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373 pages, Paperback
First published September 1, 1999
You've seen the photograph. Badly burned after her village was bombed with napalm, the girl runs toward the camera, her mouth open in pain, her arms held loose at her sides.
To some, the photograph – taken by Vietnamese photographer Nick Ut – represents the destruction and senselessness of war.
But the picture has also contributed to the enduring myth of the helpless Asian refugee, one reinforced by images as diverse as the Vietnamese boat people, the musical Miss Saigon and even the recent arrests of illegal, stowed-away Chinese immigrants to Canada.
Chong doesn't address the sexual and cultural politics inherent in the photograph, but she does work hard to fill out the life, pre- and post-photograph, of Phuc, who now lives in Ajax, Ontario.
She also shows how, years after the bombing, Phuc and her image were exploited by Vietnamese authorities, who prevented her from fulfilling her dream of becoming a doctor by forcing her to travel and represent the Communist regime.
Chong, whose background is in economics, writes prose that is clear yet seldom rises above the utilitarian. Here, you can see her struggling to make her facts – which range from the history of the Vietnam war to the intricacies of making and selling noodle soup – fit into the confines of a book. Her inexperience shows. She's not helped by the fact that Phuc herself isn't a very active or vivid presence.
But in telling Kim Phuc's story, however gracelessly, Chong does manage to humanize history and stop us from sentimentalizing an image we all thought we knew.
“War is what happens when language fails” – Margaret Atwood
“I will not play at tug o' war.
I'd rather play at hug o' war,
Where everyone hugs
Instead of tugs,
Where everyone giggles
And rolls on the rug,
Where everyone kisses,
And everyone grins,
And everyone cuddles,
And everyone wins.”