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Catfish and Mandala: A Two-Wheeled Voyage Through the Landscape and Memory of Vietnam
Winner of the Kiriyama Pacific Rim Book PrizeA New York Times Notable Book of the YearWinner of the Whiting Writers' AwardA Seattle Post-Intelligencer Best Book of the YearCatfish and Mandala is the story of an American odyssey—a solo bicycle voyage around the Pacific Rim to Vietnam—made by a young Vietnamese-American man in pursuit of both his adopted homeland and his forsaken fatherland. Intertwined with an often humorous travelogue spanning a year of discovery is a memoir of war, escape, and ultimately, family secrets.Andrew X. Pham was born in Vietnam and raised in California. His father had been a POW of the Vietcong; his family came to America as "boat people." Following the suicide of his sister, Pham quit his job, sold all of his possessions, and embarked on a year-long bicycle journey that took him through the Mexican desert; on a thousand-mile loop from Narita in South Korea to Kyoto in Japan; and, after five months and 2,357 miles, to Saigon, where he finds "nothing familiar in the bombed-out darkness." In Vietnam, he's taken for Japanese or Korean by his countrymen, except, of course, by his relatives, who doubt that as a Vietnamese he has the stamina to complete his journey ("Only Westerners can do it"); and in the United States he's considered anything but American. A vibrant, picaresque memoir written with narrative flair and an eye-opening sense of adventure, Catfish and Mandala is an unforgettable search for cultural identity.
354 pages, Kindle Edition
First published January 1, 1999
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Andrew X. Pham
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 700 reviews
June 19, 2015
History is a nightmare from which Andrew X. Pham is trying to awake.
I have a variety of odd and vague unappealing habits. One of them is reading one-star reviews on ŷ. In the case of this book, one review of this book reads, in its entirety, “Just because you go on a cool vacation doesn't mean you have to write a book about it.�
Call me all hyper-sensitive, but that seems just a smidge unfair. I mean, as a child, the guy endures the danger and chaos of the lurching end of a war, his father is imprisoned and nearly killed, the family endures a nerve-wracking illegal journey out of the country in an open boat, followed by a prolonged period in a refugee camp where fellow inmates try to force his siblings into prostitution. Things get a little better when they get to the US, but they still have the isolation, the insincere “conversion� to Christianity (ironically, also a sincere attempt to make their American sponsors happy), the decision to travel across the country for the pleasure of living in a ghetto of fellow-exiles, plus the inevitable cross-cultural misunderstandings � deliberate and otherwise. I mean, all of that would tend to make one's return to one's home country more than “a cool vacation� � more like an attempt to find some peace in a world that hasn't given much peace voluntarily.
At times, this book reminded me of the genre (which I tend to associate with the British) I've heard called “comedy of embarrassment�, in which the hero is fairly, perhaps endearingly, dorky. This is not everybody's idea of a fun read. For example, the author, in spite of both a background as well as a family situation rife with unpleasantness, could reasonably be expected to know that, when you land at Narita airport in Toyko in the middle of the night, deciding to take the bicycle that you've just taken out of baggage claim and ride it right out of the terminal unto the highway is not a life-choice that is likely to yield a pleasant result. In fact, the temptation to rhetorically ask your ereader if this guy had the sense that God gave dirt is well-nigh irresistible.
Still, there's a part of human experience and human history which cannot be summed up in histories and memoirs of the great and powerful, and this book does a good job going into it. The story is really more than a cool vacation � it's an attempt to come to terms with a particularly difficult past. People who can't understand that lives like AX Pham's are more difficult than their own should probably try to acquire some of empathy by getting out more or, if not fond of interacting with the world, reading books with greater empathy.
I have a variety of odd and vague unappealing habits. One of them is reading one-star reviews on ŷ. In the case of this book, one review of this book reads, in its entirety, “Just because you go on a cool vacation doesn't mean you have to write a book about it.�
Call me all hyper-sensitive, but that seems just a smidge unfair. I mean, as a child, the guy endures the danger and chaos of the lurching end of a war, his father is imprisoned and nearly killed, the family endures a nerve-wracking illegal journey out of the country in an open boat, followed by a prolonged period in a refugee camp where fellow inmates try to force his siblings into prostitution. Things get a little better when they get to the US, but they still have the isolation, the insincere “conversion� to Christianity (ironically, also a sincere attempt to make their American sponsors happy), the decision to travel across the country for the pleasure of living in a ghetto of fellow-exiles, plus the inevitable cross-cultural misunderstandings � deliberate and otherwise. I mean, all of that would tend to make one's return to one's home country more than “a cool vacation� � more like an attempt to find some peace in a world that hasn't given much peace voluntarily.
At times, this book reminded me of the genre (which I tend to associate with the British) I've heard called “comedy of embarrassment�, in which the hero is fairly, perhaps endearingly, dorky. This is not everybody's idea of a fun read. For example, the author, in spite of both a background as well as a family situation rife with unpleasantness, could reasonably be expected to know that, when you land at Narita airport in Toyko in the middle of the night, deciding to take the bicycle that you've just taken out of baggage claim and ride it right out of the terminal unto the highway is not a life-choice that is likely to yield a pleasant result. In fact, the temptation to rhetorically ask your ereader if this guy had the sense that God gave dirt is well-nigh irresistible.
Still, there's a part of human experience and human history which cannot be summed up in histories and memoirs of the great and powerful, and this book does a good job going into it. The story is really more than a cool vacation � it's an attempt to come to terms with a particularly difficult past. People who can't understand that lives like AX Pham's are more difficult than their own should probably try to acquire some of empathy by getting out more or, if not fond of interacting with the world, reading books with greater empathy.
August 12, 2023
A raw, searching memoir about Andrew Pham’s journey from Vietnam to the United States as a first-generation immigrant. There’s a lot of powerful reflection about identity in these pages and Pham travels back to Vietnam to try and understand his own cultural background more. I liked the honesty and detail about the hardship his family faced coming to the United States. Pham writes openly about the derision he faced when he went back to Vietnam as a Viet-Kieu (i.e., a foreign Vietnamese) while at the same time encountering some glorification/idealization of the West.
One aspect of this memoir that took me by surprise was Pham’s writing about his transgender brother. This book was published in 1999, and my sense is that even gay and lesbian identity, much less trans identity was barely getting covered then. Thus, I appreciated the earnestness in which Pham wrote about his trans brother as well as his other brothers who came out as gay. Pham’s trans brother died in a tragic way and I felt that Pham wrote honestly about his sorrow and heartbreak regarding his brother’s death. I think Pham did a nice job of portraying his family as multidimensional in general.
The writing in this memoir did feel a bit chaotic to me, some staccato prose and jumping around between description and images and dialogue even within the same scene or memory. Still, despite some of the difficulty I had with the writing, the content of this memoir felt valuable enough to me, especially as a second generation Vietnamese American, to give the book four stars.
