Thank you to Hear Our Voices Tours and Lee and Low for the e-ARC in exchange for an honest review
A TWO-PLACED HEART is an earnest middle-grade novel-in-verse partially based on the author’s own experience of being a child in Việt Nam, emigrating to the US, and growing up in Nashville, Tennessee. It’s written as a long letter from Bom to her younger sister, Bo, who adamantly proclaims that she is fully American and has no memories of Việt Nam. It doesn’t really tread new ground, and I suppose I may be getting a bit tired of this book genre, but this will be a good read for those new to books about the Việt/Việt Kiều emigration/integration experience, or for those who can never get enough.
A TWO-PLACED HEART starts in 1996, when middle-school-aged “Bom” (whose real name is DoanPhuong) and her younger sister Bo argue over whether they are Vietnamese and American. Bom can’t wrap her head around the idea that Bo feels completely American, when she herself always feels split, never wholly one or the other—a “two-placed heart”.
As Bom begins writing out her memories on her father’s typewriter, she takes us back to Vietnam, with a bit of family backstory—her family apparently descended from the court of the last Vietnamese dynasty, and held high positions during the French-ruled colony years—including her father’s imprisonment at a Communist “reeducation camp,” a childhood growing up with a massive extended family, struggling during periods of food deprivation, etc. A lot of these descriptions are ones I’ve read before, many times over, which was unfortunate as it led me to skim large parts of it.
Bom’s father decides to emigrate to the US to escape further persecution under the Communist government. His application takes years to approve, and a last-minute mixup means they end up being sponsored by some white church members in Nashville (instead of their relative in Texas). Fortunately, these good samaritans are genuinely caring of the Nguyens, and teach them many Americanisms while they were one of the few Asian families around.
Bom’s experiences as an Asian immigrant in the US in the early ‘90s was also like many accounts that I’ve read before. Bom, an anxious and insecure child, experiences racial microaggressions especially when people repeatedly mispronounce her name, which makes her even more insecure and reserved. She learns that racism is a thing that she has to worry about in the US (this is done, I felt, in an unfortunately too “neat” way, in which Bom gets racism done to her and explained to her, but doesn’t reckon with the ways in which she herself, and the larger Vietnamese community, can also be racist). It was all just… familiar, I guess?
The book doesn’t even resolve in any particular way, either. The author’s note mentions that she was only able to begin resolving her identity struggles when she was finally able to return to Vietnam for a visit aged 18; I kind of wish that had been the focus of the book instead. Even Bo, much more assertive and assured than her sister, would have made for a more compelling MC.
The “meta-fiction” of this book makes it an awkward one to review. Nguyen states it’s not a memoir, but her MC’s real name is DoanPhuong (same as her own); she also has a younger sister who feels completely American; and many members of the “American family” that takes care of Bom’s family when they come to Nashville have the same names as those who took care of the author’s own family when they arrived. So… it feels awkward to critique her writing, because am I critiquing her craft or her memories? I didn’t feel like the writing was particularly poetic, unique, or memorable. The novel-in-verse format is almost unnecessary, because “Bom’s” (Nguyen’s? I am confused???) writing style is a very straightforward recounting of events that reads like memoir-ish prose.