Salted Plums

Salted Plums is a memoir written by Alison Hong Nguyen Lihalakha, a woman born in Vietnam who travelled to the US when she was two as a refugee. She describes her struggle of reconciling her Vietnamese heritage with being an American, and being in a place of in-between where she does not feel she truly is either. It feels like an exploration into the struggle many of us have but do not share - who are we? what makes us, us? is that good enough? who defines good enough?

This was a beautifully written book. The authors writing is visually descriptive and emotionally intuitive. I could feel what the author was writing about as she described different points in her life. I could feel her struggle as she reconciled how she was treated by her parents growing up. I could feel her uncertainty as she explored social relationships while trying to protect herself from being too exposed. I could feel her dissatisfaction with her early career, and the disappointment she felt as she realized that this too, would not help her be fully White and American.

The intersection of culture and identity is an important theme, and the authors writing is descriptive of how she experiences both, with a clear shift of growth over time. She describes how we view culture and identity within ourselves, but also how we hold assumptions of these things when we interact with others.

The author speaks of ways to validate culture and identity, as well as of ways she felt she had to hide these things in the early years of her life as a visible minority.

I would recommend this book to anyone who enjoys stepping outside of their worldview to learn of the experiences of others.

Thank you to NetGalley and Kahana Press for the opportunity to read this advance review copy in exchange for an honest review.

I am not usually a big reader of memoirs, but Salted Plums interested me partly because I did not know a lot about Vietnam (apart from some food) and I had not yet read a book by a Vietnamese author for my Around the World reading challenge. In the end I found it a pleasing and interesting read, and I finished it over two nights. Alison's story was compelling, and I was fascinated to learn more about her experiences in growing up in the US as an immigrant. She tells the story with warmth and humour, but also with honesty and emotional depth. I recommend it for those who enjoy memoirs from recent history and for those who are interested to know more about the experiences of immigrants. It gets four stars from me.

One of those amazing memoirs which reads like a perfect fictional book because it's written in such a manner that will make you want you to learn more about the one who are reading about until the author stops at the last page. And it's still not enough!

This book will possibly wake up the travel spirit in you and guide you to make you want to travel there someday soon. Or know someone from there. And here's the book for that.

The author effortlessly (seems so effortless to us readers while you must have put in lots) pens down her experiences until now; the several places she has travelled and the different people she has met. The highlights would be the honest portrayal of her personal stories regarding her childhood, her family and ultimately the dilemma of identity of being an immigrant living in America.

Some parts took me by surprise and really got me thinking how fortunate some of us really are.

You will get glimpses of tradition and culture of Vietnam throughout the memoir.

A different read which delivers more than what it promises.

Thank you, Kahana Press, for the advance review copy.

Fifteen years on from its literary sister Stealing Buddha’s Dinner and two years after its punky brother, Sigh, Gone, Salted Plums is the latest in a family of coming-of-age memoirs that examine the lives of Vietnamese-American Immigrants. The author, Alison Hong Nguyen Lihalakha, has written her book with a softer touch than the aforementioned memoirs; less preoccupied with literature or society, she sacrifices technical prowess for a casual, endearing style that closes the reader-author distance.

Though she is not immune to the pitfalls of the genre and struggles to suppress the solipsism of non-celebrity memoirs (or memoirs in general), Lihalakha’s is an entertaining one. At its best, the poking, suburban humour is reminiscent of Shirley Jackson’s autofiction and at its worse, it’s oblivious fluff that uses bitch a few more times than Shirley Jackson would (but not many).

The synopsis given by the publishers is essentially this:

Alison was a child when they fled the fall of Saigon. Her family was sponsored in Arkansas but moved to Florida for her father to be a fisherman. When he died suddenly, Alison’s mother moved her seven children to Kansas where Alison felt suffocated under her mother’s strict expectations. Alison vowed to climb out of poverty and leave the immigrant life behind.

But she journeyed through self-discovery and forged her future in college, Alison came to find self-acceptance in her suppressed culture and in the kinship that bonds immigrants and refugees together.

More than a few hints of the stereotypical Asian-immigrant story, no? There’s the typical rejection of culture, desire for assimilation and self-loathing. But this is something of a red herring as more accurately, the story is about Alison’s relationship with her mother, whose sweat and tears seep through the veneer of 80s suburban life and contrast Alison’s naivete and sweetness, (the title Salted Plums suits the memoir well).