One aspect of this memoir that took me by surprise was Pham’s writing about his transgender brother. This book was published in 1999, and my sense is that even gay and lesbian identity, much less trans identity was barely getting covered then. Thus, I appreciated the earnestness in which Pham wrote about his trans brother as well as his other brothers who came out as gay. Pham’s trans brother died in a tragic way and I felt that Pham wrote honestly about his sorrow and heartbreak regarding his brother’s death. I think Pham did a nice job of portraying his family as multidimensional in general.
The writing in this memoir did feel a bit chaotic to me, some staccato prose and jumping around between description and images and dialogue even within the same scene or memory. Still, despite some of the difficulty I had with the writing, the content of this memoir felt valuable enough to me, especially as a second generation Vietnamese American, to give the book four stars.
February 12, 2023
(Re-reviewed after a recent re-read, Jan 2021):
This will probably end up being the longest review I’ll ever write on GR, and without a doubt the most difficult. It still will only scratch the surface of my thoughts about the book, and despite its length, you’re getting the ruthlessly edited version.
Andrew Pham, writing in his second language, is an excellent memoirist. He turns his pitiless lens on himself, his family, his city and his past, and does a wonderful job describing the effects that war, flight and resettlement have on a people. What holds these people together throughout their travails is family; family also rips them apart in ways that nothing else could.
I have grown up in a more-or-less peaceful society in which a majority of people have some influence over the trajectory of their lives. This is an unimaginable luxury in some parts of the world, the war-torn Vietnam of the 20th century being a good example . Laid-back California is where a lot of these survivors have ended up, finding work and raising families. Vietnamese-Americans under the age of forty were generally born here, and have lives that are completely disconnected from those of their parents. The author is about my age, and most of the Vietnamese I’ve come to know are like him � people who fled Vietnam in childhood or as teenagers. It marks you.
* * *
Don’t be misled: This is a book filled with beauty. This is Pham, as a boy, eating a star-fruit: The fruit tasted sun-baked, for in full ripeness it was golden, the color of cloud-underbellies tickled by a slanting sun. It had a flowery texture halfway between a melon and an apple, though it was less substantial than either. Its juice was sharp, indecisive between sour and sweet, resulting in a dizzied tanginess that made me think of being out in the sun too long.(p. 57)
Later, he mentions high school girls in their impeccable white ao dai uniforms, “as pretty and perfect as unlit candles� (p. 75, photos mine)
Part of my problem reviewing this book has been my astonishing good luck in ending up in the California city that is home to the greatest number of Vietnamese in the United States. I have been deeply entangled with this community, and it cannot help but deepen the impact this book has on me. So I will hide my own personal stories behind spoilers marked ‘Personal�:
Personal
* * *
And now some examples of Pham's subject matter and writing style:
Two stories are told in sequence, and are deeply moving (pp. 247-267). The first is a family gathering following the death of Pham’s grandfather; forty-three people crammed into a small Silicon Valley house along with a mountain of food. Proceedings are presided over by two sparrow-sized grandmothers; eight members of the next generation, including the author’s parents, and finally the author and his myriads cousins, niece and nephews. The elders take their places in the dining room while everybody else loads their plates with wonderful food and wanders outside or in front of the television.
Among the elders, voices are raised and it soon devolves into a full meltdown, with one uncle ending up in the driveway, hurling rocks at the house and breaking windows. The argument is about money, respect of younger siblings towards older ones, and how men should “control their wives�. (Note: I personally have not seen much evidence that Vietnamese-American women are predisposed towards external control.)
In the next scene, we’re back in Vietnam, as Pham pedals between Nha Trang and Hanoi. Fevered, hungry, dehydrated and exhausted, he eventually is overtaken by an older man pedaling in the same direction. This man, we learn, has lost his right leg below the knee; he is riding one-legged and carrying a crutch. They fall into conversation and eventually the man invites Pham back to his home for dinner and his “beautiful villa� for a place to spend the night.
The older man prepares a meal of claypot fish:
The next morning, before Pham takes his leave, Tu talks about the war, the war which cost him his wife, his son, his leg:
It causes me pain to type these words. These are the people we bombed, to quote the war criminal Henry Kissinger, because we wanted “to kill the chicken to scare the monkey.�
Personal
I am really trying not to copy this entire book in blockquote form. But there are so many descriptions here that are crying out to be read:
Personal:
The book is written in the form of two linear narratives: One describing the author’s bicycle ride from San Francisco to Seattle, then a passage through Japan that could have been excised, and finally through the locations of his childhood in Vietnam. Interleaved with this story is a second, roughly linear story describing his happy childhood, the disruption of the Communist takeover, escape from the country and eventual resettlement in San Jose. Their integration into American life was � surprise, surprise � not without difficulty. Although they are two stories, they describe one life, and describe it in a manner that is deep and unforgettable.
Phuong aka 'Sophie' succumbed to cancer, age 52, on Aug. 19, 2022. May she find in the afterlife the peace that eluded her here.
This will probably end up being the longest review I’ll ever write on GR, and without a doubt the most difficult. It still will only scratch the surface of my thoughts about the book, and despite its length, you’re getting the ruthlessly edited version.
Andrew Pham, writing in his second language, is an excellent memoirist. He turns his pitiless lens on himself, his family, his city and his past, and does a wonderful job describing the effects that war, flight and resettlement have on a people. What holds these people together throughout their travails is family; family also rips them apart in ways that nothing else could.
I have grown up in a more-or-less peaceful society in which a majority of people have some influence over the trajectory of their lives. This is an unimaginable luxury in some parts of the world, the war-torn Vietnam of the 20th century being a good example . Laid-back California is where a lot of these survivors have ended up, finding work and raising families. Vietnamese-Americans under the age of forty were generally born here, and have lives that are completely disconnected from those of their parents. The author is about my age, and most of the Vietnamese I’ve come to know are like him � people who fled Vietnam in childhood or as teenagers. It marks you.
* * *
Don’t be misled: This is a book filled with beauty. This is Pham, as a boy, eating a star-fruit: The fruit tasted sun-baked, for in full ripeness it was golden, the color of cloud-underbellies tickled by a slanting sun. It had a flowery texture halfway between a melon and an apple, though it was less substantial than either. Its juice was sharp, indecisive between sour and sweet, resulting in a dizzied tanginess that made me think of being out in the sun too long.(p. 57)
Later, he mentions high school girls in their impeccable white ao dai uniforms, “as pretty and perfect as unlit candles� (p. 75, photos mine)
Part of my problem reviewing this book has been my astonishing good luck in ending up in the California city that is home to the greatest number of Vietnamese in the United States. I have been deeply entangled with this community, and it cannot help but deepen the impact this book has on me. So I will hide my own personal stories behind spoilers marked ‘Personal�:
Personal
* * *
And now some examples of Pham's subject matter and writing style:
Two stories are told in sequence, and are deeply moving (pp. 247-267). The first is a family gathering following the death of Pham’s grandfather; forty-three people crammed into a small Silicon Valley house along with a mountain of food. Proceedings are presided over by two sparrow-sized grandmothers; eight members of the next generation, including the author’s parents, and finally the author and his myriads cousins, niece and nephews. The elders take their places in the dining room while everybody else loads their plates with wonderful food and wanders outside or in front of the television.
