Afterparties is a razor-sharp collection that captures the reader from the first story. I was drawn in to the raw-ness, the humor, the melancholy, the resilience of each of So's characters. The representation of the Central Valley's Asian American diaspora communities was so spot on and will be an incredible reflection for so many students.

I don't read a lot of short stories or short story collections, but after reading about the talented Anthony Veasna So, I decided to give this collection a try and I'm glad I did. These stories were such moving portraits of different members of the Cambodian-American community touching on issues of gender, ethnicity and social class in ways that were surprising and insightful.. These stories were poignant, funny, and important. It's so sad that this is the only literary contribution that So will be able to make, but is a meaningful and memorable one.

These stories are driven by a rare energy that moves from social, external observations to sensitive internal insights. I appreciated how varied the style and tone of the stories are, which is a testament to So's talent. The stories do the work of representation--depicting Cambodian-American communities with an autoethnographic eye--while at the same time being skeptical of what mere representation can do. Far from just ennobling his characters, So shows them as messy, funny, silly, emotional, violent, loving, tied to tradition, haunted by history, but striving for something more too. I especially liked the story "Human Development" as a companion and counterpoint to the rest. It felt like his most personal story, told from the first-person POV of a character named Anthony, recent Stanford grad in SF, who meets an older Cambodian guy on Grindr developing a "safe space app." The older guy, Ben, seems to find it incredibly meaningful that they're both Cambodian-American gay guys, but Anthony is less convinced. It would've been easy to really satirize the "safe space" app, but So leaves it smartly more ambiguous. Maybe people really do crave a safe space for people like themselves so much that it would be worth a VC-funded app. But, So shows, safe spaces often aren't that neat. (What's "safe" about a community dealing with the intergenerational trauma of a genocide?) I would've loved to've read So taking on how this fits with American mythology and excess more, which is what this story seems to be pointing towards. He's able to balance irony and earnest sensitivity in a way that's maybe 90s-retro but also fresh for the moment. Although the hagiographic articles about him and this book in the wake of his death felt a little overblown, it's a true and quieter tragedy that there won't be more stories coming from him in the future.

Many of the memoir-like stories in Afterparties are about Anthony Veasna So's life as a Cambodian-American growing up in California. They are sometimes sad, sometimes witty. And several are about being gay and finding one's way as a son of refugees.

While I didn't love every story, I admire the author's talent as a writer and his ability to be brutal honest.

So was "on the brink of stardom,” according to several publications, including the New York Times.

But his potential (and life) was cut short. He died of a drug overdose in December 2020 before Afterparties was published. Thankfully, readers will get to experience more of So's within the next year or two.

Special thanks to Ecco for an advanced reader copy via the NetGalley app. I also purchased the audiobook to listen to while reading the digital version.

NetGalley Advanced Review Copy | In So's Afterparties, the past and present intersect, shaping futures and even communities for Cambodian-Americans living in CA.

The stories dive deeply into themes of family, race, racism, sexuality, and the meaning of success. We see how trauma is carried over through generations, especially following the Khmer Rouge genocide.

Three short stories that touched us the most include “Three Women of Chuck’s Donuts,” “Superking Scores Again,” and “Human Development.”

Afterparties is also a BOTM add-on.

Read our full review on The Uncorked Librarian here: https://www.theuncorkedlibrarian.com/upcoming-2021-new-book-releases/

Thank you to NetGalley and Ecco for providing us with a free advanced copy in exchange for a fair and honest review.

Every so often you come across a book that is so striking, and so original, but it is just not your cup of tea. I learned about the author's passing at such a devastatingly young age, and honestly, I think the literature world (and the world, really) are the worse off for it. His voice was distinct, and biting, and took you on a whirlwind where you couldn't even catch your breath between stories. If you like irreverence, and dark (i.e. gallows) humor, and prose that is as poetic as it is guttural, you should not miss this bittersweet debut.

