A review by hoiyan
On Earth We're Briefly Gorgeous by Ocean Vuong

challenging dark emotional reflective sad tense medium-paced
  • Plot- or character-driven? Character
  • Strong character development? It's complicated
  • Loveable characters? It's complicated
  • Diverse cast of characters? Yes
  • Flaws of characters a main focus? Yes

5.0

“You’re a mother, Ma. You’re also a monster. But so am I—which is why I can’t turn away from you. Which is why I have taken god’s loneliest creation and put you inside it.”

okay. deep breaths everyone (talking to myself).

i don't even know where or how to begin this review/complete emotional word barf because i think this novel just changed something in me.

the whole thing is just gorgeous and poetic prose that just slams into your brain over and over again. this is definitely not an easy read—with both heavy, HEAVY content and dense narratives that may take a couple read-throughs to digest.

"Our mother tongue, then, is no mother at all—but an orphan. Our Vietnamese a time capsule, a mark of where your education ended, ashed.”

touching on themes and conflicts of diaspora, culture and how it intersects with queerness, masculinity, and what it means to grow up with all odds against you, On Earth We're Briefly Gorgeous is, probably, a perfect depiction of the common migrant/first-gen experience. it took me a while to finish this book. it physically hurt me to continue reading after i've read one section that hit a LITTTTTLE too close to home. i've never read a book that captured experiences i thought were unique to me before. having these familiar thoughts and experiences articulated and weaved so nicely within these pages was definitely an amazing feeling. i've never felt less alone than when vuong described his complicated relationship with his mother, or how someone, namely your own mother, can both love you unconditionally yet completely despise you.

i noticed other reviews criticizing the language in the book saying that it was unnecessary to the storytelling, but honestly, i loved it. Vuong mentions repeatedly how English was his weapon—it became a tool in which was used to culturally assimilate into a world that will always see him as an outsider. and that HURT me. he's telling his story in the language that he can. it's ... a really specific experience, i think. incredibly hard to articulate into words that would make sense for anyone who has never had that experience. i think his prose was absolutely necessary in driving home that idea at the beginning of his orphaned Vietnamese. it's ironic, almost, how one's mother tongue can gradually dissolve into close to nothing. a fair sacrifice made to survive in this cruel world, no?

“Sometimes being offered tenderness feels like the very proof that you’ve been ruined.”

it took me a good while to adjust to the pace and formatting. Vuong jumps between timelines often, and is a bit unconventional. HOWEVER! i do like his choice of these abrupt switches. it resembles how one would reencounter memories and ghosts of the past, and it really help me immerse myself in all the narratives Vuong laid out, whether it be when he was 6, 14, 20.

a lot of internal monologues and thoughts were braided into the rich prose, which made me think "wow, this guy really is a great poet." it's done pretty effortlessly, and i noticed Vuong tends to leave section conclusions open-ended, either with a (seemingly) passing thought, or a vague statement. over time, it could be a bit frustrating to not have a clear answer, but does anyone have an answer anyway? is there even an answer to these happenings in life?

“Afterward, lying next to me with his face turned away, he cried skillfully in the dark. The way boys do.”

i really, really appreciated Vuong's complete honesty here. it helped to match the current speaker (the different ages) to the scene. i think it helped to emphasize that, yes, that is a young boy experiencing these things, and not a young boy's thought process through the mind of an adult, if you know what i mean. 

grief in three different ways was shown pretty perfectly. 1. grief with never having your mother's unconditional acceptance. 2. the grief that comes with being a queer man
and losing the one who was supposed to be beside you for just a little while longer
. 3. grief with a grandparent that raised you through stories. and god, did all of them hurt deeply.

this novel also got me thinking just how differently a mother-son and mother-daughter relationship can be. i think i'm feeling an additional grief after that realization.

“Maybe in the next life we’ll meet each other for the first time—believing in everything but the harm we’re capable of.”

above is probably my favourite quote (of many great ones) in the entire novel. this was a difficult, but amazing read. this is a story of "what could've been," of "what if," and makes you think what little is left of that little boy's naivety and hope for a world free of hate, violence, and bloodshed.
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