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Monkey Bridge: A Novel
Hailed by critics and writers as powerful, important fiction, Monkey Bridge charts the unmapped territory of the Vietnamese American experience in the aftermath of war. Like navigating a monkey bridge—a bridge, built of spindly bamboo, used by peasants for centuries—the narrative traverses perilously between worlds past and present, East and West, in telling two interlocking one, the Vietnamese version of the classic immigrant experience in America, told by a young girl; and the second, a dark tale of betrayal, political intrigue, family secrets, and revenge—her mother's tale. The haunting and beautiful terrain of Monkey Bridge is the "luminous motion," as it is called in Vietnamese myth and legend, between generations, encompassing Vietnamese lore, history, and dreams of the past as well as of the future. "With incredible lightness, balance and elegance," writes Isabel Allende, "Lan Cao crosses over an abyss of pain, loss, separation and exile, connecting on one level the opposite realities of Vietnam and North America, and on a deeper level the realities of the material world and the world of the spirits." • Quality Paperback Book Club Selection and New Voices Award nominee • A Kiriyama Pacific Rim Award Book Prize nominee
270 pages, Kindle Edition
First published January 1, 1997
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1764 people want to read
About the author
Lan Cao
9 books44 followersLan is the co-author (with her teenage daughter) of the forthcoming memoir Family in Six Tones: A Refugee Mother, an American Daughter (Viking, September 15, 2020). She is also the author of the critically acclaimed novel Monkey Bridge, published by Viking in 1997. Her second novel, The Lotus and the Storm will be published by Viking Press in August 2014. She is a graduate of Mount Holyoke College and Yale Law School and worked as a litigation and corporate attorney in New York City for many years until she joined legal academia as a law professor.
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 184 reviews
February 24, 2011
This was one of the most boring books I have ever read. Every page was a slow and heavy with pointless descriptions and annoying tangents. If I didn't have to read this for class, I would have given up on it within the first ten pages. The characters are neither memorable nor relatable, and there is a very limited plotline, which could have been told efficiently with only 50 pages as opposed to 260. Terrible.
August 21, 2020
Beautiful book.
September 6, 2018
***2.75/5***
So here's the deal. I'm required to read this book for one of my classes and I'll actually have to do a group presentation on it. I had a long weekend this weekend so to prevent myself from stressing out trying to keep up with the readings for this week, I just read the whole dang thing this weekend. That being said, I admittedly kind of just tried to zoom through it to get it over with and didn't really absorb that much of what was going on which probably wasn't a good idea especially since I have to present on this and know a lot about it. But oh well, too late now.
I did absorb SOME information, and from what I did, I'll tell you this. I really appreciated learning about the Vietnam War from a refugee's perspective. I honestly knew close to nothing about the Vietnam War previous to reading this book, and the main character and her mother's narratives do a great job at giving you an idea of the trauma that was inflicted and how impactful this event was for people. It was a horrific event as it is, but learning of it from a refugee's perspective makes it all the more jarring because all of this is happening in their home country which they have to leave to find a better life for themselves. It's really sad but really informative and eye-opening especially since the American Veterans don't really talk about their experiences with it. Also, the American version of what they show about the war is so so so different from the Vietnamese perspective.
So I appreciated the novel for that, but I did find a lot of it to be pretty boring and again, I was just trying to get it over with. There were a few parts I found completely unnecessary to the plot, but I guess they were just there to describe the Vietnamese culture and the stark contrasts between Vietnam and the US which makes sense since that's the basis of this story. I did find the mother's entries to be a lot more interesting than the narrator's, but unfortunately those interceptions were few and far between (and written in a smaller font, which was annoying).
Overall, I probably should have paid more attention to what I was reading and been a little more analytical (though I did still mark up what I found pertinent and I was able to understand/participate in our class discussion so I'm not too bad off). My rating for this book is subject to change as I ~may or may not~ have a greater appreciation for this novel after more consideration, class discussions, and analyzing for my project.
So here's the deal. I'm required to read this book for one of my classes and I'll actually have to do a group presentation on it. I had a long weekend this weekend so to prevent myself from stressing out trying to keep up with the readings for this week, I just read the whole dang thing this weekend. That being said, I admittedly kind of just tried to zoom through it to get it over with and didn't really absorb that much of what was going on which probably wasn't a good idea especially since I have to present on this and know a lot about it. But oh well, too late now.
I did absorb SOME information, and from what I did, I'll tell you this. I really appreciated learning about the Vietnam War from a refugee's perspective. I honestly knew close to nothing about the Vietnam War previous to reading this book, and the main character and her mother's narratives do a great job at giving you an idea of the trauma that was inflicted and how impactful this event was for people. It was a horrific event as it is, but learning of it from a refugee's perspective makes it all the more jarring because all of this is happening in their home country which they have to leave to find a better life for themselves. It's really sad but really informative and eye-opening especially since the American Veterans don't really talk about their experiences with it. Also, the American version of what they show about the war is so so so different from the Vietnamese perspective.
So I appreciated the novel for that, but I did find a lot of it to be pretty boring and again, I was just trying to get it over with. There were a few parts I found completely unnecessary to the plot, but I guess they were just there to describe the Vietnamese culture and the stark contrasts between Vietnam and the US which makes sense since that's the basis of this story. I did find the mother's entries to be a lot more interesting than the narrator's, but unfortunately those interceptions were few and far between (and written in a smaller font, which was annoying).
Overall, I probably should have paid more attention to what I was reading and been a little more analytical (though I did still mark up what I found pertinent and I was able to understand/participate in our class discussion so I'm not too bad off). My rating for this book is subject to change as I ~may or may not~ have a greater appreciation for this novel after more consideration, class discussions, and analyzing for my project.
October 28, 2011
Rating 4.5. This is a beautifully written, semi-autobiographical novel about immigration, coming-of-age, love, mother-daughter relationships, and so much more.
The story is told from two views, mother and daughter, though the daughter’s view predominates. The mother’s story is conveyed in letters and diary entries and appears rarely, but is the more lyrical writing and very effective and affecting.
