Eduardo Santiago
It felt like a sketchbook. Watercolor and fine pencil, each two-to-three-page chapter a mix of wispy impressions and sharp focus. Stories and characters radiating around 1970s Vietnam, interlacing together like raindrop ripples in a pond; I hesitate to use weave or tapestry because the overall work is too ethereal, it adds up to form a big picture but one that can only be viewed from up close or far away. There is no middle viewpoint.
Thúy's language (in Fischman's translation, at least) is lean. She conveys much emotion and imagery in few words. Much of it is painful, of course, but there's a lot of resilience and love too. Although this is a short book pagewise, it is worth reading leisurely.
It felt like a sketchbook. Watercolor and fine pencil, each two-to-three-page chapter a mix of wispy impressions and sharp focus. Stories and characters radiating around 1970s Vietnam, interlacing together like raindrop ripples in a pond; I hesitate to use weave or tapestry because the overall work is too ethereal, it adds up to form a big picture but one that can only be viewed from up close or far away. There is no middle viewpoint.
Thúy's language (in Fischman's translation, at least) is lean. She conveys much emotion and imagery in few words. Much of it is painful, of course, but there's a lot of resilience and love too. Although this is a short book pagewise, it is worth reading leisurely.