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My Father, the Panda Killer
A poignant coming-of-age story told in two alternating voices: a California teenager railing against the Vietnamese culture, juxtaposed with her father as an eleven-year-old boat person on a harrowing and traumatic refugee journey from Vietnam to the United States.
San Jose, 1999. Jane knows her Vietnamese dad can’t control his temper. Lost in a stupid daydream, she forgot to pick up her seven-year-old brother, Paul, from school. Inside their home, she hands her dad the stick he hits her with. This is how it’s always been. She deserves this. Not because she forgot to pick up Paul, but because at the end of the summer she’s going to leave him when she goes away to college. As Paul retreats inward, Jane realizes she must explain where their dad’s anger comes from. The problem is, she doesn’t quite understand it herself.
Đà Nẵng, 1975. Phúc (pronounced /fo͞ok/, rhymes with duke) is eleven the first time his mother walks him through a field of mines he’s always been warned never to enter. Guided by cracks of moonlight, Phúc moves past fallen airplanes and battle debris to a refugee boat. But before the sun even has a chance to rise, more than half the people aboard will perish. This is only the beginning of Phúc’s perilous journey across the Pacific, which will be fraught with Thai pirates, an unrelenting ocean, starvation, hallucination, and the unfortunate murder of a panda.
Told in the alternating voices of Jane and Phúc, My Father, The Panda Killer is an unflinching story about war and its impact across multiple generations, and how one American teenager forges a path toward accepting her heritage and herself.
San Jose, 1999. Jane knows her Vietnamese dad can’t control his temper. Lost in a stupid daydream, she forgot to pick up her seven-year-old brother, Paul, from school. Inside their home, she hands her dad the stick he hits her with. This is how it’s always been. She deserves this. Not because she forgot to pick up Paul, but because at the end of the summer she’s going to leave him when she goes away to college. As Paul retreats inward, Jane realizes she must explain where their dad’s anger comes from. The problem is, she doesn’t quite understand it herself.
Đà Nẵng, 1975. Phúc (pronounced /fo͞ok/, rhymes with duke) is eleven the first time his mother walks him through a field of mines he’s always been warned never to enter. Guided by cracks of moonlight, Phúc moves past fallen airplanes and battle debris to a refugee boat. But before the sun even has a chance to rise, more than half the people aboard will perish. This is only the beginning of Phúc’s perilous journey across the Pacific, which will be fraught with Thai pirates, an unrelenting ocean, starvation, hallucination, and the unfortunate murder of a panda.
Told in the alternating voices of Jane and Phúc, My Father, The Panda Killer is an unflinching story about war and its impact across multiple generations, and how one American teenager forges a path toward accepting her heritage and herself.
384 pages, Hardcover
First published August 29, 2023
58 people are currently reading
5174 people want to read
About the author
Jamie Jo Hoang
4 books235 followersJamie Jo Hoang is the award author of BLUE SUN, YELLOW SKY. Her driver's license says she lives in Los Angeles, but she tries to escape to foreign lands as often as possible. She is a writer, thinker, explorer, lover of tea, certified advanced diver, and never far from an ocean. She blogs about her life and travels at: www.heyjamie.com. Tweets at: @heyjamie. And posts pretty pictures on Instagram as @heyjamiejo. So far she's visited Peru, China, Vietnam, Cambodia, Thailand, Uruguay, Chile, Bonaire, France, England, Jamaica, Ireland, Scotland, and numerous other cities within America.
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 137 reviews
September 19, 2024
The generational trauma is strong here. As you well know, I just about request every Vietnamese diaspora book. And I will 100% request anything where the author shares my surname. Helen Hoang, Jolie Hoang, and Brandon Hoàng, what what?
I nearly took off another star for the pain this made me feel, but as the story moved on, so did I. A story told in two parts, there is Jane in 1999 and Phúc in 1975. No, it isn't pronounced fuck. No, you're not funny.
Jane is one of those Vietnamese American teenagers that hates herself and her culture. I grew up very similarly, and it took many many years for me to feel comfortable in my own skin. She'll get there. She's rather unlikeable as a result, but I think she's meant to be.
Phúc is Jane's father, and white Americans would probably call him unnecessarily abusive. I'm not downplaying this. It's cultural, yes, but his trauma from fleeing the war also plays a part. Obviously, he is also very unlikeable, but again, I think he's meant to be.
Phúc's wife left the family, and in her absence, Jane is meant to be the family's caretaker. She cooks, even though no one has ever shown her how. She takes care of her younger brother, Paul, making sure he does his homework and often picking him up from school. She also manages the cash register at her father's liquor store. Before you cry child labor, this is a very normal immigrant child experience.
As we learn more about Jane's insecurities and Phúc's life before and while he fled Vietnam, we begin to grow a little closer to their characters. At the end of all of this, I don't want to say I liked them more, but I definitely understood the familiarity of everything I was reading.
This won't be for everyone, and not every book is, but if you are the child of immigrants or refugees, living in the diaspora, you will get something from this. As always with books like this, I like that they don't translate all of the dialogue. If you care, Google it. If you don't, don't complain.
📱 Thank you to NetGalley and Crown Books for Young Readers
I nearly took off another star for the pain this made me feel, but as the story moved on, so did I. A story told in two parts, there is Jane in 1999 and Phúc in 1975. No, it isn't pronounced fuck. No, you're not funny.
Jane is one of those Vietnamese American teenagers that hates herself and her culture. I grew up very similarly, and it took many many years for me to feel comfortable in my own skin. She'll get there. She's rather unlikeable as a result, but I think she's meant to be.
Phúc is Jane's father, and white Americans would probably call him unnecessarily abusive. I'm not downplaying this. It's cultural, yes, but his trauma from fleeing the war also plays a part. Obviously, he is also very unlikeable, but again, I think he's meant to be.
Phúc's wife left the family, and in her absence, Jane is meant to be the family's caretaker. She cooks, even though no one has ever shown her how. She takes care of her younger brother, Paul, making sure he does his homework and often picking him up from school. She also manages the cash register at her father's liquor store. Before you cry child labor, this is a very normal immigrant child experience.
As we learn more about Jane's insecurities and Phúc's life before and while he fled Vietnam, we begin to grow a little closer to their characters. At the end of all of this, I don't want to say I liked them more, but I definitely understood the familiarity of everything I was reading.
This won't be for everyone, and not every book is, but if you are the child of immigrants or refugees, living in the diaspora, you will get something from this. As always with books like this, I like that they don't translate all of the dialogue. If you care, Google it. If you don't, don't complain.
📱 Thank you to NetGalley and Crown Books for Young Readers
September 23, 2023
TITLE: MY FATHER THE PANDA KILLER
AUTHOR: Jamie Jo Hoang
PUB DATE: 08.29.2023 Now Available
MY FATHER THE PANDA KILLER is one phenomenal read that gutted me from the very first page. The story is told through alternating view points of Jane’s story in 1999, the summer before she starts college at UCLA, a daughter to Phuc a liquor store owner and big sister to Paul. Then there is the timeline where Jane tells Paul the story of their father Phuc in 1975 as he attempts to escape Vietnam and the story of their father’s childhood and family.
I found myself in tears and in a mess of emotions from angry and sad, to understanding and forgiveness. In between, I found myself in the story - some parts were hard to read only because wounds I thought were completely healed started to open up again.