Both women escaped the war in Vietnam and went to the United States about three years prior to the beginning of the story, which is related in both real time and flashback. The daughter, Mai, was the first to leave Vietnam, accompanied by a U. S. soldier/family friend who housed her until her mother could join her. Mai’s assimilation of English and the U. S. culture was much quicker, both because she was younger and had more time to acquire Americanization, than it was for her mother. Also, her mother, Tran, being older and having lived in Vietnam for a much longer time, was not so willing to give up her Vietnamese superstitions and culture. Through Mai and Tran we learn both what it was like to live in Vietnam in the years of the U. S. war and to try to immigrate to a new country and culture. We also learn much about the women’s past lives and hopes for the future.
Recommended.
The story is told from two views, mother and daughter, though the daughter’s view predominates. The mother’s story is conveyed in letters and diary entries and appears rarely, but is the more lyrical writing and very effective and affecting.
Both women escaped the war in Vietnam and went to the United States about three years prior to the beginning of the story, which is related in both real time and flashback. The daughter, Mai, was the first to leave Vietnam, accompanied by a U. S. soldier/family friend who housed her until her mother could join her. Mai’s assimilation of English and the U. S. culture was much quicker, both because she was younger and had more time to acquire Americanization, than it was for her mother. Also, her mother, Tran, being older and having lived in Vietnam for a much longer time, was not so willing to give up her Vietnamese superstitions and culture. Through Mai and Tran we learn both what it was like to live in Vietnam in the years of the U. S. war and to try to immigrate to a new country and culture. We also learn much about the women’s past lives and hopes for the future.
Recommended.
August 16, 2011
I thought I'd never get to the end of this short book; it dragged so! Perhaps it needed another revision, or a better hand at editing. As it is, it reads like a draft--disconnected bits of memory forced together to make a story that, in the end, isn't as engaging as it has the potential to be.
Ms. Cao is fond of jarring metaphors. Jarring metaphors can sometimes be powerful, but not in this book. They are simply alienating as Ms. Cao uses them. Here is a sampling:
"The sound of water flowing through the pipes settled like a hazy film over the stillness of five minutes past midnight" (p. 45).
"It was a tactic as smooth and sleek as hot wax on tender skin" (p. 61).
"Had my grandfather watched Saigon squirm, witnessed these unbreathable sights?" (p. 165)
"... the girl with a mind as ravenous as a periscope..." (p. 182).
"We were both in the space where all things linger, only to turn unpredictably with the exquisite swiftness of a hard flower" (p. 202).
Along with these tortured images are several moments of things that don't quite work. For example, the narrator mentions using NoDoz as a sleep aid. Does caffeine work that way for some people? Another example happens during the fairly inexplicable and really dull trip Mai and her friend take to the Canadian border--Bobbie twists open a bottle of Coke. Not in 1978 she didn't.
Trivia, I know. But it adds to the general confusion of the narrative and makes for the kind of book you read with your eyebrows raised. The story has such great potential; the writing just didn't achieve it.
Ms. Cao is fond of jarring metaphors. Jarring metaphors can sometimes be powerful, but not in this book. They are simply alienating as Ms. Cao uses them. Here is a sampling:
"The sound of water flowing through the pipes settled like a hazy film over the stillness of five minutes past midnight" (p. 45).
"It was a tactic as smooth and sleek as hot wax on tender skin" (p. 61).
"Had my grandfather watched Saigon squirm, witnessed these unbreathable sights?" (p. 165)
"... the girl with a mind as ravenous as a periscope..." (p. 182).
"We were both in the space where all things linger, only to turn unpredictably with the exquisite swiftness of a hard flower" (p. 202).
Along with these tortured images are several moments of things that don't quite work. For example, the narrator mentions using NoDoz as a sleep aid. Does caffeine work that way for some people? Another example happens during the fairly inexplicable and really dull trip Mai and her friend take to the Canadian border--Bobbie twists open a bottle of Coke. Not in 1978 she didn't.
Trivia, I know. But it adds to the general confusion of the narrative and makes for the kind of book you read with your eyebrows raised. The story has such great potential; the writing just didn't achieve it.
December 6, 2014
Should be a 4-star rating, but 3 stars overall.
I still don't know what to make of this book. It's been some years since I read it, and I've had a lot of time to digest it, but I still don't know what to make of it.
I went into this book with some expectations--how could I not? It's ambitious and has been praised for ground breaking achievements. While Cao's writing is great and full of subtle emotional intensity, the ending left me hanging. It felt uncomfortable and unsettling the way nonfictional accounts of tragedies tend to leave the audience in quiet disbelief. There's an uneasiness, a quiet disturbing sense of uneasiness that I felt after finishing the book and the feeling didn't go away. It just didn't dissipate. If that was the intended effect, then it's successful in that sense. But if it wasn't intended, then that's quite a peculiar byproduct of the story.
Let's talk about the writing. The prose is familiar to me because I've read many books that follow this kind of narrative. What makes Cao's story stand out is the subtle unease and tense silences that grew between mother and daughter as each gradually become a stranger to the other person and a stranger to even herself.
I still don't know what to make of this book. It's been some years since I read it, and I've had a lot of time to digest it, but I still don't know what to make of it.
I went into this book with some expectations--how could I not? It's ambitious and has been praised for ground breaking achievements. While Cao's writing is great and full of subtle emotional intensity, the ending left me hanging. It felt uncomfortable and unsettling the way nonfictional accounts of tragedies tend to leave the audience in quiet disbelief. There's an uneasiness, a quiet disturbing sense of uneasiness that I felt after finishing the book and the feeling didn't go away. It just didn't dissipate. If that was the intended effect, then it's successful in that sense. But if it wasn't intended, then that's quite a peculiar byproduct of the story.
Let's talk about the writing. The prose is familiar to me because I've read many books that follow this kind of narrative. What makes Cao's story stand out is the subtle unease and tense silences that grew between mother and daughter as each gradually become a stranger to the other person and a stranger to even herself.
