Love Like Hate

by Linh Dinh

A dysfunctional family saga that doubles as a portrait of Vietnam in the last half of the 20th century. Protagonists Kim Lan and Hoang Long marry in Saigon during the Vietnam War, uniting in a setting that allows Dinh's dark, deadpan humour to flourish.

Genres: Fiction, Asian Literature, Asian American, Romance, Asia, Novels

160 pages, Hardcover

First published June 1, 2008

Reviews

[Ming · Rating 4 out of 5]

I didn't want the book to end. This is one of the funniest and most clever writings. The social critique is dead-on accurate but told in a witty way so that there's an affection or sympathy.

I didn't agree with or like the way the book ended but I wanted the insights and acerbic humor to continue.

Here are some quotes:

"Vietnam is a disaster, agreed, but it is a socialized disaster, whereas America is--for many people, native or not--a solitary nightmare. If Americans weren't so stoic and alienated, if they weren't so cool, they wouldn't be so quiet about their desperation."

"In February (1963), Iraq's Abdul Karim Kassem was shot after a Baathist coup engineered by the Central Intelligence Agency (CIA). In November, South Vietnam's Ngo Dinh DIem, originally installed by the CIA, was shot in a military coup engineered by the CIA. Among the plotters were future strongmen Saddam Hussein and Nguyen Van Thieu. John F. Kennedy was also shot in November. In knocking off a leader, a killer becomes in effect paterfamilas to an entire population. Unwittingly, many of us have been orphaned, then adopted by the CIA, the world's number-one deadbeat dad."

"He had gone to Vietnam to explore Buddhism, only to discover that there was no Buddhism in Vietnam. Sky had read in all the guidebooks that 80 percent of Vietnamese were Buddhists but Vietnamese Buddhists, he soon found out, only went to the temples to pray for a winning lottery ticket. "

"It was anarchy. Yet this was partly an illusion, of course, because a country's strictness and mores are often invisible to an outsider. One's first impression of any society, even the most rigid, is often of freedom."

"Sky fancied himself a reverse missionary, there to warn the natives against conversion. It wasn't at all contradictory for an English teacher to steer his students away from Anglo culture, he reasoned. They would never master English, no matter how hard they tried. Agents of bad English, they'd bring down the empire. Thinking they were speaking English, they'd only be parodying and perverting it. They were like a virus running rampant inside the decadent English body. There was no vaccine and it was too late for quarantine. As soon as they opened their mouths, these annihilators of English infected native speakers with their horrific pronunciations, spellings and grammar. With amusement, Sky often found himself babbling like a retard, just to be understood by his so-called students."

"That's why they'll (Vietnamese women) marry any foreigner who comes along just to get the fuck out of the country. That's a fate worse than prostitution. A prostitute only sells her body for parts of the day, but if you marry someone just to leave the country, or for money, you're selling your body twenty-four hours a day for the rest of your life."

"In a country where palm trees are ubiquitous, Back Beach actually has none. They've all been cut to make room for the widened road and the hideous-looking guesthouses and restaurants."

"Dreading dark skin, most Vietnamese women shun both sun and sea, the only two things their country has plenty of."

"As a businessman in Vietnam, A-Chen had a close-up look at the country's economic mess. He had never known there could be so much capitalist exploitation in a supposedly socialist society. It amazed him that many Vietnamese had to work for a dollar day to make $140 sneakers to be lusted after, and sometimes even bought, by other Vietnamese."

"Everywhere A-Chen went in Saigon he saw either socialist billboards boasting of heroic, exuberant workers, soldiers and peasants, or capitalist billboards seducing the masses with images of the affluent hitting golf balls or sipping martinis. As with all billboards, the people on them had nothing to do with the working stiffs milling on the streets, but the contrast between the superrace shown on Vietnamese billboards and the dazed and wasted specimens sprawled on the dirty sidewalks just below them was so starling as to be comical. An appropriate image on all Vietnamese billboards would have been a Hieronymus Bosch painting."

[Chris Tempel · Rating 5 out of 5]

best read ive had in a few years

[David Collins · Rating 3 out of 5]

The friend who lent it to me on his Kindle said I'd enjoy it, and I did. However, for a writer trying to improve his or her craft, Love Like Hate can be a frustrating read. I actually had to ask, two chapters in, whether this was indeed a novel or a travelogue.

