Ocean Vuong Finds the Gladness on the Fringes of Society

Title: The Emperor of Gladness

Author: Ocean Vuong

First, a brief synopsis from the publisher:

"One late summer evening in the post-industrial town of East Gladness, Connecticut, nineteen-year-old Hai stands on the edge of a bridge in pelting rain, ready to jump, when he hears someone shout across the river. The voice belongs to Grazina, an elderly widow succumbing to dementia, who convinces him to take another path. Bereft and out of options, he quickly becomes her caretaker. Over the course of the year, the unlikely pair develops a life-altering bond, one built on empathy, spiritual reckoning, and heartbreak, with the power to transform Hai’s relationship to himself, his family, and a community on the brink.

Following the cycles of history, memory, and time, The Emperor of Gladness shows the profound ways in which love, labor, and loneliness form the bedrock of American life. At its heart is a brave epic about what it means to exist on the fringes of society and to reckon with the wounds that haunt our collective soul. Hallmarks of Ocean Vuong’s writing -- formal innovation, syntactic dexterity, and the ability to twin grit with grace through tenderness -- are on full display in this story of loss, hope, and how far we would go to possess one of life’s most fleeting mercies: a second chance."

An Authentic Minnesota Start to Our Meeting 

Although we have strict book club rules -- 20 minutes for general chitchat before digging in, mild punishment for anyone starting the discussion with either "I loved this book" or "I hated this book" -- sometimes we are more dithery (is that a word?). So, first we had to mill around in the driveway, greeting each other, hugging, asking questions about Blanche's peonies, looking at the yard. Then, we made it to the front steps where we hung out for a bit for no particular reason. Next, into the house but just inside the door for more random motion. Then into the kitchen for beverages and snacks while discussing the weather, the pottery, each other, and who was going to sit in which chair. 

 

Finally, we made it into the living room, but apparently at this point, everyone decided that the 20 minutes for chitchat was just starting. Topics covered included what to stream on TV and why isn't there anything good to watch that's not Hallmark or super violent or derivative, followed by a brief foray into the definition of objectivism and what was Ayn Rand's deal, anyway? Next was a philosophical discussion about the ethics of offering authors money to allow their books to be used for AI training. And then we had to pillory David Brooks for awhile for complaining in his recent New York Times editorial that there are no good novels anymore after which we watched an Anne Patchett video in which she gives him a good pasting.

 

Finally, somebody was able to get us on track, although only slightly.

 

Insights and Opinions 

+ The opening chapter of The Emperor of Gladness is both poetic and grim. Vuong introduces us to "wide stretches of thumb-sized buds shooting lucent through April mud" and tells us about how "In spring the cherry blossoms foam across the country from every patch of green unclaimed by farms or strip malls." He tells us "Look how the birches, blackened all night by starlings, shatter when dawn's first sparks touch their beaks." He surrounds the reader with nature's beauty before introducing us to East Gladness, which he does by wielding a devastating, slashing prose. Witness: "Our lawns are overrun with ragweed and quack grass, one of them offering a row of red and pink tulips each spring, heads snared through the chain-link they lean on. The nearby porch overflows with rideable plastic toys, a wagon, tricycles, a fire truck, their primary colors now faded to Easter hues. A milk crate with a flap of old tire nailed across its opening is a mailbox set on a rotted sideboard, Ramierz 47 written on the rubber in Wite-Out. Beside this is a tin bird feeder in the shape of Bill Clinton's head." This is the scene he sets for Hai, our protagonist, as he readies himself to jump off a bridge.

 

+ Lois noted that Vuong is writing about people who are on the very fringe of the fringe -- people who are barely hanging on and none of whom fit the definition of what would "make America great again." All of the characters, from the elderly Grazina who is losing herself to dementia, to Sony, Hai's autistic cousin, to Hai's fast-food-restaurant workmates, are barely hanging on. "They're all hurting, but they may not be aware that they aren't making it, as they are all hanging on," she said. Vuong finds what's working for each of them and shows it to us.

 

+ Several of us confessed to starting the book and putting it down several times before picking it up again, perhaps overwhelmed by the unrelenting sadness. Per Margy: "It was definitely not Hollywood, and it was pretty gritty. I'd have to think hard between going back to this book."  And from Liz: "Is there nothing in a ruined town that isn't grim or depressing or requires the saddest possible metaphor?" We all agreed that the slaughterhouse section was more than any of us could handle and would have been better served by a more brief treatment. Briefly drawn, we would still have grasped the horror of it.

 

+ On the other hand, we all agreed that the quality of writing is very high. The characters are rich, the prose is lyrical, and we care very much about all of these people, which is, perhaps, why reading about their circumstances is so painful. The one exception, we felt, was Grazina's family, who seemed cartoon-like in their despicableness. Grazina, on the other hand, is richly drawn and, in many ways, the heart of the book. Through her as well as through Hai, we have the story of ancestry, immigration, and the failure of dreams. As Grazina is being hauled off to a nursing home by her son, she wonders where she is going and then realizes "She was heading to America after all. The truest version of it. The one where everyone pays to be here."

 

+ Linda felt there were many ways to interpret the book. "There were parts of it I loved and parts I was totally confused by. But the community that was formed in that kitchen, and the relationship between Hai and Sony, and the wonderful example of showing real autism -- these were great details that brought the whole thing to life." 

 

+ Surprisingly, there is a great deal of humor in this book. Vuong's careful eye finds the ludicrous in the painful, and the joy in sadness.  

 

+ What happens with Hai at the end is ambiguous. In fact, there is much ambiguity throughout. "The hardest thing in the world is to live only once" is the first line in the book. Vuong loops back to this theme at the very end, when he closes with "Soft, simple people, who live only once." None of us were entirely certain what he means. Linda felt Vuong's intention was not to write a happy ending. Both she and Blanche agreed the ambiguous ending was intentional. Linda said "This book is so much about memory. Grazina, at the end, asks 'if I'm still me if I don't remember who I am." Is this part of what Vuong means about living only once?

