Book Review We Are All Gorgeous And Faded | Painful And Broken 🖤

Book Review Volume 41 / 2025: On Earth We're Briefly Gorgeous We're All Gorgeous Then Fade

Write Ocean Vuong

Translated the century of Sirijantan.

Pine salmon

272 Pages / 360 Baht

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Reading this volume doesn't have the word straight line, but like slipping into a gray turquoise memory bunker with the haze of the Vietnam War and the confusion of American life. We spent months digesting it, not because of the length, but because of the weight of the emotional mass that Ocean Vuong elaborated, writing down each wording and line.

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The writing style reminds us of The Catcher in the Rye (again) and The Perks of Being Wallflower in terms of exploring isolation and trying to find our own way in a world that doesn't seem to welcome us (and more or less like us with the same breast). He chooses to tell letters like The Perks, but an edition that I'll never read (because I don't read books).

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So it's a semi-confessional, semi-descriptive, semi-sleepwalking work that meets the lives of outside Asians in America and strangers in their own families.

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The picture in the head is read, so cut back and forth like an old roll of leather, some clear, painful, some fuzzy, some sound, some like a pantomime.

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Favorite verses and things

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"Something weightless, but always carried like a heartbeat."

This part seems to say that the moment we were born, we carried the wounds of our ancestors and invisible expectations.

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"My mother and I were Americans until we opened our eyes."

Freedom is just a huge cage we can't see, or choose to fool ourselves that it's freedom just to keep life going.

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"Some times, being cherished may be the most obvious proof that we have been broken before."

Splendor (in the author's corner) is not perfection, but a vestige of repair. The love of mother and son in this story seems superficial to be only traumatic and painful, but at the same time, it is an attempt to care for a broken heart.

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My Bookmark (s)

To keep going, we have to give way to ourselves.

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If you were the sun, you'd never see yourself. You'd even know where in the sky you are.

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How can we forget things about the first day we find ourselves gorgeous?

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We may not float up without anything below.

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Seeing that we are still ourselves is a dodge that people are never denied.

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People always say that nothing lasts forever, but in fact, they just fear that it will last too long to love it.

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I hate him because he's right.

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A perfect happiness drives up a sense of happiness in itself, and in a spirit with a packed object there is no corner left to use the word "I" (Simon Weil).

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I learned that it was beauty that we all died.

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When there is no name, things will fall away.

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Every form of freedom is bound to something else - I know it - and sometimes there's no freedom anywhere, only an enlarged cage away from us. The cage is still seen as a middle cage, even far away, but still, not unlike when they "let" the wild animals into nature, only to lock them up again in a larger boundary, but I chose it anyway.

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Everyone says that everything that happens has a reason for it, but I can't answer why there are always more dead than living people.

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Monkeys, moose, cows, dogs, butterflies, buffaloes, why do we borrow the grieving lives of animals to tell the story of humans - when one's life is already a thing for animals?

# Read according to lemon8 # onearthwerebrieflygorgeous # salmonbooks # We are beautiful and fade # Imperfect