Library Limelights 246

 

Viet Thanh Nguyen. The Sympathizer. Ebook download from TPL. USA: Grove Press/Grove Atlantic, 2015.

In the aftermath of the Vietnam War, a Vietnamese participant writes his confession as required by the military commandant who imprisoned him. Without question, it’s one of the most powerful novels of the last few years (Nguyen’s sequel this year is The Committed), winning the Pulitzer Prize for fiction in 2016. I wanted to be sure to read the original story first. The narrator is the author’s own creation, but there’s nothing fictional about the history—most of us are probably only acquainted with the American perspective of ignominious retreat/defeat and the anti-war protests on their own soil. The narrator is a captain, aide-de-camp to an important general in the South Vietnamese forces. We begin during the fall of Saigon, at the disastrous end of which the captain is evacuated along with the general, eventually to reside in Los Angeles. The general never ceases to fundraise—recruiting and training a ragtag army for invading the now-communist nation.

No one knows that the captain ‒ never named – has all along been a communist sleeper agent, a spy, a mole. No one, that is, except his childhood blood-brothers Bon and Man. He reported to Man, his controller, all the military intelligence he learned from his special position, and both his roles continue in America. The man is highly intelligent, loyal (to each side), and pleasingly sarcastic; yet he was born a bastard, never to step above his preordained social status. Sent by the general to a Philippines movie-making set, he hopes to influence an authentic portrayal of his people in a war movie of Hollywood mindset. Clashing with the director – the Auteur – is only one racist experience. In due time the general sends his army from the U.S. to secret headquarters deep in Thailand’s interior, with the captain among them, sworn to protect his friend Bon. And so, the hapless venture results in capture by the ruling military who force reeducation on him, contaminated as he is by Los Angeles, regardless of his past services. In the end, the captain agonizes over his double life, perhaps disillusioned with Ho Chi Minh’s regime.

Nguyen is brilliant in his use of language and sensibility. A novel rich in insight and savage black humour, he polishes each sentence to a fine-tuned edge; his literary talent is inspirational. Plus, he brings us the full spectrum of a people striving, suffering, arguing, playing, loving; it’s so much more than refugees, boat people, limbless veterans, ideologies of north and south, or blame game. Above all, The Sympathizer encompasses an entire culture we might never have otherwise known.

The war

▪ “Why is it that the only people who do not know the Americans are pulling out are the Americans?” (29)

▪ The plane was a garbage truck with wings attached, and like a garbage truck deposits were made from the rear, where its big flat cargo ramp dropped down to receive us. (90)

▪ Their beloved city was about to fall, but mine was soon to be liberated. It was the end of their world, but only a shifting of worlds for me. (45-6)

The aftermath

▪ Like a shark who must keep swimming to stay alive, a politician—which was what the General had become―has to keep his lips constantly moving. (173)

▪ The majority of Americans regarded us with ambivalence if not downright distaste, we being living reminders of their stinging defeat. (220)

▪ “But here, we will not be able to protect our children from the lewdness and the shallowness and the tawdriness Americans love so much. They’re too permissive.” (228)

▪ The Dollar Bill might buy a ham sandwich in America, but in a Thai refugee camp the modest green Dollar Bill transformed into colorful Baht, is ready to feed a fighting man for days. (459)

Himself

▪ Both secrecy and hierarchy were key to revolution, Man told me. (64)

▪ You really think one of our own men could be a spy? By now the only parts of me not sweating were my eyeballs. (118)

▪ “Now get the hell out of my house and come back after you’ve made a movie or two. Maybe then I’ll listen to one or two of your cheap ideas.” (247)

▪ Every full bottle of alcohol has a message in it, a surprise that one will not discover until one drinks it. (385)

▪ “How could you ever believe we would allow our daughter to be with someone of your kind?” (518)

▪ “He has built a state-of-the-art examination room where he will personally supervise the final phase of your reeducation, when you are transformed from an American into a Vietnamese once more.” (566)

▪ Remember, you’re not half of anything, my mother said, you’re twice of everything! (577)

▪ “And yet you insisted on returning, you fool.” (587)

Martin Michaud. Never Forget. 2014, originally Je Me Souviens, 2014. Toronto: Dundurn Press, translation 2020.

My first go with this author Quebecois, and it was a plunge into a highly complicated, macabre murder case. Or should I say deaths, plural—last I counted, there were six of them. Detective Sgt. Victor Lessard and his Montreal team are as baffled as I was with clues about lost wallets, cryptic messages from a manic bipolar, kids’ fridge magnets, and archaic torture devices. Not to mention references to MK-ULTRA (the CIA mind-bending experiments at McGill U) and the murders of Pierre Laporte and John F. Kennedy. With memories necessarily stretching back to the 1960s, the story is mainly set in the present, about 2014. A lawyer and a professor were first kidnapped, then gruesomely murdered. Lessard must try to find their connection to a homeless man’s death while more victims or suspects end up dead.

His working partner, Jacinthe Taillon, may be a good detective but she’s a brash, volatile, unlikeable slob. On the other hand, Lessard adores his domestic partner Nadja Fernandez, thinking he doesn’t deserve her. His feelings, summarized as “she completed him,” are jarringly retro, an inexplicable throwback to when we all needed our other half. Lessard himself is even more complex than your typical fictional cop. He takes prescription meds, sometimes launching into an uncontrollable rage: as when he learns that Nadja’s RCMP brother had secretly recruited Victor’s teenage son Martin as an undercover informant. Mental health or psychiatric assessment underscore the backgrounds of the victims and Lessard himself. The amount of police investigative work is overwhelming but for some time fails to reveal meaningful links among those who died. When several intricate strands begin to knit, the end result is a very long drawn-out (unnecessarily, IMO) confession which was already apparent without the speaker’s verbosity. I’m ambivalent about trying Michaud again. So many feelings could have been expressed more succinctly, with less wordiness.

