Really insightful. Bad books often stir up more conversation than good books and the resulting conversation is often very positive for the literary community. Like you said, they serve a purpose.
I am a bit trepid about how eager reviewers have gotten to write takedown’s about marginalized folks. Feels like that pendulum swung real fast. We went from too scared to say a negative thing to overexcited to try to destroy some writer’s careers in a really short span.
I think if Vuong reads this write-up and takes your advice, he could put out a really great third book. I may read that one.
Re: takedowns of marginalized people, yeah it sucks, it's basically racism. But it will be okay. Marginalized authors will do fine. The criticism will make us stronger. I have faith that at least when it comes to fiction-writing, we will continue to write and to produce great works, and that the critique will make marginalized people stronger--whatever is fair will stick, and whatever is unfair will just fall away.
This sums up all of my feelings. Really enjoying the way this reviewer wields skepticism, preference as well as openness (and I'm including the live updates which take back some of the initial appreciation). This paired with ALC’s early mixed review covers a ton of ground imo
Just wanted to agree with your readers that I thought this was an incredibly balanced take. While I have not read any of ocean Vuong's works I personally feel like the rise of hit pieces against his second novel does have more to do with the regime change than anything about the quality of the work itself.
Thought this bit was exceptionally apt.
"With the wave of takedowns against Vuong, many people (including myself) have commented that there appears to be something of a political element at work. The politics of our nation have changed, and now people feel like they are able to critique authors of color in a way that, they feel, was previously forbidden."
Honestly, this whole affair nauseates me. I mean I have no skin in the game as someone who has not been published and is only marginally familiar with Vuong and his work. That being said, I don't like seeing people publicly piling on a writer, even if it's someone in the modern literary scene who I'm genuinely indifferent to.
I am torn. I enjoy the blood-sport of piling on and destroying books, and I do think there's a philosophy-with-a-hammer element. Anything that is good can stand the critique. But I do believe that when reviewers make critiques that aren't sound or seem clearly motivated by some animus or grievance, then that rebounds against them in a bad way that they'll come to regret. In this arena, literature, everyone is judged by their words, and if your words seem inartful or inapt, then you will suffer.
I agree with you about enjoying the whole Bloodsport aspect. I'll admit there is a twisted part of me that has been enjoying reading the takedowns. At the same time. I do feel like the attacks on Vuong are not motivated by the quality or lack thereof of the work but instead are an attempt to punish him for branching out and attempting a unique mode of literary expression. And that is what bugs me. I mean, obviously not every swing for the fences is going to hit home with the audience, but that doesn't mean The literary community should penalize those who swing and fail if that makes sense. I'm aware that there are probably some political /racial impetuses to the critique that I'm not grasping but to me I think what stuck out in the takedowns I read is that the reviewers don't like that vuong's style is so different than what they have been trained to expect.
I was surprised by how not-bad it was. Because usually these kinds of books--much-hyped literary novels--are extremely bad! And this one wasn't. Maybe I shouldn't be grading these sorts of books on a curve, but you generally have to, or you'd just be trashing all of them, all the time.
That’s why I was growing tired of the intense hatred. It’s a perfectly cromulent novel that will only be remembered because of who wrote if it’s remembered at all.
Interesting and informative. My current Read Next stack has Black, Vietnamese, and scholarly works, all mixed up. I have no idea what will appeal to me when the current in progress bunch is finished. Which rather pleases me. I don't care for book clubs mostly because I don't like to be told what to read. And Sentimental bores me out of my socks. I'm guessing that the two books reviewed in this article will never make it to Read Next. Read Never maybe??
Thank you for writing this review; it’s a good counterpoint to the takedowns, and it makes me actually want to read Vuong’s 2nd book (I didn’t read the first one, and probably won’t).
I love a novel that explores the world of work. There are so few, relatively.
I spent some time working as a delivery driver for Jimmy John’s a few years ago, while in the worst part of my alcoholism. I was a little out of place as a middle-aged college-educated woman, but I really liked my co-workers and didn’t hate the work. (There’s something fulfilling about making food for people and then bringing them the food.) Anyway, I really look forward to reading this, especially the workplace scenes.
