THE EMPEROR OF GLADNESS

A young man’s path to redemption runs through a New England chain restaurant.

Hai, the hero of Vuong’s ambitious second novel—following On Earth We’re Briefly Gorgeous (2019)—is a 19-year-old college dropout and painkiller addict prepared to kill himself by leaping off a bridge in East Gladness, a rural Connecticut town. He’s coaxed to safety by Grazina, an 82-year-old woman with dementia, and soon he becomes her in-home support; with the help of a cousin, Sony, he lands a job at HomeMarket, a fast-casual joint. This is an unlikely milieu for a novel about the long consequences of violence, but that’s what Vuong strives for: In poetic, somber prose, he contemplates Grazina’s memories of escaping her native Lithuania under Stalin’s purges, the U.S. Civil War (Sony is obsessed with battles and the film Gettysburg), and his own family’s escape from Vietnam to America. The book is filled with some brilliant set pieces: A harrowing scene where Hai and his co-workers slaughter pigs for extra cash, his boss’s ill-fated attempt to launch a career as a pro wrestler, and moments where Hai soothes Grazina in the midst of her dementia by pretending to be a U.S. Army sergeant helping her escape Stalin’s clutches. And throughout, Hai serves as a sponge absorbing America’s worst elements: addiction, racism, and the urge to feign hollow successes. (He routinely lies to his mother, who believes he’s thriving in med school.) The references to Slaughterhouse-Five and The Brothers Karamazov underscore Vuong’s interest in exploring war and morality, but this is remarkable as a novel that tries to look at those themes outside of conventional realism or combat porn. It’s a messy but worthy exploration of how hurt and self-deception leaches into everyday life.

A sui generis take on the surprising and cruel ways violence is passed on across generations.