One-liners

▪ Hobbling to the metallic accompaniment of his restraints, Lawson advanced to the table in a stiff-legged penguin walk. (90)

▪ “A person affected by bipolar disorder can have homicidal and suicidal tendencies.” (101)

▪ He stepped out just in time to avoid Taillon, who, with spittle-flecked lips, rolled into the room like an unpinned hand grenade. (142)

▪ “I know you’re very busy, Senator, so we won’t take up too much of your time.” (300)

▪ Eyes bulging, with froth on his lips, he slapped his son hard across the face. (334)

▪ Though he had already taken several anti-anxiety pills, he still felt the need to smoke cigarette after cigarette, but nothing could quell the dark thing that was gnawing at him. (344)

▪ “His code name was Watermelon Man.” (456)

Multi-liners

▪ These fits of rage had begun during his rehab and were growing more frequent. Random and overwhelming, they would come on suddenly, often triggered by some minor annoyance. (52)

▪ “We saw each other at the psychiatric emergency ward in July.” Victor smiled awkwardly. “You prescribed Paxil for me.” (102)

▪ “Though their victims have common traits, serial killers usually choose them at random. This is too organized, too structured to be the work of a serial killer.” (177)

▪ Victor buried his face in his hands. When Jacinthe put her foot down, it was generally on someone’s throat. (209)

▪ “It’s Martin,” he whispered, his face pale. “He’s been arrested by the anti-terrorism unit.” (331)

▪ “How am I supposed to explain that my best detective has gone to Texas? At taxpayers’ expense?” (450)

Clue the new junior

“You know, Loïc, Jacinthe doesn’t pussyfoot around. Not with me, not with Gilles, not with anyone. She’s a warrior. She won’t hesitate to put her life on the line to save yours. But she’s short on tact and sensitivity. And chances are, that’ll never change.”

Loïc was watching Victor, clearly wondering what would come next. “I’m telling you this because you need to know who you’re dealing with, and, above all, because you mustn’t let yourself be hurt by the things she says. You were right to defend your opinions today. Even if she makes fun of them, that’s no reason to back down. Keep your head up, kid. You’ve been doing good work lately.” (229-30)

Nadja

Tears came to Victor’s eyes. What had he done to deserve such a woman? For a giddy moment, he thought of asking her to marry him then and there, but immediately he thought better of it. Marriages don’t last. He knew from experience. What they had right now felt like perfection ‒ or close to it.

But his pessimistic nature reasserted itself; the fear of losing everything rose up in him, followed by the conviction that he would wake up one day to find all his blessings destroyed and their love gone in a puff of smoke. (202-3)

Surprise informant

“In early 1963, I was posted to the Ottawa embassy as cultural counsellor; then, in May of that year, I was seconded to the consulate in Montreal. I was one of the resources without an official job description. In other words, the consul sometimes knew what I was up to, sometimes not. My job was to watch the Cuban consulate, which was providing cover for the Soviet spy network, the KGB. The FLQ also had links with the Cubans, as well as with French intelligence services. I was responsible for logistics.” (455-6)

Alex Pavesi. Eight Detectives. Ebook download from TPL. UK: Michael Joseph/Penguin Books, 2020.

The premise: Reclusive author Grant McAllister agrees to receive Julia Hart on his isolated island. Her job is to edit his little-known 1940s book, The White Murders, for re-publication. In effect, seven short stories comprise that old book; each is read aloud by Julia since Grant no longer has a copy of the book and his eyesight is not the best. Refreshing his memory. Between each reading, they discuss the possible permutations and variables of detective fiction. Indeed, each story cleverly illustrates a different variation with no common thread other than the four key components: victim(s), suspect(s), killer(s), and detective(s). Julia, taking copious notes as they examine each story, spots some minor inconsistencies here and there. Grant will not say definitively whether or not he placed them deliberately. I noted a theatrical allusion in almost every story, but apparently that was some ado about nothing.

We know a surprise will arrive because this editor-author acquaintanceship is too cerebral, too bland, compared to the colourful events in the stories. Punch line coming, right? Julia pushes Grant a bit about his self-exile, and why the book’s title is reminiscent of an old unsolved murder in England—again, a deliberate choice on his part? After all, she will be writing the book’s introduction and needs some information about his intervening years. Grant is not forthcoming, until the first surprise hits. But the best is last. As it should be, and of course I won’t be a spoiler. Altogether inventive and entertaining, it also serves as an analysis of the murder mystery genre. In a collection like this, there is little point in trying to tease a few defining lines from each story. Let’s see what we can say about the author and the editor.

▪ “I suppose the idea must have been at the back of my mind when I wrote it. But it was so long ago, I can’t be certain.” (29)

▪ “Inspired guesswork is all that most fictional detectives do. And seen in that light, there’s something fundamentally dishonest about the detective character. Don’t you think?” (58)

▪ “Did you plant the puzzles in these stories as some kind of trap for me to fall into?” (112)

▪ “Lying is often overused in detective stories. But if all of the suspects are guilty, they can lie about everything. With impunity.” (155)

▪ She’d suspected since their first conversation that Grant had been hiding something about his past. Now she knew what it was. (214)

▪ “I told you the definition was liberating, and this is why. It almost creates a new genre: now, instead of guessing who the killer is, the reader must guess for each individual suspect whether or not they were involved in the crime. The number of possible endings increases exponentially.” (262)

▪ “The craft, then, is in the misdirection: in picking the solution that in some ways seems the most unsuitable to the story you’ve written, but in other ways fits perfectly.” (263)

▪ “To me the sea has always been mildly terrifying. It moves like a set of jaws, chewing on everything inside it.” (265)