May 3, 2021
Lyrical and sublime in so many parts, with incredible insight into the refugee and migrant experience and the tense complexities of mother-daughter relationships. I enjoyed it immensely, and never found any part that rang false. My only complain would be that the structure of the story doesn't leave any room of a much more nuanced and detailed portrayal of Thanh's life, and the letters she leaves behind show such captivating eloquence that I feel like the three (maybe four?) chapters from her perspective do no justice to the full breadth and vastness of her experience.
February 26, 2014
I really enjoyed this book. Vietnam is an integral part of who I am. After a tour of duty with the Australian Army in 1970-71 I have been back many times. I made close friends with a number of people during my tour, among them soldiers, farmers, a scholar, a monk and many, many children. There is so much here that strikes a chord for me. The sense of something valuable, some continuity having been cut violently in 1975 is a mark that has never left me. I had a feeling of having lost so much, people who had been a blessing in my life placed so violently beyond my reach. I always wondered about how things might have been for them if they ever got out. The timbre of their experience. Such personal things were not the things often discussed with Vietnamese, even if one had the language, so impolite to be so up front about feelings. There is in the culture though this amazingly subtle and poignant way of being that gives expression to those feelings if a person has the key and the presence to see them. It is so very evident in their poetry particularly. That sensibility is here in this book as well as the conflicted identities of parents and children cast up on a foreign shore. It is a great read.
January 4, 2009
Just finished this last night . . . incredible writing. I learned so much about Vietnam and the life of a child/teenage immigrant to America. But the book is about spirit, love, secrets withheld, landscape, life, and death. When I heard the author speak last November, someone asked her how it felt to live in a country that had occupied her home. How do you answer that? She said it was complicated, of course, because this country had given her so much, too. I think she was being polite; this book reveals the complexity much better than her short answer could.
May 19, 2019
Two tales of the Vietnam war, one from a Vietnamese woman who immigrates to the U.S. bringing her culture, and secrets from the past, the other from her daughter, who attempts to make sense of her family history without the missing pieces of her mother's story.
February 27, 2018
-The Reality of Home-
In Monkey Bridge by Lan Cao, the reader follows the juxtaposition of two stories between daughter and mother. Mai and her mother, Thanh, are immigrants from the Vietnam War trying to adjust to their new American life. The story goes back and forth from present issues, like Thanh’s illness and Mai going off to college, and the unresolved matters left in Vietnam, like the unknown whereabouts of Mai’s grandfather. Though the book is not one that leaves the reader in suspense and feels like you’re reading a diary of two different individuals, it addresses the struggles of cultural identity, being an immigrant family, and life in Vietnam.
Mai, being more Americanized than her mother, continually reflects on the differences the two worlds have and how her people are adopting the westernized mindset but still honoring their heritage. She says, “It was the Vietnamese version of the American Dream; a new spin, the Vietnam spin, to the old immigrant faith in the future” (40). Mai further explains this concept by later saying, “Rebirthing the past, we called it, claiming what had once been a power reserved only for gods and other immortal beings” (41). That is what immigration is, in a way, a rebirth of a new person. However, this concept can cause clashes between the different generations of a household, a battle between modern and traditional ideas.
While Mai has become quite accustomed to life in America, her mother, on the other hand still holds pretty true to their Vietnamese roots. Mai, like most children of immigrant parents, struggles with her self-identity and the one her mother wants her to have. Through their parallel stories, the reader learns about both sides and the impact it can have on a family. In a diary entry by Thanh, she addresses the differences between her daughter and herself. She writes, “She thinks I am a mystifier out to confuse her world, to make her see double where there are only simple mathematical answers” (56). This quote is only one of many great moments in the book where the reader really can see how the Melting Pot of America can divide families and the struggles they go through to understand the opposing views of the world.
The book's setting is during the Vietnam War, so the reader also learns a great deal of what the war was like and the effect it had on the culture. Thanh talks about her country from the wedding traditions to political tensions that tore up the place she once called home. She wrote, “But just as you can’t have a top without a bottom, or sun without a moon, you can’t have Americans without Vietcong…” (239) And “And so I can only hope that my act of sacrifice will give you the new beginning that you deserve, far from the concealing fields and free of a destiny that should never have been yours” (253). She further reveals the ugliness of living during a war, though this wasn’t her first. Through this character, Cao shows the reality of veterans of war who didn’t carry a gun and the wounds that they take without earning a medal.
This book does a tremendous job showing what immigrants of war go through while also showing what Vietnam culture was like. From the conflict between adapting to the struggle to keeping one's cultural identity, the book covers all aspects of war. It also discusses the strain a family goes through while trying to adjust, and the secrets that hover below the surface of reality.
In Monkey Bridge by Lan Cao, the reader follows the juxtaposition of two stories between daughter and mother. Mai and her mother, Thanh, are immigrants from the Vietnam War trying to adjust to their new American life. The story goes back and forth from present issues, like Thanh’s illness and Mai going off to college, and the unresolved matters left in Vietnam, like the unknown whereabouts of Mai’s grandfather. Though the book is not one that leaves the reader in suspense and feels like you’re reading a diary of two different individuals, it addresses the struggles of cultural identity, being an immigrant family, and life in Vietnam.
Mai, being more Americanized than her mother, continually reflects on the differences the two worlds have and how her people are adopting the westernized mindset but still honoring their heritage. She says, “It was the Vietnamese version of the American Dream; a new spin, the Vietnam spin, to the old immigrant faith in the future” (40). Mai further explains this concept by later saying, “Rebirthing the past, we called it, claiming what had once been a power reserved only for gods and other immortal beings” (41). That is what immigration is, in a way, a rebirth of a new person. However, this concept can cause clashes between the different generations of a household, a battle between modern and traditional ideas.