Among the elders, voices are raised and it soon devolves into a full meltdown, with one uncle ending up in the driveway, hurling rocks at the house and breaking windows. The argument is about money, respect of younger siblings towards older ones, and how men should “control their wives�. (Note: I personally have not seen much evidence that Vietnamese-American women are predisposed towards external control.)
In the next scene, we’re back in Vietnam, as Pham pedals between Nha Trang and Hanoi. Fevered, hungry, dehydrated and exhausted, he eventually is overtaken by an older man pedaling in the same direction. This man, we learn, has lost his right leg below the knee; he is riding one-legged and carrying a crutch. They fall into conversation and eventually the man invites Pham back to his home for dinner and his “beautiful villa� for a place to spend the night.
Tu’s home is a hut. In the burlap-textured dusk, it rises above the rambling vegetable garden like a big bale of hay. It sits near a lake, fifteen minutes from the road. He leads me into his plot of heaven, going down well-tended rows of vegetables, poking his crutch at this and that the way people open windows and turn on lights. He palms the tomatoes ripening on the vines, prods the earth with his crutch, clicks his tongue, squashes a snail, and fingers the fat string beans dripping off the vines.
The older man prepares a meal of claypot fish:
The older the dish, the deeper the flavors, the more evenly the fish fat blends with the sauce of the carmelized palm sugar, cracked pepper, and chili. In Tu’s pot, I see he has splurged and added diced pork fat, whole red chilis, and scallions.
“Uncle, where is your family?�
“All gone, Nephew. Lot them in the War, wife and son.�
He spreads palm leaves on an end table, scoops out the rice into bowls for both of us. We wolf down our plebeian meal of catfish, rice, pickled firecracker eggplant with shrimp paste, and steamed string beans from his garden, polishing off every morsel. It is without a doubt one of the best meals I’ve had in Vietnam.
The next morning, before Pham takes his leave, Tu talks about the war, the war which cost him his wife, his son, his leg:
”No, I do not hate the American soldiers. Who are they? They were boys, as I was. They were themselves, but also part of a greater creature � the government. As was I. I can no more blame them than a fish I eat can be blamed for what I do..
“You see, their pond is America. Here, in these hills, in this jungle, they are food.
“Me, I am in my land. I am in my water. These hills where I’ve killed Vietnamese and Americans. I see these hills every day. I can make my peace with them. For Americans, it was an alien place then as it I an alien place to them now. The land took their spirit. I eat what grows out of this land and someday I will return all that I have taken from it. Here is my home, my birthland and my grave.
“Tell your friend in America. There is nothing to forgive. There is no hate in this land. No hate in my heart. I am a poor man, my home is a hut with a dirt floor, but he is welcome here. Come and I shall drink tea with him, welcome him like a brother.�
It causes me pain to type these words. These are the people we bombed, to quote the war criminal Henry Kissinger, because we wanted “to kill the chicken to scare the monkey.�
Personal
I am really trying not to copy this entire book in blockquote form. But there are so many descriptions here that are crying out to be read:
Mom comes from the old world, where mothers are lifelong housewives who expect to be near their children all their lives. Senior homes, retirement communities don’t exist in their vocabulary�.
�.She tries so hard I ache for her, this simple woman who takes pleasure nickeling the grocers for bargains, deals for the family. This woman who lets in every Mormon that comes by the house with pamphlets. This woman who makes egg rolls for cosmetic girls at the department store who give her free makeovers. This woman who eats cold leftovers standing in the kitchen alone because lunch in her household is too lonely. This woman whom we’ve shortchanged.
Personal:
The book is written in the form of two linear narratives: One describing the author’s bicycle ride from San Francisco to Seattle, then a passage through Japan that could have been excised, and finally through the locations of his childhood in Vietnam. Interleaved with this story is a second, roughly linear story describing his happy childhood, the disruption of the Communist takeover, escape from the country and eventual resettlement in San Jose. Their integration into American life was � surprise, surprise � not without difficulty. Although they are two stories, they describe one life, and describe it in a manner that is deep and unforgettable.
Phuong aka 'Sophie' succumbed to cancer, age 52, on Aug. 19, 2022. May she find in the afterlife the peace that eluded her here.
January 4, 2025
Ugh. I hate to end my reading year this way, but what is this book.
I was expecting to cycle from the US to Vietnam, but actually, there are a few planes being boarded here, and while that's OK, it didn't make a very interesting journey.
This centres around a young man whose family left Vietnam for the United States after the war and his epic return to the fatherland.
While the back story of the family is fairly interesting, the journey is a bit of a flop.
Two stars.
I was expecting to cycle from the US to Vietnam, but actually, there are a few planes being boarded here, and while that's OK, it didn't make a very interesting journey.
This centres around a young man whose family left Vietnam for the United States after the war and his epic return to the fatherland.
While the back story of the family is fairly interesting, the journey is a bit of a flop.
Two stars.
Read
January 10, 2024We have a lot of work to do on race in America. I'm exhausted just thinking about it, but as a white-as-you-can-get-without-bleach American I have to at least show up to read books like these. Because Americans of color and other ethnicities have to live through the brutality of it every day of their lives.
December 20, 2013
Andrew X. Pham’s Catfish and Mandala: A Two-Wheeled Voyage Through the Landscape and Memory of Vietnam tells the story of Andrew Pham, a young Vietnamese-American man who travels to his hometown in search of “finding himself� due to a conflict between his adoptive land and his native land. The book is based on a memoir that uses flashbacks during the war, when Pham’s family were imprisoned in Vietnam. However, escaping from Vietnam by boat, the family was able to start a new life in America. In search of Pham’s identity, he sets out on a bicycle voyage, facing obstacles and experiencing a sense of adventure, Pham tries to discover himself by comparing the American culture to the Vietnamese culture. Pham explores the grounds of Vietnam despite the guilt of his sister’s death, Chi who took her own life. The book examines the similarities of culture and family, which intertwines with the search for cultural identity.
A particularly memorable scene is early in the book when Pham tells a story of a starting family, Thong and Anh who lives in a shack in a back alley of a fishing town in Phan Thiet, Vietnam, struggling to support their first new-born baby. With no money to afford medicine, a doctor, or clothes to keep their baby warm, their little girl became too sick and eventually died during the night, not even a year old yet.
Ultimately, the story of Pham’s adventure in Vietnam helped him discover his true cultural identity, bicycling from one city to another, being overcharged for being a Viet-Kieu, and reminiscing about his family’s past. It all adds up to a tale of discovering one’s self, a reality check for all that makes us realize who we really are. Catfish and Mandala tells the story very uniquely, reminding us to stay true to yourself, an insight of never forgetting where you’ve come from.
