The Sympathizer

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An anonymous narrator writes a confession about his time in exile in America. As a North Vietnamese mole embedded in the South Vietnamese military, he is there to experience the fall of Saigon himself before being airlifted to Guam and continuing his journey as a refugee to the United States. With him is his best friend Bon who has lost all will to live after his wife and son fail to make it out of Vietnam alive. The two become roommates in a tiny room, living the “American Dream” while maintaining a double life as immigrants and covert military men, carrying out assassinations of other refugees suspected as northern spies by whatever is left of the exiled South Vietnamese government. Being a son of a French priest and a Vietnamese mother, the narrator reflects on the duality of his existence, his job, as well as his relationship with the West and the East as a half-half who never seems to be ever given a chance to become whole.

I was reading the novel with envy as I scanned through Nguyen’s prose which is just filled with sardonic wit, a sarcasm so edgy and scathing most of the time that it does its job in keeping you entertained and laughing silently all throughout. His metaphors are a playful critique of everything from America’s main character syndrome in world affairs to the refugee’s plight and assimilation in a country on which they placed their bets for salvation. Narrated by a protagonist who straddles both east and west through his mixed parentage, the novel is rife with insightful commentary about the Eurasian/Amerasian experience both in Asia and the west.

What I liked most about The Sympathizer, though, is its view of the whole Vietnam War narrative, which has been whitewashed ad nauseam by the American establishment, seen from the perspective of an invading force who lost yet portrays themselves as the heroes. The Vietnamese themselves, the people who should be front and center of this story, are always relegated to supporting roles, caricatures, clichés that do not really give them justice, sidelining them in what is supposed to be their own story to tell. While this argument is pervasively evident in the novel, Nguyen further accentuates it through a Hollywood film mockery subplot.

In terms of structure, you get a first person POV story told by an unnamed narrator, with real historical events unfolding in the background as he tries to navigate his own dual identity as a Eurasian and as a mole. It can be argued that much of the struggle is really of the Man versus Himself type, with the narrator trying in vain to reconcile almost everything in his existence but almost always failing to do so. His struggle is multifold and can be seen in different perspectives: socialism versus democracy; immigrant versus spy; etc.

One thing worth noting is how the author has a knack for vivid descriptions. That particular scene at the tarmac where the characters had to run from a shot down plane to another. It’s weird but his narration made me feel as though I was running with them. Perhaps, “cinematic” is the appropriate term we are looking for here. It’s as if Nguyen was writing a screenplay-ready novel, ready for adaptation anytime. It makes me even more excited to watch the HBO series, just to see whether the author’s cinematic exposition is met or, better yet, surpassed by the TV series crew.

I know it will feel kind of meta, however, given how Hollywood itself has been lampooned in this novel. And now Hollywood comes knocking for a small-screen rendition. This has come full-circle indeed. Since Nguyen seems to be involved in the project as well, I wonder whether what we will see onscreen will be faithful to the book’s scathing critique of Hollywood. After all, representation is still a strong buzzword in the industry nowadays. In any case, along with this we had Miss Saigon, Vietgone, and Poor Yella Rednecks on Broadway. Suffice it to say that the retelling of the Vietnamese-American story is very much alive and kicking in the west.