While Mai has become quite accustomed to life in America, her mother, on the other hand still holds pretty true to their Vietnamese roots. Mai, like most children of immigrant parents, struggles with her self-identity and the one her mother wants her to have. Through their parallel stories, the reader learns about both sides and the impact it can have on a family. In a diary entry by Thanh, she addresses the differences between her daughter and herself. She writes, “She thinks I am a mystifier out to confuse her world, to make her see double where there are only simple mathematical answers” (56). This quote is only one of many great moments in the book where the reader really can see how the Melting Pot of America can divide families and the struggles they go through to understand the opposing views of the world.
The book's setting is during the Vietnam War, so the reader also learns a great deal of what the war was like and the effect it had on the culture. Thanh talks about her country from the wedding traditions to political tensions that tore up the place she once called home. She wrote, “But just as you can’t have a top without a bottom, or sun without a moon, you can’t have Americans without Vietcong…” (239) And “And so I can only hope that my act of sacrifice will give you the new beginning that you deserve, far from the concealing fields and free of a destiny that should never have been yours” (253). She further reveals the ugliness of living during a war, though this wasn’t her first. Through this character, Cao shows the reality of veterans of war who didn’t carry a gun and the wounds that they take without earning a medal.
This book does a tremendous job showing what immigrants of war go through while also showing what Vietnam culture was like. From the conflict between adapting to the struggle to keeping one's cultural identity, the book covers all aspects of war. It also discusses the strain a family goes through while trying to adjust, and the secrets that hover below the surface of reality.
November 27, 2018
Just when you think you're going to read a happy ending a dark twist appears. Monkey Bridge is a beautifully written tale about the lives of two Vietnamese refugees: Mai and her mother, Thahn. It takes place after the Vietnam War ends in a small Virginia town they call Little Saigon. Saigon was their home in Vietnam. The reader sees two perspectives intertwined into one big picture. Mai is a loving daughter although somewhat embarrassed by her mother who is stuck in her ways. When her mother injures herself she repeats "Baba Quan" in her sleep. So, Mai seeks to find Baba Quan who is her grandfather back in Vietnam. The problem is there isn't a way in America to reach Vietnam although the war has ended. Mai stays very determined throughout the story and she reveals to us Thahn's thoughts and past by reading her personal papers. I wanted to read this story because I felt like it would present a perspective that is very different from mine. It certainly accomplished that and gave a fresh view I don't think any American could grasp unless they were there themselves. In life it's important to understand that your past does not have to determine your future, that is what I took away from this book. I can connect my own family bonds to what Mai and Thahn have. I recommend this book because the twist at the end completely rips your heart out and leaves you in shock.
August 2, 2022
Lan Cao's writing style is the one thing I loved about this book. However, I found the chapters repetitive. Even though the book is relatively short already, it felt long. To me, it's similar to Joy Luck Club in the fact that it centers its premise on the characters' familial relationships. Just not my taste, given that there isn't much plot at all and it's mostly just a collection and interpretation of memories and conversations between Mai and her mother, Thanh. Not for everyone, but I can see how the strong family ties theme could be appealing to others.
May 3, 2023
As a daughter of Vietnamese refugees, I loved the story because there were some many stories and emotions that are specific to this identity. The book was even more touching because it goes between Vietnam and Northern Virginia, where I grew up too, so I was able to truly imagine locations mentioned and better understand some of the experiences my parents faced.
I initially checked this book out from my local library but 30 pages in, I wanted to highlight and make notes so bought my own copy. Highly recommend if you want a memoir exploring topics of immigration, motherhood, and culture.
I initially checked this book out from my local library but 30 pages in, I wanted to highlight and make notes so bought my own copy. Highly recommend if you want a memoir exploring topics of immigration, motherhood, and culture.
October 9, 2017
I am not entirely sure how to feel about this novel. I enjoyed it. I am in love with the way Cao writes because it is some of the most beautiful writing I have ever read. I love the story. I love the exposure of the immigrant experience. I love the subject of the Vietnam war. I am not sure how to deal with my feelings on what Mai's mom did to her, though. I'll come back to it when I have more time (hopefully). I tend to forget to come back to things, but it is my intention to do so, as always.
July 6, 2025
It sort of just drags on. The plot isn't very organized, it flips between past, present, make believe, real, and between mother and daughter too fast and often for my liking. Each chapter feels like a new story, but then when you get to the end it does kind of have a nice resolution which is given in the mother's suicide note. The writing itself is good, the plot needs work, and it is hard to distinguish now that at the end the note was in italic what was written notes, what was just the mothers story, and what was the daughter telling the mothers story. 2.9/5
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
April 24, 2020
tw: suicide, murder, panic attacks
Heavy stuff. A lot to digest. Liked it, but hated the ending.
Heavy stuff. A lot to digest. Liked it, but hated the ending.
January 25, 2024
Pretty boring overall. The last chapter was interesting and brought the story together but you have to wait the whole book to get there. Lots of insight on a refugees journey in the Vietnam war.
March 2, 2011
Meh.
The first half of the book is like reading a really convoluted dream sequence. I couldn't even tell if the main character was male or female for like 30 pages. Everything is from the point of view of the main character, Mai, who is a Vietnamese immigrant in her senior year of high school. On top of the hardships that go along with immigration, she's dealing with her mother's failing physical and mental health, the regular mother-daughter misunderstandings, as well as the sorrow of an unidentified event leaving her only remaining family member in Vietnam.
If I was going to rate this book on IDEAS alone, I would give it 3, maybe 4, stars. But the organization and flow of the content is frustrating, slow at points, and jumbled. And although the book was written in first person, I felt like I got to know Mai's mother by her journal entries better than I got to know Mai through her narrative.
I recommend refreshing your memory on the vietnam war before reading this book. You'll be a lot less confused once you do. The book doesn't remind you itself who was on who's side, or the history and timeline in plain terms. So be prepared to remind yourself of who fought the war, what each side stood for, the major battles, and the geography of Vietnam.
