Should I enumerate the ways I feel I was perhaps unfair to this book? Firstly, I was never sure I wanted to read it in the first place. A friend sent it to me with a tepid appraisal (she was sending me The Nickel Boys anyway and offered to throw this in too, noting her own ambivalence about it). My friend's assessment -- and also the assessments I kept seeing was, approximately, "The language is beautiful, but..." So, yes, I was biased against it going in.
Secondly, I was rushed. I intended to start reading it at least a day or two earlier than I did. But, as I have written, I set aside all other reading last week to devote some time to John le Carré. So, as it turned out, I started reading On Earth We're Briefly Gorgeous the day before yesterday, and didn't get very far that first day. I read a bit more yesterday, but I read the bulk of it today -- before work, at lunch, and after work.
Furthermore, knowing I had to get to this ahead of my book club meeting today, I really crammed in the le Carré immediately before turning to On Earth... I read 300 pages of The Constant Gardener on Saturday (which is more pages than the entirety of On Earth...), finishing it after 10:00 that night. Le Carré left me craving action (I watched two Jason Bourne movies in as many days for satiation), so the Vuong could hardly be further from what I wanted in the moment. (Perhaps it will at least serve to change my frame of mind as I attempt to read the two other books I hope to finish in 2020, neither of which is heavy on action.)
There were pieces that I found beautiful. There were pieces that resonated. But I have the sense, partly, to be sure, because of my haste in reading, but also I think because of the book itself -- its form and style -- that in a few months, a few years this will be a book that I remember I have read but can't tell you a thing about.