This book is not for the weak of heart. Hoang writes an incredible story from the Vietnamese point of view on the Vietnam war, the broken families, the deaths, the escape, what it’s like to be a refugee, and how it’s like to survive the horrors of war.
Then there is Jane’s story - who also had to survive the generational trauma, and learned to love unconditionally and forgive freely.
Brava to author Jamie Jo Hoang this novel is a triumph. Thank you for writing this story.
AUTHOR: Jamie Jo Hoang
PUB DATE: 08.29.2023 Now Available
MY FATHER THE PANDA KILLER is one phenomenal read that gutted me from the very first page. The story is told through alternating view points of Jane’s story in 1999, the summer before she starts college at UCLA, a daughter to Phuc a liquor store owner and big sister to Paul. Then there is the timeline where Jane tells Paul the story of their father Phuc in 1975 as he attempts to escape Vietnam and the story of their father’s childhood and family.
I found myself in tears and in a mess of emotions from angry and sad, to understanding and forgiveness. In between, I found myself in the story - some parts were hard to read only because wounds I thought were completely healed started to open up again.
This book is not for the weak of heart. Hoang writes an incredible story from the Vietnamese point of view on the Vietnam war, the broken families, the deaths, the escape, what it’s like to be a refugee, and how it’s like to survive the horrors of war.
Then there is Jane’s story - who also had to survive the generational trauma, and learned to love unconditionally and forgive freely.
Brava to author Jamie Jo Hoang this novel is a triumph. Thank you for writing this story.
September 1, 2023
Full thoughts/review here: https://youtu.be/_Pso4Ebvp58
A very hard story about identity, trauma and abuse. I missed some commections between the chapters, but still a solid read. 3.5/4.
A very hard story about identity, trauma and abuse. I missed some commections between the chapters, but still a solid read. 3.5/4.
June 5, 2023
*Thank you Netgalley and RHCBEducators for this eARC in exchange for an honest review!*
Posted to: NetGalley, Goodreads, and The StoryGraph
Posted on: 4 June 2023
4.8 (rounded up to 5) out of 5 stars.
This review took me some days to get around to solely for the fact that I couldn’t begin to gather my words for this piece.
Jamie Jo Hoang brings brutal honestly in ‘My Father, the Panda Killer’ and it hits as a fellow child of immigrant parents. There was no shying away from the journey to America that many children come to learn of their parents over time, striking heavy with the tale of a refugee child just trying to survive and his daughter doing the same within her own home.
Jane has lived her life ignoring her family history and heritage. She’s grown up learning to almost forget or look down on her culture until a family gathering has her realizing something- despite what they’d each gone through, her cousins feel a sort of love for their parents and she can’t help but find a constant forgiveness in her father too.
Jane begins to open up to the idea of looking into herself and showing her brother the life she has always shied away from and resented. To keep her brother from fully disappearing into himself as she has done, Jane weaves a story of her family’s past to Paul, told with the bits she’s overhead with time and the pieces she can only assume from what she already knows.
“My Father, the Panda Killer’ intwines two stories of past and present to tell a hard hitting story about Jane finding her place again and helping her brother one last time before she leaves for the next chapter of her own life.
It was so hard to think of words for this book review because it made me so *emotional* throughout the middle until the very last page. I, like Jane and like Jamie in her pre and after story letters, always shied away and couldn’t understand the ideals of my parents. While this book discusses some hard to read topics and issues (there’s a content warning that shouldn’t be ignored at the front of the book), I still think it was moving and even eye-opening as a child of immigrants. There’s things that our parents do differently than is normal in America, and it’s so hard to find this solace without other family and friends, so hard to find this boundary for yourself within whatever generational traumas are being carried. This book really made me feel so much for Jane, the imperfect main character with an imperfect family just trying to figure out how to heal.
Posted to: NetGalley, Goodreads, and The StoryGraph
Posted on: 4 June 2023
4.8 (rounded up to 5) out of 5 stars.
This review took me some days to get around to solely for the fact that I couldn’t begin to gather my words for this piece.
Jamie Jo Hoang brings brutal honestly in ‘My Father, the Panda Killer’ and it hits as a fellow child of immigrant parents. There was no shying away from the journey to America that many children come to learn of their parents over time, striking heavy with the tale of a refugee child just trying to survive and his daughter doing the same within her own home.
Jane has lived her life ignoring her family history and heritage. She’s grown up learning to almost forget or look down on her culture until a family gathering has her realizing something- despite what they’d each gone through, her cousins feel a sort of love for their parents and she can’t help but find a constant forgiveness in her father too.
Jane begins to open up to the idea of looking into herself and showing her brother the life she has always shied away from and resented. To keep her brother from fully disappearing into himself as she has done, Jane weaves a story of her family’s past to Paul, told with the bits she’s overhead with time and the pieces she can only assume from what she already knows.
“My Father, the Panda Killer’ intwines two stories of past and present to tell a hard hitting story about Jane finding her place again and helping her brother one last time before she leaves for the next chapter of her own life.
It was so hard to think of words for this book review because it made me so *emotional* throughout the middle until the very last page. I, like Jane and like Jamie in her pre and after story letters, always shied away and couldn’t understand the ideals of my parents. While this book discusses some hard to read topics and issues (there’s a content warning that shouldn’t be ignored at the front of the book), I still think it was moving and even eye-opening as a child of immigrants. There’s things that our parents do differently than is normal in America, and it’s so hard to find this solace without other family and friends, so hard to find this boundary for yourself within whatever generational traumas are being carried. This book really made me feel so much for Jane, the imperfect main character with an imperfect family just trying to figure out how to heal.
May 18, 2024
Really cool “dual perspective” story except we only know about Phúc’s past through what his daughter, Jane, has picked up on in passing conversations. I wish I paid more attention at the beginning, but I was focused towards the end lol. Looking forward to the second book about Paul and his mom!
Also TW: this is a very heavy book about generational trauma and child abuse, considering that it is YA
Also TW: this is a very heavy book about generational trauma and child abuse, considering that it is YA
January 22, 2024
This was super griping/engaging and left me with a lot of conflicting emotions. I think that's part of the point, but I'm having a hard time unpacking it. Here are some thoughts in list form.
-Just, so many trigger warnings. I was pretty quickly surprised that this is considered YA and it's not something I would really recommend to most teenagers I know. TW for child abuse, neglect, abandonment, sexual assault, war, violence, domestic abuse, animal abuse, and more.
-I love an unreliable narrator!
-This entire book boils down to Jane trying to understand her father, their family, and their culture. There's a lot of interesting stuff as a result of that; reconnecting with her culture and changing her opinions on other immigrants pretty significantly, coming into her own regarding decisions about her future and why she's making them, and some direct acknowledgement regarding breaking the cycles of abuse & struggling with the impact her abuse has had on her own processing of anger/emotions. Those were all really really great.
-In the process of the above, though, Jane is also coming to terms with why her father is so abusive, and this is where the book becomes complicated for me. It should be complicated, granted, as generational trauma is a very complicated thing. It's not comfortable or easy or simple to live in a home that contains deep and complex trauma, or to be part of a wider culture and community that contains deep and complex trauma. What I did like about this exploration was how genuine and authentic it felt, but this is also the genesis of a lot of my concerns, too.
