
In a letter to his mother, Little Dog shares his story, his experience as the son of a Vietnamese woman who has lived through a terrible war, and has come to America with her own mother who has also suffered greatly. Little Dog communicates his own trauma, growing up in an abusive and impoverished household. When he falls in love with his coworker, as a teenager, it is the first time he feels seen, appreciated for who he really is. We learn how this both opens up his world and creates more heartache for Little Dog.
I am conflicted over this book. On one hand, the writing is extraordinarily poetic. The language is, at times, beautiful – creating images, experiences for the reader that are vivid and tactile. Little Dog relays tender moments with his grandmother, who seeks beauty where she can find it. He paints terrifying scenes of abuse at the hands of his mother.
On the other hand, the author also jumps from timeline to timeline, from narrative to narrative – occasionally within the very same paragraph – and it is incredibly confusing to follow. We never know if the next sentence will refer to a time in Vietnam or in Hartford, CT, if it will be describing a scene he has experienced or something his grandmother has survived. The subject/story line shifts as frequently as the pages turn. I appreciate a volley between perspectives, dates; but here it happens without any transition and much too often. It is just too confusing.
There is, underneath it all, a powerful story of generational trauma. But it is quite a bit of work to get there.







