Sunday, 28 January 2018
"Ru" by Kim Thúy
I love Thúy. Her language is tender as an ao dài in the wind, the underlying meaning deep as a chasm. There is poetry in the saddest or ugliest memory and every page an independent novel. It starts with the Tet offensive and the peace came to resemble war more than war resembled war itself. Lifelong pain in lifelong love, memories in the touch of a vaccination mark on a skin now hidden by a tattoo.