Quiet As They Come
Table of Contents
Praise
Title Page
Dedication
Epigraph
HUNGER
THE PUSSYCATS
EVERYTHING FORBIDDEN
QUIET AS THEY COME
A MAP BACK TO THE WORLD AND INTO YOUR HEART
SILVER GIRL
TAPS
THEY WERE DANGEROUS
ARCADE GAMES
IN THE SEASON OF MILK FRUIT
RELIEF
READING GUIDE QUESTIONS
Acknowledgements
Copyright Page
MORE PRAISE FOR QUIET AS THEY COME
“This deeply moving collection of stories hums and glows with the interconnected lives of an extended immigrant family from Vietnam. Chau navigates her characters’ lives—their tragedy and humor, longings and furies, vast losses and secret beauties—with grace, skill, and ferocious compassion. Quiet As They Come announces the arrival of an astonishing literary talent with a great deal to say about the intricacies of family life, coming of age, emigration, and—above all—the treasures buried in the human heart.”
—Carolina De Robertis, The Invisible Mountain
“What a rich and charming collection of stories this is. It offers an insider’s view of the immigrant experience: a world divided, one culture from another, past from present, parent from child.”
—Lynn Freed, The Curse of the Appropriate Man
“In stories that manage to be both playful and poignant, Angie Chau displays her exceptional gift for capturing the intricate interactions between parents and children, men and women, and Vietnamese and American cultures. There’s grit beneath the sparkle of her language. Chau’s intimate portrayal of characters who must navigate the uncertain terrain between what’s left behind and what lies ahead is revelatory.”—Leslie Larson, Breaking Out of Bedlam
“Chau’s characters bristle with life. They’re full of beauty and grit, love and cowardice, bravery and spite. Many of them are new to this country, and Chau’s gift for detailed observation made me see San Francisco again as though it were new to me. Gosh, this book practically has a heartbeat. A rare gift, indeed.”—Robin Romm,
The Mercy Papers
For my parents
Longing, we say, because desire is full of endless distances.
—Robert Hass, Meditation at Lagunitas
HUNGER
I live in a three-bedroom house with my mom and dad and little sister Michelle. We have the corner bedroom because my mom can’t sleep. Down the hall, the biggest bedroom goes to my uncle and aunt because they have three sons. The smallest room goes to my aunt Kim because it’s only her and Sophia and Marcel who don’t have a dad.
The house is big and old. There are lots of hidden closets and corners and secrets inside. Like how we’re not allowed to bring up Uncle Duc because he’s in jail in Vietnam. Or how we have to step over my dad when we go to the bathroom at night, but come morning we have to pretend he was never sleeping in the hallway. Or how we’re not supposed to hear Uncle Lam’s fists on Aunt Trang’s body. So when it’s the Fourth of July, and all our parents leave so they can work over-time, and they close all the curtains because they say it’ll keep the house cooler, I wonder if it’s to keep us a secret too.