A propos of bad metaphors, I believe they are rampant among writers today, and editors never seem to pause for a minute to question them. Consider these from Sally Rooney's first novel, "Conversations with Friends" (I once sought to write a takedown of Rooney's first two books, but find her so much improved recently that there's probably no point, though she is maddeningly repetitious). The parentheticals are, of course, my own.
“By seven the sky had thinned out into a soft, lipless blue.” (What does a “lipless-blue sky” look like?)
“I dipped my hands in the water and it stung of salt.” (Does salt really “sting” when it comes in contact with skin? Unless the skin is broken. Otherwise we'd all stay out of the ocean.)
“The crustaceans looked ancient, like mythological ruins.” (She’s referring to a tank of lobsters or crabs—it’s not specified which or both—in a gourmet shop. I guess they probably resemble diagrams of Troy. And if she’s thinking of the lava-crusted vestiges of Pompeii, that was no mythological event.)
“The roses had huge, sensuous petals and tight, unrevealing centers, like some kind of sexual nightmare.” (Was that the one where the gardener ravishes the lady of the house? No, wait a minute, wasn’t that DH Lawrence?)
“…parked cars looked like dead insects.” (Presumably they were all VW beetles.)
“….we all watched Melissa’s face, which contracted and fell like a piece of wire string.” (Bad plastic surgery, perhaps?)
I'm finding that inept and head-scratching metaphors are a particular failing in a lot of the newer fiction I read, and am guessing this might be a byproduct of MFA programs. Just sayin.'
These are great examples! (Though Rooney didn't do an MFA,). I agree that in our literary-critical economy, authors are forced to demonstrate their artiness and one way is by stretching the boundaries of metaphor in their writing.
I'm not really part of this love/hate discourse, and Ocean Vuong really hasn't registered on my consciousness so far, but I have to say that the first extract you quote really does have its problems with wayward and meaningless metaphor. It's actually quite bad writing, I feel.
1) The sign "rubbed to braille" doesn't compute, but really in the worst way possible, the way that makes you stop and go WTF. A painted sign worn down by the wind doesn't turn into the knobs or holes that constitute braille. It's just worn down to illegibility. It's a shit metaphor, in fact.
2) Secondly, cherry blossoms grow on cherry trees. They don't "foam from every space unclaimed by strip malls". They need cherry orchards to exist. Nature-feel fail.
3) Thirdly, I don't know what it means to say that "summer beckons the hollow bones" of geese to go north. This isn't as misleading/inept as the previous ones, but it's still absurdly vague and wishy washy.
In summary, based just on this extract alone, it looks like the kind of pseudo-poetic writing that doesn't bother much with precision of language and prefers a gooey approximation of sound and meaning, a vague Hallmark profundity of nature calling to us with its picture-postcard geese and cherry blossom, a clichéd mess of romanticized gestures at sublimity.
I thought the braille line was a pretty nonsensical too. He was probably just going for "the sign was rough," but...it didn't work. Then again, I didn't think there was anything stilted about the dialogue Naomi called bad! Sometimes I think it's a wonder anyone likes anyone else's art at all.
I love the kind of writing that Naomi describes - high and low styles mixed, metaphorical and inventive - but i just don't think this is it. I prefer gnarly and unexpected to the kind of prepackaged images - cherryblossoms, geese migrating - that self-consciously scream poetic art form.
I have been praising Nathanael West in Naomi's comments, for example, the kind of metaphorical images he deploys are startling and incredible effective in Miss Lonelyhearts, for instance.
Catching up with my reading of you. Just wanted to say, brilliant, thoughtful piece. Haven’t read this guy, never will, but enjoyed this piece very much. I am glad we are over the politics of representation. One literary agent told me, an older white guy, that my first novel was problematic because one of main characters was a black slave. Me and the character survived and he is going strong in my second novel.
What you reading is Salon style writing. See my substack for a more detailed explanation. There is a movement of readers wanting to linger and think about the story.
This makes me want to read the book. And I appreciated/enjoyed the granular analysis, about what exactly worked and what didn't in each book. It will be interesting to see if the various strengths can all come together in a future book.
Really insightful. Bad books often stir up more conversation than good books and the resulting conversation is often very positive for the literary community. Like you said, they serve a purpose.