Other reviewers may remark on the sheer number of intersecting character arcs, which a reader may have trouble juggling. This doesn't bother me, because it's fairly easy to conclude that none of the human characters is the main protagonist. The true protagonist is Vietnam itself, drawn from the view of one who left it as a child when Saigon fell and Ho Chi Minh City arose in its place.

Props: Linh Dinh does a superb job of conveying his impressions of Vietnam and its people on multiple levels: historic, geographic, cultural, agricultural, sociological, economic, and psychological. The characters are rich and deep, serving as a gateway to the novel's greater purpose, which is explaining the Vietnamese people—those who remained, those who fled after 1975, and their descendants—to Westerners from a variety of perspectives. One certainly couldn't call these characters flat: most of them are at least somewhat likable when introduced, but circumstances turn them ugly. Mr. Dinh is at best ambivalent about his protagonist, his beautiful but inhospitable native land, to his credit because there's nothing black & white about the country. The big question left unanswered is whether Vietnamese culture was (a) scarred by decades of colonial wars, (b) further uglified by the triumph of socialism after 1975, or (c) just ugly to begin with.

Knocks: Even with a well-crafted story, that overarching purpose gets in the way. There were portions of the book in which I could not tell whether I was reading fiction or a Lonely Planet guide. Some writers can pull that off with panache, but I don't think Mr. Dinh did. While it's fantastically descriptive, in several spots it also impedes the progression of the narrative. Also, Dinh gets mixed marks for managing point of view. Introducing a character from another characters POV in one chapter, then switching to the freshly introduced character's POV in the next chapter, is a clever device. Lengthy internal monologues of characters who have just been introduced, in some cases very late in the story, is a bit irritating.

Several times I did find myself not wanting to proceed to the next chapter, just knowing that one of the characters (or Vietnam, or fate itself) would treat another character cruelly. But I kept going toward the all-too-appropriate ending, and I'm glad that I did.

[Sorayya Khan · Rating 4 out of 5]

This is a novel that plays with form in portraying a sliver of Vietnam that is not often drawn for us. It's a different kind of post war story that shows us what war leaves behind: a society trying to find its way. The price of war arrives immediately, but later as well, as human beings try to make their way. The novel is like visiting Vietnam and discovering an unexpected place not previously portrayed in the abundance of novels about the country.

[Fish · Rating 5 out of 5]

I was surprised to find this title in the small English language section of the used books chain store near Hiroshima University. I wonder if it had been assigned for a class. Previous owner's marginalia gave hints about their English reading level. Without getting too personal, a big part of the reason I was drawn to this book is that I recognized the author from the Carrboro International Poetry Festival (back in 2005 was it?) organized by Patrick Herron in the heyday of the Lucifer Poetics Group in North Carolina. The serendipity of reconnecting with this author's work after more than a decade, having moved from the U.S. to Asian myself, felt somehow congruent to this novel's particular sweeping historic and moral (satirical) power.

It is a novel that manages to capture the aftermath of the Vietnam War-- the poverty, cultural and political upheaval, sweat, shrimp paste, inter-generational drama, and prostitution. The author does a great job of drawing out these gamey bits of sinew and collagen from the main loaf. A nod to the allure of dog meat, a pathetic ex-pat's headache-inducing English "lessons," the rightful owner of a wad of cash at the bottom of a jar of shrimp paste, the where-is-she-now moment with the Trang Bang napalm girl Phan Thi Kim Phuc (parenthetically demystified), the disdain for the embrace of superstition, and the embrace of superstition. It's a hypnotic novel in all of its grotesque particulars. But it is gorgeous as well in its depicting an overarching transgressive humanity that extends across national borders and backward and forward in time.

I'm so glad I picked up this book.

[Chim Cụt Cánh · Rating 4 out of 5]

This is an English book that should be read by Vietnamese.
A different view of the people in the war with details of the old days that would any Vietnamese a rush of nostalgic feel. However, with all the politics and sex, there is no doubt that this book will never be published in Vietnam.

For others, this is the book travellers need to read before visiting Saigon (Ho Chi Minh city). Although the present is a lot more modern than the period mentioned, the core culture, beliefs and thoughts are still shockingly the same. All the common questions about culture will be explained. An evidence of how dedicate the author was when researching the materials used for this book.

[Angelina · Rating 5 out of 5]

What an incredible narrating voice! I laughed out loud many times. This writing style is a mix of poetry, journalism, and stand-up comedy, all done very skillfully. I’m Vietnamese American, born in Vietnam and have since visited many times- Dinh’s commentary of Saigon and the US is relatable, fair, edgy - an enjoyable read. I didn’t expect to LOVE a novel as much as I did this one (I tend to read nonfiction). I finished the book in a few short days, couldn’t put it down. I’m now excited to read his other works.