In many ways Jane's telling of her father's story is an effort to normalize his abuse, and the goal is pretty clearly to explain to her brother why their dad beats them. Understanding dad's trauma is certainly a worthwhile and important undertaking (although I am conflicted about children taking that on), but the impact, I think, is essentially normalizing and accepting that abusive behavior from him & their community at large. I have deep concerns about a young person (or anyone, really) reading this and concluding their own abuse is something they shouldn't take to anyone because of how abuse is handled in this story. It's definitely not the authors job to teach their readers on how to navigate their own personal experiences; the authors job is to tell the story they're trying to convey and I think that is done well here. However, it's also laid out pretty explicitly that you shouldn't meddle in another families business.
Specifically, (spoilers) Jane's friend Jackie tells her mom about how Jane is being abused at home. We learn that Jackie's mom chews her out for tattling on Jane, and lectures her about how spoiled she is, how she doesn't understand, how it's none of her business, etc. etc. This is in line with the wider narrative about trauma being complex, but is also furthering this notion that what Jane and Paul are going through is acceptable (even if not ideal.) The conversation between Jane and Jackie about this in particular drives home that, essentially, this is an issue of culture and Jackie is too Americanized and doesn't understand & has no right to be upset/worried/concerned for her friend, or want better for her. While Jane's attitude about this is entirely in line with the way abuse victims often rationalize their experience, it isn't fully challenged in the narrative and as a result I think if you are navigating similar waters and are unsure what to believe, this book will reinforce ideas like "if you didn't mess up you wouldn't get beat" and "I deserve this" and "this is my fault" and generally that abusing children is mostly a matter of cultural differences. And to be clear, in case you haven't read this yet, we're not talking about differing opinions of what routine discipline looks like. We're talking about full on violent and vicious beatings that leave marks for weeks, on children.
Jane does a lot of grappling re: why dad is this way, and how it isn't excusable, but in the end she does excuse him. She accepts it, and is prepping Paul to do the same by explaining their dad's story so he will understand why their dad treats them the way he does. The narration goes to great lengths to establish that dad is both bad and good, and you can't separate that out - and in many ways tries to drive home that you have to accept both. The book is, essentially, about Jane conditioning Paul to navigate dads abuse the way she did - bearing down under it, doing better to avoid provoking him, and having compassion for dad because of what he has endured. Dad deserves compassion! And maybe it's unfair to put the weight of dispelling all of this on Jane, but I wish she had talked with Paul about how dad's abuse isn't indicative of their worth - that it's a reflection of their dad, not of them. That's an unreasonable request, as I don't think Jane believes that and it takes a long time to abuse victims to unpack that; I just wish someone had really championed that message and planted that seed in a way that was cultivated instead of shot down like Jackie's concerns were.
I do maintain that it isn't the authors job to explain to people the nuances of reality, but I am longing for some kind of acknowledgement that if you are being abused like Jane is, you should - or can - seek help. A list of resources in the back, perhaps. I know that desire from me is rooted in western ideals of family dynamics and the privilege that if I needed to call the authorities I likely wouldn't come to harm from those who showed up - and that Jane's father does not share that privilege. I know that my grappling with this issue stems from a different lived experience with a different context, and that those things really do matter here & influence the way I receive this book. That the book has stirred me to such conflicted emotions is a indication of story told well, no doubt. It is painfully authentic and real and genuiene. I am unsure I'll be recommending this to anyone, though, or at least I will be very intentional in how I recommend it. This is not a book for the faint of heart!
-Just, so many trigger warnings. I was pretty quickly surprised that this is considered YA and it's not something I would really recommend to most teenagers I know. TW for child abuse, neglect, abandonment, sexual assault, war, violence, domestic abuse, animal abuse, and more.
-I love an unreliable narrator!
-This entire book boils down to Jane trying to understand her father, their family, and their culture. There's a lot of interesting stuff as a result of that; reconnecting with her culture and changing her opinions on other immigrants pretty significantly, coming into her own regarding decisions about her future and why she's making them, and some direct acknowledgement regarding breaking the cycles of abuse & struggling with the impact her abuse has had on her own processing of anger/emotions. Those were all really really great.
-In the process of the above, though, Jane is also coming to terms with why her father is so abusive, and this is where the book becomes complicated for me. It should be complicated, granted, as generational trauma is a very complicated thing. It's not comfortable or easy or simple to live in a home that contains deep and complex trauma, or to be part of a wider culture and community that contains deep and complex trauma. What I did like about this exploration was how genuine and authentic it felt, but this is also the genesis of a lot of my concerns, too.
In many ways Jane's telling of her father's story is an effort to normalize his abuse, and the goal is pretty clearly to explain to her brother why their dad beats them. Understanding dad's trauma is certainly a worthwhile and important undertaking (although I am conflicted about children taking that on), but the impact, I think, is essentially normalizing and accepting that abusive behavior from him & their community at large. I have deep concerns about a young person (or anyone, really) reading this and concluding their own abuse is something they shouldn't take to anyone because of how abuse is handled in this story. It's definitely not the authors job to teach their readers on how to navigate their own personal experiences; the authors job is to tell the story they're trying to convey and I think that is done well here. However, it's also laid out pretty explicitly that you shouldn't meddle in another families business.
Specifically, (spoilers) Jane's friend Jackie tells her mom about how Jane is being abused at home. We learn that Jackie's mom chews her out for tattling on Jane, and lectures her about how spoiled she is, how she doesn't understand, how it's none of her business, etc. etc. This is in line with the wider narrative about trauma being complex, but is also furthering this notion that what Jane and Paul are going through is acceptable (even if not ideal.) The conversation between Jane and Jackie about this in particular drives home that, essentially, this is an issue of culture and Jackie is too Americanized and doesn't understand & has no right to be upset/worried/concerned for her friend, or want better for her. While Jane's attitude about this is entirely in line with the way abuse victims often rationalize their experience, it isn't fully challenged in the narrative and as a result I think if you are navigating similar waters and are unsure what to believe, this book will reinforce ideas like "if you didn't mess up you wouldn't get beat" and "I deserve this" and "this is my fault" and generally that abusing children is mostly a matter of cultural differences. And to be clear, in case you haven't read this yet, we're not talking about differing opinions of what routine discipline looks like. We're talking about full on violent and vicious beatings that leave marks for weeks, on children.
Jane does a lot of grappling re: why dad is this way, and how it isn't excusable, but in the end she does excuse him. She accepts it, and is prepping Paul to do the same by explaining their dad's story so he will understand why their dad treats them the way he does. The narration goes to great lengths to establish that dad is both bad and good, and you can't separate that out - and in many ways tries to drive home that you have to accept both. The book is, essentially, about Jane conditioning Paul to navigate dads abuse the way she did - bearing down under it, doing better to avoid provoking him, and having compassion for dad because of what he has endured. Dad deserves compassion! And maybe it's unfair to put the weight of dispelling all of this on Jane, but I wish she had talked with Paul about how dad's abuse isn't indicative of their worth - that it's a reflection of their dad, not of them. That's an unreasonable request, as I don't think Jane believes that and it takes a long time to abuse victims to unpack that; I just wish someone had really championed that message and planted that seed in a way that was cultivated instead of shot down like Jackie's concerns were.
I do maintain that it isn't the authors job to explain to people the nuances of reality, but I am longing for some kind of acknowledgement that if you are being abused like Jane is, you should - or can - seek help. A list of resources in the back, perhaps. I know that desire from me is rooted in western ideals of family dynamics and the privilege that if I needed to call the authorities I likely wouldn't come to harm from those who showed up - and that Jane's father does not share that privilege. I know that my grappling with this issue stems from a different lived experience with a different context, and that those things really do matter here & influence the way I receive this book. That the book has stirred me to such conflicted emotions is a indication of story told well, no doubt. It is painfully authentic and real and genuiene. I am unsure I'll be recommending this to anyone, though, or at least I will be very intentional in how I recommend it. This is not a book for the faint of heart!
