Reviews

Put It On Record: A Memoir-archive by Sokunthary Svay

pennyluisa's review

emotional funny hopeful lighthearted reflective medium-paced

5.0

Disclaimer: I am acquainted with Sokunthary. Our interactions have been mostly in Instagram so reading this memoir shed light to their personal stories that I otherwise would not know. I am thankful for them sharing these stories.

I slowly read this book to reflect and think about each stories that span through different periods of their life. I've been thinking about what it means to have an archive as I am also part of the Khmer diaspora. Our stories were destroyed during the Khmer Rouge era including that of creating new ones during this dark history in time. 

I enjoyed everything that they written with my emotions ranging from laughter, joy, appreciation, and sadness.  One of my favorite piece was "Scene in Residence: A Score for bitter pills / bitter melons as she describes the meaningful objects that exist in our community by Khmer American artists Joe Bunko. Her initial dislike of the bitter melon stew made me feel seen because I thought I was the only one in community who didn't enjoy the dish as much as they should. There's others that I enjoy such as her trip to Seattle and decided on a whim to hitch a ride with "mama" or the piece where she wrote about her post postpartum depression.  All of them very moving.

Overall this book gave me the opportunity to know her in ways I didn't expect and will use it to engage in conversation with her next time.

sofiercely's review

emotional funny hopeful reflective sad medium-paced

5.0

PUT IT ON RECORD by Sokunthary Svay is not just a book; it’s a concerto. Or an opera. Or a really cool mix tape by the older sister you always wanted. Whichever genre you enjoy listening to - it’s that one but MORE.

Her poems set the tempo, quick to dive deep into what it means to be Cambodian-American, bursting with imagery, humor (“Good Luck, Homey” is a fav 😂😂😂), and the gravity of life after genocide. 

The essays are interludes that provide sweeping context, like the sound of violins moving and lifting you out of your shoes and whirling you back in time. Bring a pen and notebook when you visit the past; take them notes.

The short stories are legato and fluid, ranging from Khmer mythology, to Sokunthary Svay’s own experience as a first time mom battling postpartum depression. 

The final 2 chapters of the book, “Cambodian Mixtape: From Generation Loss to Regeneration” and  “CODA”  highlight fellow Cambodian Americans who connect with Khmer history and culture through music, and how Sinn Sisamouth, the legendary Cambodian singer- songwriter connects us, reflects us, beckons us. 

It is humbling, then humorous. It is somber, then solace. It is excruciating, then encouragement. It is all the things I wish I had known years ago, but I didn’t know, as I had no one to guide me. “In Search of Cambodia(ns)” is uncovering gold; she has excavated such precious Cambodian and Cambodian American history in this piece. (Googling history can only take us so far, fam 😆)

But now I don’t have to search as hard, because now I can read and reread this book… I hope you do too. 

Thank you kindly to Willow Books for a digital copy of this book. 

surabhib's review

emotional informative reflective

4.5

 

This new work from poet and scholar Sokunthary Svay is a hybrid memoir. There are short essays, poems, and quite a lot of visual material, from personal and archival photos to sheet music. In these fluid forms, Svay writes of herself as an artist and scholar, as a mother and daughter, and in all these roles, as a Cambodian American. 

 

The registers in Svay’s writing move seamlessly. One minute, it feels like a friend is telling you about her family; the next, it’s precise analysis from a professor. Each piece has a distinct focus, but Svay doesn’t compartmentalize parts of herself. Svay uses her academic background extensively in this creative work, with, as the subtitle indicates, a significant emphasis on archiving. At one point, she directly speaks to any writing teachers or students reading her work, which I enjoyed. “I’m interested in everything as a form of inquiry,” she writes of her intellectual and stylistic ethos. 

 

Svay writes frequently of her parents—of what they did and mostly didn’t tell her about the Khmer Rouge, of leaning to appreciate their work lives, of where they find joy and expression. She plays with immigrant parent tropes, but personalizes and complicates all. I loved her writing on food and language, anchored by deep analyses. She also writes about herself as a parent, and one of my favorite pieces focused on postpartum depression. Elsewhere, I laughed hard, as at the essay that recounts Svay’s ride through Seattle with a friendly Southeast Asian stranger who asks to be called “Mama” (Svay happily obliges). 

 

“Record” in the title is multivalent, thinking both about tangible archives and musical records. Sok reflects on her time at music school, and on the varied influences, from Axl Rose to Sinn Sisamouth (the last couple of pieces pay moving tribute to the latter), on her taste. As throughout the memoir, Sok situates her personal taste within historical context and brings a critical eye to everything.