin Hannah

So, maybe you’ve seen this book around once or twice? I’m definitely a fan of Kristin Hannah’s, but I need to be in a specific frame of mind for the emotional journeys she takes you on. I’m pleased to say, however, that this so utterly lived up to all the hype—it was simply fantastic.

“How did you know if you had the strength and courage for a thing like that? Especially as a woman, raised to be a lady, whose courage had been untested.”

Frances “Frankie” McGrath was raised a daughter of privilege, living on Coronado Island. She was working as a nurse, at least until she got married. But in 1966, at age 20, inspired by her older brother going to Vietnam, Frankie does the unheard of and enlists, becoming an Army nurse.

The book follows Frankie in country, through the harrowing injuries and deaths she saw, the wounded Vietnamese children, and the strong bonds she formed with both her fellow nurses and other soldiers. It also deals with the trauma Frankie dealt with upon her return, both from those against the war and her own family, all of whom would rather believe that there were no women in Vietnam.

This book is graphic and very emotional, but it so beautifully pays tribute to the oft-forgotten women who served in Vietnam, and those who gave their lives. It also examines the visible and hidden scars that soldiers face, whether in combat or not. I’m always grateful to those who have served and continue to serve our country, but reading The Women makes me want to say thank you over and over again.

Book Review: "All That's Left Unsaid" by Tracey Lien

This debut novel is a well-written family drama, as a young woman fights to find the truth about a family tragedy.

Ky was more than eager to leave her home of Cabramatta, a suburb of Sydney, to pursue a career as a journalist in Melbourne. Each time she returned home to visit her family, she became more depressed over the decline of Cabramatta, home to countless refugees from Vietnam and other countries, riddled by crime, drugs, and poverty.

Her parents summon her home with sad news: her studious brother Denny was apparently murdered at a restaurant after celebrating his high school graduation. The police don’t know what happened and don’t seem to care much about the fate of another refugee; amazingly, there were dozens of witnesses in the restaurant but no one apparently saw anything.

Wracked with guilt because she convinced her parents to let Denny go that night, and frustrated by their reticence to push for answers regarding his death, Ky is determined to uncover the truth. She sets out to track down the witnesses to Denny’s murder and find out what they know and why they won’t speak up.

In doing so, Ky uncovers a picture of a town under the vise of violence and anti-immigrant sentiment, where the police are ones to fear, not look to for protection. And at the same time, she learns more about her brother, and her family, than she ever knew.

This was sad and very insightful. It is told by Ky and a number of the witnesses, so the voice of the book changed often, and that kept taking me out of the story. But there was a lot to marvel over here for a debut novel.

Book Review: "Things We Lost to the Water" by Eric Nguyen

Eric Nguyen's debut novel, Things We Lost to the Water, is a beautifully written look at an immigrant Vietnamese family, and how their lives are shaped or reshaped by America.

Huong and her two young sons leave Vietnam in 1979 and move to New Orleans. Huong’s husband, Cong, stays in Vietnam, although she looks forward to the day they will be reunited. She sends letters and audiotapes home to Vietnam in the hopes that her words will motivate him to come to America, so her boys can know their father.

As she starts to settle in to their new home, Huong starts to lose hope that she’ll ever see her husband again. But she’s determined to create a better life for her sons, even though it’s hard to understand what it’s like for them growing up when you’re different to those around you.

“If her sons asked about their father, she told herself, she would tell them some kind of truth, what she knew of it: their father would not be joining them in New Orleans; this was all beyond their control and they had to try their best, she would say, to move forward.”

The book moves forward as snapshots in time, from 1979 to 2005, narrated by Huong and her sons. Huong becomes more acclimated to life in America and becomes involved with a Vietnamese car salesman. Her older son, Tuan, tries to keep his Vietnamese identity by joining a gang and trying to prove himself, while her younger son Binh, who calls himself Ben, struggles with his sexuality and his desire to escape the life his mother has built.