July 25, 2023
An Empathetic Journey of Understanding and Forgiveness
In MY FATHER, THE PANDA KILLER, Jamie Jo Hoang weaves an epic story that resonates with shades of LIFE OF PI. The novel introduces readers to Jane, a Vietnamese-American teenager who endures life with her emotionally and physically abusive father, Phúc, while working at the family liquor store in the 1990s. The story takes a poignant turn when Jane is accepted into college at UCLA, compelling her to make a wrenching decision - whether to leave her younger brother, Paul, alone with their father as the sole recipient of his anger, as their mother had abandoned them long ago.
The story gracefully shifts between Jane's struggles in the 1990s and her father's gripping journey from war-torn Vietnam in the 1970s. Phúc's harrowing experiences are heightened by fantastical elements, providing a unique perspective on his tumultuous past.
At its core, this novel delicately explores themes of understanding and compassion. As a second-generation Vietnamese American, Jane finds herself grappling with pain and abuse she cannot fully comprehend. The story does not shy away from hard questions and refuses to offer easy answers. Just as Jane faces the heart-wrenching decision of leaving her brother behind to escape Phúc's violence, Phúc, too, confronts countless impossible choices during his perilous journey to America as a young boy. The generational cycle of PTSD, handed down from parent to child, is poignantly depicted, challenging the characters and readers to break this cycle.
Jamie Jo Hoang's writing is remarkable for its ability to connect with readers on a deeply emotional level. Building on the touching complexity displayed in her previous adult novel, BLUE SUN, YELLOW SKY, the author delves into a well of trauma partially inspired by real-life events, crafting an essential story of forgiveness and understanding in her debut YA novel. High schoolers and younger readers will find valuable tools within these pages to comprehend, confront, and overcome abuse.
MY FATHER, THE PANDA KILLER lingers in the mind long after the final page is turned. By exploring the complexities of family dynamics, the refugee experience, and the power of empathy, Hoang creates a poignant ode to resilience, encouraging us all to understand and support those who have faced unimaginable challenges.
In MY FATHER, THE PANDA KILLER, Jamie Jo Hoang weaves an epic story that resonates with shades of LIFE OF PI. The novel introduces readers to Jane, a Vietnamese-American teenager who endures life with her emotionally and physically abusive father, Phúc, while working at the family liquor store in the 1990s. The story takes a poignant turn when Jane is accepted into college at UCLA, compelling her to make a wrenching decision - whether to leave her younger brother, Paul, alone with their father as the sole recipient of his anger, as their mother had abandoned them long ago.
The story gracefully shifts between Jane's struggles in the 1990s and her father's gripping journey from war-torn Vietnam in the 1970s. Phúc's harrowing experiences are heightened by fantastical elements, providing a unique perspective on his tumultuous past.
At its core, this novel delicately explores themes of understanding and compassion. As a second-generation Vietnamese American, Jane finds herself grappling with pain and abuse she cannot fully comprehend. The story does not shy away from hard questions and refuses to offer easy answers. Just as Jane faces the heart-wrenching decision of leaving her brother behind to escape Phúc's violence, Phúc, too, confronts countless impossible choices during his perilous journey to America as a young boy. The generational cycle of PTSD, handed down from parent to child, is poignantly depicted, challenging the characters and readers to break this cycle.
Jamie Jo Hoang's writing is remarkable for its ability to connect with readers on a deeply emotional level. Building on the touching complexity displayed in her previous adult novel, BLUE SUN, YELLOW SKY, the author delves into a well of trauma partially inspired by real-life events, crafting an essential story of forgiveness and understanding in her debut YA novel. High schoolers and younger readers will find valuable tools within these pages to comprehend, confront, and overcome abuse.
MY FATHER, THE PANDA KILLER lingers in the mind long after the final page is turned. By exploring the complexities of family dynamics, the refugee experience, and the power of empathy, Hoang creates a poignant ode to resilience, encouraging us all to understand and support those who have faced unimaginable challenges.
August 20, 2025
Wow. I'm almost at a loss as to what to say about this book. I went into it with mild intrigue, hooked by the fairly unique premise, never expecting that I would emerge this blown away and emotionally touched by it.
I want to start by saying that THIS is what Young Adult literature should be. I'm not entirely sure this book is classified as YA; both of the main protagonists are teenagers, which some people automatically believe makes a book YA. I personally have a harsher take and feel that YA is generally defined by poor to abysmal writing (lol), a huge focus on romance, and recycled plots which don't usually feel innovative or fresh in any way. There's a reason that The Outsiders is not considered YA by many people, despite the main cast of characters being teenagers.
However, on the chance that I'm wrong and this book is classified as YA...then brava. THIS is how it should be done. YA has become an absolute breeding ground for awful writing, flimsy plots, Mary Sues and Gary Stus, an obsession with romance, and massive copycatting of other novels. I'm not knocking YA entirely; lord knows I read dozens upon dozens of YA books in my adolescence. But I do believe they've been getting dumber and dumber as time has gone on --- and I also feel that it's not healthy for the entire genre of YA to be almost completely overrun with these types of books. Teenagers deserve to have other types of books targeted at them that break this mold. I felt this way as a teenager too, honestly; it was the whole reason I read A Thousand Splendid Suns at age 14, while also reading and loving The Twilight Saga. I knew my brain needed MORE...but YA wasn't providing me with more.
My Father, the Panda Killer is more. It is very well-written --- and not just "well-written for YA," but just plain well-written on its own merit, completely divorced of low bar YA standards. It has a nuanced, complex, and devastatingly impactful plot which is completely different from what 99% of YA offers and isn't afraid to really go there. Go where, you ask? Go to the raw, dark underbelly of war, of PTSD, of generational abuse and trauma, of self-shame, of racial dynamics, of the immigrant experience, of the complex emotions of loving the ones who hurt you and desperately hoping every day that something will be different this time around because you KNOW they're not evil people. The saying is "hurt people hurt people" for a reason, right? And I feel that Ms. Hoang dealt with these topics with a deft hand, never being precious with her words --- but also never delving into overly-morose trauma porn. She got to the simple, straightforward heart of these subjects in a way that was nuanced but also accessible. Purely from a writing standpoint, this is an excellent book, weaving together two entirely different narratives and a multitude of complex topics in a way that actually works really well.
But it wasn't just the writing and skillful handling of these topics that got me; it was the topics themselves. It is 2025 and we still don't have a lot of representation of Asian family dynamics, especially parent-child dynamics. And listen, I get it: there are millions upon millions of Asians. They all come from different cultures and they all have different family dynamics. So no generalizing towards all Asians here! But it's also a fact that emotional repression, generational trauma, and strict filial piety are very strong facets of many Asian cultures. These are things many, if not most, Asian children grow up experiencing --- whether they live in the Eastern world or the Western world. And the children of first generation immigrants to the Western world? They have a whole other layer to their experience which is almost impossible for outsiders to understand. We just don't have enough open discussions and open representation of these experiences, because I think a lot of young Asian people feel confusion on how to broach the subject without facing scrutiny and judgment from their Western peers. And I think a lot of them haven't even themselves been fully able to untangle the bittersweet mess of emotions in their heart, to fully understand how they feel about their immigrant parents, their childhood, the way they were raised. How is it possible to be deeply hurt by your parents, but also still love them and give them grace and feel sorrow for what they endured? How is it possible for your heart to ache with wishing your parents were soft and gentle with you, while also aching for the little boys and little girls with hopes and dreams they too once were...only to have them crushed by realities outside of their control?