I am a bit trepid about how eager reviewers have gotten to write takedown’s about marginalized folks. Feels like that pendulum swung real fast. We went from too scared to say a negative thing to overexcited to try to destroy some writer’s careers in a really short span.
I think if Vuong reads this write-up and takes your advice, he could put out a really great third book. I may read that one.
Re: takedowns of marginalized people, yeah it sucks, it's basically racism. But it will be okay. Marginalized authors will do fine. The criticism will make us stronger. I have faith that at least when it comes to fiction-writing, we will continue to write and to produce great works, and that the critique will make marginalized people stronger--whatever is fair will stick, and whatever is unfair will just fall away.
This sums up all of my feelings. Really enjoying the way this reviewer wields skepticism, preference as well as openness (and I'm including the live updates which take back some of the initial appreciation). This paired with ALC’s early mixed review covers a ton of ground imo
Thank you! That's really nice =]
Hey Naomi,
Just wanted to agree with your readers that I thought this was an incredibly balanced take. While I have not read any of ocean Vuong's works I personally feel like the rise of hit pieces against his second novel does have more to do with the regime change than anything about the quality of the work itself.
Thought this bit was exceptionally apt.
"With the wave of takedowns against Vuong, many people (including myself) have commented that there appears to be something of a political element at work. The politics of our nation have changed, and now people feel like they are able to critique authors of color in a way that, they feel, was previously forbidden."
Honestly, this whole affair nauseates me. I mean I have no skin in the game as someone who has not been published and is only marginally familiar with Vuong and his work. That being said, I don't like seeing people publicly piling on a writer, even if it's someone in the modern literary scene who I'm genuinely indifferent to.
I am torn. I enjoy the blood-sport of piling on and destroying books, and I do think there's a philosophy-with-a-hammer element. Anything that is good can stand the critique. But I do believe that when reviewers make critiques that aren't sound or seem clearly motivated by some animus or grievance, then that rebounds against them in a bad way that they'll come to regret. In this arena, literature, everyone is judged by their words, and if your words seem inartful or inapt, then you will suffer.
I agree with you about enjoying the whole Bloodsport aspect. I'll admit there is a twisted part of me that has been enjoying reading the takedowns. At the same time. I do feel like the attacks on Vuong are not motivated by the quality or lack thereof of the work but instead are an attempt to punish him for branching out and attempting a unique mode of literary expression. And that is what bugs me. I mean, obviously not every swing for the fences is going to hit home with the audience, but that doesn't mean The literary community should penalize those who swing and fail if that makes sense. I'm aware that there are probably some political /racial impetuses to the critique that I'm not grasping but to me I think what stuck out in the takedowns I read is that the reviewers don't like that vuong's style is so different than what they have been trained to expect.
Thank you. I thought I was hallucinating when I wrote that the book was fine. Even good.
I was surprised by how not-bad it was. Because usually these kinds of books--much-hyped literary novels--are extremely bad! And this one wasn't. Maybe I shouldn't be grading these sorts of books on a curve, but you generally have to, or you'd just be trashing all of them, all the time.
That’s why I was growing tired of the intense hatred. It’s a perfectly cromulent novel that will only be remembered because of who wrote if it’s remembered at all.
Interesting and informative. My current Read Next stack has Black, Vietnamese, and scholarly works, all mixed up. I have no idea what will appeal to me when the current in progress bunch is finished. Which rather pleases me. I don't care for book clubs mostly because I don't like to be told what to read. And Sentimental bores me out of my socks. I'm guessing that the two books reviewed in this article will never make it to Read Next. Read Never maybe??
Thank you for writing this review; it’s a good counterpoint to the takedowns, and it makes me actually want to read Vuong’s 2nd book (I didn’t read the first one, and probably won’t).
I love a novel that explores the world of work. There are so few, relatively.
I spent some time working as a delivery driver for Jimmy John’s a few years ago, while in the worst part of my alcoholism. I was a little out of place as a middle-aged college-educated woman, but I really liked my co-workers and didn’t hate the work. (There’s something fulfilling about making food for people and then bringing them the food.) Anyway, I really look forward to reading this, especially the workplace scenes.
Thanks! I have never done any kind of food service (or really any real labor at all) so am equally fascinated by any book that's about work.
