Unfortunately, this read wasn't for me. I have recommended it to some other readers who may love it though! It felt slow and went off track from the main point too much for me to enjoy. Thank you for letting me read though!

Denny is murdered while at dinner celebrating graduating high school. However, no-one heard or saw anything. The story follows many POV's which covered a lot of background on each individual but I just found it a bit of a drag. I don't get the comparison to The Mothers and feel more of a Miracle Creek vibe. I did like learning about this particular suburb in Sydney and its history.

Thanks NetGalley for my advanced. Opt of this book. I feel that this book is more an account of how the Vietnamese have been treated in Australia with a side story going on. I am afraid this was a slow read and not a favourite

Wonderful debut novel by an author that obviously has a story to tell. Sensitive, engrossing writing that really leaves you thinking. It deals with love, loss, anger, frustration and racism, from all sides of the coin. Ky is a wonderful character, and her parents really ring true of refugees and migrants trying to fit into a new culture.

This story would be echoed around the world, and will continue. Race misunderstanding race, In the end we are all human, with our own idiosyncrasies. Novels based on real experience are always very powerful . Highly recommended.

(4.5 stars)
"[W]omen in plastic visors pushed carts full of groceries through the center of town, it was easy to ignore the open-air heroin market, the addicts who loitered and swayed outside pharmacies, the white police who stopped and searched people outside the train station." All That's Left Unsaid made me look forward to going to bed to dive back into Ky Tran's story, which is set in 1990s Cabramatta. It had layers of connection for me, because I grew up a twenty minute drive from the suburb, and in my late teens that occurred during this time period, my best friend developed a heroin addiction.

Revolving around the murder of her brother, Denny, this is a nuanced story of migration to Australia and the hardships that come with life in the "lucky" country: "I spent a lot of time feeling heavy, like when I watched the news and that Pauline Hanson lady said that Asians were swamping Australia." Tracey Lien starts off with the familiar narrative of the dragon "Asian mum", desperate for her children to succeed, but then unpacks it: "It was easier to imagine her as a caricature, as an immigrant Cabramatta parent, whose only desire was for her children to become doctors and lawyers". Lien shows the weight of the generational divide for first generations migrants and their second generation children is a kindness on the children's part to not reveal that "speaking perfect English and having an office job and being born in Australia didn't mean what any of them though it would mean." Kids like Ky keep quiet about the racism they experience because "knowing would break their hearts". She allows her parents to "believe that their sacrifices had paid off."

As the tale of Denny's death unfolds the trauma that underlies migration becomes clearer. The Asian gang that Minnie joins is united by the thread of childhood dysfunction: domestic violence, family violence, problematic use of drug and alcohol are all threads that run through the gang members' lives. Underlying these adverse childhood experiences is a less rosy narrative of migration, living in refugee camps and eventually finding out that "a better life" in the new country isn't quite like experiencing "home" in a new place: "You don't just go from being a normal person to a refugee to a successful person just like that."

I finished this book regretfully, not ready to leave Ky and Minnie's story of wanting to belong "even in a country that showed no love" for either of them, in a system that was rigged against them. The hopeful note being that now Cabramatta is not talked about on the news, and "Senators who once griped about Asians now turn their attention to Arabs and Africans." I suspect though in a few years we'll read the same book from an African gang member demonised by Dutton for impeding the path of rich white people going out to dinner. Where does it stop?

This was such a brilliant and insightful novel, written with a barely suppressed anger that is both justified and understandable. Set in 1996, in a time and place that I remember quite clearly, when heroin deaths and drug related home invasions headlined the news nightly and a red-haired chip shop woman with a big mouth launched her hate filled political platform that to this day, is still shamefully going strong. All I could think while reading this novel is that we are still beating the same drum, almost thirty years on, just about a different set of refugees, and you can substitute terrorism for heroin as the justification for it. This novel made my heart ache. This review is heavy on the quotes because they speak best for what this novel is about, the tone, the subject matter, and the piercing writing style of Tracey Lien, which I loved from the outset.

