Book Review: My Documents by Vu Tran
From the moment I heard about Vu Tran’s My Documents, I felt an unshakeable pull toward its premise. The challenges faced by immigrant families and the haunting shadows of their past are subjects that deeply resonate with me. Tran’s exploration of identity, survival, and the human spirit immediately drew me in, and I couldn’t wait to uncover the layers hidden within its pages.
Set against the backdrop of a dystopian America, My Documents takes us on a compelling journey, beginning with the harrowing escape of Bà Nội from Vietnam with her young son just after the fall of Saigon. Fast forward to the present day, where her grandchildren—Ursula, Alvin, Jen, and Duncan—are poised on the brink of adulthood. Each character embodies the rich tapestry of hope and disillusionment that stems from their grandmother’s sacrifices. Ursula’s ambition as a journalist, Alvin’s internship at Google, Jen’s university independence, and Duncan’s prowess on the football field create a vivid picture of the American Dream—tinged with the complexities of their heritage.
But just as the characters are finding their footing, chaos strikes. Coordinated terrorist attacks result in mass internment of Vietnamese-Americans, leading to the heartbreaking division of the family. Jen and Duncan find themselves in a harsh camp, while Ursula and Alvin navigate a world that feels increasingly distant and privileged. The stark contrast between their experiences serves as a chilling reminder of how easily the fabric of society can unravel, revealing prejudices that many prefer to ignore.
What stands out in Tran’s writing is his ability to balance bleak realities with glimmers of resilience. Moments of levity, such as the football games organized by the camp’s guards, create a delicate interplay between survival and the remnants of joy. Jen’s role in the camp’s newspaper, a propaganda tool, showcases the blurring lines between complicity and resistance. As readers, we’re reminded that even in the darkest of circumstances, humanity finds ways to express itself, whether through small acts of defiance or the shared laughter of family.
I was particularly struck by the observations about self-delusion threaded throughout the narrative. A poignant quote from a journalist in the book encapsulates this notion: “A good story tells us something about people—how they live and how they are self-deluded.” It’s a masterful lens through which Tran unveils the inner lives of his characters, revealing their vulnerabilities and struggles in a manner that feels both authentic and painfully relatable.
Yet, what lingers with me long after turning the last page is how My Documents mirrors the contemporary political landscape. Tran deftly illustrates the notion of temporary outrage followed by apathy, making the reader confront uncomfortable truths about societal neglect. It’s this unsettling realism that left me with a sense of urgency—a desire to engage with the world around me, to not look away from stories that need to be told.
I wholeheartedly recommend this book to readers intrigued by narratives that blend personal and political elements, those drawn to stories of resilience in the face of adversity, and anyone willing to confront the complexities of identity in modern America. My Documents is a haunting, thought-provoking work that still echoes in my mind days later. Tran has created an essential piece of literature that challenges us to remember, to empathize, and ultimately, to act.