Excellent book, covers so many important topics in poignant and funny ways. I can’t wait to read his other books now. Wickedly smart whips about his life.

Viet Thanh Nguyen's family fled Vietnam in 1975, amid heart-wrenching chaos, leaving a 16-yr old adopted daughter behind, and then separated further in the camps. After reuniting in America, the hard-working parents ran a store, and the two brothers assimilated. This book is just as much loving tribute to his own family, as it is scathing diatribe about historical colonizers' duplicitous scheming and hypocrisy, and a deep dive on the Asian double stereotype of Model Minority and Yellow Peril. As a Pulitzer Prize winning writer, American Studies professor, and noted cultural critic, Nguyen's citations are brilliant, encompassing film, music, history, etymology, as well as the literature.

If I had read this book first, I would have been able to give The Sympathizer so many more stars. Both books are about Vietnam, but somehow I found this one much easier to follow, and learn from. A Man of Two Faces is based mostly in California, a place I am wholly familiar with; and maybe the introspective tone is better suited to memoir than to fiction? I found the sections comparing and contrasting refugees to exiles to expats to migrants to immigrants to displaced people to be most fascinating.

An incredibly well-written and insightful memoir that blends critique of the so-called "American Dream". The style of writing and format of the book was well thought out as well. I enjoyed this book so much - I laughed, cried, and nodded along to the discussion of identity and what being a refugee means, the history of war and colonization, and commentary of current social issues and what the future holds. In addition to these key themes, I appreciated the authors story of his parents and the conversation around what and where home is. I highly recommend this book.

I first read an excerpt of Nguyen's memoir on the website of the New Yorker. I was so astonished by the excerpt - which focusses on the mental-health struggles of Nguyen's mother, whose stints in the Asian Pacific Psychiatric Ward he remembers with an uneasy vividity - that I requested an ARC copy of the book. In flawless prose, Nguyen examines what it means to be a refugee in America by reflecting on his life and on the lives of his family, particularly his parents, whom he calls Ba Ma. I will now acknowledge without hesitation that this too-brief review is necessarily an understatement. Nguyen's book defies easy characterization, and the reader of this review would be wise to read it for themselves.

I inhaled this book, and not just because I had to prioritize it in my to-read list in order to obtain the ARC. That may have been the initial reason I approached it with a sense of urgency, but once Viet Thanh Nguyen's writing sunk its teeth into me, I was compelled to bite back. Whatever the word is to describe reading with a sense of urgency while also savoring-- that's what I did. Similar to Cathy Park Hong's Minor Feelings, I felt this book on a soul level. Its clever use of sarcasm, heart-wrenching emotionality, and intellectual musings were woven together expertly while also remaining approachable. This is a book that left me feeling smarter, more knowledgeable, while also leaving an indelible mark on my heart.

Thanks to NetGalley and Atlantic Monthly Press for allowing me to read an ARC of this title. This is hands down one of the best memoirs I have ever read. It is inventive, revealing, and enlightening. In addition to learning about the author's life, I learned a great deal about Vietnamese (and American) history as well as the experiences of refugees. It is a truly thought-provoking and important book. I hope it finds many readers. I have been thinking about this one for quite a while after I finished it and have been suggesting it to all my friends and fellow readers. Absolutely excellent!

I know, know I'll be the odd one out here because I gave up. This non-linear memoir goes all over the place and hits all sorts of topics and I found it next to impossible to follow. I was not one of those who gave him a one star review (and I admit those were fun to read) but I do prefer his short stories to his novels. Thanks to Netgalley for the ARC, This will please his fans.

It’s hard to choose words to describe this book that don’t do Nguyen a massive disservice, because what he accomplishes here is really brilliant. A vital story that tackles the Vietnam War and colonialism and refugees and what it means to be American and the power of memory and much more without ever feeling sense or overburdened. The best book I’ve read this year, easily.

