thedrifter
08-30-09, 08:50 AM
books
A Vietnam legacy
Veteran's dying request sends daughter on a journey of hope, discovery
By Robin Vidimos
Special to The Denver Post
The Denver Post
Posted:08/30/2009 01:00:00 AM MDT
The crowded streets of Ho Chi Minh City and lingering memories of Americans and war are as strong a presence as the characters who live in "Dragon House." John Shors tells a story in which people who want to make a difference succeed and find themselves profoundly changed by the experience.
Iris Rhodes promises her father on his deathbed to finish the job he'd started. His life had been haunted by the difficult memories born of his time fighting in Vietnam. Seeking to redress wrongs, he'd planned a home that would rescue Vietnamese children living on the street. Cancer meant he was unable to see his dream through. Iris promises to carry on in his stead.
As Iris is packing up her apartment, she is visited by a resident of her childhood neighborhood. Mrs. Woods had heard of Iris' planned trip, and she seeks help for her son, Noah.
Noah is a couple of years younger than Iris, and he'd idolized her when they were growing up. But a stint with the Marines in Iraq has rendered him an amputee with physical and psychic scars. In his five months home, he's been unable to pull free from his anger and depression. His mother is hoping a trip to Vietnam would start the healing he needs.
Iris doesn't have a good reason to refuse. And she needs the help, so she invites Noah along.
As the Americans travel, Vietnam continues in familiar rhythms. "From the rooftop bar of the Rex Hotel, Ho Chi Minh City resembled some sort of carnival ride. Neon signs flickered. The headlights of countless motor scooters illuminated French-colonial buildings and tree-lined boulevards. Women — clad in everything from traditional full-length dresses to Donna Karan knockoffs to tank tops — strode down sidewalks bordering art galleries, massage parlors, sushi restaurants and nondescript government buildings."
Making their living from the streets are several whose paths will soon cross those of the Americans: Mai and one-handed Minh, who challenges tourists to games of Connect Four; the money they earn keeps keep their opium-addicted protector supplied. There is also Qui, selling guidebooks to raise a few coins to buy pain medication for her granddaughter, Tam.
Shors is an omniscient narrator, following each of his characters. Iris had read that there were 4 million scooters in Ho Chi Minh City, and in her first trip to the Center, feels as though "all of them suddenly descended on her." Noah contrasts the streets of the city with his memories of Baghdad, noting "that here people seemed happy, eager to explore the night. But he didn't care. He felt dead, and even though the world around him teemed with life, no sight could pull him from the depths of his own misery."
Minh and Mai, two abandoned children who sleep under a bridge, awake in the basket that serves as their bed to the sounds of "trucks rumbling above, the giant cockroaches scavenging for food, the stench of urine in the early morning air." Their order of business is the same every day: Make enough money to keep their protector in drugs, with hopefully enough left over to buy something to eat.
Qui and Tam have a similarly regimented existence. "For Tam, some days were worse than others, and today was one of the bad days. A profound weariness enveloped her. . . . Aware that her granddaughter was suffering, Qui prayed that their fortunes would change, that someone would take pity on them and give them the money to buy more painkillers."
Two other characters revolve around the Americans as they go through the final preparations to open the center: Sahn, a nearly blind policeman who seems hardly a comforting presence; and Thien, an assistant to Iris' father who turns out to be instrumental in making many dreams come true.
"Dragon House" seems a fitting title for a story of determination and bravery, set against heavy odds. Thien explains to Iris that dragons are central to life in Vietnam: "If a river runs red, a dragon below the water is bleeding. If a breeze blows suddenly across the sky, a dragon must be flying above. And warm rains mean that dragons are crying. We Vietnamese love dragons, which deepen the seas, guard our treasures, and rule the natural world."
Shors' characters fight fate with the fierceness of dragons.
Robin Vidimos is a freelance writer living in Centennial.
FICTION
Dragon House
by John Shors
$15
Meet the author
John Shors will discuss "Dragon House" at 7:30 p.m. Tuesday at the Highlands Ranch Tattered Cover, 9315 Dorchester St.; at 7:30 p.m. Wednesday at the Boulder Bookstore, 1107 Pearl St., Boulder; and at 7 p.m. Thursday at the Lone Tree Barnes & Noble, 8374 S. Willow St.