Beyond the organizational and structural items that bothered me, by the time I finished the book, I found Mai's main conflict to be satisfying. Throughout the book, she is confused about how to interact with her mother. This is in the normal way mothers and daughters have a hard time understanding each other's goals, desires, history, and life. But there's the added conflict between Mai and her mother that her mother is stuck in traditional Vietnamese ways, while they are living in America and Mai is willing to adapt. They are growing much further apart than I believe they would have if Mai had grown up only in Vietnam. In the beginning, Mai is resistant to her mother's ways and lifestyle centered around Karma. But by the end of the book, although there is a bitter end in some ways, Mai learns to appreciate her mother's ways and apply them to her life in ways she can accept.
While I don't agree that her mother HAD to do the things she did in order to give Mai a Karmatic "fresh start," I can appreciate Mai's appreciation, because she needed to learn her mother's heart.
There are often very visual metaphores and analogies that I found quite impressive.
If someone asked me if they should read this book, I would probably say yes. But more in a "go for it and see what you think" way. I would recommend that they stick around for the end, and try to read the book in 1 or 2 sittings to not get dragged down. Everything comes together in the end.
The first half of the book is like reading a really convoluted dream sequence. I couldn't even tell if the main character was male or female for like 30 pages. Everything is from the point of view of the main character, Mai, who is a Vietnamese immigrant in her senior year of high school. On top of the hardships that go along with immigration, she's dealing with her mother's failing physical and mental health, the regular mother-daughter misunderstandings, as well as the sorrow of an unidentified event leaving her only remaining family member in Vietnam.
If I was going to rate this book on IDEAS alone, I would give it 3, maybe 4, stars. But the organization and flow of the content is frustrating, slow at points, and jumbled. And although the book was written in first person, I felt like I got to know Mai's mother by her journal entries better than I got to know Mai through her narrative.
I recommend refreshing your memory on the vietnam war before reading this book. You'll be a lot less confused once you do. The book doesn't remind you itself who was on who's side, or the history and timeline in plain terms. So be prepared to remind yourself of who fought the war, what each side stood for, the major battles, and the geography of Vietnam.
Beyond the organizational and structural items that bothered me, by the time I finished the book, I found Mai's main conflict to be satisfying. Throughout the book, she is confused about how to interact with her mother. This is in the normal way mothers and daughters have a hard time understanding each other's goals, desires, history, and life. But there's the added conflict between Mai and her mother that her mother is stuck in traditional Vietnamese ways, while they are living in America and Mai is willing to adapt. They are growing much further apart than I believe they would have if Mai had grown up only in Vietnam. In the beginning, Mai is resistant to her mother's ways and lifestyle centered around Karma. But by the end of the book, although there is a bitter end in some ways, Mai learns to appreciate her mother's ways and apply them to her life in ways she can accept.
While I don't agree that her mother HAD to do the things she did in order to give Mai a Karmatic "fresh start," I can appreciate Mai's appreciation, because she needed to learn her mother's heart.
There are often very visual metaphores and analogies that I found quite impressive.
If someone asked me if they should read this book, I would probably say yes. But more in a "go for it and see what you think" way. I would recommend that they stick around for the end, and try to read the book in 1 or 2 sittings to not get dragged down. Everything comes together in the end.
September 6, 2016
here's the thing: I went into this book really expecting to like it. I was PUMPED. I was GAME. I was DESPERATELY BORED from the first page. Though the book's not very long, it feels like a complete slog until the last twenty or so pages. Who's the main character? Do we remember anything about her? Defining personality traits? the entire book was either sad flashbacks to the mother's past in Vietnam or sad flashbacks to her "uncle"'s time fighting in Vietnam or sad snippets from the present showing the mother failing to adapt to life in America...I remember there was very little dialogue, and ultimately, I regretted picking this book as my group read because I had to spend an unwieldy amount of time flipping back through pages with very similar dialogue/themes to find the quote I wanted.
February 10, 2017
In light of the recent anti-immigrant sentiments swelling within the American politic, this very good story of refugees making a new, though troubled, transition to life in a new country is a powerful antidote. Although there were stretches I found laborious and that I swept through quickly, overall I really enjoyed the story. I worked alongside war refugees (several of whom were former officers who escaped) from Vietnam, and even married a war orphan, and therefore have read a good deal about the war; this piece of fiction is a good addition.
August 19, 2009
A Monkey bridge is the narrow, swinging bridge that crosses rivers and ravines in Vietnam. It becomes a metaphor in this beautiful story that connects past and present, East and West through war and peace. It also connects the stories of a mother and her daughter as they forge a new life in the U.S. after the war in Vietnam. The book often reminded me of the lovely, misty scrolls as the writing is very visual. It is a good book to carry in a purse for long stays in waiting rooms!
July 28, 2022
This book was great and I thoroughly enjoyed the writing. I feel like more parts would have been more impactful if this wasn’t a book I needed to read for class. With that in mind, the last few chapters made me grow to appreciate the book. I would definitely need to read it again to truly appreciate the writing.
February 11, 2015
literal tears
April 18, 2021
read for vietnam war literature @ ccc
October 21, 2018
A book on the Vietnamese refugee experience, mother-daughter relationships, competing gazes (e.g. U.S. looking at refugees, refugee child looking at refugee parent), lost histories, liars' wisdom, imagination, reinvention. Folkloric elements remind me of Woman Warrior. Everyone is talking about each other, but not to each other. They are stuck in their ways of seeing things and never confront each other- Mai's mother intentionally writes Mai lie-filled letters knowing that Mai sneakily reads them. There is a story within the novel about a Japanese mother and daughter. The daughter always does the opposite of what her mother wants and so at the end of the mother's life, she asked her daughter to bury her by the river thinking her daughter will do the opposite and bury her in the mountain (which is what her mother really wanted). But her daughter, wanting to honor her mother's dying wish, buries her by the river. The moral of the story, when Mai's mother tells it, is that it is not just enough to obey a parent's wish, but that a child must look deep inside a parent's soul to "distill the true meaning behind all the outward conversations" (171), a child should be able to unlock double meanings. But it is the sheer impossibility of having this ability to unlock double meanings, as well as the fact that such a third eye should not be the responsibility of an immigrant child or any person for that matter, that sustains silences and misunderstandings throughout the novel.
