#afterparties

[samireads]

Longest physical tbr I’ve had in a very long time

[p-redux]

Sam not in Scotland? Why the hell was he on social media so late when he could had party?

He had a LONG day, more than one event, plus meeting and taking pics with fans wherever he went. He doesn't really know anyone in Spain. I'm sure many people speak English, but the parties would be full of Spanish people speaking Spanish...and Sam doesn't speak Spanish. And Spain is known for parties until sunrise. They dont even eat dinner until like 10 or 11 PM. The parties would be going on for hours. He's been to tons of industry parties, skipping a few when he's exhausted doesn't seem unreasonable to me.

So, I can only assume he debated: "ANOTHER party, where multiple people will want to take pictures with me, talk all night with people I may or may not understand." OR "Go back to my plush hotel suite, where I can get out of this uncomfortable tuxedo, change into comfortable PJs, order room service, and check social media, whilst pouring myself a wee dram, and settling in under my warm duvet?" I don't blame him at all for opting for option 2. 🤷‍♀️

[smokefalls]

What’s the difference between birth and death, anyway? Aren’t they just the opening and closing of worlds?

Anthony Veasna So, “Somaly Serey, Serey Somaly” from Afterparties

[archangelynx]

"Can the very act of enduring result in wounds that bleed into a person’s thoughts... distorting how that person sees the world?"

Anthony Veasna So, Afterparties

[reverie-quotes]

He thought about all the times he'd raged too hard in his life, how often he'd taken his parents too seriously, as an influence so immense he needed to uphold their expectations and also transgress against them, because to have just one reaction would never suffice.

— Anthony Veasna So, "We Would've Been Princes!" Afterparties

[nprbooks]

Anthony Veasna So died unexpectedly in December 2020 -- but in his debut collection Afterparties, he left us an indelible collection of characters that will live on. "His people are philosophical, queer, angry, bossy, romantic, unfaithful, filial, and defiant survivors," says reviewer Thúy Đinh -- check out her full piece here.

Our own Andrew Limbong also profiled So -- that story is here.

-- Petra

[lgbtqreads]

Most Anticipated LGBTQA Adult Fiction: July-December 2021

Most Anticipated LGBTQA Adult Fiction: July-December 2021

Everyone in this Room Will Someday Be Dead by Emily R. Austin (July 6th) Gilda, a twenty-something, atheist, animal-loving lesbian, cannot stop ruminating about death. Desperate for relief from her panicky mind and alienated from her repressive family, she responds to a flyer for free therapy at a local Catholic church, and finds herself being greeted by Father Jeff, who assumes she’s there for a…

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[thenewwei]

I was very impressed with Anthony Veasna So’s Afterparties, a collection of short stories about the Cambodian-American experience. Of the last few highly-praised, major published short story collections I read (granted, all by white American writers), two were good/above average, and one was pretty bad. Afterparties is exceptional.

There isn’t a single weak story in the book, and each story also adds to its overall aesthetic. These aren’t just variations of the same formula over and over again either—while we do have repeats of themes, particularly the (largely unsaid) one about the Khmer Rouge genocide that overhangs the whole book, as well as habits, names, ethnic words and titles etc., we also get a variety of perspectives and styles, without being overly obvious about it.

We have stories from the perspectives of an entire troupe of impressionable teens, a couple of drunken wedding attendants, female nurses and gay “Cambos” navigating the crosshairs of lives of poverty and despair among the backdrop of unimaginable horror that has been escaped. And much more.

The stories work well into each other and are arranged effectively. I especially liked how the book completely avoids actual stories about the Khmer Rouge genocide, one of the worst perpetuated in human history, and yet it’s constantly on every character’s mind, and the entire community’s consciousness. The genocide is too horrible to be remembered in detail. It just has to be mentioned.

Even the final story, Generational Differences, is the final chapter of a book from a mother to son detailing the genocide, but the chapter we get avoids detailing the genocide while telling us of another, American tragedy that has occurred to the mother. I really liked this way of concluding the book, again reinforcing the fact that the unspeakable can’t be spoken, and eternal recurrence of tragedy/trauma. And also how the book does focus on the perspective of the younger generation, that can never truly understand those horrors, even as they battle their own demons and troubles in the new country of their birth. The “party” has already occurred, they are just living through the “afterparty” and its effects.

While all the stories are strong, I’d say the best one is likely “Maly, Maly, Maly!” due to its multiple layers of meaning. It’s narrated by a young gay teen who has just graduated high school and is just about to leave town for college, and how he has to spend his final days with his female cousin as she frets about a reincarnation ceremony for her mom/newly born cousin that she can’t control. The story incorporates many of the book’s themes among a larger one about projections: how the characters project upon each other, and how that’s reflected in the whole reincarnation ideology.

It’s one of the better short stories I’ve read in the last twenty years, but as I said, all the stories are solid. I’m not sure that even “Maly Maly Maly!” Is as effective as the truly great stories in the American tradition, like the best of Raymond Carver, Hemingway or Flannery O’Connor, but that’s a high bar to match, and anyway, perhaps we should be using a different bar.

Anthony Veasna So was openly gay and his descriptions of life as a gay Cambodian-American man are enlightening, brave, and effective. He isn’t afraid to be real, gritty and provocative—not as nakedly so as another contemporary gay writer I admire a lot, African-American Brontëz Purnell—but close enough, and the way he reveals truths about Cambodian-American life through it is impressive.

Unfortunately Mr. So died of a drug overdose in 2020, which initially made me skeptical of whether that’s the reason the book became higher profile than most short story collections (see the similar example of Stieg Larsson’s crime thriller The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo, initially titled Men who Hate Women), but it’s clear that the book stands apart on remarkable merits.

It’s too bad we can’t see Mr. So’s future efforts, but we do have this great book. Many of the short stories were published in various forms in major journals/publications like N+1, The New Yorker, where in the past I’ve been disappointed by their fiction and mostly stopped reading them. I suppose there’s hope that sometimes, at least, the Big Boys can get it right.