During the course of my reading, not only was I able to enjoy the adventurous trip, but I was also able to spice up my geography skills, learning about the different cities, the history and the aftermath of the Vietnam War. As a Vietnamese-American myself, it’s shameful to say that I had no idea a city like Phan Thiet existed in Vietnam until I read this book. Following along the book, I had the chance to pick up the Vietnamese language as well as new vocabulary that I didn’t know beforehand.
From chapter to chapter, the bicycling expedition had me reflecting on myself. Catfish and Mandala had me question about my own true identity of whether or not I had lost my Vietnamese roots. To have the fortunate opportunity to live the “American Dream,� adapting to the English language was essential which made me forget my native language. Because of this book, it got me thinking of traveling solo to Vietnam in the future to regain my cultural identity, just like how Pham did.
I would definitely recommend this book because I believe it showcases a lot of emotional flashbacks and realistic events that everyone can relate to, especially from one Vietnamese-American to the next. Pham shares his bicycling trip to Vietnam to show his readers the country he grew up in, a place not only where he was born in, but where he came to visit to find his Vietnamese roots. The book gives the reader a sensational, imaginative ride to travel alongside with the author as each chapter is read, which, in my opinion, is something not many books can give to a reader.
May 1, 2021
Andrew X. (An) Pham is a great storyteller! Raw truth, and very intense! His story goes back and forth through 2 or 3 time periods is the only reason I didn't give it the 5-stars. I'm just not too fond of the switching back and forth too many times. But, every part of it was AMAZING!
This book caused a riff between his parents and himself for quite a few years because it also revealed a lot about his dysfunctional family, which is the very reason he needed to go back to his home country to find answers. You literally get the feel of the people and the culture of Vietnam in the 1990’s when he made his tour from Saigon to Hanoi, visiting the place he was born and lived, his family’s home in Saigon and his grandmother’s home in Phan Thiet, the prison where they were kept for a month by the Viet Congs, the refugee camp where he, his mom and siblings lived for 1-1/2 years while his father was in the harsh Viet Cong Prison Camp, and finally the birth place of his father in Hanoi. But, it was all gone. There was nothing left...out with the old and in with the new.
What he did find was extreme poverty, and beggars and swindlers everywhere he turned. At times he even felt ashamed of the behavior of his people, but then realized that this kind of extreme poverty really is all about survival. But, it also seemed that the Vietnamese had also lost their compassion for humanity in their attempt to survive in a communist society. Even though Vietnam was liberated from Viet Cong in 1977, it still remained pretty much a communist country.
America pulled out of the Vietnam War in 1972, and three years later, in 1975, Saigon fell to Viet Cong. Andrew was 8 years old when he saw people running for their lives as Viet Congs came in with their guns, killing people. Worthless money, bikes, food, anything you could imagine lay in the streets. People were running for the bay where American ships were waiting to take them out. His family packed and headed out of Saigon to Phan Thiet and lived with his grandmother for a while. It would be another two years before his father, who was captured and held in a Viet Cong prison camp, escaped and joined the family in Phan Thiet. He stayed hidden in the attic until they devised an escape plan to America.
Now an American Vietnamese, Andrew says he has faced racism here in America, growing up and while on the road with his bike. But, when he went back to Vietnam, it seemed there was even greater racism against him because the Vietnamese hate “Viet-kieu�...American Vietnamese traitors. Everyone tried to swindle more money from him, from eateries to motels, beggars, even the new “friends� sometimes demanded to be compensated. Especially bad were the cops in Vietnam. Extortionist to the Nth degree...much like Mexican cops in Mexico. It didn’t matter what it was. You were going to jail if you didn’t slip them some money. Period! Many times he had to use his wits to get out of some serious brawls with the drunken Vietnamese men. This was one crazy adventure!
I can’t wait to read some more of Andrew’s works, “The Eaves of Heaven: A Life in Three Wars� (2009). On top of majoring in Engineer, Andrew dropped out of that rat race for biking and writing. He was even a Food Critic for five years, and I have found that he has a small cookbook out called “The Culinary Odyssey: My Cookbook Diary of Travels, Flavors, and Memories of Southeast Asia� (2012). It was only $2.99, an ebook on Amazon. I am in the process of testing a few recipes now. So far, I'm very impressed but having a hardtime finding ingredients for a few of the recipes.
Today, in 2021, Andrew would be about 54 years old. I sure hope he is feeling more at home here in America by now. Wikipedia shows he has a web page and Facebook page, but it doesn’t look like he has kept either one of them up. You can still access his web page and read a little more about him and see a few more family photos here at:
----------
P. 203: "Egg-milk" - whisk 1 egg yolk with sugar until foamy (5 minutes), then pour hot soy milk over it in mug. A little Vietnamese girl was selling this on the side of the road in one of the towns. Andrew's mother used to make this for him when he was young and couldn't sleep. NOTE: I actually tried this with coconut milk instead of soy milk. I whipped the egg yolk with 2 tsps. white sugar for 5 minutes, then added hot 3/4 c. lite coconut milk. OMG! DELICIOUS!!! It's a keeper!
This book caused a riff between his parents and himself for quite a few years because it also revealed a lot about his dysfunctional family, which is the very reason he needed to go back to his home country to find answers. You literally get the feel of the people and the culture of Vietnam in the 1990’s when he made his tour from Saigon to Hanoi, visiting the place he was born and lived, his family’s home in Saigon and his grandmother’s home in Phan Thiet, the prison where they were kept for a month by the Viet Congs, the refugee camp where he, his mom and siblings lived for 1-1/2 years while his father was in the harsh Viet Cong Prison Camp, and finally the birth place of his father in Hanoi. But, it was all gone. There was nothing left...out with the old and in with the new.
What he did find was extreme poverty, and beggars and swindlers everywhere he turned. At times he even felt ashamed of the behavior of his people, but then realized that this kind of extreme poverty really is all about survival. But, it also seemed that the Vietnamese had also lost their compassion for humanity in their attempt to survive in a communist society. Even though Vietnam was liberated from Viet Cong in 1977, it still remained pretty much a communist country.
America pulled out of the Vietnam War in 1972, and three years later, in 1975, Saigon fell to Viet Cong. Andrew was 8 years old when he saw people running for their lives as Viet Congs came in with their guns, killing people. Worthless money, bikes, food, anything you could imagine lay in the streets. People were running for the bay where American ships were waiting to take them out. His family packed and headed out of Saigon to Phan Thiet and lived with his grandmother for a while. It would be another two years before his father, who was captured and held in a Viet Cong prison camp, escaped and joined the family in Phan Thiet. He stayed hidden in the attic until they devised an escape plan to America.
Now an American Vietnamese, Andrew says he has faced racism here in America, growing up and while on the road with his bike. But, when he went back to Vietnam, it seemed there was even greater racism against him because the Vietnamese hate “Viet-kieu�...American Vietnamese traitors. Everyone tried to swindle more money from him, from eateries to motels, beggars, even the new “friends� sometimes demanded to be compensated. Especially bad were the cops in Vietnam. Extortionist to the Nth degree...much like Mexican cops in Mexico. It didn’t matter what it was. You were going to jail if you didn’t slip them some money. Period! Many times he had to use his wits to get out of some serious brawls with the drunken Vietnamese men. This was one crazy adventure!