While Alison laments having cheddar cheese blocks instead of Kraft Singles, her mother sits on a corner sofa smoking, scowling and lamenting raising seven children without a husband. But her mother isn’t a caricature, she’s an overworked woman, underappreciated and without friends or family her age. When she does lash out at poor grades or cultural changes it’s underpinned by her isolation and trepidation and this shadow lies heavy over the book. More than racism–which is a secondary influence– it is the bitter life of her mother that sours Vietnamese culture for Alison.


"Salted plums 梅干" by Kattebelletje is licensed under CC BY-NC 2.0. To view a copy of this license, visit https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/2.0/?ref=openverse.
Though at times the book can be heavy-handed or superficial, as Alison’s mother’s story intertwines with Alison’s a subtextual conversation begins that elevates the more mundane anecdotes.

Take Alison’s story of an elementary school rivalry for example. Alison’s rival is also a Vietnamese girl but she was older when she came to America, so she speaks poor English and takes a bossy attitude towards Alison. After some competition and posturing, this rivalry ends in the schoolyard with Alison being hit in the face. As the rival loses interest and the tension peters out, Alison is left distraught.

In her sensitivity, Alison remembers this as a key moment in her childhood, saying she “imagined cartoon stars dancing around my head”, but her coach sees nothing of concern and so Alison declares, “So much for garnering sympathy from the coach. Life was incredibly unfair!” and “I was sure I’d have a black eye for days”. For some, it will be almost farcical but these low stakes keep the book a pleasure to read.

Though at times the flow is interrupted as it trips on its adjectives, making them appear random synonyms, the author’s voice is buoyant and charmingly fussy in a way that makes the reading something like having a schoolgirl tell you about her day. Quips like “What was a girl to do?” and “Casual was my middle name” are sprinkled in throughout and it’s clear that it’s a book whose interest in examining racism is — at times — almost tangential.

It is a refugee memoir without epithets or bodily harm, only microaggressions and assumptions. Even so, these moments have had a deep effect on the sensitive Lihalakha and she puts care into examining her feelings and the effects of these characteristic moments of the immigrant experience.

“Um.. it looks like they’re set up for Chinese New Year,” I said hesitantly. “Well, they’ve taken over the whole fucking place,” he concluded.

"I wasn’t sure why he took offense to the event, and I didn’t understand his reaction. I grew up celebrating Tết, Vietnamese Lunar New Year. My ego stung from the attack on a tradition I had once cherished."

Like all second-generation immigrant stories, Salted Plums is a book concerned with parents and generational divides. As Alison’s mother rejects American culture, Alison grows up immersed in it and throughout the book, Alison reckons with her mother and Vietnam. To have the mother better rendered and more present in the book expounds on this aspect of the immigrant experience in ways that are implied but rarely developed by similar memoirs and novels.

To say that I prefer Salted Plums to Sigh, Gone or Stealing Buddha’s Dinner only speaks to personal taste, but I will say that Salted Plums is a welcome, distinct addition to the genre.

Reading this book felt like the author was sitting down with me and telling me her story. It felt super personal and raw. She did an INCREDIBLE job at explaining her life in a way that wasn't pretentious or text-book-esque. She beautifully wove together her childish thoughts and fears with her mature adult opinions on the same events. The tension that she felt about whether she was truly American or Asian was so interesting to read.

Overall, this memoir was so good and I would highly recommend it!

A n engaging memoir, giving a great view of a Vietnamese growing up in the USA after immigrant parents fled to the US. I liked how the memoir showed the increased awareness that the author had as she grew and struggled to find her identity. I would have liked to feel more emotional connection to the author. It felt as though she kept the reader at a bit of a distance. Enjoyed the read however. Love the title and the beautiful cover.

I am a huge fan of memoir because it tells stories with diverse background, and Salted Plums is a well written one. While the author, Alison, is an immigrant growing up in the US, she tells her stories with warmth and humors together with honesty and emotions. Would recommend this book to readers enjoying memoirs, especially immigrant stories.

I think this would be a strong addition to collections where Crying in H Mart is popular or there is a strong Asian American population.

A nice little memoir about the experience the author has had growing up in America after having fled Viet Nam with her family when she was just 2 or 3 years old. She had dug deep into her own identity and documented all of her struggles and realizations nicely. I found it a little repetitive, but in the end, that's what coming to terms with your identity really is--a repetition of acknowledging who you are in many different circumstances and situations. Readers with an interest in memoirs or Viet Nam should enjoy this book. I especially liked reading about her family's journey back to Viet Nam and how they felt.

Thank you to NetGalley and the author for an advance copy of this book.