[roam wander town · Rating 4 out of 5]

A very funny and authentic or even encyclopedic look at vietnamese americans / vietnamese culture. Every page is filled with wit and humor and piercing observations.

I think this is the only vietnamese american / diaspora book that speaks true to me. a life like cast of characters, Ive encountered probably the majority of the archetypal people described in the book.

Please read this!!

[Jennifer · Rating 5 out of 5]

I love Linh Dinh. I love the raw descriptions of the places and people in his stories. His fiction and nonfiction are phenomenal.

[Laurens · Rating 5 out of 5]

Raw, darkly funny and just excellent.

[Craig Werner · Rating 3 out of 5]

Near the end of poet Linh Dinh's first novel, the narrator observes that a billboard accurately reflecting the reality of contemporary Saigon would look like a painting by Hieronymous Bosch. That's a useful clue to the LD's approach to the complex and contradictory realities of Vietnamese experience 35 years after the end of the American phase of the Vietnam War. One of the major contributions of the novel is to provide a South Vietnamese perspective on the experiences of a range of characters before, during and after the War. Not surprisingly, LD, who has grown up and lives in the U.S., is particularly concerned with the presence of America in the Vietnamese world view. One of the central stories concerns a mother obsessed with having her daughter marry a Viet Kieu (Vietnemese who have grown up elsewhere returning to the homeland), so she can escape Saigon. The longest section of the novel, however, focuses on the mother's childhood, marriage to a South Vietnamese officer, and subsequent re-marriage to a Chinese man in the wake of the North Vietnamese victory. The least effective piece of the novel--though conceptually necessary--involves an American teaching English in Vietnam today. (He's pretty much a caricature, though all the pieces are recognizable enough.)

As social document, Love Like Hate is fascinating. It breaks down the myths of post-war reconciliation without descending into ideological truisms. It does a good job contrasting contemporary Hanoi and Saigon (Ho Chi Minh City). I don't have enough points of reference to judge the accuracy of the characterizations but it feels real.

There are, however, problems, mostly stemming from Linh Dinh's vocation as a poet. The love stories fairly often feel cliched, and the insertion of mini-essays into the narrative often disrupts the flow. He does a great job capturing the power of global consumerism, but the various pieces of the story feel a bit randomly structured. Which takes me back to the Bosch image at the start of the review. Until I encountered it, my inner rater was prepared to give this three stars--good pieces more than a good book. Looking at it through Bosch's eyes, I'll bump it up.

[Daniel Teeter · Rating 4 out of 5]

I know nothing of Viet Nam. This book taught me a little. Through Dinh's writing it is clearly a very interesting, humble, and sad country. But then, maybe all of ours are sad––even the richer ones. Of course, just the title itself is brilliant. As a (capital "W") Westerner, the experiences of youth having to suffer under the manacles of their parents is particularly wrenching to read. While I think in many ways Eastern philosophies are superior to the West, ancestral worship leaves much room for improvement. America's own indigenous cultures share this trait and on the small tribal chieftain level I suppose it serves an important purpose as social glue. For urbanized cultures it seems, to my Western eyeball, to be dangerous. In my little corner of the world I see how much damage to the world has been done by parents. (I was fortunate to have great ones. Most of my friends weren't so lucky.) If more people could just step away from their ancestors it seems much of the world's pain and suffering could disappear. Surely, doing that won't come easy. Linh Dinh has lived in the West (he's Torontonian) so maybe he's been poisoned enough by his experience in the West to not be mystified by it. An interesting book this is, it reminds me a less ambitious Vietnamese-Western version of "Last Exit to Brooklyn", another interesting book that left me a little stained for having read it. (It's good to be stained, if not always pleasant.)

[Jhoanna · Rating 3 out of 5]

Dinh offers a smorgasbord of information about pre- and post-war Vietnam in his debut novel, with parts of the book reading almost like a travel guide or history book. I liked that about it, since I'm pretty sure I've never read anything about Vietnam, but these big chunks of exposition may be off-putting to other readers. Love Like Hate reminds me of those popular late '90s British movies about drug dealers and hitmen - it's a little wild and out of control but it's also got great energy and hilarious lines, especially when Dinh's commenting on the Vietnamese fixation with emulating the "great" cultures of the world (France and the USA, namely). It's hard to remember that third-worlders once looked up to the now falling and failing US, but I could see a lot of my family members thinking and wishing for the things that these characters do.

