I finished this book right after the new year and it has haunted me since (it's March 4, 2021 today).
The last story in this collection refers to a visit by Michael Jackson to an elementary school after a school shooting there. It includes some philosophical takes on death and those soothed me a bit as I continued to think about what a marvel So is. I couldn’t help wondering what more he could have accomplished. But such thoughts must lead to an appreciation or recognition of what he did achieve; and this book certainly demonstrates that.
This book of short stories reflects the voice of a rare talent. He is bold and confident. The writing is witty, smart, and poetic. His storytelling is radiant, celebratory. And while all the stories center on Cambodian Americans, each showcases a varied and rich range of lives. Each reveals something different and unique. So has keen insights about the array of experiences his characters have had as refugees and survivors of a genocide. He deftly depicts their struggles, and how they endure and overcome. And we see how each generation carries the suffering, a legacy that morphs and informs those touched by it.
But what shines clearly through is So’s affirmation and love of the Cambodian American community. This appreciation extends to Stockton, California which features prominently and serves as a key element, explaining how a location affects a people. In his Acknowledgements, So thanks his parents and notes how they created a world out of nothing but their will and imaginations. He, too, has beautifully done similarly in this collection.
I especially liked “The Shop,” “Human Development,” “Generational Differences,” and “Somaly, Serey, Serey, Somaly.” And I gladly note that various Khmer words appear with only the context to inform or explain them; it conveys an intimacy, such as when a close friend confides in you and uses words and descriptors that are used at home.
Thanks to Ecco Publishing and NetGalley for this advanced reader’s copy in exchange for an honest review.
Several quotes:
“Dad was one of those guys who smiled and laughed constantly, but never without a sad look in his eyes.”
“I know I was supposed to find a legitimate job, but at this point in my life, dumb epiphanies about home seemed so precious, urgent, fleeting.”
“When I tried articulating my feelings about home, my mind inevitably returned to these songs, the way the incomprehensible intertwined with what made me feel so comfortable. I’d lived with misunderstanding for so long, I’d stopped even viewing it as bad. It was just there, embedded in everything I loved.”
“…Paul strolled over from the food court, projecting that casual angst peculiar to guys who never left our hometown, who stayed committed to a dusty California free of ambition or beaches.”
“Being handsome and pathetic was Marlon’s selling point. Mothers adored that poor fellow brimming with wasted possibility.”
“Which, in fact—the logic’s so Cambodian it hurts: name you kids after the first movies you saw after immigrating, and bam!
“…he felt the sensation he often experienced when visiting home, that his parents had conceived him to work on a conveyor belt of nonsensical family issues.”
“The entire night he had yearned to ache into the warm nothingness. Hollow pangs of muscle memory throbbed in his thighs, his shoulders, the places where he had felt the most heat. Cravings pulsed through his whole body.”
“…I saw the possibility of existing in a dynamic in which every pleasure received, every favor granted, every dick sucked, every bottom filled and every top gratified, could energize you to give back more than what you had in the first place. I saw clearly Ben’s ideal vision of the world, a way of being that could sustain communities, protect safe spaces, and ensure that political progress kept happening. I felt euphoric, high, blood rushing to my head. I felt unbearably hopeful.”
“…I thought about Michael Jackson again, the absurdity of his photo jolting our day into being, how the more he had tried to change, to reinvent himself into something completely new, the more he seemed horrifically burdened by what he used to be.”
“When you think about my history, I don’t need you to see everything at once. I don’t need you to recall the details of those tragedies that were dropped into my world. Honestly, you don’t even have to try. What is nuance in the face of all that we’ve experienced? But for me, your mother, just remember that, for better or worse, we can be described as survivors. Okay? Know that we’ve always kept on living. What else could we have done?”