Catfish and Mandala, a Two-Wheeled Voyage Through the Landscape and Memory of Vietnam

     March book group met at Libby's house with 7 of us present and Paige writing in a short email.  The discussion was lively because no one had a neutral opinion and there were feelings about the book that ran the spectrum of 'what a tale', an enjoyable book, amazingly intense, visceral, fascinating cultural subtleties, sometimes dreamlike, history vs present, depressing, and all of it transporting us to another culture both in the Vietnamese US and in Vietnam itself.  This is what I love about this group, we are so good at discussing a slightly controversial book in an intelligent way.  There were many thoughts on the story, and I was hard pressed to note down what everyone said when.
     I chose the book because it was a portrait of one person affected by an important part of our 20th century history.  It was an immigrant story, a young Vietnamese forced to settle in the US at an early age, and the story of how well or not well they/he survived.  Then twenty years later, whatever the author had become through both his family's influences and those of America, and him not really knowing what he was, he travels back to Vietnam to search for his identity and find his memories, perhaps one of those lost souls that people in Vietnam referred to.  All in the group found it a heartrending and conflicting journey.
     I think that all the conflicts that Andrew wrote about made many of us in the group confused about his journey, but then we felt that maybe we were traveling his inner and outer journey with him at the same time he was writing this book, which can be confusing for anyone as they embark on a journey of self discovery.  Often travel brings a sensation that is at once exhilarating and somewhat terrifying, and I have felt those feelings myself. Andrew felt this exhilaration as he begins his cycle trek from San Francisco, "a liberating bliss".  But after many miles and finally entering Vietnam, it does become a terrifying journey emotionally affecting his whole core. 
     We all thought there were passages of remarkable beauty and expression in the book.  Joan pointed out a passage near the end of the book where the author meets in pure joy "a portly grandmother" laughing and playing in the water....so much of his journey is about history of the country and his family, and he says "for our truths change with time.  There is nothing else.  no mitigating circumstances and no power to undo the sins.  No was.  Only is.  Between us there is but a thin line of intention."  Andrew's tortured journey is almost over.  And as he is asked what he plans to do, he replies, "be a better American".  (Interesting that he now lives in Vietnam.)
     Sheri said that she understood the Catfish part of the title because if the meal of clay pot catfish at crucial parts of the book in Vietnam, but was wondering what Mandala could mean as it is a Tibetan symbol.  Libby thought that perhaps the bicycle wheel was the Mandala part, symbolizing the universe of continuous time, and his journey into the past, present and maybe the future.  Margie wondered about the short italicized chapters called "Fallen Leaves" and a few of us said that they seemed to be short histories from another point of view, an effective way to get into a scene as an observer.  Sheri liked the parts of the book going back and forth in time and felt it was informative and effective.  Saran felt the journey and the book was like a purging of himself.  She pointed out a lovely rendition of his father near the end of the book that we didn't see when An was growing up as his father struggles with anger and frustration.  Annie said she had mixed feelings about the book as we all did, passages that were so beautiful and others that were so intense and hard to read.  Paige wrote to say she enjoyed the book but felt it could have been three books at least, that were too many topics, issues, brought up.
     All in all a provocative read!  And it led Libby to make a lovely Vietnamese dessert called Banh Chuoi Nuong, baked banana cake, one of the very few Vietnamese desserts.  It was made with coconut milk, butter, sweetened condensed milk, and bananas, a fine end to a great group.

A Gentleman in Moscow by Amor Towles

Maddy, Margie, Libby, Paige, and Annie met at Mary Lib’s house on March 6, 2018 to discuss The Gentleman in Moscow by Amor Towles. Linda sent some written comments. Sheri shared comments on the phone afterwards. 

 “How did you feel about the Count?” is the question that opened our discussion. Maddy: “I wanted him to be my Dad.” Sheri spoke about the impact of the Count’s aristocratic bearing and how he (and it) affected others. His properness, poise, and affability set a tone for his acquaintances, and Sheri observed that these traits elevated those around him. Libby commented that he was able to remain a practicing gentleman in his role as a waiter.

Linda: “I enjoyed Count Rostov. Actually, pretty much all of the characters...because of how well they were described.” Libby reminded us he was a man of purpose. Nina and Sophia gave him a reason to live well and keep and pass along his old customs. She pointed out that in spite of his house arrest, the Count considered himself a lucky man because he wasn’t shot, because Mishka signed the Count’s name to his poem, and because his role as Sophia’s father brought such joy to his world.

What Sheri loved about the book was the constant suspense. And Annie spoke several times about Towles’ ability to weave threads of themes, of clues, of connections throughout the book. Those threads would tie events or characters from early in the book to events that occurred much later, adding to the genuine fun of reading the book.

The concept of destruction during the Bolshevik era came up: Destruction of lives, of individuality, of societal norms. While the book wove the politics of the era throughout, they were overshadowed (overpowered?) by the importance of the individuals and their relationships. Or as Linda wrote, “The Russian history was almost backdrop information for all that took place in the Metropol Hotel.” (So there, Bolsheviks!)

Sheri commented on the Count’s ability to speak clever tongue-in-cheek criticisms of the Bolsheviks. 

And having children (Nina and Sophia) as the Count’s main companions provided an avenue for steering conversations away from the Bolshevik mayhem and towards both playful and philosophical conversations that gave readers fascinating insights into the characters.

Playfulness was a constant theme. Nina’s and Sophia’s cleverness, curiosity, and playfulness elicited those same traits in the Count. Towles’ writing itself was playful. His repetitive use of adjectives provided the key clue in identifying the “willowy” woman at the table at the end of the book. In discussions with Towles found online, he said didn’t have a specific reason for starting every chapter (and there were a lot of them) with the letter A, but we speculated anyway. Was it because “A” signifies new beginnings? Or something else?

We played a short round of Zut, the game the Count & Sophia played at dinner to pass time between courses. This gave us an appreciation for the need for a ready command of many topics in order to be able to play the game. Those girls were so bright!

Prompted by the references to Casablanca, and in particular the scene near the end of the book where the Count sets a cocktail glass upright, Sheri commented on the line in the book that read, “… by the smallest of actions, one can restore a sense of order to the world.” In some ways, that’s what the whole book was about. Although the Count’s world was confined to the hotel, he made it rich through his actions and through the relationships he formed and nurtured while there. Sheri said it made her think about what small actions do we all take that help someone else. This would have been a stimulating discussion to have included in our day.

Paige observed that his relationship with Anna felt shallow, at least based on what we knew about it.  Mary Lib wished for more emotional background on the Count’s life. But this book wasn’t about the Count’s entire life; it was only about his life in the Metropol, the reality he constructed there, the friendships he formed, his desire to be the master of his own fate, and the grateful man he became as a result of those experiences.

Margie best summed up our overall delight with the book when she described a repeated experience while listening to the book in the car with Jim. As they were driving along and listening, one of them would hit the Pause button and say, “Wasn’t that beautiful?!?”

Yes, it was. All of it.

Mary Lib