Ultimately they are all changed when New Orleans faces its greatest challenge ever. Will it bring them together or push them further apart?

I was so taken in by Eric Nguyen’s storytelling ability. It’s so hard to believe that Things We Lost to the Water was a debut novel. This story is thought-provoking and moving, although the challenge of the narrative structure is I didn’t feel like I got to know the characters as well as I would have liked, because we saw them in short bursts rather than consistently.

I definitely believe this will be a highly talked-about book, and I look forward to seeing what’s next in Nguyen’s career!

Book Review: "The Magic Fish" by Trung Le Nguyen

Trung Le Nguyen's The Magic Fish is a poignant, beautiful graphic novel about finding the right words to tell your story.

Tién knows he is gay, but he’s not ready for everyone to know it yet until he tells his parents. The thing is, his parents are Vietnamese refugees and they don’t speak English very well. He worries he might not be able to find the right Vietnamese words to tell his parents who he really is. And if he does, will they accept him or will he disappoint them?

One way that Tién communicates with his mother is through their shared love of fairytales. Through stories handed down from generation to generation, sometimes the words are easier to find—and expressions of love and acceptance are truly understood.

This was a really special story, full of emotion and beauty and identity. It was a terrific mix of fairytale and reality, and it definitely made me think about how much more difficult it could be for people from other cultures to find the words to tell their truths. I'm so glad I read this!

Book Review: "The Refugees" by Viet Thanh Nguyen

In trying to express how I felt about Viet Thanh Nguyen's exquisite new story collection, The Refugees, I decided to turn to one of the foremost philosophers of our age, Keanu Reeves.

The issue of immigration is definitely a hot button here in the United States right now, with intense emotional fervor expressed by individuals on both sides. Luckily, Nguyen doesn't stake out a political position in his collection. Instead, these beautifully written stories look at issues that affect nearly every family, no matter the culture—grief, regret, coping with crisis, longing, loneliness, secrets, and the ties of family. At the same time, some of the stories deal with the often-difficult tug of war immigrants feel between their birth country and their new home.

Every one of Nguyen's eight stories has moments of absolute poetry and emotion. While I enjoyed all of them, some of my favorites included: "Black-Eyed Women," which told of a woman suddenly haunted by the ghost of her older brother, who saved her during the family's emigration from Vietnam; "The Other Man," about the cultural and emotional adjustment a young immigrant must make when he is sent to San Francisco, to live with a gay couple; "Fatherland," in which a young woman living in Vietnam finally meets her older half-sister, who appears to have everything anyone could ever want; "War Years," which tells of a family whose placid existence is turned upside down by a woman demanding money to fight the Communists back home in Vietnam; and probably my favorite story, "I'd Love You to Want Me," about a woman who begins calling her relationship with her husband into question when he is suffering from Alzheimer's disease.

Nguyen doesn't paint all of his characters with an idealistic brush; his characters are flawed, complex, even unsympathetic at times. Some of his characters are completely assimilated into American culture, while some don't feel (or act) as if they fit in. Nearly every story has elements of Vietnamese culture woven into their fibers, yet each story is utterly approachable, especially given their near-universal themes.

Nguyen's first novel, The Sympathizer, won the Pulitzer Prize for Fiction last year, among other accolades, but interestingly enough, the subject matter of that book doesn't appeal to me. (For some reason—and one I believe is completely baseless at that—it makes me think of Adam Johnson's The Orphan Master's Son, which I never could get into.) However, I was so blown away by a few friends' reactions to this story collection, that I felt compelled to read it, and I absolutely devoured it. (P.S.: I'm not interested in getting into a debate on the Johnson book here.)

I've always said that the mark of a great short story for me is when I feel like I could read a novel featuring its characters. Every story in The Refugees felt that way to me, but none in their current form felt unfinished or incomplete, just emotionally rich and terrifically told. Seriously, Keanu was right: whoa.