I love a collection of short stories and this was wonderful. I wasn't sure exactly what to think going into this one, but I was pleasantly surprised with these Stories

I absolute adored this book and am eternally heartbroken about the author's passing. This short story collection was so strong especially for a debut. The stories were weaved together, woven from one thread to another. that tightens this whole story. I didn't know anything about Cambodia or the Khmer Rouge history. I learned a lot from this book, I felt a lot with this book. I am so happy to have gotten to read it.

Damn this was so good and now we won't get any more works from him? :^(

This was such a beautiful collection that shows the RANGE Anthony Veasna So had. Every story was artfully crafted with both emotional depth and humor.

Thank you NetGalley for providing me a free ARC in exchange for review.

So was a gay first-generation Cambodian-American writer. The stories in this book center Cambodian Americans who are children of refugees living in California, grappling with intergenerational trauma and navigating their many identities. To learn more about So from those who loved him, check out the beautiful Vulture profile on him titled 'Infinite Self' by E. Alex Jung.

While I mourn the fact that he isn't around to see the critical acclaim he's received or hear how his work has impacted its readers, I also grieve that the world has lost not only Anthony the Writer but Anthony the person. Anthony the vibrant smart-ass, Anthony the smug guy who seemed to be good at everything, Anthony the snarky asshole, anxious and depressed Anthony, wild party animal Anthony, loving-helicopter-friend Anthony, and all of the other things he added up to outside of his work, outside of the stories he left us.

In his story titled THE SHOP, So paints a picture of a dad struggling to make ends meet as his auto shop business fails, and a son who thinks he is helping his father, only to realize his lack of motivation in life is what is tethering his Dad to the failing business. The son realizes how foolish he has been to romanticize the life his parents are working so hard to get him out of. At the end of the story, So writes this from the perspective of the son:

"But what," I was ready to ask, for every life Dad and I had lived and lost, "will we do after?"

I don’t know what we do after being left with these short stories, but I am so grateful for these messy, glimmering artifacts of Anthony’s mind and heart.

I've been devouring short story collections as of late and was so looking forward to this one. What a talent that Anthony Veasna So was and I will be holding this one close for awhile. So bright and shimmering and tender and a new favorite collection for sure. Thank you, Ecco, for the early read!

What an outstanding collections of stories - and I am devastated that this is all we will get. Anthony Veasna So writes about the Cambodian immigrant community in the most beautiful, complex, heartbreaking, and sneakily funny way.

A really incredible collection of perspectives dealing with intergenerational trauma and the complexities of identity and culture that come along with it.

I’ve been honored to know many Khmer people, mostly adults who fled Cambodia as children or their American born siblings. I’ve been to the baby showers, the festivals, the graduation parties, and not often, but a few times over the years, the topic of the Khmer Rouge genocide has come up. Usually it was a quick story about what happened or some comment about how their parents are, an unspoken reminder of how we were in that room together in the first place. And that’s what reading Afterparties feels like. Every so often the enormity of a short story settles over you, an onlooker to an internal war you will never understand.

At the same time, it’s really a story of survival, and more than anything, there is so much love that shines through this book. It was an honor to read it.

Afterparties is a collection of short stories about Cambodian American’s aspiring to live the American Dream in California. At the same time, it’s about generational trauma from surviving the Khmer Rouge regime in Cambodia or being the child of a survivor and refugee.

This is an impossible book to “rate,” both because I felt a different draw to each story, but also because the collection is so intimate. Each of So’s stories depicts a different Cambodian American individual’s story and experience with family, love, queerness, trauma, religion, and culture. So’s writing is soulful, fun, dark and twisty, and brilliant.

Unfortunately, Anthony Veasna So passed away before he saw the release of his book. As reported, Anthony died from a drug overdose in December 2020, at the tender age of 28. You can tell he put so much into this book, and I think to celebrate his life, his work needs to be consumed. 💙💗🏳️‍🌈

I could not get into this one for the life of me, which was so frustrating since there was so much buzz after its release! It had nothing to do with connecting to the characters or stories - but more like I did not understand the point? Some of the stories seemed to drag on and the writing style made it a bit confusing to keep up with different characters.

I was really looking forward to this one, but just don't think it's my cup of tea.

