Laren McClung is a poet and the author of a book of poetry, Between Here and Monkey Mountain (2012) Her father served a 1968-69 tour of duty in the Vietnam War with the 173rd Airborne.
In Inheriting the Wind: Poetry and Prose by Descendants of Vietnam Veterans and Refugees (Norton, 400 pp., $19.95, paper) McClung has included the work of a fair and balanced assortment of forty-four veterans’ descendants. The list of familiar and non-familiar Vietnam War veteran writers and poets’ surnames includes Lily Katherine Bowen, Linh Dinh, Heinz Insu Fenkle, Adam Karlin, Elmo Keep, Ada Limon, Bich Minh Nguyen, Andrew X. Pham, Monica Sok, and Hanh Nguyen Willband.
The book—with a Foreward by the acclaimed poet (and Vietnam War veteran) Yusef Komunyakaa—is arranged alphabetically by author’s last name. McClung gives a brief bio at the beginning of each section, providing just the right amount of information iabout the authors and translators. McClung does a commendable job digging up new and different writers representing all the groups that made the Vietnam War possible by their participation and those who now have a life of suffering due to that war.
We’re told early in the introduction that the United States sprayed 5.5 million acres of land in Vietnam with Agent Orange. This toxin sickened both Western troops and Vietnamese, and is a theme throughout the book in poems and stories.
Hoa Nguyen, for example, writing after Emily Dickenson in “Agent Orange Poem”:
What justice foreigns for a sovereign
We doom in nation rooms
Recommend & lend resembling fragrant
Here we have high flowers a lilac in the nose
“The Zeroes—taught us—Phosphorus”
and so stripped the leaves to none
Thanks to Hoa Nguyen for this fine poem. The quality of work in this book is always high and always thought provoking, as this poem was to me.
This isn’t a book to read a bedtime. At least it wasn’t for me. I found it seriously disturbing on almost every page.
My favorite prose piece is “The Gangsta We Are All Looking For” by Le Thi Diem Thuy. My favorite sentence in the essay is: “When we moved in, we had to sign a form promising not to put fish bones in the garbage disposal.”
I laughed, out loud, when I read that sentence.
The author’s family had moved into old Navy housing in Linda Vista, California. I thought about the tales the garbage disposal could tell if it could talk. I guess it’s just as well it can’t.
A huge amount of work went into the success of this book, and I thank Laren McClung for it.