I'm a fan of Viet Thanh Nguyen; I've read and enjoyed "The Sympathizer," "The Committed," and "The Refugees." Be aware, however, that this memoir is a very different book--still written with the same skill but much more difficult to read. As Nguyen describes it himself, "A Man of Two Faces" is his "cri de coeur," which very often reads like a shout of rage. AMERICA and AMERICAN DREAM are written in capitals with TM superscript each time they appear in the book, a clear indication of the conflicted lens through which Nguyen views his adopted country. He recounts the fallout from his famous (some might say infamous) piece for The New York Times, in which he calls Thanksgiving "both heartwarming family ritual AND celebration of genocide." He refers to California as "the largest state of the fifty United States if one does not count the invisible fifty-first: the state of Denial." And it's hard not to succumb to this state of denial while reading this book--there were several times when I wanted to put it down and be done with it, but the fact that Nguyen had predicted this response made me perversely determined to finish, just to prove him wrong. (I see what you did there, Viet. Well played.) And I'm happy I did, because "A Man of Two Faces"--and particularly its second half--gave me new insights into what it means to be other in America, into the duality of the refugee identity, and into the emotional costs of war, even decades after it is over. I thought it was particularly effective that Nguyen wrote the first two sections of the book in the second person, especially since he says at the end, "How do you translate the word 'you' into Vietnamese when 'you' does not exist in the language?" I also was particularly moved by the life story of Nguyen's parents, who he refers to jointly throughout as Ba Ma--"A Man of Two Faces" is ultimately a love story, of sorts, to them. Toward the end of the book, Nguyen writes that "Forgetting the painful things is necessary for some of us. As long as we eventually simmer that bone that we cannot cut through. Have I simmered that bone enough? Can I taste that marrow of memory?" The emotions in this book felt like they were still on the boil, but it was all the more impactful for that.

Thank you to NetGalley and to Grove Press for providing me with an ARC of this title in return for my honest review. If you can be comfortable with being made uncomfortable, this is rewarding reading.

Thank you to Netgalley and the Publisher for the Advanced Readers Copy of A Man of Two Faces by Viet Thanh Nguyen!

Viet Thanh Nguyen writes about his raw feelings and experiences as a refugee growing up in America (TM). Memories of his mother’s experience with mental illness are re membered and dis membered. Then more are re membered. The syncopation of the story takes some getting used to but wow! The powerful thought provocation kicks in and makes me want to do all I possibly can to be sure all refugees are warmly welcomed here. We are, after all, based on “give me your tired, your poor…”. Most likely this book will win another Pulitzer. Thank you NetGalley for the ARC.

“How do you translate the word “you” into Vietnamese when “you” does not exist in the language?” - Viet Thanh Nguyen, A Man of Two Faces*
I can’t stop thinking about the narrative voice. The memoir begins in 1st person POV, as expected, and subtly shifts into the intimacy of 2nd person narration, which I didn’t expect. I felt submerged in the very best way. There are even times when the memoir breaks the 4th wall, speaking directly to “Dear reader” (part two, the ronald reagan room and part three, the end of me )

“Can you cut to the bone?”- Viet Thanh Nguyen, A Man of Two Faces**
This memoir is told in questions. By a very rough estimate, I’d say 40% of the sentences are questions. A beautiful reveal for why is in a letter Viet Thanh Nguyen shares with us in part two, your education.

If you read the text out loud or listen closely to your inner reading voice, the questions have a poetic effect. They form part of a wave in tone and pacing. The sentences with question marks are a crest, the ones with periods a trough. The effect for me? I felt like I was riding the “ocean of amnesia”*** with Viet Thanh Nguyen, rising on the questions, falling through the answers. I loved getting splashed with the rogue waves of unique, beautiful syntax: big bold letters, extra spacing, sudden moments of stanza-like formatting.

Other reflections:
This memoir theorizes. This memoir is a literature survey. This memoir is a reader’s companion to The Sympathizer that made me want to reread the novel, which I certainly will.