Thank you Netgalley and Atlantic Books for the advance copy, which was provided in exchange for an honest review.

I didn't realize before I started reading this that the author had passed away at age 28. This makes me very sad. The stories all read as slice of life but felt very autobiographical in parts. The first story (Three Women of Chuck's Donuts is my favorite. There is something so poignant about the owner naming the place Chuck's because it "sounded the most American' and the image painted of people happily going about their lives as the 2009 bubble was about to burst was lowkey haunting.

All the stories about identity and finding yourself and I learned a lot about the Cambodian American experience. Worth the read.

There are so many ways to start my reflection about AFTERPARTIES, a collection of short stories by Anthony Veasna So, I don't know where to start. I've held off on posting - do I talk about the stories? My connection (or lack of) to the community?

When I first read Three Women of Chuck's Donuts when it was published in The New Yorker, I felt seen. I'm not sure why. I think it was because of the behind the scenes part of the donut shop. Having worked at my parents store most years from the time I was about 12 until they sold it a few years ago (exception being when I went a way to college and when my first job kept me too busy). However the one scene that connected with me in that story is when Tevy and Kayley are interviewing the man. They ask the man if he's Khmer, and he responds that he is from Cambodia, but he is not Cambodian or Khmer. I felt this so much - I'm the child of former Cambodian refugees, but I'm ethnically Chinese. My parents speak Khmer, my parents celebrate the Khmer New Year, but I do not. I'm illiterate in both Khmer and Chinese. Seriously, I can maybe recognize 30 characters at most, and 10 of those are numbers, maybe. I can understand just enough Khmer to know when it's time to eat, and when a person is talking smack about me. I can speak a bit of Cantonese, but my skill once again lies in the understanding of the language spoken to me. This question of identity, how a person identifies and why, it's more complicated than one would think. It's just another reminder that Asians are not a monolith. Our experiences are not the same.

Then you have the stories of the older adults. They aren't necessarily the main characters in any of the stories, but they are not background or secondary characters either. Refugees didn't necessarily want to leave their country, but because of Pol Pot and the Khmer Rouge, they escaped.

The former refugees have gone through so much trauma, that even if there weren't language barriers between my parents generation and me, it's not something we would speak of because of the trauma. My dad doesn't talk much, and when you ask my mom questions, she always says to watch the movie THE KILLING FIELDS. Everything you need to know about how their life was before, the struggle to get to the refugee camp in Thailand, all can be found by watching THE KILLING FIELDS. My younger aunts and uncles don't talk much about that time either, they were in their early to mid-teens when they finally reached the United States.

What I liked about many of So's other stories is that they showed us the trauma caused by the genocide, how it effected raising a generation of kids, without it delving into trauma porn. While each story in the collection is a standalone, there are a few that are richer because they are interconnected by the characters that they share.

Short review is that I like that it gives people the glimpse of how war, and genocide effect generations, without it delving into trauma porn.

Yes, it's glossy and doesn't deep dive, but it's a collection of short stories.

Personally, I thought this a fantastic collection, and I'll be giving it as much coverage as I can across BookBrowse and our newsletters -- updates on this will be sent by email to Caitlin M-L.

Here are permanent links to the full text of both BookBrowse's review and Beyond the Book article. I have pasted the full text of the review below:
https://www.bookbrowse.com/mag/reviews/index.cfm/ref/pr275776
https://www.bookbrowse.com/mag/btb/index.cfm/ref/pr275776

Between 1975 and 1979, nearly a quarter of the population of Cambodia (close to two million people) was killed in the genocide orchestrated by the communist party Khmer Rouge under the leadership of party secretary Pol Pot. Around 158,000 Cambodians came to the United States as refugees from 1975-1994, with many settling in Long Beach or Stockton, California (see Beyond the Book). Anthony Veasna So's parents were two such refugees and So grew up in Stockton. The stories in his debut collection Afterparties read like compartments in the interior of the author's mind, these characters people he has known and been, loved and been loved by.

