Sometimes from the depths of the vast sea of current modern-day writers an unexpected pearl surfaces and casts such a warm light and brightness as to make everything else appear lacking by comparison.
Such is the
case with Ocean Vuong’s first novel ‘On Earth We’re Briefly Gorgeous’.
This beautiful young Vietnamese American poet, already a recipient of the T.S.
Eliot Prize for his poetry, has tried something quite daring in writing what is
essentially an autobiography, but an uncanny one, because it weaves together facts
and emotions to craft the story of his and his family’s life. In it, Vuong
holds nothing back and delicately, but resolutely exposes everything about
himself. He renders himself entirely vulnerable to the point where the reader feels
slightly uncomfortable. Vuong experiments with a language that is always poetic,
but also at times so imaginative and original, as to appear to be the discovery
of a new unexplored place, one in which a style without precedent is being conceived.
This is especially surprising coming from an author who only learnt to read at
the age of eleven and who suspects that dyslexia runs in his family.
“We
weren’t rowing, but adrift. We were clinging to a mother the size of a raft
until the mother grew stiff with sleep. And we soon fell silent as the raft took
us all down this great brown river called America, finally happy.”
The novel is
in the form of a letter from the author (Little Dog) to his mother. They are
refugees from Vietnam living in the U.S., but his mother can’t read and works
in a nail salon. She’s also clearly scarred by the trauma of the Vietnam war.
“You’re a
mother, Ma. You’re also a monster. But so am I – which is why I can’t turn away
from you. Which is why I have taken god’s loneliest creation and put you inside
it.”
On the
background of vivid recollections of the Vietnam war, the novel unravels into a
coming-of-age story of a young man, the impressionist style reminiscence of the
author’s first love, the depiction of his profound yet complicated relationship
with the women in his life (mainly his mother and his grandmother) and of the
ruthless and overwhelming hopelessness of poverty.
“In the
nail salon, sorry is a tool one uses to pander until the word itself becomes
currency. …Being sorry pays, being sorry even, or especially, when one has no
fault, is worth every self-deprecating syllable the mouth allows. Because the
mouth must eat.”
Vuong shows quite
some pluck by openly discussing the issue of being mixed race, a theme which is
introduced when he meets his American stepgrandfather. In the age of ‘Black
Lives Matter’, the subject of being mixed race doesn’t get much coverage.
That’s possibly because it is unsettling to others when someone is mixed race
and they can’t be placed, they can’t easily be pigeonholed. It feels
unsatisfactory to all, destabilising. It undermines the existing dualistic view
of society and challenges the polarising forces currently shaping the socio-political
discourse on race and ethnicity. In my opinion, this is one of the most significant
topics of the book. Being mixed race can be seen as a curse, a guaranteed
foundation for an identity crisis. A mixed-race individual may lack a sense of
belonging and may be either subtly or overtly rejected by both of the ethnic
groups that begot him/her. On the other hand, being multi-ethnic can also be a
source of great self-confidence – having the opportunity to draw from more than
one heritage and recognise and accept one’s uniqueness.
“…I was
wrong, Ma. We were born from beauty.”
Overall,
Vuong’s first novel is somewhat flawed, but for this very reason even more
relatable, and a bit uneven in terms of the quality of the writing. I feel that
some subject matters are dealt with better than others. For example, I
personally found the story of his first love not altogether convincing, but the
account of his relationship with his mother, aunt and grandmother and the
evocation of the Vietnam war utterly real, wonderful and moving. I view this
book as a love letter to these women - Vuong has bravely and touchingly written
the story they could never write for themselves.
“I
remember cupping the ash and writing the words live live live on the foreheads
of the three women sitting in the room. How the ash eventually hardened into
ink on a blank page. How there’s ash on this very page. How there’s enough for
everyone.”
#OnEarthWe'reBrieflyGorgeous #OceanVuong #MixedRace #TSEliotPrizeforpoetry
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