I can’t wait to read some more of Andrew’s works, “The Eaves of Heaven: A Life in Three Wars� (2009). On top of majoring in Engineer, Andrew dropped out of that rat race for biking and writing. He was even a Food Critic for five years, and I have found that he has a small cookbook out called “The Culinary Odyssey: My Cookbook Diary of Travels, Flavors, and Memories of Southeast Asia� (2012). It was only $2.99, an ebook on Amazon. I am in the process of testing a few recipes now. So far, I'm very impressed but having a hardtime finding ingredients for a few of the recipes.
Today, in 2021, Andrew would be about 54 years old. I sure hope he is feeling more at home here in America by now. Wikipedia shows he has a web page and Facebook page, but it doesn’t look like he has kept either one of them up. You can still access his web page and read a little more about him and see a few more family photos here at:
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P. 203: "Egg-milk" - whisk 1 egg yolk with sugar until foamy (5 minutes), then pour hot soy milk over it in mug. A little Vietnamese girl was selling this on the side of the road in one of the towns. Andrew's mother used to make this for him when he was young and couldn't sleep. NOTE: I actually tried this with coconut milk instead of soy milk. I whipped the egg yolk with 2 tsps. white sugar for 5 minutes, then added hot 3/4 c. lite coconut milk. OMG! DELICIOUS!!! It's a keeper!
March 23, 2014
Vietnamese-American Andrew Pham writes about his search for cultural identity in a book that is both a memoir and a biking travelogue. He remembers the fall of Saigon, his father's imprisonment in a communist reeducation camp, and the family's escape from Vietnam in a leaky fishing boat when he was a ten-year-old. After a stay in an Indonesian refugee camp, the family came to the United States and eventually settled in California. Although he recognizes the sacrifices made by his parents, he also recounts how the Pham children were subjected to his father's temper and beatings. The suicide of his transgendered sibling was the impetus for Andrew Pham's journey of self-discovery.
The author quit his job as an aerospace engineer, and traveled by bike up the Pacific Coast, through Japan, and up the length of Vietnam. He visited important places in his family's history and found them completely changed. While he had some enjoyable times, he also saw terrible poverty and extreme corruption. Dysentery was an unwelcome companion over part of the trip. He weaves together two story lines--about his family and about his bike trip.
He was called "Viet-kieu" (foreign Vietnamese) in Vietnam, a slur by people who envy his success. In America, he also feels like an outsider. He experiences survivor guilt, explores his roots, and feels the pull of two cultures. He still seems to be searching at the book's end--and maybe it will be a lifelong search--for who he is. Laced with adventure and humor, this was an engaging story that held my interest.
The author quit his job as an aerospace engineer, and traveled by bike up the Pacific Coast, through Japan, and up the length of Vietnam. He visited important places in his family's history and found them completely changed. While he had some enjoyable times, he also saw terrible poverty and extreme corruption. Dysentery was an unwelcome companion over part of the trip. He weaves together two story lines--about his family and about his bike trip.
He was called "Viet-kieu" (foreign Vietnamese) in Vietnam, a slur by people who envy his success. In America, he also feels like an outsider. He experiences survivor guilt, explores his roots, and feels the pull of two cultures. He still seems to be searching at the book's end--and maybe it will be a lifelong search--for who he is. Laced with adventure and humor, this was an engaging story that held my interest.
December 11, 2008
This book created a clear image of post-war Vietnam, but while I enjoyed following Pham's travels, I never became truly engaged with the book. Although the author constantly reiterated his deep and troubling ambivalence about his native land, his struggle failed to grab my heart. The book contained some scenes that were theoretically poignant and wrenching, but I just didn't think Pham's writing was strong enough to break through the screen of journalistic observation and actually convey authentic emotion.
February 19, 2019
I remember Tien asking me if I thought someday I could take my own life as Chi had done. Could you do it, Andrew, if everyone you loved had forsaken you—no hope left, nothing to live for? Maybe, I told him, I don’t know but I always think I have one last ticket, one last hand to gamble. What would you do then before you die? I’d walk out the door to destinations unknown, spending the sum of my breaths in one extravagant gesture. (Loc. 493-496)When your older sister-brother hangs himself after having run away from home more than 14 years earlier, what do you do? If you are Andrew Pham, you bike up the west coast of the US, fly to Japan, then bike throughout Japan and Vietnam. Pham describes this journey in Catfish and Mandala: A Two-wheeled Voyage Through the Landscape and Memory of Vietnam.
To be fair, Pham's journey was motivated by many confusing things that needed to be put to rest: war and starvation; his family's journey by boat from Vietnam in 1975 and their unlikely rescue; his beloved older sister's running away and later return as a man; Minh's suicide; the generational abuse that threaded throughout and damaged the family; his search for a home in a country that said he didn't belong.
In the US, Pham was "Chink, gook, Jap, Charlie, GO HOME, SLANT-EYES!" (Loc. 107). Any white face could be a face of violence—a quiet fear we live with (Loc. 584-585). In Vietnam, he was accused of being Viet-kieu (foreign Vietnamese), threatened with violence. As one Vietnamese cousin said: “Viet-kieu’s fickleness causes a lot of problems. Refusing to eat the same food as your hosts makes them think that you think you’re too good for them. Their food is filthy, unfit for you� (Loc. 1272-1273).
Shame and guilt circle around Pham: guilt for not being there for Chi-Minh, for not having volunteered to work with runaways or the homeless, shame for having been luckier than any of the "more deserving" Vietnamese he met in his travels: In this Vietnamese muck, I am too American. Too refined, too removed from my que, my birth village. The sight of my roots repulses me. And this shames me deeply. (Loc. 2850-2851)
This could be a peculiarly Vietnamese (or Vietnamese–American) story, but most of us have experienced something outside our realm of understanding � suicide, abuse, violence, bullying, grief –and need to discover some way of putting it at rest. Pham does so by interweaving descriptions of his travels with many descriptions of food, eating, and loose bowels; childhood memories (watching over his father in prison camp; exploring his hometown, Phan Thiet; expecting to drown in their escape from Vietnam); and his long ago and recent past in the US. His stories sometimes feel like a broken necklace, where not all of the beads are found and threaded together. I swear that he didn't complete some stories � but isn't that the nature of memory?
Talking about things may not make all memories lie flat and clean (and this is not a flat and clean review), but it can help make more sense. Pham was able to hear his father's lamentations about not being a better father: “I didn’t know better. It is the Vietnamese way. You beat your children if you love them. You beat them to show them the right way to live. You beat them to let them know they are important to you.� (Loc. 4980-4982)
“What will you do in America?� Son asks, reverting back to English as he usually does when he is serious.Kindle edition: About 80% of my reading is on my kindle, which I love for its light weight and convenience, easy searches through a book, and effortless reading at night. However, when I read classics, the editions often have transcription errors. My version of Ellison's Invisible Man was completely unreadable. Unfortunately, even though Catfish and Mandala was first published in 1999, it had many small errors that marred its story.
