Books
Ocean Vuong
The Emperor of Gladness
In economically depressed East Gladness, Connecticut, 19-year-old Hai, a suicidal college dropout, is talked off the ledge of a bridge by an elderly Lithuanian widow, Grazina. Grazina lives alone in a tumbledown house by the river and she asks him to stay. From here, life begins to get better for Hai. He reconnects with his cousin, Sony, who works at HomeMarket, a fast-food restaurant, and when Hai gets work there too, he meets a colourful collection of co-workers who quickly become something of a found family for him: “He would survive, he decided once and for all.”
And yet, there are problems. Hai’s mother believes he’s in medical school, his pill addiction is only getting worse and Grazina’s family is circling, looking to put her in a home. Over a series of misadventures and impressive set pieces, including one hog-slaughtering scene you will not quickly forget, Ocean Vuong portrays the precarious, grim lives of the working poor with great care, while paying attention to moments of dignity and grace.
Vuong moves between this concrete world and other worlds of fantasy and memory, and not all of these are equally engaging. Grazina’s dementia makes her easier to reach for Hai through fantasy role-play, and the two of them create a world to escape into that is based on Grazina’s unreliable memories of World War II. These scenes feel long. There is something about this frequent escape into hectic fantasy that only makes the whole scenario of the two living together in this junk-filled house by the river feel even less real than it already does.
Hai narrates his experiences as a Vietnamese refugee in drug-ravaged small-town America with sensitivity and insight, being born “14 years after the big war everyone loved talking about but no one understood, least of all himself”. And, while there are moments when his poetic language can feel overwrought, his eye for the abstractions of language is sharp. HomeMarket is especially rich material for this, the smell of the place being a mix of body odour, alcohol, cigarettes and all “the artificial flavors and aromas wafting from the vats of industrially produced food: diacetyl, acetylpropionyl, acetoin, and hydroxybenzoic acid, along with the metallic scent of colorings like Sunset Yellow FCF, tartrazine, Patent Blue V, and Green 3”.
Hai’s earnestness may not be for everyone, but Vuong’s more conventional second novel is ultimately an entertaining and tender one.
Jonathan Cape, 416pp, $34.99
This article was first published in the print edition of The Saturday Paper on June 7, 2025 as "The Emperor of Gladness".
For almost a decade, The Saturday Paper has published Australia’s leading writers and thinkers. We have pursued stories that are ignored elsewhere, covering them with sensitivity and depth. We have done this on refugee policy, on government integrity, on robo-debt, on aged care, on climate change, on the pandemic.
All our journalism is fiercely independent. It relies on the support of readers. By subscribing to The Saturday Paper, you are ensuring that we can continue to produce essential, issue-defining coverage, to dig out stories that take time, to doggedly hold to account politicians and the political class.
There are very few titles that have the freedom and the space to produce journalism like this. In a country with a concentration of media ownership unlike anything else in the world, it is vitally important. Your subscription helps make it possible.
Purchase this book
The Emperor of Gladness
BUY NOW
When you purchase a book through this link, Schwartz Media earns a commission. This commission does not influence our criticism, which is entirely independent.
Subscriber exclusive
Send this article to a friend for free.
Share this subscriber exclusive article with a friend or family member using share credits.