This memoir fathoms the layers of colonialism in American life, dredging up all the 
“open secrets” that the individual, the mythology, and the collective tries to bury in the ocean floor. Those plumb lines run deep, but by going there, Viet Thanh Nguyen’s words chart a way to safer, decolonized waters. I love this quote: “Using words to force us to see anew is critical, if discomfiting (for some).”****

Things I’ve been thinking about for days:
- His concept of representation as a euphemism (part three, open secrets).
- The long threads of wordplay, like what he does with remember, dismember, re member, disremember, member.
- Hidden connections to other works of fiction by Viet Thanh Nguyen. At the end of part three, memorial, for example, he writes, “...my tales [are] nothing more than garments shed by her ghost.” This sentence pulls from the last line of “Black-Eyed Women,” my favorite story in The Refugees.

Quotes citations:
*part two, the inventory of yourself
**part one, hello, hollywood? + part two, your education
***part one, do you know the way to san josé? + part one, hello, hollywood?
**** part two, good, bad, and ugly

THANK YOU Grove Atlantic Press for the advanced copy of this memoir through NetGalley in exchange for an honest review. I cannot wait for the copy I preordered to arrive.

"Are you a witness to history because you were there? Can you be a witness to history if you do not remember it?"

"You are not forgotten or remembered, you are both at the same time, you are seen and misunderstood, seen and distorted, seen and instantly forgotten, seen and unseen, you are remembered and disremembered"

"So-called minorities must always know the minds of the so-called majority. But they assume they need know nothing about you. Their ignorance is a privilege, a luxury you cannot afford."

"So many of war's casualties are never counted. Never commemorated, never named on walls, never written about in novels and plays, never featured in movies. The refugees, the suicides, the disabled, the unsheltered, the traumatized, the ones who have departed this reality. The ones never known. "

"To be creative without being critical risks being apolitical. A lack of politics is the politics of the dominant American Literary world, leading many American writers to avoid certain open secrets."


Thank you for sharing your story. It was so profound and powerful. The prose format made this book even more readable. It is so important that the white reader, like myself, read and value works such as yours. The story of the refugee and the immigrant is what has made America what it is, but so few people read stories beyond that of the "Great White American Male Novelist." I wish I could write this review as eloquently as this novel was written, but instead I just say pick this up and you won't regret it.

A Man of Two Faces is a stinging criticism of the colonial style of functioning in the USA. Its deep analysis of racial hierarchy, its moving depiction of being a refugee, its sharp wit and sarcasm, and its high literary value make it a must-read.

Viet Thanh Nguyen is a masterful storyteller through his fiction like The Sympathizer but A Man of Two Faces allows Nguyen to show readers himself and his life in an expertly written story about Family, Immigration and what makes people who they are!

A masterful rendition of the author’s life and his ruminations about decolonization, refugee vs immigrant, racism, war, genocide, and the voice of the other whose power is diminished by the Great White Man. Told in almost a stream of consciousness, we follow his life from his escape from Vietnam at age 4, his settlement in San Jose, California, where his parents owned a grocery store , his college adventures, his education and eventual job as an academic professor, to marriage with children and the love he felt for his parents, particularly his mother. This is a difficult book to review as it flowed from topic to topic including reflections on books, movies, and authors. Told with a biting wit and a sense of humor, this is a book to savor and mull over from a brilliant reflective mind.

Viet Thanh Nguyen's <i>The Sympathizer</i> is one of my favorite reads of the last decade, and I've read everything he has published since. This short memoir does not disappoint, giving good insight into Nguyen's family background and upbringing, as well as reiterating the political themes that occur throughout his writing. It's a very self-aware account of his life that points out both the hypocrisies behind the myth of the American Dream and the racism behind the idea of a Model Minority, even though his own life (at least on the surface) often embodies both of these concepts (although an ideal specimen of the Model Minority would never be so ungrateful as to criticize his country to the extent that he does, and would certainly be better at math).

One thing that amazes me about many memoirs is their vividness. Do writers really have such a knack for memory, or do they simply have the imagination to fill in the gaps? I've often suspected the latter. Nguyen is very forthright in admitting the haziness of his memory, and episodes (particularly traumatic ones) that he has just forgotten. But he certainly remembers enough to create an engaging account.

