After digesting Lam’s short stories “Hunger” and “Birds of Paradise Lost,” I realize how much they reflect the capacity of mankind to face depravity and the ensuing struggle to avoid being engulfed by it. The stories portray their characters’ continued efforts to resist the sociological aftereffects of a war, though each story is driven by its protagonist’s psychological war against consumption.
In “Hunger,” Mr. Nguyen grapples with his past: having been forced to turn to the depravity of cannibalism, he is disgusted by the prospect of eating meat again. A physical reminder of the horror he unwillingly but eventually embraced, the texture of animal flesh is “abhorrent to his tongue and teeth” (80), reminiscent of his wife’s tragic demise at the hands of human hunger. Attached to his pain and guilt is a desperate need for his daughter, Easy-to-Love, to transcend the level of inhumanity to which he believes he has sunk. As he pleads for her to “Eat and be resilient” (80), he affixes meat with a degree of strength and the spirit to rise above their tragic circumstances; consequently, Easy-to-Love’s refusal to ingest it fuels Mr. Nguyen’s fear that she will be unable to move past the depravity and “‘grow up beautiful’” (91).
In “Birds of Paradise Lost,” however, consumption functions as a result of a different kind of volition. In the wake of his “oldest and dearest friend’s” self-immolation (99)—itself, a voluntary act of being consumed—Thang allows himself to embody consumption through addiction: “I imagined a cigarette smoldering between my lips…its smoky residue warming my scarred lungs” (100). He caves under the pressure of resisting the “hints of elegance” of a force that “drives our world” (110), the fire that lights the end of his cigarette and burns his homeland and feeds the fate of refugees. This force of consumption, which he claims “would not, in the end, devour me” (110), snakes its way through him after all, as it consumes his son and mixes him into the pot of American, “sophisticated, razor-tongued strangers” (105).
By Sandra H.
I posted an entire comment, but it didn't save :( So sad. Here I go again!
ReplyDeleteFirst of all, I love the subtle pun in the first line - "digesting." Ha! I found Lam's treatment of food and eating very interesting as well, so it was neat to read your take on it. I love how you compare fiery consumption with food consumption. I'd love to hear what you think the significance is of Thang's cigarette addiction. It almost sounds like you find it hypocritical, which I thought was very interesting. Would Thang's son find smoking cigarettes selfish in the same way he finds self-immolation selfish? In a way, they are both a form of suicide; one is just much slower. Great post!
-Abigail I.
Your opening comment about the link between the characters' psychology to their social behavior was really insightful. It really made me think about how curious it is that seemingly disparate things like a refusal to eat meat and an acceptance of culture can be so closely tied together by the eccentricities of trauma. I was also impressed by how you astutely recognized how the invisible bonds of family can tie people to the things they resist. Also, to answer your question Abigail, I think that Thang's son might be slightly more lenient towards smoking cigarettes as it's not as immediately devastating as smoking cigarettes. Though as a doctor he might be a little less forgiving than less health-focused Americans hahaha. Nice post, Sandra.
ReplyDelete- Michael J.