fiction

I lie. I did not read this book: listened to it. The Sympathizer, the first book in this series, I heard too, often while running on the banks of the Danube in Regensburg, as it ran to the Black Sea, though I never went quite that far.

The Sympathizer tells his story as a conflicted double agent in Vietnam, first in the time of the you-know-what, then after escaping to the US, where the undercurrent of the you-know-what carried on, and his true identity, if he knew it himself, remained mostly concealed. After a couple of murders, he made a serious mistake. Male readers, and some women too, will be seduced by his graphic description of every curve and contour of the mistakes body, and the potent hormonal effect it has on him. Then you will laugh because of the prolonged over-the-topness as this description goes, on, and on, and on, ultimately, leading readers to image Nguyen telling this one night in a smoky bar. Whenever I see a drop-dead beautiful girl now, I think of running along the Danube (perhaps more).

In the story, as drop-dead-beautiful girls often do, she lands him in serious trouble (Texans: for maximum empathy, read this as “deep shit”). After re-education is one of the high-ranking, infamous Phycological Universities found in Vietnam and Cambodia, and a MacArthur Award (among others) for Nguyen, we find The Sympathizer in Paris with his murderous mate, Bon. That is where The Committed begins.

I lie again because I did not read this one either, just consumed it on my iPhone at every free moment when work was not getting in the way. Retrospectively, it should not have been a surprise that Nguyen earned The MacArthur. The man is a genius.

Genius is not a word to splash around, but the evidence is convincing. The book has everything. Rapid escape from poverty via an opportunistic business venture, the agony of indecision, deep-seated guilt, paranoia, Homer-like conversations with otherworldly figures, though never with God. No. Because “God is dead. Marx is dead, and I am not feeling too well myself.” It has prolonged and devastating torture. Sex, both of the dispassionate, perverted type, contrasting with mind and body all in Commitment. This is high literature though, so Nguyen does not get graphic; you are the grotesque pornographer, he only shows the way then slips away before reaching the door.

Like a lot of exceptionally creative people, the author gives some characters appropriate tags only so we never learn their real names. Who cares anyway? For instance, Le Cowboy loves everything Americans, particularly a symbolic pair of Rayburns that feature prominently. There are mathematically flexible Seven Dwarfs of a kind that do not get featured in kids fairy tales, The Mona Lisa who smiles while torturing (this is Paris), The Hansom-but-humorless Lawyer who enjoys a lot of erotic fun with The Aunt. My favorite tag though is for Creme Brulee, a prostitute. Sweet. Creme Brulee works at an establishment called Heaven which, “….. is always open because, after all, Heaven is eternal.” But it is not Paradise. No. That is the place where The Sympathizer is Committed, then Commits himself, to recover and forget.

It would be disappointing if The Problem (my tag, not his) did not reappear, and she does slapping The Sympathizer violently. It seems she likes him then, so he orders champaign.

There are no bad parts of this book, just ones to make an Englishman squirm. Nguyen is bitter. Very much so. Bitter about the Chinese, The French, and The Americans who colonized his country, leaving the people Nothing and no peace to have Nothing in. We must feel shame, Sympathy for the colonized, and have syrupy, acidic, vitriol poured on our exploitive heads.

I should have predicted Nguyen would get a Pulitzer for The Sympathizer. If anyone wants to bet $5 that The Committed will not win a Nobel for Nguyen by 2024, please shake on it via a comment on this site; I think he will.

Kevin Burgess