Nguyễn Phan Quế Mai's 'Dust Child' reveals the inherited tragedies of the Vietnam War

The ramifications of war, plunder, and avarice have been the subject of writers for centuries.

Though harrowing, the extant complex emotions, relationships, and fragments demand to be dissected and voiced. Nguyễn Phan Quế Mai converges past and present into her second novel Dust Child to examine the indelible impact of decisions made under desperate and violent circumstances.

The reverberations of the Vietnam War set the stage for this scintillating novel. 

"Dust Child is a heartrending experience of losing and reclaiming humanity. The prose intertwined with the Vietnamese language creates a tale crafted with acuity, artistry, and erudition"

It seamlessly oscillates between three characters from 1969, Vietnam, and the present day.

We meet an American veteran, Dan, who, unable to expunge himself of his phantoms, returns to Vietnam over 40 years later, seeking catharsis and absolution.

Then there is a naive and young Vietnamese girl, Trang, who, struggling to keep her family afloat during the war, finds herself thrust into a sex industry catering to the U.S. military presence.

Finally, we get to know Phong, an unfortunate orphan and Amerasian who grapples with his obscure identity as a product of war and poverty. As the stories of these three characters intersect, we enter a world that redefines family and resilience in the face of generational wounds.

While the novel itself is fictional, it is a result of 7 years of academic research for Nguyễn Phan Quế Mai’s PhD.

She has taken her real-life interviews, journalistic experiences, voluntary work, readings, and research to create an evocative portrait of Vietnam. We become intimately familiar with how this country has mourned not only the destruction of life and land under warfare but the copious ways in which it has been fractured for generations. 

The novel opens in Ho Chi Minh City in 2016 as Phong, now middle-aged, is trying to obtain visas for his family to emigrate to the U.S. Despite his tumultuous life, they felt encouraged by the American Homecoming Act that allowed Vietnamese people of mixed race, namely children of American soldiers, to enter America based on appearance alone.

However, his visa is denied, and a dejected Phong begins to ruminate on his hapless existence. He is an abandoned orphan, and the only trace of his family is in his appearance, Vietnamese and African American. Perpetually on the margins of society, his features made him prey to racism and taunting.

On the other side of the city, we are introduced to Dan and Linda, an American couple on a therapeutic sojourn to Vietnam. Linda, Dan’s wife, is under the pretence that they have come here to help him assuage his demons from his time serving in the Vietnam War.

He had spent most of his life suppressing the secret life he had built for himself in Vietnam as a young 20-year-old man. Dan himself says that he needed to understand the people he had dehumanized during the war, and in searching for their humanity, he was trying to regain his own.

His time in Vietnam proves to be far more pernicious than known to Linda. He sought refuge in a young Vietnamese sex worker and fathered a child with her.

However, he abandoned her, never knowing his child. With that, we are thrust back into 1969 during the war, where 20-year-old Trang and her 17-year-old sister, Quỳnh, work on their family’s rice field while their country is aflame, and their family is in debt and shattered. Consequently, they are coaxed by a friend to join them in Saigon and become prostitutes in a bar serving American soldiers.

"Nguyễn Phan QuếMai has adroitly penned a story in which various perspectives are effortless and rhythmic. Dan represents everything Vietnam has come to resent"

Beyond the bloodshed and bestiality, war is far more cataclysmic than discussed. The experiences of Dan, Trang, and Phong remind us that the U.S. incursion in Vietnam has left a legacy in which the living and dead can never be free of each other.

Phong is delineated as bụi đời or the dust of life, a derogatory term for children of mixed race, specifically those with American parentage, in Vietnam.

This antipathy and prejudice have left many of those known as bụi đờ homeless and floating through life without identity or family. Living in this limbo has become their reality because half a century ago, amid combat and conflict, irreversible choices were made.

It is estimated that American soldiers have forsaken over 20,000 of their children born to Vietnamese women who were labourers or sex workers near military bases.

So while Phong has managed to forge a family for himself with his wife and children, the obstinate sensation of being rootless never dissipated. He refused to let go of yearning for life in America, where opportunities seemed boundless, and a  distant possibility of finding his family lay. This ache belied the truth that America had its own prejudices towards foreigners.

Nguyễn Phan QuếMai has adroitly penned a story in which various perspectives are effortless and rhythmic. Dan represents everything Vietnam has come to resent.

As he grapples with his own PTSD and behaviour, searching for purgation, he realizes he is owed nothing. Although Dan was barely out of his teenage years and thrust into savage combat, his actions were his own, and the woman he abandoned could not allay his guilt. It becomes increasingly evident that Trang is the woman who he betrayed.

She was inquisitive, with aspirations to become a doctor. But the trajectory of her life would be one that considered survival an accomplishment. Her relationship with Dan was not initially so sinister; it had indications of tenderness and dazzle. But the truth is, as poet Nguyen Duy wrote, in war, no matter who wins, the people lose.

The novel takes on a sense of urgency as the links that make these characters inextricable are exposed. Unfortunately, much of Dan’s story is sanitized, and the accountability he and many other American soldiers should have accepted is glossed over.

Dust Child is a heartrending experience of losing and reclaiming humanity. The prose intertwined with the Vietnamese language creates a tale crafted with acuity, artistry, and erudition.

The meticulous use of detail and research animates the characters and the Vietnamese land, making the catastrophes profoundly palpable for the reader. Through Dan, Trang, Phong, and the many people in their lives, we learn that all stories relating to the war are connected, one way or another, by blood.

Noshin Bokth has over six years of experience as a freelance writer. She has covered a wide range of topics and issues including covering the implications of the Trump administration on Muslims, the Black Lives Matters Movement, travel reviews, book reviews, and op-eds. She is the former Editor in Chief of Ramadan Legacy and the former North American Regional Editor of the Muslim Vibe.

Follow her on Twitter: @BokthNoshin