All language is communication. That may sound stupidly obvious from someone who runs a blog, but it’s good to remind ourselves. Every time we chat about the weather with a colleague, get into arguments with someone who watches too much Fox News, or order food at a restaurant, we’re employing different modes of communication. When a poet writes a poem about an indescribable feeling or an author creates a fantasy world from whole cloth, they’re utilizing language’s playfulness. All these forms of communication rely on the mutual understanding of language and its cultural connotations. So what happens to communication when you don’t share a language? 

Anyone who’s ever visited a foreign country can vouch for the frustration of language barriers. The simple act of ordering food or navigating public transport can turn into a battle against your own tongue. These hurdles double for those who never had the opportunity to read or write. Language becomes something to struggle against instead of the socialization tool it was meant to be. This is what made me add Ocean Vuong’s On Earth We’re Briefly Gorgeous to this year’s list; its exploration of language, communication, and what happens when it all breaks down. 

On Earth We’re Briefly Gorgeous centers around the relationship of a first-generation immigrant family from Vietnam. Written in the form of letters from a young boy, Little Dog, to his mother, who cannot read or write, the book revolves around the lack of communication between the two. His mother, speaking only the Vietnamese her mother taught her and unable to receive an education after her school was bombed, has little way to communicate effectively with her English-speaking son. The letters are an exploration on Little Dog’s part, trying to understand her abuse, her mental illness, and her past in an attempt to figure out how to relate to her. 

One of the reasons I added this book to the list is that the protagonist, Little Dog, mirrors Vuong himself. The work is considered autofiction, another name for autobiographical fiction, which is a fictionalized version of lived experiences by the author. This allows the author to draw from real experiences but create new characters or dialogue to create a coherent narrative. It also allows a degree of separation from the work itself- we know that Vuong experienced things like Little Dog does in the book, but not exactly which ones or in which way. It is a compelling way to use one’s complicated life to create while still maintaining a level of distance. 

Knowing this book is a lived experience made me realize how much I take my language and methods of communication for granted. It’s one thing to be a tourist in a foreign country; it’s another thing entirely to be unable to communicate with your family as a young kid. The language barriers can only magnify the other issues present, like Little Dog’s family history of mental illness or the passing down of intergenerational trauma. I’ll also be interested to see how it affects Little Dog’s understanding of his sexuality. Many queer teens have a difficult time finding the words or the courage to express themselves to their parents- add a language barrier and a potential culture clash to the mix and the conversation becomes even more difficult than it already might have been. 

That’s what drew me to this book, though: the paradox of an award-winning author of poetry being unable to fully communicate with his mother. Language, something so important to Vuong, becomes his struggle. In writing letters to his mother that she cannot read, he at once grows closer and further to her with each word. 

Reading over reviews for On Earth, I noticed a few similarities between this book and others we’ve already read on the blog. One, it’s an epistolary novel; two, it’s a long-form book written by a poet; and three, the narrative structure is non-linear. I must emphasize that this was not intentional! I don’t know how I keep managing to pick up books with similar structures or literary elements; maybe they’re more common in modern literature and I missed the memo. Either way, I’m excited to compare Ta-Nehisi Coates’ style with Vuong’s, or the non-linear aspect of the narrative to In The Watchful City’s format. In writing these introductions and reflections, I feel I’ve gotten a deeper understanding of the works I’ve read this year. It makes it even more fun when I can compare the styles and devices used within each and evaluate how they affected the narratives (Nerd Alert)!

By now we’ve made a full circle back to the importance of language. Those literary styles and devices are products of writers stretching language and storytelling to stoke the reader’s emotions and beliefs. Without authors playing with our understanding of language and my love of dissecting it, this blog wouldn’t exist. Language and communication shape who we are, what we value, and how we see the world. I’m excited to read On Earth We’re Briefly Gorgeous for that reason alone. I hope you’ll all join me in reminding ourselves how uniquely language plays a role in all our lives.