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emotional
informative
sad
slow-paced
There was some nice stuff in here. The section on Curt Cobain and Nirvana had me picking up Nevermind again for the first time in years. Overall, I found it a bit dull though. I know the book is supposed to be about two ordinary guys, one of whom dies, but books about 'ordinary' people aren't always that interesting to read. In saying that, there was enough there to get me through to the end. I'm just not sure if I'll remember much about it or if I'll ever read it again.
reflective
medium-paced
4.5/5 - Some good nuggets on life and the Asian American experience. “Assimilation was not a problem to be solved, but the problem itself.”
At once a scrapbook for anyone born in the late 70s about what it was like to go to college while the world was first learning to write emails and music was passed one mindblowing song at a time on mixtapes; a treatise of how to apply lofted, late night philosophical notions of history while navigating the realities of how bias and class show up at the local diner at 3am; a zine of a memoir from an extraordinary writer finding his way to the page using friendship as both his compass and his map; and a tender, heartbreaking tribute to what it is like to navigate love and grief while wrestling the weight of being a second generation immigrant. Two thirds of the way through, I liked this book fine. The last third synthesizes this story’s coming-of-age notions into a worldview, a way forward, a small bright example of what it is to grow up and try to sew up a mall piece of the world endlessly unraveling around us. Recommend.
funny
informative
lighthearted
medium-paced
Really liked reading Hsu's experience of dealing with the grief of losing his friend, didn't really think all the musings about assimilation / Asian American identity / being a second gen immigrant landed for me. Also, watching "Didi" a few months ago (coming of age story of a Taiwanese-American boy growing up in California, but in the 2000s) primed me for the time and setting nicely.
I kept thinking about how young they all were throughout the course of the book. It reminded me of observing Sam and his friends (a similar-ish dynamic of a friend group of college-aged guys), which made the impact of Ken's death resonate uncomfortably close for me.
I kept thinking about how young they all were throughout the course of the book. It reminded me of observing Sam and his friends (a similar-ish dynamic of a friend group of college-aged guys), which made the impact of Ken's death resonate uncomfortably close for me.
challenging
emotional
reflective
dark
reflective
sad
slow-paced
emotional
hopeful
informative
inspiring
reflective
sad
slow-paced
emotional
hopeful
reflective
sad
fast-paced
This book gave me the feeling of watching a home movie with an 80s film grain and a date stamp in the corner. It is a book about the beauty and ephemerality of youth, a lovely coming-of-age story tinged with the bittersweet nostalgia of growing up. Stay True's writing feels like memory itself; Hsu pulls together fragmented minutiae that exist not as a neat timeline, but as a collection of experiences that seem small in the moment but are made important only on reflection.
The book does address grief, but in a different way. Rather than positioning his grief as something that changed or defined him, he recognizes it as one facet of his human experience that mingles with joy, love, and hope.
Hsu interrogates how we remember those we love and lose. He pays careful attention to the small details in life that make us who we are: the hesitant awkwardness of budding friendship, the sometimes performative exploration of identity, the car rides with friends singing off-key, the ritual trips to the record store and Chinese restaurants. Hsu finds traces of Ken in everything he does, his habits, the places he visits, the friends that are still around. In doing so, he positions grief as not a loss, but as an everlasting presence that makes up only part of one whole.
Hsu's ability to hone in on everyday memory and find importance in them is emotionally poignant and realistic in a way that adds to the feeling of watching a film vignette.
In the genre of memoir, there is a certain expectation of reflection and connection to some sort of bigger-than-the-individual theme. There's a sort of guaranteed trajectory for most memoir: Before -> After -> Reflection, and Stay True flips that on its head. Instead, he poses the reflection as an ongoing process. Something that he doesn't have all the answers to, that he's constantly revisiting and recontextualizing. He addresses memory as not a concrete history, but a nebulous feeling that changes with time and distance.
One of my favorite inclusions were the letters between Hsu and his father. In Stay True, not only is Hsu's father emotionally vulnerable and validating, he is accepting and invites Hsu into himself without pressure or projection. He is a radical presence that served as a grounding foundation throughout the history of Hsu's life. I loved that every letter from him ended with "What do you think?" and became a thread that tied the whole memoir together.
Where Stay True sings is in its ability to simply exist as it is. While it invites deeper reflection and analysis, it also allows the act of remembering and memory itself to exist unadorned. No explanation, no comparison to a greater theme, no tidy resolutions, just memory. It's an elegy to youth and the bittersweet feeling of growing up and changing. A reminiscing on people that come and go, but mark us forever, and the everyday memories that shape us.
The book does address grief, but in a different way. Rather than positioning his grief as something that changed or defined him, he recognizes it as one facet of his human experience that mingles with joy, love, and hope.
Hsu interrogates how we remember those we love and lose. He pays careful attention to the small details in life that make us who we are: the hesitant awkwardness of budding friendship, the sometimes performative exploration of identity, the car rides with friends singing off-key, the ritual trips to the record store and Chinese restaurants. Hsu finds traces of Ken in everything he does, his habits, the places he visits, the friends that are still around. In doing so, he positions grief as not a loss, but as an everlasting presence that makes up only part of one whole.
Hsu's ability to hone in on everyday memory and find importance in them is emotionally poignant and realistic in a way that adds to the feeling of watching a film vignette.
In the genre of memoir, there is a certain expectation of reflection and connection to some sort of bigger-than-the-individual theme. There's a sort of guaranteed trajectory for most memoir: Before -> After -> Reflection, and Stay True flips that on its head. Instead, he poses the reflection as an ongoing process. Something that he doesn't have all the answers to, that he's constantly revisiting and recontextualizing. He addresses memory as not a concrete history, but a nebulous feeling that changes with time and distance.
One of my favorite inclusions were the letters between Hsu and his father. In Stay True, not only is Hsu's father emotionally vulnerable and validating, he is accepting and invites Hsu into himself without pressure or projection. He is a radical presence that served as a grounding foundation throughout the history of Hsu's life. I loved that every letter from him ended with "What do you think?" and became a thread that tied the whole memoir together.
Where Stay True sings is in its ability to simply exist as it is. While it invites deeper reflection and analysis, it also allows the act of remembering and memory itself to exist unadorned. No explanation, no comparison to a greater theme, no tidy resolutions, just memory. It's an elegy to youth and the bittersweet feeling of growing up and changing. A reminiscing on people that come and go, but mark us forever, and the everyday memories that shape us.
Content Warnings
Graphic: Grief
Moderate: Death, Gun violence, Murder