"How quickly life changes in a year or even a day. Right as Huong finished this thought ambulance sirens shrieked by and then slipped away quick as a ghost. It was a reminder of how the big turns in her life really happened: the click of a grenade, the snap of a suitcase, a child's last breath."
It's lines like these, at once concise and sweeping, grounded and myth-filled, dark and yearning, that gives Angie Chau's stories their juice.
These and the one-liners that sneak up quietly then sear with their release, so full are they with the heat of experience of two decades of Vietnamese families who fled to San Francisco to escape the Vietnam War (or, the American War in Vietnam). One-liners like this one:
"You rape the raped."
This is what Huong tells a young drug-addled criminal who steals valuables from her and the others fleeing Vietnam for the States.
And when the people, including Huong and her family members, arrive to American shores, the real difficulties--and these stories, Quiet As They Come--let loose.
(Beware of periodic editing missteps.)