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317 pages, Kindle Edition
First published April 1, 2025
Vietnamese people were always the last to change but the first to complain.
"Nothing is more petty than an angry Vietnamese mother—" "—except for a Vietnamese father"
Firstborn Vietnamese sons truly are the worst
there they were, the Four Horsewomen of the Apocalypse
She had a set of skills that only the eldest Asian daughter could wield: Her Vietnamese was better and she knew how to talk to old people.
Who'd ever trust a Vietnamese lawyer to actually file paperwork? She should have gone with her white lawyer.
There was just something so sexy about being with someone from the same background and how they didn't even question putting Maggi on everything.
Meanwhile, Georgia took everything in, her eyes enchanted, enthralled by the prospect of finally seeing the motherland, the country that was embedded deep in her DNA—a history that flowed through her veins, a living, invisible organism that she knew nothing about, but somehow it was the reason for why she was standing there now.
The smell of lemongrass, Old Bay seasoning, and fish sauce hit the siblings all at once, and they all breathed in the familiar, comforting scent. The coalescent beauty of a Viet-Cajun seafood boil was the magnum opus of the American South.
It angered her all her life that immigrant food had to be cheap. Tacos, pupusas, dumplings, phở, gyros, kimchi, pad Thai . . . she could keep going. These were all foods worthy of double digits.