If there's any group that is more qualified than most to answer these questions, I believe it is Asian-Americans, the children of Asian immigrants. It's just such a unique experience, and reading this book brought me to tears more than once because of how much Ms. Hoang just GETS IT. And, of course, every Asian-American isn't going to relate to every part of this story --- but that doesn't take away from how true and honest this book is about growing up as an Asian child of first generation immigrants, of feeling disconnected from your motherland, of constantly seeking parental approval as proof that they really do love you. I realize even this review might seem confusing or alarming to Westerners who haven't experienced these things, but it isn't all bad; there is also beauty and joy and familial love to be found in these stories --- and that's exactly why it's so important to tell them, as Jamie Jo Hoang did with this book.
I want to start by saying that THIS is what Young Adult literature should be. I'm not entirely sure this book is classified as YA; both of the main protagonists are teenagers, which some people automatically believe makes a book YA. I personally have a harsher take and feel that YA is generally defined by poor to abysmal writing (lol), a huge focus on romance, and recycled plots which don't usually feel innovative or fresh in any way. There's a reason that The Outsiders is not considered YA by many people, despite the main cast of characters being teenagers.
However, on the chance that I'm wrong and this book is classified as YA...then brava. THIS is how it should be done. YA has become an absolute breeding ground for awful writing, flimsy plots, Mary Sues and Gary Stus, an obsession with romance, and massive copycatting of other novels. I'm not knocking YA entirely; lord knows I read dozens upon dozens of YA books in my adolescence. But I do believe they've been getting dumber and dumber as time has gone on --- and I also feel that it's not healthy for the entire genre of YA to be almost completely overrun with these types of books. Teenagers deserve to have other types of books targeted at them that break this mold. I felt this way as a teenager too, honestly; it was the whole reason I read A Thousand Splendid Suns at age 14, while also reading and loving The Twilight Saga. I knew my brain needed MORE...but YA wasn't providing me with more.
My Father, the Panda Killer is more. It is very well-written --- and not just "well-written for YA," but just plain well-written on its own merit, completely divorced of low bar YA standards. It has a nuanced, complex, and devastatingly impactful plot which is completely different from what 99% of YA offers and isn't afraid to really go there. Go where, you ask? Go to the raw, dark underbelly of war, of PTSD, of generational abuse and trauma, of self-shame, of racial dynamics, of the immigrant experience, of the complex emotions of loving the ones who hurt you and desperately hoping every day that something will be different this time around because you KNOW they're not evil people. The saying is "hurt people hurt people" for a reason, right? And I feel that Ms. Hoang dealt with these topics with a deft hand, never being precious with her words --- but also never delving into overly-morose trauma porn. She got to the simple, straightforward heart of these subjects in a way that was nuanced but also accessible. Purely from a writing standpoint, this is an excellent book, weaving together two entirely different narratives and a multitude of complex topics in a way that actually works really well.
But it wasn't just the writing and skillful handling of these topics that got me; it was the topics themselves. It is 2025 and we still don't have a lot of representation of Asian family dynamics, especially parent-child dynamics. And listen, I get it: there are millions upon millions of Asians. They all come from different cultures and they all have different family dynamics. So no generalizing towards all Asians here! But it's also a fact that emotional repression, generational trauma, and strict filial piety are very strong facets of many Asian cultures. These are things many, if not most, Asian children grow up experiencing --- whether they live in the Eastern world or the Western world. And the children of first generation immigrants to the Western world? They have a whole other layer to their experience which is almost impossible for outsiders to understand. We just don't have enough open discussions and open representation of these experiences, because I think a lot of young Asian people feel confusion on how to broach the subject without facing scrutiny and judgment from their Western peers. And I think a lot of them haven't even themselves been fully able to untangle the bittersweet mess of emotions in their heart, to fully understand how they feel about their immigrant parents, their childhood, the way they were raised. How is it possible to be deeply hurt by your parents, but also still love them and give them grace and feel sorrow for what they endured? How is it possible for your heart to ache with wishing your parents were soft and gentle with you, while also aching for the little boys and little girls with hopes and dreams they too once were...only to have them crushed by realities outside of their control?
If there's any group that is more qualified than most to answer these questions, I believe it is Asian-Americans, the children of Asian immigrants. It's just such a unique experience, and reading this book brought me to tears more than once because of how much Ms. Hoang just GETS IT. And, of course, every Asian-American isn't going to relate to every part of this story --- but that doesn't take away from how true and honest this book is about growing up as an Asian child of first generation immigrants, of feeling disconnected from your motherland, of constantly seeking parental approval as proof that they really do love you. I realize even this review might seem confusing or alarming to Westerners who haven't experienced these things, but it isn't all bad; there is also beauty and joy and familial love to be found in these stories --- and that's exactly why it's so important to tell them, as Jamie Jo Hoang did with this book.
December 31, 2023
Trigger warning: honestly if you have triggers just approach this with caution because it doesn’t have trigger warnings. But it is very good. Just deeply heavy.
August 28, 2023
4.5 rounded up!
Wow this YA debut was such an emotionally heavy coming of age story featuring a Vietnamese American teen girl and her immigrant father's journey to America.
Told from alternating POVs and timelines, we get to know Jane as she tries to prepare for college, knowing she'll be leaving her little brother behind with their emotionally and physically abusive, alcoholic father.
Delving into anti-Asian racism in America, complex immigrant family dynamics and the challenges of trying to live your own life while also feeling guilty about the well-being of other family members. This was such a well-written, moving story and excellent on audio performed by Quyen Ngo (a new to me narrator).
Many thanks to @prhaudio for a complimentary ALC in exchange for my honest review! I will eagerly be looking forward to the sequel featuring Jane's brother Paul and his relationship with the mother who abandoned them. Perfect for fans of authors like Kelly Yang or Mark H K Choi.
Wow this YA debut was such an emotionally heavy coming of age story featuring a Vietnamese American teen girl and her immigrant father's journey to America.
Told from alternating POVs and timelines, we get to know Jane as she tries to prepare for college, knowing she'll be leaving her little brother behind with their emotionally and physically abusive, alcoholic father.
Delving into anti-Asian racism in America, complex immigrant family dynamics and the challenges of trying to live your own life while also feeling guilty about the well-being of other family members. This was such a well-written, moving story and excellent on audio performed by Quyen Ngo (a new to me narrator).
Many thanks to @prhaudio for a complimentary ALC in exchange for my honest review! I will eagerly be looking forward to the sequel featuring Jane's brother Paul and his relationship with the mother who abandoned them. Perfect for fans of authors like Kelly Yang or Mark H K Choi.
August 21, 2025
definitely interesting learning about Vietnamese history and their family culture
I also liked the 2 povs
⭐️ 3.5 ⭐️
I also liked the 2 povs
⭐️ 3.5 ⭐️
September 2, 2023
Honest, powerful and eye-opening young adult novel told by two narrators - a teenage American born to immigrant parents and the father who emigrated from his homeland of Vietnam. Jane's father Phuc is violent, demanding, and trying to provide for his two children as a single-father. As Jane meets more of her extended family, she learns more of her father's history dating back to the Vietnam War and begins to understand the why behind many of his actions. Still, she wants to move forward with her own life, attend college, and become a different parent than her own. This is a powerful book with several scenes depicting child abuse - be mindful when offering to students as knowing their own background and providing conversations and context to them will be important.