 

+ We also wondered, during the final pages, why the slaughtered pigs reappeared. Steve's theory is that Hai's mother had told him that his role in their deaths was all right, but he needed to pray for them. He hadn't prayed for them, so he was carrying that guilt." Steve admitted to loving books that keep him off balance, and this one fell into that category for him.

 

Our Next Read

There will be no meeting in August due to people's schedules. We will group up again in September at Linda's house. Our next selections are:

 

September meeting

Title: Trust

Author: Hernan Diaz

Host: Linda 

 

October meeting

Title: The Bee Sting

Author: Paul Murray

Host: TBD

 

Blanche and our photographer Margy

 

The brainiacs among us

Listening and note-taking happening

 

As I said, can we get back to the book now?

 

Laurie Frankel Questions What Makes a Family Family

Title: Family Family

Author: Laurie Frankel

 

First, a brief synopsis from the publisher:

"India Allwood grew up wanting to be an actor. Armed with a stack of index cards (for research/line memorization/make-shift confetti), she goes from awkward sixteen-year-old to Broadway ingenue to TV superhero.

Her new movie is a prestige picture about adoption, but its spin is the same old tired story of tragedy. India is an adoptive mom in real life, though. She wants everyone to know there’s more to her family than pain and regret. So she does something you should never do ― she tells a journalist the truth: it’s a bad movie.

Soon, she’s at the center of a media storm, battling accusations from the press and the paparazzi, from protesters on the right and advocates on the left. Her twin ten-year-olds know they need help – and who better to call than family? But that’s where it gets really messy because India’s not just an adoptive mother…

The one thing she knows for sure is what makes a family isn’t blood. And it isn’t love. No matter how they’re formed, the truth about family is this: it's complicated."

 

Insights and Opinions

 

+ From page one, it was easy for each of us to think we'd inadvertently chosen a cozy beach read for our book club selection. The prose is snappy and breezy, Ten-year-old Fig is entirely too precocious, the banter between their mother India and the children Fig and Jack is clever but maybe a bit too Aaron Sorkin in its rapid-fire back and forth. Chapters are short, and zip between present day and scenes from India's childhood and formative years with a speed that made some of us dizzy. But, being us, we all stuck with it and were entirely glad we did. As Steve pointed out, "the more you get into it, the deeper it is." And, Linda said "I went back and forth between thinking this book is great and this book is cheesy, but ultimately, I liked it a lot." This is definitely a story that sticks with one after the last page, making you consider what you know about abortion, about adoption, about what it means to be a family, and about being one's authentic self.

 

+ To prove this point, witness what happened to the discussion that followed. After dipping our toes briefly into our usual habit of thoughtful lit crit, our group members began to tell their own stories. Some stories were personal. Others were stories about relatives or close friends. All of these stories were examples of how people define family as opposed to "family family." Eventually, we got back to discussing the book, having to admit that our "cozy beach read" was not that at all.

 

+ It's hard to say much about this book without introducing spoilers, so we will avoid that in this summary. Frankel is an expert at the slow reveal, and part of the pleasure in reading this book is discovering important facts along the way. Some of these facts are explosive and wholly unexpected, but all are well-earned.

 

+ This is a book of contrasts. It's laugh-out-loud funny and heartbreaking at the same time, if that's possible. Somehow, Frankel pulls it off. 

 

+ Liz felt that, during sections of dialogue, some of the characters sounded too much like each other -- the children too adult, the adults too childish, the dialogue too similar in tone. Yet, as one reads on, each character molds into a discrete individual with his or her own recognizable bent. India emerges as someone uniquely herself. Unerringly honest, she is unable to dissemble, even when it would be the wise thing to do. Over time and circumstance, her edges are softened by experience, but her commitment to honesty never wavers. It's what she's honest about that shifts.

 

+ Frankel is dealing with many themes, and every one of them is a big one. She tackles celebrity, internet trolling, abortion, adoption, childhood trauma and loss, all within 384 pages, and manages it expertly. Although we may not be able to relate to the choices India makes, we believe them, which is no small feat for an author. Because there are so many important themes, some get a bit of short shrift. Lois, for instance, felt there should be more focus on the struggles of the children who'd been given up for adoption. Everyone seems remarkably untroubled and healthy, despite their backgrounds.

 

+ One of the main themes in the book is that not all stories of adoption are tragic. This is certainly India's point of view and the personal petard on which she is hoist. She is adamant that some of these are sad stories and some are not. Somehow, India manages to be pro-choice and pro-life, pro-adoption, and pro-family, all at the same time. If one has taken a specific position on any of these topics, Family Family will question it and make you stop and think. Per Blanche: "There is no black and white here, only gradations. That's what this book is about."

 

+ Both Steve and Blanche were taken with the details about the life of a performer, both on Broadway and in the movies, and wondered how Frankel was able to write about both with authority, opening doors to the industry a reader wouldn't otherwise have.

 

+ Bottom line: We all thoroughly enjoyed this book, despite the fact that at some point along the way, each of us didn't want to. Linda loved the humor, the quirky characters, the inside look into the entertainment industry, and felt it was a page-turner. Chris loved the book and said the fact that India was an entertainer made her particular character all the more believable. Steve summarized, "I thought it was brilliant in its execution. She pontificated sometimes, but the fact that she turned a book with so much depth into a page-turner was impressive." 

 

Our Next Read

 

For July, we will read the following:

 

Title: The Emperor of Gladness

Author: Ocean Vuong

Location: Blanche's house