The Beauty of Humanity Movement, by Camilla Gibb
Perhaps it’s not really a stretch to state that a country’s history, family values, and cuisine are irrevocably intertwined, but rarely has this relationship been so examined as in Camilla Gibb’s latest novel, The Beauty of Humanity Movement. Part history lesson, and part social commentary on Vietnam’s past to future, Movement’s flawlessly constructed characters satisfy like a warm bowl of pho after a wicked-bad hangover.
The story is built layer upon layer around the character of Hu’ng, the elderly pho vendor with a loyal (and hungry) following who are willing to traverse the crevices of Hanoi to eat from his cart. In this band of followers are Bình and his son Tu’—the duo that creates Hu’ng’s immediate, though not blood-related family.
These three men are linked by Bình’s father, Dao, the central player in an intellectual coalition that frequented Hu’ng’s Pho shop in the 1950s—before it was shuttered by the communist regime. Though Dao and the other revolutionaries were eventually shipped off to brutal “re-education camps”, the memory of poetry and friendship remained with Hu’ng through his transformation into the Movement’s heart, and its unlikely gatekeeper.
Though Movement guides us through Hu’ng’s horrific war memories of charred villages, dismembered bodies, and lost fathers, we also glimpse the real and present Vietnam in Tu’, the amiable tour guide, and Binh’s only son. His Vietnam is a far different place than Hu’ng’s.
But these shadows of the past resurface for Hu’ng when Vietnam-born, but American-raised Maggie Ly arrives at his pho cart one morning. Searching for facts about her deceased father she stumbles upon his connection to The Beauty of Humanity Movement, thus igniting a journey for all of them, one that gets to the very core of what it means to be Vietnamese in any time or place.
Movement’s most fascinating moment is its revelation of how little we actually know about Vietnam. From an American perspective many of us simply associate it with death and war, though in Movement we finally realize a complex country tremendously influenced and scarred by other countries before us. Vietnam emerges as country that has endured incredible strife yet looks optimistically into the future.
The complicated relationships in this novel are also what make it such an absorbing read, as we witness the contrast between the old and new world of Vietnam in the two main characters, Hu’ng and Tu’. Though Hu’ng is the heart of the story, we also find a reluctant hero in Tu’ whose idealism and desires make him more modern, but whose respect of family and tradition root him strongly in the culture of his forefathers. And though Hu’ng wonders if, “perhaps the politics of a time determine the disposition of a man; perhaps a revolutionary is only a revolutionary in revolutionary times”, we find that in this novel, all people have it in them to be in some way revolutionary and heroic.
Gibb’s thoughtful and intricate writing weaves an unforgettable portrait of the past and present, and her observations of humanity make clear the similarities in all of us. At one point in the novel Tu’ wonders if, “America still suffers the deprivation of pho”, which is where, Hu’ng says, the history of Vietnam lies. Luckily this savory dish has hit its stride in our country (just try to count the number of pho places in Seattle), and I know I’ll never be able to view the broth with that same sense of indifference.
Stay tuned for a Freeattlest giveaway of the book...just think, your very own copy.