July 2, 2023
This was a hard read and I had to wait over a week to write my review, just to let the story settle a bit.
This book tells two stories: one of Jane, a teenager who has grown up in the US and is the child of Vietnamese parents. And her father's story, when he was much younger and escaped Vietnam during the war.
Jane helps her father to run their convenience store. But things are not good at home. Her father is very physically abusive to Jane, often beating her with a stick so that she must constantly hide her bruises. I still don't understand why she didn't report his abuse and have him locked up. It would have saved her and her little brother from so much pain.
Her father's story is one of war, death, and hard times. No matter what he had gone through in his past, i still couldn't care about this man, who was so grossly abusive.
Not my thing. The abuse scenes were hard to read and very off-putting.
This book tells two stories: one of Jane, a teenager who has grown up in the US and is the child of Vietnamese parents. And her father's story, when he was much younger and escaped Vietnam during the war.
Jane helps her father to run their convenience store. But things are not good at home. Her father is very physically abusive to Jane, often beating her with a stick so that she must constantly hide her bruises. I still don't understand why she didn't report his abuse and have him locked up. It would have saved her and her little brother from so much pain.
Her father's story is one of war, death, and hard times. No matter what he had gone through in his past, i still couldn't care about this man, who was so grossly abusive.
Not my thing. The abuse scenes were hard to read and very off-putting.
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
Read
January 27, 2024Do you ever finish a book and then massively struggle with how to feel about it?? Seriously, I can’t even decide what to write here. Which may lead one to ask why I’m bothering, to which I have no answer. 🤷🏻♀️
Did I appreciate a look at how harrowing and nightmarish leaving Vietnam as a refugee was?
Yes, absolutely.
How about appreciating the look at Vietnamese families and culture?
Again, yes.
Can I accept that hurt people hurt people?
I don’t like it, but I understand that it happens.
Is violent child abuse something I can accept or explain away because of an unthinkable past or cultural differences?
No, absolutely no.
I don’t think this book is trying to justify child abuse as much as trying to offer a broader picture. But there were lines and scenes that felt a little too dismissive for me and are making wrapping my head around the book as a whole rough for me.
Do I recommend the book?
Yes, but go into knowing you will be sitting in an uncomfortable murky gray.
Did I appreciate a look at how harrowing and nightmarish leaving Vietnam as a refugee was?
Yes, absolutely.
How about appreciating the look at Vietnamese families and culture?
Again, yes.
Can I accept that hurt people hurt people?
I don’t like it, but I understand that it happens.
Is violent child abuse something I can accept or explain away because of an unthinkable past or cultural differences?
No, absolutely no.
I don’t think this book is trying to justify child abuse as much as trying to offer a broader picture. But there were lines and scenes that felt a little too dismissive for me and are making wrapping my head around the book as a whole rough for me.
Do I recommend the book?
Yes, but go into knowing you will be sitting in an uncomfortable murky gray.
December 8, 2023
i think, unequivocally, the best types of books are the ones that make the readers feel. sadness, joy, nostalgia, or just that pang in the chest that comes with how painfully accurate something is to your life and your experiences. this is one of those books.
as i'm writing this, my dad is watching a c-drama with viet subtitles downstairs. my mom's cooking dinner, and i know i'll be sauntering down later in the dead of night asking for a taste of something that smells like lemongrass and fish sauce. this is the life i've always known, and it's a pretty good one. sure, i'm not a millionaire's kid, but i can get a home-cooked lunch each day and parents to come home to.
like jane, i did have to face the wrath of bamboo sticks when i was much, much younger. after one too many reports of misbehavior from preschool, i'd get the same bruises on my backside. my parents, thankfully, stopped after that; maybe i got better, maybe they realized talking to me was a better way to go.
but i know so many viet kids who don't have that olive branch extended to them yet. i've grown up with them, i've eaten lunch with them, i've sat and talked with them about how much we hate our families but also how cursed we are to love them. because you can't really hate the people who are your blood, your face, who have influenced your very heart and beliefs, the people who sacrificed so much to give you a better life than them, but sometimes, it's so very hard not to.
i know a kid i used to carpool with in preschool whose parents will beat him over a bad grade. i know a girl i talk to almost every day who covers up the pain through dark, self-deprecating humor. is it abuse? is it tough love? is it a constant warning to do better, to be better? is it just how their parents were taught, and it's what they're teaching to their kids as a result?
they're getting out the second they turn 18. they'll get a car and go to a college far, far away, and send a text message or two occasionally. they'll move into dorms and stay at some friend's house for the holidays. they'll meet someone and get married and have kids. and there are two paths for them - they can continue this cycle of generational trauma, making their children fear them as they themselves feared their parents' sticks, or they can choose to break from those old habits.
through the duration of this book, i was reminded of hiding my lunch in elementary school because everyone would make a big deal over why it looked so weird compared to their lunchables. i remember lying that i didn't have a middle name on essays because it was way too difficult to pronounce and i didn't want anyone trying and butchering it (thuy; it translates to 'stinky' in vietnamese, if said with the wrong inflection.) to this day, even, on attendance lists, i wince every time a teacher tries (and fails) to pronounce my name correctly. i remember in those moments wishing i was a jessica or an emma or a claire, who got to go to concerts and sleepovers every weekend and had parents who'd say 'i'm proud of you' and grew up to be loving, kind moms to their own kids with perfect high school football player husbands. i think about my earliest stories, which were always escapades of some some charlotte or isabelle with blonde hair and blue eyes. i remember seeing disney princess sticker books with everyone as perfect blondes and brunettes.
i have so many feelings about this book, because it feels like i've lived it. i've seen phuc on the boat, i've seen jane get punished for not picking up paul on time, i've seen the dinner where the cousins bond over how badly their parents fucked them up. and i have witnessed it through the lives of others, not just my own. vietnamese diaspora books are an emotional rollercoaster, and this one was no exception. jamie jo hoang you motherfucking legend.
as i'm writing this, my dad is watching a c-drama with viet subtitles downstairs. my mom's cooking dinner, and i know i'll be sauntering down later in the dead of night asking for a taste of something that smells like lemongrass and fish sauce. this is the life i've always known, and it's a pretty good one. sure, i'm not a millionaire's kid, but i can get a home-cooked lunch each day and parents to come home to.
like jane, i did have to face the wrath of bamboo sticks when i was much, much younger. after one too many reports of misbehavior from preschool, i'd get the same bruises on my backside. my parents, thankfully, stopped after that; maybe i got better, maybe they realized talking to me was a better way to go.
but i know so many viet kids who don't have that olive branch extended to them yet. i've grown up with them, i've eaten lunch with them, i've sat and talked with them about how much we hate our families but also how cursed we are to love them. because you can't really hate the people who are your blood, your face, who have influenced your very heart and beliefs, the people who sacrificed so much to give you a better life than them, but sometimes, it's so very hard not to.
i know a kid i used to carpool with in preschool whose parents will beat him over a bad grade. i know a girl i talk to almost every day who covers up the pain through dark, self-deprecating humor. is it abuse? is it tough love? is it a constant warning to do better, to be better? is it just how their parents were taught, and it's what they're teaching to their kids as a result?