"My mother often said karma means there's always going to be something you'll have to inherit, and I suppose that was how I found myself seeing the world through such an eye that night. My mother was my karma, her eye my inheritance." (20)
"It was not a simple process, the manner in which my mother relinquished motherhood." (35)
"Mai would not believe the story about my ears even if I were to tell her directly. She still talks to me as if I make no sense. Not so loud, Mom, she whispers...She believes she has to go away to learn. She tells me that it's the American way...But really it's the Vietnamese way, my Vietnamese way, that's made me go along with her story, that's made me feel sorry for this child of mine, so lost between two worlds that she can't find her way back into the veins and the arteries of her mother's love. She wants me to let her walk blamelessly out of one life and into another. And that was my gift to her, to allow her the satisfaction of thinking I'm unaware...How can I teach her that the worthwhile enterprise is the enterprise of learning to live with our scars?" (53)
"Karma is the antithesis of Manifest Destiny...I truly don't understand the American preoccupation with cowboys who win and Indians who lose. It must be the American sense of invincibility, like a child's sense that nothing she does can possibly have real consequences." (53)
"We were engaged in a shadow play that had acquired a life of its own—a reluctant elagance—her stoicism and my guilt." (60)
"...'be yourself,' Aunt Mary's advice before we left the house...Aunt Mary couldn't possibly understand that immigration represents unlimited possibilities for rebirth, reinvention, and other fancy euphemisms for half-truths and outright lies." (124)
"...I told myself that learning about my own and my mother's history could save us both, my mother and me. It need not be an act of betrayal or a lack of trust; it could be viewed as a child's tender gesture, a simple desire to see where life began and ended." (168)
"...who would know more about the world outside the home, an indoor philosopher pale as an eggshell or a rice farmer the color of rich lotus tea, like me?" (180)
""And he told me about the exorbitant rent payment our beleaguered peasants had to pay, 45 to 50 percent of their annual rice crop (which, believe me, I, a child of peasant roots, could have told him all about but didn't..." (181)
"There is no denying the beauty of new dreams." (222)
"Our reality, you see, is a simultaneous past, present, and future. The verbs in our language are not conjugated, because our sense of time is tenseless, indivisible, and knows no end. And that is what I fear. I fear our family history of sin, revenge, and murder and the imprint it creates in our children's lives as it rips through one generation and tears apart the next.
This is how your mother loves you, Mai. This is how I want to shield you from the misfortunes of our family, to keep you from living and reliving your grandmother's and mother's multitudes of lost lives. In that way, motherhood is the same in every language. It touches you, exaggerates your capacity to live, and makes you do things that are wholly unordinary. It calls for a suspension of the self in a way that is almost religious, spiritual. The true division in this world, I believe, is not the division founded on tribe, nationality, or religion, but the division between those of us who are mothers and those who aren't." (252)
"My mother often said karma means there's always going to be something you'll have to inherit, and I suppose that was how I found myself seeing the world through such an eye that night. My mother was my karma, her eye my inheritance." (20)
"It was not a simple process, the manner in which my mother relinquished motherhood." (35)
"Mai would not believe the story about my ears even if I were to tell her directly. She still talks to me as if I make no sense. Not so loud, Mom, she whispers...She believes she has to go away to learn. She tells me that it's the American way...But really it's the Vietnamese way, my Vietnamese way, that's made me go along with her story, that's made me feel sorry for this child of mine, so lost between two worlds that she can't find her way back into the veins and the arteries of her mother's love. She wants me to let her walk blamelessly out of one life and into another. And that was my gift to her, to allow her the satisfaction of thinking I'm unaware...How can I teach her that the worthwhile enterprise is the enterprise of learning to live with our scars?" (53)
"Karma is the antithesis of Manifest Destiny...I truly don't understand the American preoccupation with cowboys who win and Indians who lose. It must be the American sense of invincibility, like a child's sense that nothing she does can possibly have real consequences." (53)
"We were engaged in a shadow play that had acquired a life of its own—a reluctant elagance—her stoicism and my guilt." (60)
"...'be yourself,' Aunt Mary's advice before we left the house...Aunt Mary couldn't possibly understand that immigration represents unlimited possibilities for rebirth, reinvention, and other fancy euphemisms for half-truths and outright lies." (124)
"...I told myself that learning about my own and my mother's history could save us both, my mother and me. It need not be an act of betrayal or a lack of trust; it could be viewed as a child's tender gesture, a simple desire to see where life began and ended." (168)
"...who would know more about the world outside the home, an indoor philosopher pale as an eggshell or a rice farmer the color of rich lotus tea, like me?" (180)
""And he told me about the exorbitant rent payment our beleaguered peasants had to pay, 45 to 50 percent of their annual rice crop (which, believe me, I, a child of peasant roots, could have told him all about but didn't..." (181)
"There is no denying the beauty of new dreams." (222)
"Our reality, you see, is a simultaneous past, present, and future. The verbs in our language are not conjugated, because our sense of time is tenseless, indivisible, and knows no end. And that is what I fear. I fear our family history of sin, revenge, and murder and the imprint it creates in our children's lives as it rips through one generation and tears apart the next.
