This is an oddly constructed memoir. It required a lot of patience to trust Kingston and follow her through the first three sections of this book: Fire, Paper, and Water. But trust me when I tell you that the final section title "Earth" makes it all worth it.
I feel like Vintage Books did Kingston a huge disservice in the summaries they provide of each of the sections. Or perhaps they are Kingston's summaries, but they don't accurately reflect the contents of each section.
The only section that I felt was slightly out of of place was the recreation of her burned manuscript, the fiction of the family leaving the U.S. I assume Kingston wanted to include it because of the glimpse it provides, awkward as it may be, of a few people vying for peace in their small sphere of influence. Also, I haven't read her other work entitled "Tripmaster Monkey" which is a work of fiction about Wittman Ah Sing. If I had read that, his continued adventures in this section might have some added significance. If you have read "Tripmaster Monkey" is your interpretation of this section different than mine?
As I said, the highlight of this memoir for me is the final section "Earth". It isn't so much what the table of contents describes as "a nonfiction during which the author and her husband live in temporary homes while their new house is being built." And it is so much more than Kingston "sending out a call to war veterans to help write a literature of peace." This section is a vivid explication of Kingston's endeavor's to work with Vietnam war veteran's in pursuing a dialogue with their grief through writing. We are introduced to several vivid, lovable, dynamic veterans and we get a glimpse of the terrible burden that we carry. The highlight of this section is their journey to Plum Village to meet with the great teacher Thich Nhat Hahn. His advice to them truly encapsulates the promise of this "Book of Peace." "Because suffering is not enough," he says. "We can learn a lot from suffering, but life has also the other side- wonderful, refreshing, healing. All of us have to learn to touch that aspect of life. Ah, when there is a tree dying in our garden, don't make it as if the whole garden is dying. That's not fair, that's not just, that's not wise." Which isn't to say that Hahn is dismissing grief and pain. Rather, I think he is rephrasing a strategy taught by his cohort Sister Chan Khong earlier in the memoir when she says, "But that [painful memory] still remains in your consciousness, is come up from time to time. And when it's come up, you have to say Hello. You say: Hello, you are there, but you are no longer a burden, you are an old friend. You say, 'Hello, my little fear.' 'Hi, my anger.'"