they're getting out the second they turn 18. they'll get a car and go to a college far, far away, and send a text message or two occasionally. they'll move into dorms and stay at some friend's house for the holidays. they'll meet someone and get married and have kids. and there are two paths for them - they can continue this cycle of generational trauma, making their children fear them as they themselves feared their parents' sticks, or they can choose to break from those old habits.
through the duration of this book, i was reminded of hiding my lunch in elementary school because everyone would make a big deal over why it looked so weird compared to their lunchables. i remember lying that i didn't have a middle name on essays because it was way too difficult to pronounce and i didn't want anyone trying and butchering it (thuy; it translates to 'stinky' in vietnamese, if said with the wrong inflection.) to this day, even, on attendance lists, i wince every time a teacher tries (and fails) to pronounce my name correctly. i remember in those moments wishing i was a jessica or an emma or a claire, who got to go to concerts and sleepovers every weekend and had parents who'd say 'i'm proud of you' and grew up to be loving, kind moms to their own kids with perfect high school football player husbands. i think about my earliest stories, which were always escapades of some some charlotte or isabelle with blonde hair and blue eyes. i remember seeing disney princess sticker books with everyone as perfect blondes and brunettes.
i have so many feelings about this book, because it feels like i've lived it. i've seen phuc on the boat, i've seen jane get punished for not picking up paul on time, i've seen the dinner where the cousins bond over how badly their parents fucked them up. and i have witnessed it through the lives of others, not just my own. vietnamese diaspora books are an emotional rollercoaster, and this one was no exception. jamie jo hoang you motherfucking legend.
September 10, 2023
I received the ARC of Jamie Jo Hoang's My Father, the Panda Killer from a Goodreads Giveaway. I'm glad I did because I might not have stuck with the book otherwise--and not because I didn't like the book. It's really very well done. I just try not to read sad stories, and My Father, the Panda Killer is exactly that. It's sad. And beautiful. And haunting.
The story starts with an intriguing chapter from the teenage Jane's point of view. She's determined, angry, reliable, and (what we don't realize until later) scared. Her mother has left the family. She is now stuck with her abusive father and her sweet little brother. She's trying to balance the high school experience of good friends and ex friends with the Viet Nam family experience of traditions, expectations, and war-wounded souls. It's a lot, too much really.
The whole story is really about Jane finding that balance. In order to find it--and for the reader to understand it--the author switches every other chapter between Jane's current POV and her father's point of view when he was a young teen sent by his family on a boat to escape the war. The horrors he witnesses and survives are more than anyone, especially a child, should ever encounter.
**SPOILERS START HERE***
In the end, Jane see her father's past trauma as a reason, maybe even a justification, for his abusiveness. In some ways, it's a fitting ending to the story. Jane realizes that she can't change her father. She admits that she doesn't really hate him, but she doesn't really love him either. I suppose that's the best that she--and the reader--could hope for.
For me, the story starts out with the promise of a possible overcoming but ends with disappointing acceptance. I suppose that is the first step.
I think the main reason this book resonates with such sadness is it's authenticity. The author creates such real, flawed, believable characters that the reader feels as if they are reading a biography rather than a fictional tale. Jane's emotional confusion is so authentic, that the reader hardly blames her. Instead, we pity her. We want to scoop her up in the warmest hug and take her away from all the pain. But we can't. We can only watch. The reader experience mirrors the characters' experiences--both Jane's and her fathers. And that, my friends, is damn good writing.
The story starts with an intriguing chapter from the teenage Jane's point of view. She's determined, angry, reliable, and (what we don't realize until later) scared. Her mother has left the family. She is now stuck with her abusive father and her sweet little brother. She's trying to balance the high school experience of good friends and ex friends with the Viet Nam family experience of traditions, expectations, and war-wounded souls. It's a lot, too much really.
The whole story is really about Jane finding that balance. In order to find it--and for the reader to understand it--the author switches every other chapter between Jane's current POV and her father's point of view when he was a young teen sent by his family on a boat to escape the war. The horrors he witnesses and survives are more than anyone, especially a child, should ever encounter.
**SPOILERS START HERE***
In the end, Jane see her father's past trauma as a reason, maybe even a justification, for his abusiveness. In some ways, it's a fitting ending to the story. Jane realizes that she can't change her father. She admits that she doesn't really hate him, but she doesn't really love him either. I suppose that's the best that she--and the reader--could hope for.
For me, the story starts out with the promise of a possible overcoming but ends with disappointing acceptance. I suppose that is the first step.
I think the main reason this book resonates with such sadness is it's authenticity. The author creates such real, flawed, believable characters that the reader feels as if they are reading a biography rather than a fictional tale. Jane's emotional confusion is so authentic, that the reader hardly blames her. Instead, we pity her. We want to scoop her up in the warmest hug and take her away from all the pain. But we can't. We can only watch. The reader experience mirrors the characters' experiences--both Jane's and her fathers. And that, my friends, is damn good writing.
August 28, 2023
Trigger Warnings: Generational trauma, physical abuse, violence
My Father, The Panda Killer is told through Jane, in San Jose, 1999, as she tries to explain to her 7-year-old brother why their dad can’t control his anger. It’s because back in his own country, in Đà Nẵng, Vietnam, 1975 Phúc (rhymes with Duke), is eleven the first time his mother through him through the minefields, fallen airplanes, and debris to a refugee boat. But, before the sun even rises, more than half the people aboard will perish. Fleeing the horrors of this homeland, Phúc’s difficult journey across the Pacific has just started as he fights to survive Thai pirates, starvation, hallucination, and the murder of a panda.
Told in alternating voices of Jane and Phúc, this novel tells the unflinching story of the Vietnam war, its impact on multiple generations, and how one American teenager battles along the path to accepting her heritage and herself.
This novel is definitely unflinching in the struggles and horrors Vietnamese boat people had to endure in order to survive. Jamie Jo Hoang brings to light how those experiences still trickle down generations and how, even in America, first generation children were raised in completely different worlds and conditions.
Overall, this is a beautiful novel that gives a wonderful insight on both the Vietnam War and what some first generation Americans (and others) have experienced as a result of the War. I would recommend this to those who want to read more about Vietnamese culture and the legacy of immigrant and refugee experiences.
*Thank you Crown Books for Young Readers and NetGalley for a digital advance copy of this novel in exchange for an honest review
My Father, The Panda Killer is told through Jane, in San Jose, 1999, as she tries to explain to her 7-year-old brother why their dad can’t control his anger. It’s because back in his own country, in Đà Nẵng, Vietnam, 1975 Phúc (rhymes with Duke), is eleven the first time his mother through him through the minefields, fallen airplanes, and debris to a refugee boat. But, before the sun even rises, more than half the people aboard will perish. Fleeing the horrors of this homeland, Phúc’s difficult journey across the Pacific has just started as he fights to survive Thai pirates, starvation, hallucination, and the murder of a panda.
Told in alternating voices of Jane and Phúc, this novel tells the unflinching story of the Vietnam war, its impact on multiple generations, and how one American teenager battles along the path to accepting her heritage and herself.
This novel is definitely unflinching in the struggles and horrors Vietnamese boat people had to endure in order to survive. Jamie Jo Hoang brings to light how those experiences still trickle down generations and how, even in America, first generation children were raised in completely different worlds and conditions.