[Anne · Rating 3 out of 5]

Dinh's first novel has much of the hallmarks that have made his short stories and poems notable: hilarious (sometimes grotesque) observations, unforgiving human depictions, and beautiful (if disturbing) descriptions. The book is problematic in many senses (especially in its portrayal of Vietnamese women), but offers a refreshing depiction of Vietnamese and Vietnamese Americans during and after the VN War. He's very in tune with the Vietnamese-Viet Kieu dynamic in Vietnam and critiques it harshly to great dark comedy effect. Highly recommended, but approach with caution.

[Art · Rating 3 out of 5]

I grabbed this book from the school library shelves today on a whim. Three hours later I was done. I was previously reading a PKD book, but it wasn't holding my interest so I opted for something new. It turns out that this is a fairly entertaining book. I would recommend it to anybody in need of a laugh or maybe even wants to learn some Vietnamese culture. There was some funny irony in this book as well, so if you like irony, definitely check this one out.

[Melissa · Rating 4 out of 5]

Linh Dinh captures the Vietnam and her culture perfectly in this novel. I personally found this book to be very amusing. From the obsessive and superstitious Vietnamese mother, the underground, rebellious punk rock scene, and the creepy expat men who prey on young Vietnamese girls, Love Like Hate is spot on.

[Brian Shevory · Rating 5 out of 5]

Hilarious...Caliban once said, you gave me language and the only benefit is that I can curse. I feel like Linh Dinh has a similar feeling towards the westernization and colonization of Vietnam. No one escapes his scorn, but in a totally funny and satirical manner.

[Christopher · Rating 4 out of 5]

A novel by a poet can be treacherous. This is a Vietnamese treat like pho and cha ca la vong. And the book is so richly written that you feel Kim Lan’s words: “your father is starving in the next town and you want to eat like a gourmet?!”

[Jan · Rating 4 out of 5]

Interesting view of Vietnam and Vietnamese...made me want to read more about this country and the people.

[Aubrey · Rating 1 out of 5]

Couldn't get into the book... had a hard time with the character names and I actually gave up!

[Vicky · Rating 3 out of 5]

It took too long for this book to get really good and once it did, it was over!

[CR · Rating 3 out of 5]

"An alphabet soup of characters" indeed.

[Jennifer-Crystal Johnson · Rating 5 out of 5]

To read my official review of this book, check back at www.phatitude.org for the 60's special of the literary magazine.

[Love · Rating 3 out of 5]

Mediocre at best. Not one of the best American writers of the century as the back of the cover says.

[Torra · Rating 3 out of 5]

Definitely did not care for the ending, but the book was well written and described some horrible truths about the world with a slight sense of humor.

[Hippiemouse420 · Rating 3 out of 5]

I enjoyed most of the stories contained in the novel. The writing style, however, was all over the place.

[CC]

didn't finish - quirky characters

[Aimee Dars · Rating 3 out of 5]

During the Vietnam War, Kim Lan and ARVN officer Hoang Long married. While his deployments--and his mistress--took him away from Saigon most of the year, Kim Lan ran her cafe and cared for her son, Cun. After South Vietnam fell to the communists, life dramatically changed for them both. The beginning and end of the novel, set in the recent past and focusing on Kim Lan and her desire to find a Viet Kieu (overseas, hopefully from America, Vietnamese) husband for her daughter, Hoa, bookend the story of Hoang Long and Kim Lan’s past.

As a whole, though, I wasn’t wild about the novel. It takes a sardonic tone, absolving no character or group of people. Most of the urban Vietnamese are presented as self-interested and greedy, the peasants superstitious and naive, the Americans as bumbling fools (which I can understand given our activities in the country), the French as condescending, the communists as hypocritical, capitalism promotes vapidity, and so on. The most benign characters might be seen as laissez-faire; the worst, selfish and cruel.

Neither Kim Lan nor Hoang Long had positive parental relationships. In each case, their mothers died young, their fathers were absent, and they were raised by stepmothers. Kim Lan seems to perpetuate the cruelty she learned while Hoang mirrors the distance of his father. Kim Lan’s children, Cun, her son, and Hoa, her daughter, respond differently to her controlling nature.

Linh Dinh’s critique’s are biting, and in many cases, ring true, but he doesn’t leave anything to fill the space he’s destroyed. As a result, the novel feels to me like its message is attenuated, leaving the reader with a sense of emptiness.

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