This is how your mother loves you, Mai. This is how I want to shield you from the misfortunes of our family, to keep you from living and reliving your grandmother's and mother's multitudes of lost lives. In that way, motherhood is the same in every language. It touches you, exaggerates your capacity to live, and makes you do things that are wholly unordinary. It calls for a suspension of the self in a way that is almost religious, spiritual. The true division in this world, I believe, is not the division founded on tribe, nationality, or religion, but the division between those of us who are mothers and those who aren't." (252)
January 13, 2019
Wenn die Reisbauern des Mekong-Deltas in ein anderes Dorf oder auf den Markt gehen wollten, dann führte ihr Weg sie über monkey bridges, nur aus Bambusgeflechten auf Pfeilern bestehende Übergänge. In dem nach diesen Übergängen betitelten Roman erzählt Lan Can eine Geschichte, die zahlreiche Elemente ihrer eigenen enthält. Die vierzehnjährige Mai Nguyen kommt aus Südvietnam in die Vereinigten Staaten und lebt einige Monate bei einer befreundeten amerikanischen Familie, bis ihre Mutter Thanh unmittelbar vor der Machtübernahme der Kommunisten am 30. April 1975 ebenfalls die Heimat verlässt. Mais Großvater, Baba Quan, ein Reisbauer aus dem Mekong-Delta, bleibt in Vietnam zurück. Durch die vollkommen neue Lebenssituation stellt sich die Beziehung zwischen Mutter und Tochter auf den Kopf: Mai, die sich gut zurecht findet und aufs College gehen möchte, übernimmt die Verantwortung für ihre Mutter, die mit ihrem Herzen in Vietnam geblieben ist. Die monkey bridges sind das Symbol für die Wege, die die beiden Frauen auf ihrem Weg in die Zukunft zu beschreiten haben, denn „die Flüsse müssen überquert werden.“ (S. 179, eigene Übersetzung)
Meine Meinung: Lan Cao, heute Professorin für Internationales Recht an verschiedenen amerikanischen Universitäten, teilt ihr Schicksal mit hunderttausenden Exil-Vietnames*innen. 1961 als Tochter eines südvietnamesischen Vier-Sterne-Generals in Saigon geboren, hat sie sich nach der Flucht ihrer Familie in den USA ein erfolgreiches Leben aufgebaut, während die alte Heimat in einer der vietnamesischen Communities der neuen Heimat weiterlebt. Ich war vor vielen Jahren Gast bei einer Hochzeit in der mit über 189.000 Mitgliedern größten dieser vietnamesischen Communities in den USA, Little Saigon in Orange County, Kalifornien, und habe noch heute Bilder von Scharen sich lebhaft unterhaltender vietnamesischer Tanten und Cousinen in einer typisch amerikanischen Shopping Mall bei der Anprobe der traditionellen Tracht für die vietnamesische Braut und den amerikanischen Bräutigam vor Augen. Glückliche, zufriedene Menschen, dachte ich, die es geschafft haben, den Schrecken des Krieges zu entkommen und sich ein glückliches, zufriedenes Leben in einer neuen Welt aufzubauen, begleitet von den Traditionen der alten Heimat, aber vollkommen selbstverständlich auch in der neuen zu Hause. Offenbar hatten sie die monkey bridges erfolgreich überquert.
Die Geschichte davon, wie Mai Nguyen es über die Brücke schafft, beginnt in einem anderen Little Saigon, jenem in Arlington, Virginia, in der Nähe von Washington D.C. Sie erzählt aber nicht nur von den glücklichen Momenten, sie zeichnet auch und vor allem ein Bild der Spannungen und inneren Konflikte, die ein Lebensweg mit sich bringt, der in einer traditionsbewussten Welt in Südostasien beginnt, in der Kolonialismus und Krieg nicht notwendigerweise den Alltag, aber die Zukunft der Menschen bestimmen. Die Autorin zeigt auch, dass die Konflikte nicht erst mit dem Krieg und der Flucht beginnen, sondern ihre Wurzeln schon im Feudalsystem des Ursprungslandes haben.
Der 1997 erschienene Roman gilt als erstes literarisches Werk, in dem sich eine vietnamesisch-amerikanischen Autorin mit den Erfahrungen des Krieges und seinen Nachwirkungen auseinandersetzt. In diesem Sinne ist der Roman sicher politisch relevant, und ich habe eine Idee davon bekommen, was der Amerikanische Krieg, wie er im Land genannt wird, für die Bewohner Südvietnams bedeutet hat. Darüber hinaus ist es aber auch die spannende Geschichte einer Mutter-Tochter-Beziehung zwischen zwei Kulturen, auch wenn die Erzählweise für mich machmal einen etwas zu pathetischen Grundton hatte.
Meine Meinung: Lan Cao, heute Professorin für Internationales Recht an verschiedenen amerikanischen Universitäten, teilt ihr Schicksal mit hunderttausenden Exil-Vietnames*innen. 1961 als Tochter eines südvietnamesischen Vier-Sterne-Generals in Saigon geboren, hat sie sich nach der Flucht ihrer Familie in den USA ein erfolgreiches Leben aufgebaut, während die alte Heimat in einer der vietnamesischen Communities der neuen Heimat weiterlebt. Ich war vor vielen Jahren Gast bei einer Hochzeit in der mit über 189.000 Mitgliedern größten dieser vietnamesischen Communities in den USA, Little Saigon in Orange County, Kalifornien, und habe noch heute Bilder von Scharen sich lebhaft unterhaltender vietnamesischer Tanten und Cousinen in einer typisch amerikanischen Shopping Mall bei der Anprobe der traditionellen Tracht für die vietnamesische Braut und den amerikanischen Bräutigam vor Augen. Glückliche, zufriedene Menschen, dachte ich, die es geschafft haben, den Schrecken des Krieges zu entkommen und sich ein glückliches, zufriedenes Leben in einer neuen Welt aufzubauen, begleitet von den Traditionen der alten Heimat, aber vollkommen selbstverständlich auch in der neuen zu Hause. Offenbar hatten sie die monkey bridges erfolgreich überquert.
Die Geschichte davon, wie Mai Nguyen es über die Brücke schafft, beginnt in einem anderen Little Saigon, jenem in Arlington, Virginia, in der Nähe von Washington D.C. Sie erzählt aber nicht nur von den glücklichen Momenten, sie zeichnet auch und vor allem ein Bild der Spannungen und inneren Konflikte, die ein Lebensweg mit sich bringt, der in einer traditionsbewussten Welt in Südostasien beginnt, in der Kolonialismus und Krieg nicht notwendigerweise den Alltag, aber die Zukunft der Menschen bestimmen. Die Autorin zeigt auch, dass die Konflikte nicht erst mit dem Krieg und der Flucht beginnen, sondern ihre Wurzeln schon im Feudalsystem des Ursprungslandes haben.
