Catfish and Mandala

WARNING: SPOILERS AHEAD.

Henceforth, these book reports will be a time-saving device. You need not read entire books anymore. Read these condensed versions instead. You'll have that much more time for your own blog.

Today I read, "Catfish and Mandala", by Andrew X. Pham, published in 1999.

This book is the memoir of An, a Vietnamese native whose family escaped to California from Vietnam in the spring of 1975, just before Saigon fell. He alternates chapters describing his family's history, and his bike trip.

He was the firstborn son. He had one older sister and two younger brothers and a younger sister. The older sister never felt right about her gender-identity. She was rebellious, and ultimately killed herself at 32. An must deal with his racial identity.

An was born in Vietnam, but has mixed Asian blood, so he looks different from everyone. When he returns to Vietnam in his twenties on his bike trip, having been Westernized, he is called the derogatory term, "Viet-kieu". He flies to, and then cycles through most of the country, to revisit his childhood memories and motherland. He is not used to the unsanitary conditions, and is ill most of the time.

An speaks Vietnamese and is used to the culture, but he still must endure many unnerving incidents. He is propositioned by prostitutes several times. In one incident, he nearly gets severely beaten by three drunken Vietnamese soldiers. They are jealous of him because he, as a rich Westerner, can afford to buy a 60-cent can of Coca-Cola, while they receive annual wages of $120. Just as the men start getting violent, a few soldiers leave the deli across the street and instigate a fight with themselves. An flees on his bike, not looking back.

An meets many generous people as well. He sees Vietnam vets, hippies, housewives and fading retirees. They took him into their homes, cooked for him, made him feel back at home. Just before he leaves Vietnam, An meets with his American friend, Calvin, who owns a brothel. They talk about racial issues. An writes,

"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? No. I grew up fighting blacks, whites, and Chicanos... And everybody beat up the Chinaman whether or not he was really an ethnic Chinese. These new Vietnamese kids were easy pickings, small, bookish, passive, and not fluent in English. So, we congregate in Little Saigons, we hide out in Chinatowns and Japantowns, blending in. We huddle together, surrounding ourselves with the material wealth of America, and wave our star-spangled banners, shouting: "We're Americans. We love America."

An is still grappling with his racial identity. However, writing this book has made it easier, by making others aware of his plight.