The answer falls on me, a drop of water from a blue sky: “Be a better American.� (Loc. 5262-5264)
May 10, 2012
I found this memoir last week while browsing in a used bookstore. I'm ashamed to say this was my first book about the Vietnam War from the perspective of a Vietnamese. Pham's is the story of a refugee's return to Vietnam in the early 1990s, shortly after the country became open to tourists. Pham, as a young man in his 20s, takes a bike trip around the country hoping to gain insight into his past and to gain perspective on what he has come to view as the dysfunction that is his family. From the first,he is dismayed at the poverty he witnesses and resentful of the people, many of whom treat him as a rich traitor--a Viet-kieu-- who deserves to be fleeced like any rich tourist. In exquisite, often grueling detail, he weaves these travel stories with his memories--of his childhood years in Saigon,of his family's escape,and of refugeee life in California. Slowly, buried in the daily grind of surviving on the road, emerges the story of the particular tragedy of the Pham family. Awarded the Pacific Rim Book Prize of 1999, Pham's memoir is among the best I have read, both for its courageous honesty and engaging prose.
August 10, 2008
Vietnam seems to be calling me recently. The graphic novel of "Artemis Fowl" startles me with its opening depiction of the central market in Saigon. A student researches Nixon's presidency and the fall of Saigon. I read "Tree of Smoke," and go to the internet to pull up maps, pictures and stories of Saigon, its surroundings, and the larger Mekong delta region, to look at the places I saw so many years ago (1969-1970). I am drawn into this work, on a summer reading list for another student. Pham seamlessly interweaves who he is today (bravely exposing his flaws), his homeland as he tours it, mostly by bike, and his family's troubled history and extraordinary escape as boat people, with insight and humor. While recommending the book to another Vietnamese expatriate, the father of one my students, he tells me about his own amazing journey to America, just as harrowing and dramatic as that of Pham's. And he lends me a DVD of the excellent and moving movie about the boat people, "Journey from the Fall." Read the book; see the movie.
September 23, 2009
And ŷ eats another review ... sigh.
Short version: an excellent account of the author's exploration of what it means to be both Vietnamese and American. Pham's quest to find himself reveals enormous insight into both Vietnamese and American culture; it helps that he is an excellent writer and pays no heed to political correctness -- there is no sugarcoating in Catfish and Mandala.
This ... this is what travel writing should be.
Short version: an excellent account of the author's exploration of what it means to be both Vietnamese and American. Pham's quest to find himself reveals enormous insight into both Vietnamese and American culture; it helps that he is an excellent writer and pays no heed to political correctness -- there is no sugarcoating in Catfish and Mandala.
This ... this is what travel writing should be.
November 17, 2015
2.5 stars
April 25, 2014
I loved this book! Found it in a hotel in Hanoi, it was the perfect book to read as I returned home and reflected on our trip. Pham captures the rawness, beauty, chaos, and striving that characterized my brief visit better than I ever could. His own story is remarkable: escaped Vietnam with his family after the war, boat nearly sank, refugee in America, growing up in a rough neighborhood, family drama and trauma, and of course his journeys peddling through mexico, the Pacific coast of the us, and finally, Vietnam. His writing was beautiful and I felt, deeply, his story of such a necessary journey.
Some descriptions I like:
"I try to explain to her about life in America. And that I don't know her. I try not to let my disappointment show. I come searching for truths, hoping for redeeming grace, a touch of gentility. But, no. The abrasiveness of Saigon has stripped away my protective layers. I am raw and bare and I ask myself, Who are these strangers? These Vietnamese, these wanting-wanting-wanting-wanting people. The bitter bile of finding a world I don't remember colors my disconsolate reconciliation between my Saigon of Old and their muddy-grubby Saigon of Now. Saigon gnaws at me . . . its noise . . . its uncompromising want . . . its constant . . . Mememememememememememememe . . ."
. . .
"Could I tell Calvin I was initiated into the American heaven during my first week Stateside by eight black kids who pulverized me in the restroom, calling me Viet Cong? . . . Although we often pretend to be modest and humble as we preen our successful immigrant stories, we rarely admit even to ourselves the circumstances and the cost of our being here. We elude it all like a petty theft committed ages ago. When convenient, we take it as restitution for what happened to Vietnam."
In the end, Pham realizes just how "home" America really is-- imperfections and all. I've been happy to feel similarly when returning from my travels, as much as I love being away.
"But now, I miss the white, the black, the red, the brown faces of America. I miss their varied shapes, their tumultuous diversity, their idealistic search for racial equality, their bumbling but wonderful pioneering spirit. I miss English words in my ears, miss the way the language rolled off my tongue so naturally. I miss its poetry. Somewhere along the way, my search for roots became my search for home-- a place I know best even though there are those who would have me believe otherwise."
Some descriptions I like:
"I try to explain to her about life in America. And that I don't know her. I try not to let my disappointment show. I come searching for truths, hoping for redeeming grace, a touch of gentility. But, no. The abrasiveness of Saigon has stripped away my protective layers. I am raw and bare and I ask myself, Who are these strangers? These Vietnamese, these wanting-wanting-wanting-wanting people. The bitter bile of finding a world I don't remember colors my disconsolate reconciliation between my Saigon of Old and their muddy-grubby Saigon of Now. Saigon gnaws at me . . . its noise . . . its uncompromising want . . . its constant . . . Mememememememememememememe . . ."
. . .
"Could I tell Calvin I was initiated into the American heaven during my first week Stateside by eight black kids who pulverized me in the restroom, calling me Viet Cong? . . . Although we often pretend to be modest and humble as we preen our successful immigrant stories, we rarely admit even to ourselves the circumstances and the cost of our being here. We elude it all like a petty theft committed ages ago. When convenient, we take it as restitution for what happened to Vietnam."
In the end, Pham realizes just how "home" America really is-- imperfections and all. I've been happy to feel similarly when returning from my travels, as much as I love being away.
"But now, I miss the white, the black, the red, the brown faces of America. I miss their varied shapes, their tumultuous diversity, their idealistic search for racial equality, their bumbling but wonderful pioneering spirit. I miss English words in my ears, miss the way the language rolled off my tongue so naturally. I miss its poetry. Somewhere along the way, my search for roots became my search for home-- a place I know best even though there are those who would have me believe otherwise."
March 31, 2009
This book was slow to grow on me; Pham's style of writing seemed choppy at first - it jumped points in time quickly, without much in the way of description. But, as you get into the book, and, of course, when he gets to Vietnam, the story really comes to life. This may simply be because of my own time spent in Vietnam a couple of years ago. His sparse descriptions of life in Saigon and Hanoi evoked my own memories of time spent in those cities. In the end, I came to enjoy his quick descriptions and choppy sentences; I don't necessarily think with correct grammar either, and this is a book about a man and his bicycle.