Der 1997 erschienene Roman gilt als erstes literarisches Werk, in dem sich eine vietnamesisch-amerikanischen Autorin mit den Erfahrungen des Krieges und seinen Nachwirkungen auseinandersetzt. In diesem Sinne ist der Roman sicher politisch relevant, und ich habe eine Idee davon bekommen, was der Amerikanische Krieg, wie er im Land genannt wird, für die Bewohner Südvietnams bedeutet hat. Darüber hinaus ist es aber auch die spannende Geschichte einer Mutter-Tochter-Beziehung zwischen zwei Kulturen, auch wenn die Erzählweise für mich machmal einen etwas zu pathetischen Grundton hatte.
December 1, 2022
A generous 3 stars - possibly more a 2.5.
Although Lan Cao’s writing was beautiful at times, the use of metaphors and descriptive writing felt a bit over worked and didn’t always make sense.
I couldn’t get a firm sense of Mai’s mothers character through the written letters / journal type pages that Mai finds in her drawers. Although they provide a lot of insight into her life, it felt like the author was trying to introduce history and context in the same style of writing as the rest of the novel, while putting these sections in italics to seem like hand written words of Mai’s mother. This element just didn’t work for me and I found those pages quite a slog to get through.
This was particularly apparent in the last letter that is 28 pages long. The timeline was quite hard to follow in this story. I think this letter was written after her mother’s stroke which made me question how she could have written a letter of this length. It also goes into so much detail of everything in the past that she was keeping secret from her daughter and trying to protect her from. As beautifully written as it was, it just didn’t seem believable to me as a final letter from a mother to her daughter and therefore took away from its emotional impact. Instead I just found myself frustrated by this attempt to tie up all the lose ends by the end of the book.
There were parts of this story that touched me, especially around Mai looking after her mother after her stroke. Having lived this experience myself as a teenager, this is the first time I’ve come across it being written about in a book and I found it quite hard to read but also healing.
I also enjoyed the part where Mai is translating for her mother to the rental office manager.
Overall, mixed feelings about this book but it did highlight my naïveté around the war in Vietnam and I would like to do more research.
Although Lan Cao’s writing was beautiful at times, the use of metaphors and descriptive writing felt a bit over worked and didn’t always make sense.
I couldn’t get a firm sense of Mai’s mothers character through the written letters / journal type pages that Mai finds in her drawers. Although they provide a lot of insight into her life, it felt like the author was trying to introduce history and context in the same style of writing as the rest of the novel, while putting these sections in italics to seem like hand written words of Mai’s mother. This element just didn’t work for me and I found those pages quite a slog to get through.
This was particularly apparent in the last letter that is 28 pages long. The timeline was quite hard to follow in this story. I think this letter was written after her mother’s stroke which made me question how she could have written a letter of this length. It also goes into so much detail of everything in the past that she was keeping secret from her daughter and trying to protect her from. As beautifully written as it was, it just didn’t seem believable to me as a final letter from a mother to her daughter and therefore took away from its emotional impact. Instead I just found myself frustrated by this attempt to tie up all the lose ends by the end of the book.
There were parts of this story that touched me, especially around Mai looking after her mother after her stroke. Having lived this experience myself as a teenager, this is the first time I’ve come across it being written about in a book and I found it quite hard to read but also healing.
I also enjoyed the part where Mai is translating for her mother to the rental office manager.
Overall, mixed feelings about this book but it did highlight my naïveté around the war in Vietnam and I would like to do more research.
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
June 2, 2017
Not sure when or where I originally picked this one up or which day in late May I started reading it, but it had been on a shelf for a while.
This is a memoir-style novel set partly in Vietnam around 1975 and partly in Northern Virginia, where the author and her mom moved shortly after they came here. The author sets some of the action in and around the Eden Centre in Falls Church, VA - which interested me because my husband and I used to go there for pho, many years ago.
The book is mostly well written and the author has some nice turns of phrase, but I never got particularly attached to the characters or the storyline, possibly because of the frequent switching among the teenaged narrator/protagonist and her flashbacks/dreams and her mother's diary. Some of it was confusing.
I did like learning more about Vietnam and Vietnamese culture from the story, such as village/farming/family traditions and favorite foods. Would not have expected chocolate croissants and chocolate mousse to be mentioned along with edibles made from birds' nests. I'd seen photos before of what she calls monkey bridges but didn't know that's what they were called. Similarly, I knew various immigrant groups tended to self-fund projects among themselves but hadn't heard of the Vietnamese version (hui) before or how exactly the self-funding worked.
In all, worth reading mostly if you're interested in the culture of Vietnam pre-mid-'70s and/or the mid-'70s exodus from Vietnam and how some of those people lived in the USA afterward.
This is a memoir-style novel set partly in Vietnam around 1975 and partly in Northern Virginia, where the author and her mom moved shortly after they came here. The author sets some of the action in and around the Eden Centre in Falls Church, VA - which interested me because my husband and I used to go there for pho, many years ago.
The book is mostly well written and the author has some nice turns of phrase, but I never got particularly attached to the characters or the storyline, possibly because of the frequent switching among the teenaged narrator/protagonist and her flashbacks/dreams and her mother's diary. Some of it was confusing.
I did like learning more about Vietnam and Vietnamese culture from the story, such as village/farming/family traditions and favorite foods. Would not have expected chocolate croissants and chocolate mousse to be mentioned along with edibles made from birds' nests. I'd seen photos before of what she calls monkey bridges but didn't know that's what they were called. Similarly, I knew various immigrant groups tended to self-fund projects among themselves but hadn't heard of the Vietnamese version (hui) before or how exactly the self-funding worked.
In all, worth reading mostly if you're interested in the culture of Vietnam pre-mid-'70s and/or the mid-'70s exodus from Vietnam and how some of those people lived in the USA afterward.
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