Community Reviews
Dust Child is the delicately crafted historical fiction novel by internationally bestselling author Nguyễn Phan Quế Mai. My first experience reading the author, I felt as though I was transported to 1969 Việt Nam. Heartbreaking and honest, it was evident to me throughout the book that this story must have been inspired by real people, so I wasn’t surprised when it was confirmed in the author’s note. Ultimately, it’s a powerful story about acceptance, healing, and forgiveness.
While the book is told from multiple points of view, the story is primarily told from three characters:
Trang, along with her younger sister Quỳnh, are young Vietnamese women living in 1969, determined to help their parents struggling under medical bills and debtors. When a friend returns from Sài Gòn with tales of easy money as a “bar girl”, spending time drinking and talking with American GIs, the sisters decide to leave their rural village for the city.
In 2016, we meet Phong, an Amerasian, the son of a Vietnamese woman and a Black American GI, who grew up as an orphan without ever knowing his parents. He’s in Sài Gòn with his wife and children hoping to discover the identity of his parents and a way for his family to reach America. Labeled bụi đời, the “dust of life,” by the Vietnamese, he’s been discriminated against and mistreated all his life. Throughout his tale, the reader gets flashbacks into his childhood and early life.
Dan is an American Vietnam vet who has arrived back in Sài Gòn with his wife, Linda. They’re hoping a visit to the past will help him heal from his PTSD, but he’s been keeping a secret from Linda for over forty years. When he left Sài Gòn, he left behind a Vietnamese girlfriend, Kim, who was pregnant with his child.
In the beginning, I had little sympathy for Dan—and even Linda. Which is probably kind of the point, but the author does such a good job of making them human, illustrating how war is bad for everyone, that I couldn’t help but hope they found the answers they were looking for.
Nguyễn successfully depicts how suffering and hurt people can hurt others. It’s no excuse, but it helps to wrap our brains around some of the atrocities of war—how humans can be so unkind, and it’s a reminder that we should never just blindly follow the lead of others, although we often do.
I was also impressed with how the author used the briefest side characters to bring such an impact to the story and the lives of our main characters. It’s also a great technique to keep the reader in suspense, always wondering who or what might be revealed next.
Towards the end of the book, I was a little unsatisfied with how it was wrapping up—until there was a small twist that had a big impact on the story. The result made so much more sense than the direction I thought it was going in before. It firmly kept this story at five stars for me.
The world needs more stories like Dust Child. Maybe if we were all required to read them, there would be less hate and more acceptance. Beautifully done, it’s a book I’ll be recommending again and again.
Thank you to Algonquin Books and Netgalley for providing me with an advance copy.
Check out my reviews and playlists at A Book Wanderer
While the book is told from multiple points of view, the story is primarily told from three characters:
Trang, along with her younger sister Quỳnh, are young Vietnamese women living in 1969, determined to help their parents struggling under medical bills and debtors. When a friend returns from Sài Gòn with tales of easy money as a “bar girl”, spending time drinking and talking with American GIs, the sisters decide to leave their rural village for the city.
In 2016, we meet Phong, an Amerasian, the son of a Vietnamese woman and a Black American GI, who grew up as an orphan without ever knowing his parents. He’s in Sài Gòn with his wife and children hoping to discover the identity of his parents and a way for his family to reach America. Labeled bụi đời, the “dust of life,” by the Vietnamese, he’s been discriminated against and mistreated all his life. Throughout his tale, the reader gets flashbacks into his childhood and early life.
Dan is an American Vietnam vet who has arrived back in Sài Gòn with his wife, Linda. They’re hoping a visit to the past will help him heal from his PTSD, but he’s been keeping a secret from Linda for over forty years. When he left Sài Gòn, he left behind a Vietnamese girlfriend, Kim, who was pregnant with his child.
In the beginning, I had little sympathy for Dan—and even Linda. Which is probably kind of the point, but the author does such a good job of making them human, illustrating how war is bad for everyone, that I couldn’t help but hope they found the answers they were looking for.
Nguyễn successfully depicts how suffering and hurt people can hurt others. It’s no excuse, but it helps to wrap our brains around some of the atrocities of war—how humans can be so unkind, and it’s a reminder that we should never just blindly follow the lead of others, although we often do.
I was also impressed with how the author used the briefest side characters to bring such an impact to the story and the lives of our main characters. It’s also a great technique to keep the reader in suspense, always wondering who or what might be revealed next.
Towards the end of the book, I was a little unsatisfied with how it was wrapping up—until there was a small twist that had a big impact on the story. The result made so much more sense than the direction I thought it was going in before. It firmly kept this story at five stars for me.
The world needs more stories like Dust Child. Maybe if we were all required to read them, there would be less hate and more acceptance. Beautifully done, it’s a book I’ll be recommending again and again.
Thank you to Algonquin Books and Netgalley for providing me with an advance copy.
Check out my reviews and playlists at A Book Wanderer
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