About halfway through, I started asking myself what the mandala was. Where is it? Why isn't it mentioned at all in the book? My basic understanding of a mandala was that of a visual representation of the universe and life itself. It's circular and vast, building upon its own inner layers. As I thought about this, I realized that more than anything else, his bike represented the mandala. The wheels brought him full-circle - from America to Vietnam. The journey allowed him to relieve all of the guilt and shame that came with his particular life story: the difficulty adjusting to life in America, coping with being a first son that doesn't live up to expectations, and the suicide of his sister. The constant spinning of his tires brings all these up to the surface and back down again - joy and grief, pleasure and pain, shame and pride. Each one surfaces again and again, and, in the end, he can finally come to terms with the good and bad of every action and decision that led him back to Vietnam.
About halfway through, I started asking myself what the mandala was. Where is it? Why isn't it mentioned at all in the book? My basic understanding of a mandala was that of a visual representation of the universe and life itself. It's circular and vast, building upon its own inner layers. As I thought about this, I realized that more than anything else, his bike represented the mandala. The wheels brought him full-circle - from America to Vietnam. The journey allowed him to relieve all of the guilt and shame that came with his particular life story: the difficulty adjusting to life in America, coping with being a first son that doesn't live up to expectations, and the suicide of his sister. The constant spinning of his tires brings all these up to the surface and back down again - joy and grief, pleasure and pain, shame and pride. Each one surfaces again and again, and, in the end, he can finally come to terms with the good and bad of every action and decision that led him back to Vietnam.
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
February 19, 2011
Catfish and Mandala is a lovely book. I read it slowly so it wouldn't end. From the first page, I was engrossed in the story of one man's attempt to make sense of his past and his present by integrating the two parts with a return trip to Vietnam, twenty years after his family fled. A gifted storyteller, Pham describes unflinchingly the details of his childhood in Vietnam, family life in a traditional Vietnamese family, the struggles of being an immigrant in southern California and the poverty and corruption and sweetness of modern Vietnam. Reading this account while traveling through Vietnam as a first-time visitor, it feels like Pham got it just right. He describes his adventures as a viet-kieu (expatriated Vietnamese) with the voice of an insider looking at it from the outside - and the result is very compelling. I was happy to find it among the collection of badly photocopied books available from a Hanoi street vendor...
May 20, 2011
This was a moving and engaging memoir. Mr. Pham is very skilled at vivid description and is careful not to over-sentimentalize the often deeply personal subject matter. He is honest about his family and about his own feelings in a way that is highly admirable. His quest to explore his own identity is something that many people can relate to. Although his situation is rather specific, the book deals with themes that are fairly universal. I would strongly recommend this title to anyone that enjoys being entertained while having your own judgments logically challenged.
June 30, 2013
I liked this book. I would have loved this book except that after "Eat, Pray, Love" and "Wild" it is one more memoir in which the author takes an exotic journey to "find himself."
In this case, Andrew Pham bicycles through Vietnam in search of his cultural roots. Along the way we are introduced to his family and a past that includes abuse, scandal, shame, and regret. Pham was a boy when his family emigrated from Vietnam via a rickety fishing boat in the middle of the night. He is in his mid- to late-20s when he returns retracing his steps to his eventual escape, trying to come to terms with the world he left behind.
The food scenes were among my favorite passages. Clearly food is a memory trigger for Pham and those passages were my favorite.
I wish I'd read this before "Eat, Pray, Love" and "Wild" because the author writes well and his story is compelling. (And I think I like this book better than either of those.) I hate to say that reading other books in the same genre diminishes this one because this one isn't like the others exactly, but it was close enough in theme to give me deja vu. And I don't think that's the kind of mandala the author was referring to in his title.
In this case, Andrew Pham bicycles through Vietnam in search of his cultural roots. Along the way we are introduced to his family and a past that includes abuse, scandal, shame, and regret. Pham was a boy when his family emigrated from Vietnam via a rickety fishing boat in the middle of the night. He is in his mid- to late-20s when he returns retracing his steps to his eventual escape, trying to come to terms with the world he left behind.
The food scenes were among my favorite passages. Clearly food is a memory trigger for Pham and those passages were my favorite.
I wish I'd read this before "Eat, Pray, Love" and "Wild" because the author writes well and his story is compelling. (And I think I like this book better than either of those.) I hate to say that reading other books in the same genre diminishes this one because this one isn't like the others exactly, but it was close enough in theme to give me deja vu. And I don't think that's the kind of mandala the author was referring to in his title.
February 22, 2023
though i appreciate pham's prose and his frankness in airing out his family's dirty laundry, i think i would've liked this more if it were fiction. but b/c it's real life, and there's only so much self-reflection, vulnerability, and even embellishment a writer can and is willing to share, the narrative is limited to what "actually" happened and what figurative (or philosophical/moral/existential) meanings we can retroactively derive from and attribute to what are mostly random occurrences in the grand chaos of life. and i'm not sure i agree with or like the conclusions pham came to throughout and at the end of his two-wheeled journey: a concoction of two parts self-loathing, two parts "not asian enough but not american enough either" identity issues, one part passive support of western hegemony, a hefty spoonful of entitlement, and a dash of misogyny that left a lingering, sour taste in my mouth.
also, i think we, as immigrants and their descendants, need to get past this delusion of "finding one's cultural identity" by returning/visiting the motherland. culture, identity, and self are not stagnant things with a singular source; they are ever-changing and adaptive, a tangled web of many threads. pham wanted a nice little bow to tie off his complex, multi-faceted struggles and tried too hard to make one. sometimes there isn't a revelation at the end. in real life that's okay.
also, i think we, as immigrants and their descendants, need to get past this delusion of "finding one's cultural identity" by returning/visiting the motherland. culture, identity, and self are not stagnant things with a singular source; they are ever-changing and adaptive, a tangled web of many threads. pham wanted a nice little bow to tie off his complex, multi-faceted struggles and tried too hard to make one. sometimes there isn't a revelation at the end. in real life that's okay.
October 16, 2011
This was another book I read to prepare for my trip to Vietnam. I don't think my experience will be anything like Pham's since he is a Viet-kieu (a Vietnamese who lives in the United States) and I am a white American. Also I don't plan to ride a bike from Hanoi south.
However, this book did make me think about the tourist experience. Of course, I bring my own biases to my trip. So I need to stay aware of those biases and try not to let them influence my views of the Vietnamese people too much. I want to be open to the culture and peoples of Vietnam.
Pham, even though he was born in South Vietnam, brought his own life experiences with him. His description of some of the food and his reactions to the poverty and dirt sound American to me. I hope that my stomach does not have the same reaction to the food as Pham's did. I don't want to gain weight, but I don't want to lose a lot because of stomach distress.
All in all, this was a good read: well written, interesting and insightful. I am glad that I encountered Pham, his family and learned a bit about Vietnam in the process.
