17 Comments

Thank you, sir. Essays like this one are the reason so many readers follow your work regularly. This is the kind of essay that belongs in a beautiful, collectible hardcover edition.

I sincerely hope to see that book someday. If publishers still reject you, you could self-publish and sell directly as a fund raiser. I would be your first customer!

Thank you again, Mr. Dinh. Please stay safe and well.

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Mar 12, 2022·edited Mar 12, 2022

Linh--very nice work, puts it all in perspective! I recently completed a survey for an academic study, and one question asked me to comment on the most traumatic experience of my life. I've gone through numerous tests in that time, but realized that nothing I thought was difficult at the time it happened could hold a candle to what tens of millions experience off and on throughout their entire, sometimes prematurely truncated lifetimes.

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Beautiful story, and unsettling prophecy. You are right that since the Greatest Generation we Americans have not been tested. What is abundantly evident is that when it comes, most of us will not have the stuff to meet that test.

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Mar 13, 2022·edited Mar 13, 2022

There is no such thing as the greatest generation. What's so great about firebombing Tokyo and nuking two Japanese cities, just so Truman could test his new super weapon? And, what's so great about firebombing thousands of civilians at Dresden? And there's the great Eisenhower who starved to death tens of thousands of German veterans in freezing open fields after the war was over? I could go on...

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Hi Linh,

I remember reading a harrowing war story by Bao Ninh a few years ago. He served from 1969 until 1975. That is such a long time to fight, but from my limited understanding of the conflict, I have heard that the NVA were exceptionally tough. I can only imagine the horrors which he (or any combatant with a soul) experienced. Then to write about it...

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Hi Troy,

On my first trip to Hanoi in 1995, I met a painter, Van Thuyet, who knew Bao Ninh, so we went to the guy's house to bug him. Very gregarious, Bao Ninh brought out the Black Label. I told him I was working on an anthology of Vietnamese fiction, so he agreed to let me use one of his stories. A couple days later, we also went to the critic Hoang Ngoc Hien's house for dinner. I sat on the back of his motorbike.

After I got back to Philly, I got a phone call from Bao Ninh, and these were very expensive then, especially from Vietnam. Bao Ninh said he had changed his mind, but after I explained there was no way I could do an anthology of new Viet fiction without him, he relented.

What worried Bao Ninh, you see, was to be included in a book with dissident writers, overseas writers or those who had published in South Vietnam, for they were all banned. In any case, the book came out as Night, Again in 1996, with one of Bao Ninh's stories.

In 2015, I was invited to Singapore for a literary festival, and Bao Ninh was also scheduled to appear, including with me on a panel. Great, I though, I'll get to hang out with him again. Just days before the festival opened, Bao Ninh told the organizers he wasn't coming.

Though we don't know what happened, it's probably because he decided to be with me on a panel could get him in trouble, and the Viet police may have told him exactly that. In fact, the government may have withdrawn his exit permission. I'm certain they have put him under all kinds of pressure, as is usual with writers there.

In an unpublished interview, and I only had access to it because I was hired to translate it, Bao Ninh said that in an NVA battalion, there's a "backpack library" ["thư viện ba lô"], which is carried by just one soldier. No one read these books, however, because they were boring. Whenever they had overwhelmed a South Vietnamese village or town, NVA soldiers would grab books from evacuated houses, because these books were much better!

Bao Ninh said that in 1994 or 95, when nearly everyone thought Hanoi would continue to open up, but it tightened, though not back to the insane degree of the hardcore Communist years.

Because they're especially irrelevant, poets are mostly left alone, though an invitation to the police station for a "conversation" can still happen.

Linh

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This is fascinating Linh. The amazing personalities and experiences that you've encountered in this life are a testament to the possibilities that this life holds if one challenges these possibilities. Thank you!

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Who runs Viet Nam? Who ultimately owns and controls the country and has directed its modern tragic course? Imho international banksters' masonic lickspittles, that's who. But then, one could say that about all the rest of the world's nationsl

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Linh, excuse this unrelated comment: do you have an email where readers may correspond with you? I have a few things that I’d rather not put in SubStack. Either way, thanks.

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Yes, here's my email: linhdinh99@yahoo.com

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Always a pleasure to read your essays.

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"If you haven’t already, you, too, will soon ask, “Why did everything I knew disappear?”

As an American immigrant (refugee if we're being frank) to Russia, I feel caught between two unraveling worlds. I can stay here and try to ride out a sinking ship against my better judgment, or leave everything and run back to the (hated) USA and right back into that glue trap from which I fought so hard to extract myself eight years ago, where my son will just whither and die on the vine.

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Hi adi, I think you're much safer in Russia. Is there any animosity there towards American expats?--Linh

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I tend to agree, but I have to admit, I am afraid.

So far I have experienced nothing unfavorable. The only time I ever encountered any anti-Americanism was in 2014, when a drunk guy on the train shouted "Yankee go home" and laughed. Of course, I don't go waving my US passport around in public and denigrating everything here as a lot of Westerners do. On the whole, Russians seem to know the difference between people and governments. And of course, many Russians have family in Germany, the UK or US.

What has changed is that Russians aren't nearly as enthralled with the West as they were when I first arrived.

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I’d much rather be in Russia than the U.S. Better food security, less crime, better health care, better vodka, and lake Baikal.

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Quite a few dead journalists too.

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Yes, Michael Hastings explodes to mind.

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