In "Three Women of Chuck's Donuts," a woman named Sothy ("she's never met a Chuck in her life; she simply thought the name American enough to draw customers") runs a donut shop, with her two young daughters — Kayley and Tevy — spending most of their time after school helping out. The story is set just after the 2008 economic crisis and their sole customer, night after night, is a man who orders a single apple fritter and sits for hours staring blankly out the window. As the women of Chuck's Donuts observe this nightly ritual, the story of their pasts unfolds through their triad of internal monologues, culminating in an abrupt but necessary act of violence that brings the desperation under the surface of the story screaming into the forefront.

"Human Development" is the collection's standout, a carefully constructed renunciation of the trope of the model minority. The narrator, Anthony, is a Stanford graduate who teaches "rich kids with fake Adderall prescriptions" at a private high school about diversity. This year, he has abandoned his usual curriculum featuring lessons about microaggressions and sexual consent in favor of teaching the class Moby Dick, which he believes will be more effective in helping the students learn "about being decent humans." Anthony meets a man named Ben on a dating app, and the two become sexually and romantically involved, in that order. But as their relationship advances into actual intimacy, Anthony finds himself repelled by Ben's cheery disposition, his ambition and, most importantly, his enthusiastic embracing of his Cambodian heritage and identity. Anthony is tired of being the embodiment of the bright future of Cambodian Americans. In his words, he wants to be "free to fuck off and be lost." This story adroitly considers the repercussions of the pressures put upon young people of color to conform to high standards of respectability, to work harder and behave better than their white peers so they can elevate the race. Anthony tries to sabotage his relationship with Ben because Ben is a reminder of everything he was meant to achieve and become before he chose to "fuck off and be lost."

Afterparties ends with a fraught story of survival that considers the way tragedy can be appropriated by outsiders who try to center themselves in a loss that is not theirs. A Cambodian woman tells her young son about the shooting at Cleveland Elementary School in 1989 (a real-life event), where she is a teacher. Her story comes in response to his questions about a photograph he has found, which features the singer Michael Jackson surrounded by Cambodian children. Jackson visited the school shortly after the shooting, but did he come to bring comfort to a distraught community, or was his visit a convenient photo-op for publicity? Years later, the narrator mentions the shooting to one of her white colleagues, who was only a child in 1989 and not present on the day it happened. The other teacher responds by stating, "You know, I still think about all those lost little lives," and looking up at the sky, "at heaven, at a cosmic realm that was irrelevant to the parents of those children." Moments later, she is crying. This is not her tragedy, nor is it Michael Jackson's. Neither were there to witness the carnage. Neither knew the victims or their families. Neither have their own children that resemble those whose bodies littered the playground that day. As she watches her colleague in disbelief, the narrator remarks, "I wanted her to stop filtering the world through her own tears."

Anthony Veasna So died in December 2020 at the age of 28, eight months before the publication of Afterparties. On the one hand, it is impossible not to mourn the enormous loss of potential in terms of the other books So might have written. On the other, one gets the sense that this collection is a perfect distillation of that potential, that there is a unique synchronicity between the author's brain and what's on the page. It's okay to be sad that the party is over, but don't forget to be thankful you were invited.

Reviewed by Lisa Butts

What an absolute gift. In a cruel twist of fate, Anthony Veasna So's debut collection will be a part of an all-too-small oeuvre from the brilliant writer, who passed away in 2020. In "Afterparties," Veasna So brings to life Cambodian Americans in California's Central Valley with wit and intelligence. These stories are all so perfectly executed, the work of a writer working with such a strong point of view and specificity of the experiences of children of immigrants. My personal favorite, "Developmental Studies," should be added to the canon of Millennial literature, evoking the exact feelings of being a queer, underemployed young person in a city you can barely afford to exist in.

I was so impressed, and it is bittersweet to know that Veasna So's writing is finite. Check this one out, it is worth the hype!

Thank you to Ecco and NetGalley for providing me with an ARC.

What a beautiful collection of stories. I wish many of them were longer because I loved so many of the characters. It combines different generations with wonderful representation. Many of these stories will stick with me.