'Sigh, Gone' Review: Phuc Tran's Chaotic Refugee Memoir Feels Just Right Phuc Tran was a toddler in 1975 when his family fled Vietnam and landed in a small town in Pennsylvania. His memoir is a scrambled story of great books and punk rock.
NPR logo

'Sigh, Gone' Is A Refugee's Chaotic Memoir Of Displacement And Belonging

  • Download
  • <iframe src="https://www.npr.org/player/embed/842360478/847374033" width="100%" height="290" frameborder="0" scrolling="no" title="NPR embedded audio player">
  • Transcript
'Sigh, Gone' Is A Refugee's Chaotic Memoir Of Displacement And Belonging

Review

Book Reviews

'Sigh, Gone' Is A Refugee's Chaotic Memoir Of Displacement And Belonging

  • Download
  • <iframe src="https://www.npr.org/player/embed/842360478/847374033" width="100%" height="290" frameborder="0" scrolling="no" title="NPR embedded audio player">
  • Transcript

DAVE DAVIES, HOST:

This is FRESH AIR. A debut memoir from a Vietnamese immigrant about displacement and reinvention has caught the attention of our book critic Maureen Corrigan. Here's her review of "Sigh, Gone." That's Sigh - S-I-G-H - Gone - G-O-N-E - by Phuc Tran.

MAUREEN CORRIGAN, BYLINE: I was initially drawn to Phuc Tran's new memoir because of the playfulness of its title. Tran's memoir about growing up in Carlisle, Pa., as the son of Vietnamese refugees is called "Sigh..." - that's S-I-G-H - "...Gone," - G-O-N-E. As it turns out, Tran's writing style is loosey-goosey, all over the place in emotional tone and subject, something I might ordinarily find annoying but kind of appreciate right now. In this confused and scary time, a story about displacement that itself is so scrambled feels just right to me.

In 1975, Tran was a toddler when he and his extended family fled the fall of Saigon. They spent time in a refugee camp, and then - thanks to outreach by the Lutheran church - they were relocated to the town of Carlisle in South Central Pennsylvania. There, they took on their new collective identity as the Vietnamese family in town. As Tran says, (reading) random strangers had saved us, and random strangers were cruel to us, too.

Among many other things, Tran's family quickly learned to order their occasional treat of a McDonald's meal via the drive-through lane. Going inside the restaurant to eat could attract racist remarks or the more benign but intense attention from Vietnam vets haunted by the legacy of that war. That was my inheritance, Tran tells us, the anxiety of being stared at.

Tran's mother found work at a local apple orchard while his father, a lawyer in South Vietnam, was hired at the tire plant, where Tran recalls he came home from the factory shifts reeking of freshly extruded tires and burnt rubber. And Tran himself? Well, with a first name like Phuc, you can imagine what life was like for him once he hit middle school.

In his loose, often funny and rambling way, Tran talks a lot about the reassuring influence of books, specifically about his fierce indebtedness to the company of Hester Prynne in "The Scarlet Letter," Kafka's Gregor Samsa and other misfit characters. But the surprise element in Tran's coming-of-age story is punk rock. As much as he was shaped by the classics, Tran tells us, he was also saved by The Sex Pistols. Randomly taking up skateboarding in eighth grade leads Tran into the sweaty outlaw community of local skate punks.

Because Tran doesn't know much about the music on the cassettes his new friends are passing around, he makes an emergency trip to the Carlisle public library to bone up on punk from "The Rolling Stone History Of Rock And Roll." But that comic passage kickflips into violence a few pages on. Tran recalls bringing home a report card on which he received a U for unsatisfactory in gym. That one grade keeps him off the honor roll, and his father goes berserk, lunging at him with scissors, snapping his vinyl records in half, shredding his posters and filleting his precious leather jacket.

For weeks after, Tran couch-surfs or sleeps in friends' closets. The scene itself is familiar - a hardworking immigrant father angered by a poor showing on a child's report card. But the raw intensity of it is what's shocking, especially given the comic tone of so much of this memoir. Eventually, Tran moves back home, and the incident is blanketed over in silence. But it's time to move on. Tran looks around and sees his older friends either joining the Army or dead-ending in Carlisle and realizes that punk rock has its limits as a means of escape.

That moment of clarity leads Tran back even more seriously to books and to, of all things, the discovery of a secondhand copy of "The Lifetime Reading Plan," a 1960 book by the mid-20th century intellectual Clifton Fadiman. In it, Fadiman recommends the 104 books that he deemed essential to the education of any civilized person in the Western world. Entranced by what he regards as Fadiman's tough punk attitude toward reading, Tran immerses himself in Faulkner, Henry James and "The History Of The Peloponnesian War."

And, well, you know the rest because the saga of the anonymous kid who transports himself through reading has been told over and over again. A scholarship to college awaits, and Tran becomes a high school Latin teacher. The end. Except these days, Tran is no longer teaching and is instead a renowned tattoo artist. In actuality and on the pages of this memoir, Tran's life goes off-road, defies reading plans or most other kinds of plans, which makes "Sigh, Gone" a congenial read for our chaotic time.

DAVIES: Maureen Corrigan teaches at Georgetown University.

On tomorrow's FRESH AIR, why there will be no quick return to normal from the coronavirus. Most states have had stay-at-home orders for weeks, but many are looking to relax controls, even though we still don't have widespread testing or contact tracing. We'll talk with Donald McNeil of The New York Times, a science and health reporter who specializes in plagues and pestilence. Hope you can join us.

(SOUNDBITE OF CHARLIE HADEN'S "AMERICAN DREAMS")

DAVIES: FRESH AIR's executive producer is Danny Miller. Our technical director and engineer is Audrey Bentham. Our interviews and reviews are produced and edited by Amy Salit, Phyllis Myers, Sam Briger, Lauren Krenzel, Heidi Saman, Therese Madden, Mooj Zadie, Thea Challoner and Seth Kelley Our associate producer for digital media is Molly Seavy-Nesper. Roberta Shorrock directs the show. For Terry Gross, I'm Dave Davies.

(SOUNDBITE OF CHARLIE HADEN'S "AMERICAN DREAMS")

Copyright © 2020 NPR. All rights reserved. Visit our website terms of use and permissions pages at www.npr.org for further information.

NPR transcripts are created on a rush deadline by Verb8tm, Inc., an NPR contractor, and produced using a proprietary transcription process developed with NPR. This text may not be in its final form and may be updated or revised in the future. Accuracy and availability may vary. The authoritative record of NPR’s programming is the audio record.