CW: Suicide

It is a sad truth, but a truth nonetheless, that we spend more time at school or work rather than with our own family. While this may seem like a lonely experience, somehow we have found a way to correct this. Ocean Vuong’s Emperor of Gladness is a beautiful novel that highlights the impact found family can have on an otherwise stagnant life—saturating its colours and sweetening its bitter shadows. 

Emperor of Gladness takes place over the span of a year, across the four seasons, and while they change, the protagonist, Hai, does not. Hai is a Vietnamese boy who sought refuge as a young boy with his mum in America, hoping for a better life. Instead of finding the American Dream, however, the novel begins with Hai on the edge of a bridge hanging onto a railing, pondering whether to let go. He is found by an old Lithuanian woman with dementia—Grazina—who talks him out of committing suicide. The story follows Hai as he takes a job at “Home Market,” finding an unconventional home there, as he lived with Grazina before ultimately becoming her caretaker.

“Home Market” is central to the novel, being where Hai predominantly spends his time and where he finds a new family. Based on a Panera Bread Vuong used to work at, Home Market is known for selling home-cooked Thanksgiving foods all year round. The meals are a deception, however, just bags of reheated frozen food served as a wholesome meal. Everything about this store is artificial—except for the bonds that form within it. BJ, the manager, Sony, Hai’s cousin and only actual family member, and other staff like Maureen, Russia and Wayne all have their own quirks that shape Hai in their own way. The novel develops these characters in such subtle yet profound ways that you can’t help but root for them. I get the urge to pick up the book with the same impulse to text my friends and check up on them. 

In contrast to Hai’s familiarity with his coworkers, Hai’s mum does not play a key role in this novel. The pair’s interactions are confined to only phone calls in Vietnamese. His evergrowing relationships with the other employees at “Home Market” and Grazina result from sacrificing his relationship with his mother. One must wither for the other to blossom. I didn’t expect this given the rest of Vuong’s emphasis on his relationship with his mother in his body of work. Growing up in such a family oriented household, this is usually an idea I would be hesitant to accept, but Vuong made me appreciate how the most unlikely people—even someone you randomly stumble upon—may uniquely understand and impact you. It is by fate that you meet, but by choice that you connect.

Vuong uses language in a way I have never seen before, showing how it can both connect and divide characters. Vietnamese is why Hai can communicate with Sony’s mum (Hai’s Aunt) more than Sony himself, and how he speaks with his own mother. However, Vietnamese also divides Grazina and Hai. He longs for Grazina to know Vietnamese so they can connect in his first language and truly feel like family. When Grazina experiences memory loss and confusion, she often changes to Lithuanian, preventing Hai from understanding her. Their language differences are not always negative, however. The two exchange phrases from their respective languages in endearing moments which makes you all the more attached to them. It shows how found family takes effort because there is so much prior knowledge to catch up on, but what arises from it is overwhelming love.

While a book with subtle payoffs and limited major character developments may seem like a disappointing read, the fulfilment I felt after finishing it was special. Rather than witnessing changes in the character’s circumstances, the novel instead reveals true American life and how it is often shaped by the people around us. Ocean Vuong said in an interview with the New York Times that he wanted to “redefine the loser” in his novel. The characters never achieve their true dreams, yet none are losers, nonetheless. They all experience life as best as they can and the novel ends with them less lonely and more known than they have ever been. It comforted me to realise change doesn’t have to be dramatic. Because life is so long the immediate present can feel stagnant, with only small developments across a year seemingly inconsequential. Their accumulation across time, however, allows people to impact us in gradual yet profound ways—Vuong’s ensemble encapsulates this.

This novel is not an easy read by any means; it’s filled with a lifetime of emotions confined to one book. Yet it is safe to say it is still a page turner, driven by a thirst to know more about the characters and their lives beyond “Home Market”. Ocean Vuong has always been incredibly talented in presenting the complex interaction of emotions in our mind and how they manifest viscerally in our bodies. My heart felt full after reading his novel, filled with love for the characters, but also love for the novel itself and all the beautifully formed sentences it held.

The Emperor of Gladness is now available in stores.