Scan barcode
A review by gvstyris
On Earth We're Briefly Gorgeous by Ocean Vuong
challenging
emotional
reflective
sad
slow-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
4.75
I had thought sex was to breach new ground, despite terror, that as long as the world did not see us, its rules did not apply. But I was wrong.
The rules, they were already inside us.
On Earth We're Briefly Gorgeous is an epistolary novel defined by its premise: the letter's intended recipient -- the main character's mother -- is illiterate, and will thus never read it. This permits a unique vulnerability, which, in addition to Vuong's lyrical prose and sensitivity towards his characters, is perhaps the greatest strength of this narrative.
That being said, I understand why this novel won't be for everyone. Our protagonist, Little Dog, tells his life story through a series of non-linear digressions that echo his mind's messy categorisation of 20+ years of memories. Little Dog himself notes that "I'm not telling you a story so much as a shipwreck--the pieces floating, finally legible." It's a structure quite uncommon in Western literature, utilising the Japanese narrative technique of kishÅtenketsu to reject a clear plot in favor of replicating reality. Vuong's writing asked me to reconsider what it means to write a "novel," and I'm completely in awe of his creative process. I'm similarly excited to check out more of his poetry.
On an emotional level, I found Little Dog's story of coming-of-age (or as Vuong puts it, "coming-of-art") as a queer Vietnamese-American boy to be incredibly eye-opening. His empathy towards his grandmother/mother's struggles with PTSD really stuck with me, as well as his consideration of his place in wider American culture. In truth, I initially struggled to read about Little Dog's relationship with queerness because of its emphasis both on physicality/sex and trauma. I've since finished the novel, however, with an increased understanding of why we need to represent a range of queer experiences -- and do so with sensitivity.
What a read. I'll leave you with another line of Vuong's beautiful prose:
That being said, I understand why this novel won't be for everyone. Our protagonist, Little Dog, tells his life story through a series of non-linear digressions that echo his mind's messy categorisation of 20+ years of memories. Little Dog himself notes that "I'm not telling you a story so much as a shipwreck--the pieces floating, finally legible." It's a structure quite uncommon in Western literature, utilising the Japanese narrative technique of kishÅtenketsu to reject a clear plot in favor of replicating reality. Vuong's writing asked me to reconsider what it means to write a "novel," and I'm completely in awe of his creative process. I'm similarly excited to check out more of his poetry.
On an emotional level, I found Little Dog's story of coming-of-age (or as Vuong puts it, "coming-of-art") as a queer Vietnamese-American boy to be incredibly eye-opening. His empathy towards his grandmother/mother's struggles with PTSD really stuck with me, as well as his consideration of his place in wider American culture. In truth, I initially struggled to read about Little Dog's relationship with queerness because of its emphasis both on physicality/sex and trauma. I've since finished the novel, however, with an increased understanding of why we need to represent a range of queer experiences -- and do so with sensitivity.
What a read. I'll leave you with another line of Vuong's beautiful prose:
All this time I told myself we were born from war--but I was wrong, Ma. We were born from beauty.
Let no one mistake us for the fruit of violence--but that violence, having passed through the fruit, failed to spoil it.
Content Warnings
Graphic: Addiction and Sexual content
Moderate: Homophobia, Racism, and War
Minor: Child abuse and Medical content