A propos of bad metaphors, I believe they are rampant among writers today, and editors never seem to pause for a minute to question them. Consider these from Sally Rooney's first novel, "Conversations with Friends" (I once sought to write a takedown of Rooney's first two books, but find her so much improved recently that there's probably no point, though she is maddeningly repetitious). The parentheticals are, of course, my own.
“By seven the sky had thinned out into a soft, lipless blue.” (What does a “lipless-blue sky” look like?)
“I dipped my hands in the water and it stung of salt.” (Does salt really “sting” when it comes in contact with skin? Unless the skin is broken. Otherwise we'd all stay out of the ocean.)
“The crustaceans looked ancient, like mythological ruins.” (She’s referring to a tank of lobsters or crabs—it’s not specified which or both—in a gourmet shop. I guess they probably resemble diagrams of Troy. And if she’s thinking of the lava-crusted vestiges of Pompeii, that was no mythological event.)
“The roses had huge, sensuous petals and tight, unrevealing centers, like some kind of sexual nightmare.” (Was that the one where the gardener ravishes the lady of the house? No, wait a minute, wasn’t that DH Lawrence?)
“…parked cars looked like dead insects.” (Presumably they were all VW beetles.)
“….we all watched Melissa’s face, which contracted and fell like a piece of wire string.” (Bad plastic surgery, perhaps?)
I'm finding that inept and head-scratching metaphors are a particular failing in a lot of the newer fiction I read, and am guessing this might be a byproduct of MFA programs. Just sayin.'
These are great examples! (Though Rooney didn't do an MFA,). I agree that in our literary-critical economy, authors are forced to demonstrate their artiness and one way is by stretching the boundaries of metaphor in their writing.
I'm not really part of this love/hate discourse, and Ocean Vuong really hasn't registered on my consciousness so far, but I have to say that the first extract you quote really does have its problems with wayward and meaningless metaphor. It's actually quite bad writing, I feel.
1) The sign "rubbed to braille" doesn't compute, but really in the worst way possible, the way that makes you stop and go WTF. A painted sign worn down by the wind doesn't turn into the knobs or holes that constitute braille. It's just worn down to illegibility. It's a shit metaphor, in fact.
2) Secondly, cherry blossoms grow on cherry trees. They don't "foam from every space unclaimed by strip malls". They need cherry orchards to exist. Nature-feel fail.
3) Thirdly, I don't know what it means to say that "summer beckons the hollow bones" of geese to go north. This isn't as misleading/inept as the previous ones, but it's still absurdly vague and wishy washy.
In summary, based just on this extract alone, it looks like the kind of pseudo-poetic writing that doesn't bother much with precision of language and prefers a gooey approximation of sound and meaning, a vague Hallmark profundity of nature calling to us with its picture-postcard geese and cherry blossom, a clichéd mess of romanticized gestures at sublimity.
Whatever it is, the level of over-the-top figurative language is so much less than in his first book, so it doesn't even register.
I thought the braille line was a pretty nonsensical too. He was probably just going for "the sign was rough," but...it didn't work. Then again, I didn't think there was anything stilted about the dialogue Naomi called bad! Sometimes I think it's a wonder anyone likes anyone else's art at all.
I love the kind of writing that Naomi describes - high and low styles mixed, metaphorical and inventive - but i just don't think this is it. I prefer gnarly and unexpected to the kind of prepackaged images - cherryblossoms, geese migrating - that self-consciously scream poetic art form.
I have been praising Nathanael West in Naomi's comments, for example, the kind of metaphorical images he deploys are startling and incredible effective in Miss Lonelyhearts, for instance.
thank you for a down to earth take
Catching up with my reading of you. Just wanted to say, brilliant, thoughtful piece. Haven’t read this guy, never will, but enjoyed this piece very much. I am glad we are over the politics of representation. One literary agent told me, an older white guy, that my first novel was problematic because one of main characters was a black slave. Me and the character survived and he is going strong in my second novel.
Thanks!
You lost me at “their.”
What you reading is Salon style writing. See my substack for a more detailed explanation. There is a movement of readers wanting to linger and think about the story.
This makes me want to read the book. And I appreciated/enjoyed the granular analysis, about what exactly worked and what didn't in each book. It will be interesting to see if the various strengths can all come together in a future book.
There's a chance!