Thanks to net galley for providing an egalley for early review. I hope to one day see a finished copy. The text is fairly poetic, and the formatting did not really come through on the egalley. The publisher says this will be 400 pages, and by my estimate there was only about 200 pages worth of traditionally formatted text.

Beautiful. Absolutely beautiful. As Nguyen’s prose reads almost like free-form poetry, he not only speaks of his own upbringing and his parents, but he uses his and their lives as the springboard to reflect upon numerous topics, including what it means to be a minority in America, to be Asian in America, a refugee, colonialism, racism, imperialism, and the so-called American Dream™. This ended up taking longer than expected, because I found myself pausing over and over to either chew upon one of his many ferociously sharp observations, or just to mull over Nguyen's powerful wording as a phrase leapt out at me as if spring-loaded by its clever construction.

Genuinely not like any biography that I’ve read yet, and I say that in the best way possible. I’ll definitely be recommending this left and right to both those who have and haven’t read his Pulitzer prize-winning “The Sympathizer” alike. I also hope to get this right into the t-purchase list of my library as soon as possible.

Viet Thanh Nguyen's 2015 debut novel The Sympathizer begins with the unforgettable lines: "I am a spy, a sleeper, a spook, a man of two faces. Perhaps not surprisingly, I am also a man of two minds." When I read it, I was absolutely blown away by both the story itself and how Nguyen lays bare the insidiousness of the America-centric lens that has long informed our perception of the Vietnam War and reduced the people and land of Vietnam to being merely an exotic backdrop for an American tragedy. I had never read a book quite like it before, so when I learned that Nguyen had written a new memoir, I dropped everything else I was reading to devour it over two days.

A Man of Two Faces, a title which alludes to the opening lines of The Sympathizer, is part memoir of Nguyen's experiences as a refugee and eventually an academic and Pulitzer-winning writer, part history and blistering critique of the legacies of colonialism and imperialism that still pervade our modern culture, and part loving tribute to his parents and their journeys of trauma and dispossession — journeys that the second-generation immigrant children raised in a foreign land can never fully comprehend and rarely have the means or opportunity to probe.

This book covers a lot of ground. Nguyen calls out the pervasive racism of Hollywood and mass media in clear, evocative, and soberingly impassioned prose. He discusses the othering and erasure that people of color in America experience in a wide spectrum of ways, what it means to reclaim your identity in a country that sees Asians as model minorities or yellow perils, the internal colonization that happens subconsciously and the painstaking process of decolonizing, and the heavy mental and psychological toll that all of these things can take. This book is as powerful as it is moving. It's still early in the year yet, but this is for sure one of the best books of 2023.

If I, an Asian not living in America, can empathize and be deeply moved by Nguyen’s ‘A Man of Two Faces,’ I cannot imagine how much this will resonate with an Asian living in America.

This book is so many different things all at once—a memoir, political critique, a poem, and a love letter. Nguyen entangles the roots of racism across all fronts, drawing from both his childhood and adulthood experiences. I have never read a memoir written like this. Nguyen’s thoughts and criticisms just flow, melting together in a cohesive pool teeming with open secrets, unspoken truths, and guilty silences.

Perhaps this will offend some of its readers—but the experience of being a minority has a tendency to do so. It is difficult to reconcile a country as a place of your refuge when all it has done is reiterate its refusal. Refusal to revisit the past; to admit that glory came with guns; to acknowledge that with bounty came blood. This refusal is the plight of the colonized, conquered, and censored, as Nguyen reiterates in his memoir—but it is also one that demands to be fought.

More than a critique, this is also a love letter to Nguyen’s parents. Filled with anecdotes about grief, growing up Asian (A B+ being an Asian F), and struggling with his two-faced identity, this book is the epitome of a shared struggle that has plagued minorities for decades.

It is difficult to talk about this book without giving everything away—but one only has to look around to see what it is about. Everything that has been happening around us, whether in real time or decades ago, is encapsulated in this book. This will haunt me for a very long time.