Overall, this is a beautiful novel that gives a wonderful insight on both the Vietnam War and what some first generation Americans (and others) have experienced as a result of the War. I would recommend this to those who want to read more about Vietnamese culture and the legacy of immigrant and refugee experiences.
*Thank you Crown Books for Young Readers and NetGalley for a digital advance copy of this novel in exchange for an honest review
November 26, 2023
This is a tough book to read, and should probably come with content warnings, especially for young readers. There is a lot here that could be painful for some readers, especially the abuse within the family and the horrors of war.
The author did a magnificent job with character development and showing that we all live in gray areas, and that no person is all good or all bad. It is difficult to remember, especially with the people in our lives who are most difficult for us to love, that all people are humans with experiences that can either weigh us down or lift us up.
My only complaint about this book is that the cover feels so much more jouvenile than this book really is. I wouldn't recommend it for young teens, although I know many teens like the "pain porn" category, this one felt extra tough. Maybe that means it is an extra-necessary read.
Highly recommended.
The author did a magnificent job with character development and showing that we all live in gray areas, and that no person is all good or all bad. It is difficult to remember, especially with the people in our lives who are most difficult for us to love, that all people are humans with experiences that can either weigh us down or lift us up.
My only complaint about this book is that the cover feels so much more jouvenile than this book really is. I wouldn't recommend it for young teens, although I know many teens like the "pain porn" category, this one felt extra tough. Maybe that means it is an extra-necessary read.
Highly recommended.
February 3, 2024
Tem esta capa linda que faz lembrar uma BD e a catalogação de 'coming of age', young adult... Só que não é pêra doce. Jane nasceu na América, filha de refugiados vietnamitas, mas a mãe saiu de casa há 4 anos e nunca mais disse nada, enquanto o pai não tolera um erro, uma distração ou esquecimento e tem pavio muito curto. Ela estuda e trabalha, enquanto tenta proteger o irmão Paul e sonha com a ida para a faculdade. Assistimos à sua luta interior com a herança vietnamita e com a violência do pai, que ela tenta compreender e justificar com a história, que conhecemos em capítulos alternados, da sua fuga de Da Nang e chegada à América. Nós só conseguimos condenar o que nos parece violência, abuso... Mas a tentativa desta miúda de perceber o pai, conhecer a família, compreender porque a mãe teve que partir... É de partir o coração.
May 10, 2025
I am going to echo my co-worker and give this 3.5 stars, the imagery and experiences written here ar poignant, sad, maddening, scary, and harsh, but also hopeful. As someone with a different background and culture it was often hard to wrap my mind around some of dynamics explained in this story but the writing was done so considerately that it felt like the author was sitting down to explain to someone who may not be able to understand. I am enjoying my journey expanding my reading horizons by exploring books I wouldn't normally read via the Adultish Bookclub I help run.
March 23, 2024
This book was weird. I love historical fiction, but this story didn't have much history. It had a lot of domestic violence and swearing. I didn't love this story I only kept reading because my favorite book became my favorite the last 50 pages. I give all books this chance now. Read at your own risk.
November 23, 2023
This book is so important. I think all students of history need to read books of this caliber. Teens need to know about these authentic stories of refugees and the pressures of family legacies and holding in to cultures. Getting to interact with Jamie at ALAN was an honor and made this book resonate that much more with me. Thank you, Jamie, for sharing your story and opening eyes to an often Mis-represented story.
February 18, 2024
This book is beautiful and perfect yet painful and raw and so important.
December 2, 2024
I liked this book, it portrays a different culture and a different point of view from the American eye and it neither demonizes it or glorifies it, it just states it as a factitious reality that demands to be heard and seen. The plot is really more a biography for the author but with a sense of fiction. The book portrays a reality that should be examined and analyzed as it presents as a mirror image to American culture. Read this book if you are open to a different culture and a different way to seeing the world.
August 31, 2023
My Father, The Panda Killer is kind of a brutal read, and there’s a reason why the suggested age is 14 and up. But it’s also one of contemplation and hope.
The story unfolds through the alternating voices of Jane and Phúc — father and daughter who are both products of the situations in which they grew up. Neither childhood is great, and the stories of child physical and emotional abuse and the horrors of war can be hard to stomach.
What keeps you reading, however, is author Jamie Jo Hoang’s vulnerable and honest writing. She counters violence with forgiveness and highlights the complexities within relationships. It’s masterfully done, and has you rooting for both Jane and Phúc.
Hoang says My Father, The Panda Killer was inspired by her own personal relationships. “Looking for my father’s humanity has been one of the most humbling experiences of my life,” she writes in her letter to readers at the beginning of the book. She also notes that this complex dynamic between parents and children is not unique to Vietnam. The same can be said of Afghans and Ukrainians and many others.
My Father, The Panda Killer is a story that will stick with you a long time after finishing it.
The story unfolds through the alternating voices of Jane and Phúc — father and daughter who are both products of the situations in which they grew up. Neither childhood is great, and the stories of child physical and emotional abuse and the horrors of war can be hard to stomach.
What keeps you reading, however, is author Jamie Jo Hoang’s vulnerable and honest writing. She counters violence with forgiveness and highlights the complexities within relationships. It’s masterfully done, and has you rooting for both Jane and Phúc.
Hoang says My Father, The Panda Killer was inspired by her own personal relationships. “Looking for my father’s humanity has been one of the most humbling experiences of my life,” she writes in her letter to readers at the beginning of the book. She also notes that this complex dynamic between parents and children is not unique to Vietnam. The same can be said of Afghans and Ukrainians and many others.
My Father, The Panda Killer is a story that will stick with you a long time after finishing it.
September 8, 2023
Unputdownable. It makes me think on so many levels, but for me, mainly how the trauma of living through horrific war experiences might lead to unspoken and forgotten family histories. The protagonist, Jane speaks about how her Vietnamese family never really communicates, and while my family is Chinese, I feel like it has a lot of similarities to this family dynamic, sans the physical abuse, thank goodness. It's not an easy read, but I'm happy to hear that there will be a sequel coming.
December 19, 2024
2.5
Their whole family is messed up.
Their whole family is messed up.
November 22, 2023
The book dives deep into generational struggles, immigration, and the haunting echoes of the Vietnam War. The raw emotions in this book hit you hard, making it a gut-punching read. It's not just a story; it's a real, messy journey through life's ups and downs. It’s an eye opener on history and the life of immigrants, and how it affects people.
April 17, 2024
Two stories being read at the same time, we see the daughter of an immigrant, Jane, and the Vietnamese immigrant father, Phuc. While at times I winced at the descriptions of some of the devastating things happening, it seems to give not only us, but Jane, insight into the behaviors exhibited by her father. Something that I loved about this story was the fact that it did not shy away from very real issues that are typical in communities of color such as colorism, fatphobia, and Jane's self-hating want to distance oneself from people who weren't yet assimilated in America. This story also shows the parental role that Jane takes on, as well as the "we don't talk about it" mentality that I am sure many children of immigrants are familiar with.
September 13, 2023
Though I grew up during the Vietnam War, I never understood the war. This book opened a new view of the war from those who lived in the middle of the conflict. It examines how the war impacted families, how it impacted individuals, and the impact on next generations of Vietnamese people. War changes countries, but the real conflict is with the people who survive. There is sadness and resolution in this story of perseverance. I highly recommend taking this journey with Jane and Phuc.
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