‘She took the first transfer available, to a metropolitan school, in a suburb with a name that she thought sounded Italian. When the first Indo-Chinese refugees – motherless and fatherless – found one another in southwest Sydney, banded together, created their chosen family – them against the world; when they enrolled in high school without understanding a word the teachers said; when the parents who came with babies and toddlers raised them as best they could, put them in second-hand school uniforms, ordered them to work hard, to be good, to claw back the success and stability that had been torn from them; when a sixteen-year-old black-haired boy smoked a white powder off a piece of aluminium foil, then passed it to his friend, who passed it to his friend; when the police and politicians decided that a certain ethnic enclave didn’t have the DNA to be Australian, and the prime minister of the country said Vietnamese sob stories didn’t wring his withers, and the friction of fear and hate coalesced in an Italian-sounding suburb of four square kilometres, Sharon Faulkner, freshly transferred from Hay, hair bleached golden by the sun, arrived in Cabramatta.’

On the surface, this is a novel about a sister seeking answers about her brother’s murder, which was witnessed by many, yet seen by no one. The story is told from Ky’s perspective, yet chapters are also offered from the perspective of others, those who witnessed the crime, but are unwilling to divulge what they know. Some of these chapters about the witnesses were heart-breaking, offering a view into their lives, the hardship they endure daily, the racism they are subjected to, and the trauma lines that run deep throughout their families.

‘She wondered whether in tracking down the supposed “witnesses” to Denny’s death, she was subjecting them to her grief. In inflicting this much discomfort on herself, in forcing herself to find out what happened to her brother in the most excruciating way possible, was she trying to obtain absolution? She didn’t know who exactly could absolve her.’

As well as being a story about a sister seeking answers and justice for the murder of her brother, it’s a story of the experiences of Vietnamese refugees, post war trauma, displacement, and loss. It’s also a very Australian story of racism and ethnic stereotyping.