However, this book did make me think about the tourist experience. Of course, I bring my own biases to my trip. So I need to stay aware of those biases and try not to let them influence my views of the Vietnamese people too much. I want to be open to the culture and peoples of Vietnam.
Pham, even though he was born in South Vietnam, brought his own life experiences with him. His description of some of the food and his reactions to the poverty and dirt sound American to me. I hope that my stomach does not have the same reaction to the food as Pham's did. I don't want to gain weight, but I don't want to lose a lot because of stomach distress.
All in all, this was a good read: well written, interesting and insightful. I am glad that I encountered Pham, his family and learned a bit about Vietnam in the process.
September 21, 2012
This book added more fuel to a fire I had to bike across Vietnam. (Someday, when I'm gray.) However Catfish and Mandala is more than cultural travelogue. Mr. Pham so eloquently ponders the complicated experience of never quite finding "home". An immigrant to the United States when he was a child, a trip to his parents' homeland was meant to be a reconnection with his roots. Sadly, a need for belonging felt keenly during his transplanted American childhood is never fully satisfied upon his return to Vietnam.
In my tiny opinion, Mr. Pham is so unfairly blessed with fearless talent and rebellious intellect that he might be too smart for his own good. He's also biked across Mexico and Japan, built his own home by hand, pursued a dual degree in aerospace engineering along with his Masters degree in writing, and published a cookbook. A mind such as his, endlessly examines the complex cultural ironies and shades of meaning in the smallest details. It made for a bittersweet read and his view of the world is utterly unique.
In my tiny opinion, Mr. Pham is so unfairly blessed with fearless talent and rebellious intellect that he might be too smart for his own good. He's also biked across Mexico and Japan, built his own home by hand, pursued a dual degree in aerospace engineering along with his Masters degree in writing, and published a cookbook. A mind such as his, endlessly examines the complex cultural ironies and shades of meaning in the smallest details. It made for a bittersweet read and his view of the world is utterly unique.
January 20, 2014
Andrew Pham has written an intensely honest book about his life in both Vietnam where he was born, and in the United States of America to where he and his family migrated to in the 1980s. Having graduated and worked as an engineer he decides to leave everything behind and commence a bicycle trip on the west coast of USA and from there fly to Asia, and then to Vietnam and travel the length of his country of origin on his bike. He relies on his personal skills to survive with little money, but it is not an easy trip. He encounters many difficulties and setbacks and this provides the framework for weaving together through flashback and circumstances the life of his family during the downfall of South Vietnam, the experiences of living within the Communist regime, and escaping as boat people and finally migrating. The book provides a great insight as to how difficult it is for a family to migrate and try to integrate into a totally foreign environment. There are some successes, numerous failures and at times a great sadness. A worthwhile read.
June 10, 2007
Non-fiction. Memoir, travelogue, and history. Andrew X. Pham leaves his life in the US to ride his bicycle through Vietnam, the country where he was born, the country that put his father into a labor camp, the country that forced his family to flee to America when he was ten years old.
This took me a while to read because it was a difficult book. Not difficult to read -- it was almost too easy to read, Pham's humor and lyricism made his ride through Vietnam so accessible I could feel its beauty as easily as I could feel its poverty and corruption, but that was the problem. I could only read a few chapters at a time before I got too depressed to go on. It's an excellent book, well written, descriptive, and painful. As a warning, it does deal with suicide, gender issues, torture, and forced internment. Also gastrointestinal distress. It was hard to read, but worth the discomfort.
Four stars for its beautiful language and storytelling.
This took me a while to read because it was a difficult book. Not difficult to read -- it was almost too easy to read, Pham's humor and lyricism made his ride through Vietnam so accessible I could feel its beauty as easily as I could feel its poverty and corruption, but that was the problem. I could only read a few chapters at a time before I got too depressed to go on. It's an excellent book, well written, descriptive, and painful. As a warning, it does deal with suicide, gender issues, torture, and forced internment. Also gastrointestinal distress. It was hard to read, but worth the discomfort.
Four stars for its beautiful language and storytelling.
October 18, 2020
What a dreary, narcissistic book this is! Here he is, in one of those most interesting travel destinations on earth, a place that challenges and inverts the ideas of any Westerner whose history meshes with Vietnam because of the Vietnam war, and all he does is moan about himself. Coming from the wealthiest country on the planet, he has the temerity to scorn their energetic efforts to improve their pitiful standard of living: he thinks they're too interested in making money. He hasn't made the slightest effort to learn about the history and culture of the country before arriving, and he doesn't learn a thing while he's there.
Don't bother.
Don't bother.
June 9, 2013
I read this many years ago, around the time it first came out. From what I remember the language is beautiful. It is heartfelt and touching, yet somehow still remaining distant. I feel this is the point. After all, no matter how close humans get to figuring our own lives and humanity out, we never receive full disclosure, do we?
Sometimes I wonder if I went overseas to the places of my ancestors would I feel more at home? Would I find some lost part of my self that I left there? Would I make more sense to myself?
This type of personal searching and eloquent language (some thought provoking lines and beautiful descriptions) are what I remember from reading it long, long ago.
August 23, 2018
Loved it!
It occurs to me that this is my first travelogue! Anyways, I'm not sure why I wasn't drawn to this genre before, but if this is what travel writing is about - I'm completely hooked.
My rating is likely influenced by the fact that I've spent a lot of time in Vietnam this year, and finished the book in one of it's cafes. But beyond that, I felt the writing was fantastic and the identity crisis at its heart was truly engaging. I have a much richer understanding of Vietnam, and the struggle for Vietnamese Americans following the war.
As an aside - I think the entire section on Japan could have easily been skipped.
It occurs to me that this is my first travelogue! Anyways, I'm not sure why I wasn't drawn to this genre before, but if this is what travel writing is about - I'm completely hooked.
My rating is likely influenced by the fact that I've spent a lot of time in Vietnam this year, and finished the book in one of it's cafes. But beyond that, I felt the writing was fantastic and the identity crisis at its heart was truly engaging. I have a much richer understanding of Vietnam, and the struggle for Vietnamese Americans following the war.
As an aside - I think the entire section on Japan could have easily been skipped.
March 26, 2014
overall a very well written book that takes you through Andrew Pham's journey for self identity, rediscovering his past all the while trying to come to grips with his life and family in the US. The chapters alternate between his past and present, which keeps you hooked. His descriptions and adventures through Vietnam are very vivid and has even helped me understand the culture and etiquette of Vietnam more thoroughly, I highly recommend it.
July 14, 2018
While leading a summer community service trip throughout Vietnam, this felt like the perfect companion memoir for the long flights and bus rides throughout the country. I expected this book to be a bit more about his bicycle adventure throughout Vietnam, which only sort of ebbed and flowed as the main theme. But Pham dealt with his personal and family cultural identity in this book, as he does not quite feel wholly American nor Vietnamese.
September 3, 2023
Deep and thought provoking 🫡❣️🤘
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