Lenny Chang, the young protagonist of this autobiographical novel, is transplanted from New York City to a suburb on Long Island, and navigates his fractured family in this new, hostile environment. His alcoholic father, a Navy veteran struggling with his unhappy life, dominates and terrorizes his mother who valiantly tries to keep their family intact. Lenny's older brother drifts away from the turmoil while his younger sister attaches herself to Lenny for safety. As Lenny adjusts to this chaotic world in which the family spirals more and more out of control, he withdraws into himself and his martial arts movies, searching for some kind of solace. However, it isn't until Lenny befriends the local marijuana grower and dealer, Sal, that he begins to see a world beyond his own. This unusual friendship sets Lenny on a path toward independence, and becomes the bedrock on which this young boy moves into adulthood, finding the tools for self-reliance and fortitude that will sustain him throughout his life.
Nobody combines the delicate and the startling into one literary knockout punch the way Leonard Chang can. Chang’s latest debut, Triplines, an autobiographical novel, is the perfect showcase for his attention to detail, manipulation of subtly, and ability to sting with story and then sooth with words. A masterpiece.
This autobiography by Leonard Chang was written in third person-which was very interesting. You knew you were reading about the author’s life but he told it to you like it were a story. The concept alone pulled you into the book, making it a compelling read. The unique format worked.
Stark, bare, clinical best describes how this autobiography cane across to me. Strangely this is still a captivating story and often you forget that it’s not a novel. Somehow this serves to focus the readers attention on the effects of a dysfunctional family on the author
I was drawn to this book by its ostensive autobiographic content. But as I began to read, I couldn't help but believe it was fiction, not autobiography. My belief was fed by Yul whose despicable nature I found fantastic in the sense of unlikely, doubtful, and absurd. But what do I know? Perhaps what was being conveyed wasn't a character per se but an aura--an aura of misery, fear, and oppression. And if this was the case, Yul serves his purpose admirably.
The novel might be said to have two parts: the Yul section and the post-Yul section. In the post-Yul section, the focus squarely falls on Lenny. There are the usual racial slurs and bigotry that a Leonard Chang hero has to deal with, there is an unlikely friendship with a social outcast which gives the book its title, and there is the moment when Lenny senses that his destiny lies in writing.
It's a condensed, bare bones autobiography, an unheard of thing in annals of literature. Let's hope Chang has begun a trend.