‘She knew the constable was right to a point – there was a reason Cabramatta was known as the heroin capital of Australia. But she resented that an outsider – a freckle-faced blondie with a thick drawl that suggested he wasn’t from southwest Sydney – was painting her home in the same unflattering wash that made everyone who lived there two-dimensional, hopeless, the same. Because it wasn’t like drug dealers were going door to door like the Avon lady. It wasn’t like Ky was tripping over mounds of heroin on her walk to Woolies or Red Lea. And it wasn’t like everyone’s lives revolved around drugs and gangs and crime. There was more to Cabramatta than that.’
~~~
‘Because that was the paradox of Cabramatta – it wasn’t like other crime-ridden suburbs where drugs and gangs depressed the local economy and bled the town grey. Cabramatta still had the best pho and best banh mi; noisy, colourful, crowded markets; and everywhere you looked, chatty, opinionated old women in visors whose laughs and complaints filled the air with an energetic buzz. Cabramatta proved that a town could be gorgeous and sick, comforting and dangerous, imperfect but home.’

For all its multi-cultural heritage, I was reminded over and over that the experiences of new Australians differ vastly between those who are migrants and those who are refugees.

‘Stop pretending like you haven’t seen it or felt it for yourself. They’re all fair dinkum this and everyone gets a fair go that. This is the luckiest country in the world, right? The weather’s beautiful and there’s so much land and look at our beaches and everyone can get a decent-paying job and we’re so lucky to have all of that, right? But they don’t tell us that the luck doesn’t extend to us. That’s the big lie. They’ve been shoving it down our throats since we were kids. You’re a fool if you believe it. Not only are they not gonna look out for us, they’re gonna turn on us the moment they think we’re a threat. You know this. We have to look out for ourselves.’

The writing style is precise and deeply felt, the story absorbing, the social and political history of Australia confronting and sharply realised. This is not a comforting story with a happy warm ending. It’s a realistic and confronting look at Australia’s not so distant past and ever-present policies about refugees. Deeply thought provoking and emotionally charged, a must-read.

‘There is no way for me to tell her that we’ve lost so much more – more than time with our parents, more than time with each other. There is no way for me to tell her that the loss began well before we were born, that our parents had loss, and their parents had loss, and our ancestors had loss – loss of home, loss of place, loss of self, loss of life – and we were born with that loss, carried it, burdened by it, part of it.’

Thanks to the publisher for the review copy.

What a powerful story!!
The writing is incredible and the story is heartbreaking and very emotional.
The is the first time I've tried this author but definitely keen to see what else is available on kindle.

This is a marvellous and gripping read. The author is Australian, her family from Vietnam and she draws on her own experiences trying to fit into a racist white country. The story begins with the tragic death of the protagonist’s teenage brother, a high achiever and conformist. As the protagonist investigates her brother’s death she encounters resistance from every quarter. Police say he fits the profile of a drug dealer simply because he is Vietnamese. The story is set in the 1990s during an epidemic of drugs in Cabramatta where the boy is murdered.
The circumstances are sensitively explored, the characters are well developed and the story is beautifully written. I found it impossible to put down. This is terrific literary fiction and I can confidently recommend it to all.
Tracy Lien is a gifted writer and I look forward to the author’s future novels.

I thought this was an exceptional story, especially for a debut novel.
I love how it has the perspective of different characters, not just the main character.
Ky Tran, returns home to Cabramatta, a suburb in west Sydney, which is rife with violence and drugs to attend her young brothers funeral. She also wants to know why he was brutally bashed and no one helped or seen him. This takes us on a journey of Ky speaking to all the witnesses she can find, but they all claim to of seen nothing. When the truth is out, it is heartbreaking.
A story worth reading.
Thanks to Netgalley and publishers for this eARC, in exchanged for a voluntary review.

A powerful story of people living in Cabramatta during the 1980s. A time of damaged people who had escaped the wars of SE Asia, a racist police force and an epidemic of drugs.
A young woman, Ky returns home from Melbourne to help herself and parents cope with the brutal murder of her brother. We are soon introduced into a world where his death is seen as bad and few attend his funeral, no one saw anything at the restaurant where he was attacked, the police are not interested and Ky's parents are numb with grief. Ky searches for answers and finds her brother's death is caused by a complex mix of the past.
The story is told through the eyes of Ky with various chapters given to the people at the restaurant and why they told the police they saw nothing. The story telling process works well.

A painful story exploring the trauma of a migrant family in western Sydney. Ky’s parents migrated from Vietnam and she grows up in Cabramatta with her younger brother Denny and best friend Minnie. She returns to Cabramatta as an adult when Denny is murdered and is determined to find out what happened. Ky has to confront issues in her relationships with her parents, former best friend and community, while dealing with the guilt of having left to follow her own path. The occasional switching of perspectives to other characters was interesting in rounding out the story, though a little uneven. I wanted to find out why Denny, the ‘perfect’ kid, was killed and this kept me reading to the end. The story certainly emphasised the ongoing trauma of the migrant experience as they try to build a new life.

3.5 stars.
It took a bit to get into, but before I knew it I had to know what happened to Denny.
The back and forth between present and memories was sometimes confusing and this could do with a good edit, but it was interesting.
I was only a young teen in the 90’s and lived hours away from Sydney and it’s various suburbs, but I remember being warned about the dangers.
In my ignorance as a white person, I never thought about how life was for families who migrated here by choice or as refugees. It’s sobering and intriguing to read experiences that feel real.

I received a complimentary copy via #Netgalley; all opinions are my own.

An exceptional debut that stays with you after completion. Set in Cabramatta NSW Australia, a town full of Vietnamese migrants that find it difficult to 'fit in'. Ky Tran left Cabramatta four years ago but returns to the town to understand her brother's murder. Ky struggles to get information from the witnesses who saw nothing but she knows they are lying. The characters in the novel come to life with the brilliant writing and the twists and turns lead to a climatic ending. A novel well worthy of five (5) stars.

Disclosure: Harlequin Australia & NetGalley were kind enough to give me access to an ARC in exchange for my honest review.

Tracey Lien’s debut novel “All That’s Left Unsaid” was a telling exploration of family, friendship and community in the Vietnamese suburb of Cabramatta, south-western Sydney. The book is centred around Ky Tran’s efforts to find out exactly what happened to her younger brother Denny, a “perfect” student tragically murdered while out celebrating his high school graduation. While the intrigue of the situation drew me in, and I certainly wanted to find out what had happened to Denny, the book is so much more than the mystery of his murder.

I quickly became invested in all of the characters and their relationships which had been beautifully crafted to convey Tracey’s intended messages while still feeling realistic. I enjoyed the writing style and, while most of the novel was from Ky’s perspective, other point of view’s were expertly included to enhance the story. Each perspective provided unique contributions to the overall picture of Cabramatta and the experience of Vietnamese refugees in Australia. Overall the novel felt all too real, drawing me in and leaving me vulnerable to the pain conveyed by it’s pages. Tracey Lien expertly explored the effects of discrimination and intergenerational trauma and I look forward to reading any future books she writes.