Ellie
A Vietnam legacy
Veteran's dying request sends daughter on a journey of hope, discovery
By Robin Vidimos
Special to The Denver Post
The Denver Post
Posted:08/30/2009 01:00:00 AM MDT
The crowded streets of Ho Chi Minh City and lingering memories of Americans and war are as strong a presence as the characters who live in "Dragon House." John Shors tells a story in which people who want to make a difference succeed and find themselves profoundly changed by the experience.
Iris Rhodes promises her father on his deathbed to finish the job he'd started. His life had been haunted by the difficult memories born of his time fighting in Vietnam. Seeking to redress wrongs, he'd planned a home that would rescue Vietnamese children living on the street. Cancer meant he was unable to see his dream through. Iris promises to carry on in his stead.
As Iris is packing up her apartment, she is visited by a resident of her childhood neighborhood. Mrs. Woods had heard of Iris' planned trip, and she seeks help for her son, Noah.
Noah is a couple of years younger than Iris, and he'd idolized her when they were growing up. But a stint with the Marines in Iraq has rendered him an amputee with physical and psychic scars. In his five months home, he's been unable to pull free from his anger and depression. His mother is hoping a trip to Vietnam would start the healing he needs.
Iris doesn't have a good reason to refuse. And she needs the help, so she invites Noah along.
As the Americans travel, Vietnam continues in familiar rhythms. "From the rooftop bar of the Rex Hotel, Ho Chi Minh City resembled some sort of carnival ride. Neon signs flickered. The headlights of countless motor scooters illuminated French-colonial buildings and tree-lined boulevards. Women — clad in everything from traditional full-length dresses to Donna Karan knockoffs to tank tops — strode down sidewalks bordering art galleries, massage parlors, sushi restaurants and nondescript government buildings."
Making their living from the streets are several whose paths will soon cross those of the Americans: Mai and one-handed Minh, who challenges tourists to games of Connect Four; the money they earn keeps keep their opium-addicted protector supplied. There is also Qui, selling guidebooks to raise a few coins to buy pain medication for her granddaughter, Tam.
Shors is an omniscient narrator, following each of his characters. Iris had read that there were 4 million scooters in Ho Chi Minh City, and in her first trip to the Center, feels as though "all of them suddenly descended on her." Noah contrasts the streets of the city with his memories of Baghdad, noting "that here people seemed happy, eager to explore the night. But he didn't care. He felt dead, and even though the world around him teemed with life, no sight could pull him from the depths of his own misery."
Minh and Mai, two abandoned children who sleep under a bridge, awake in the basket that serves as their bed to the sounds of "trucks rumbling above, the giant cockroaches scavenging for food, the stench of urine in the early morning air." Their order of business is the same every day: Make enough money to keep their protector in drugs, with hopefully enough left over to buy something to eat.
Qui and Tam have a similarly regimented existence. "For Tam, some days were worse than others, and today was one of the bad days. A profound weariness enveloped her. . . . Aware that her granddaughter was suffering, Qui prayed that their fortunes would change, that someone would take pity on them and give them the money to buy more painkillers."
Two other characters revolve around the Americans as they go through the final preparations to open the center: Sahn, a nearly blind policeman who seems hardly a comforting presence; and Thien, an assistant to Iris' father who turns out to be instrumental in making many dreams come true.
"Dragon House" seems a fitting title for a story of determination and bravery, set against heavy odds. Thien explains to Iris that dragons are central to life in Vietnam: "If a river runs red, a dragon below the water is bleeding. If a breeze blows suddenly across the sky, a dragon must be flying above. And warm rains mean that dragons are crying. We Vietnamese love dragons, which deepen the seas, guard our treasures, and rule the natural world."
Shors' characters fight fate with the fierceness of dragons.
Robin Vidimos is a freelance writer living in Centennial.
FICTION
Dragon House
by John Shors
$15
Meet the author
John Shors will discuss "Dragon House" at 7:30 p.m. Tuesday at the Highlands Ranch Tattered Cover, 9315 Dorchester St.; at 7:30 p.m. Wednesday at the Boulder Bookstore, 1107 Pearl St., Boulder; and at 7 p.m. Thursday at the Lone Tree Barnes & Noble, 8374 S. Willow St.
Ellie