Review for How to Pronounce Knife: Kids Are Simply Incredible

On my Instagram account attached to this page, I’ve made it no secret that Ocean Vuong is one of my favourite authors. In December of 2019, I wrote a review on his novel, On Earth We’re Briefly Gorgeous, and a few months back, I attended a virtual talk he did through the Toronto Public Library in which the question period was hosted by an author I had not yet heard of, Souvankham Thammavongsa. After the first few questions she asked, I instantly knew I wanted to read her work. Throughout the talk, their rapport made it clear to me that they’re kindred spirits in how gentle, thorough, and considerate they are and how those character traits so effortlessly translate into their intellect and artistry. So, with the gift cards I got from Christmas, I finally got the chance to pick up Thammavongsa’s debut prose collection of short stories, How to Pronounce Knife.

It is absolutely electric. Even beginning with the cover, I love the juxtaposition of putting such a strong and sharp title – forgive the pun – next to the soft edges of a nail file. The logic behind it only makes sense once you finish the short stories, and the nail file becomes more of a symbol for the efforts Thammavongsa makes with the types of occupations her characters hold. Each of them a skilled labour, one job she writes of is a nail technician in a story about a man who, amongst other things, dreams of a romance with a white woman who barely speaks to him when she comes in for her appointments. Already, there is so much to unpack within that small moment that connects to the overall themes of language, privilege, and (ever allusive) dreams that flow throughout the stories. It pairs brilliantly with the final short story of the collection in a way that I think you should likely read for yourself. I also just really love pink and am pretty much guaranteed to pick up and investigate any novel with a pink backdrop.

But this prose has so much more to it than an eye-catching cover. Each story, in some way, has to do with different immigration experiences of folks and families from Laos. Some men, some women, some older, and many of them young. Most of the short stories, like the title story, “Randy Travis,” “Chick-A-Chee!” and “Edge of the World” are all from the narrative perspective of a young girl living with her family, who, amongst constant financial struggles, always finds time for joy, laughter, and peace. Integral to this is not only Thammavongsa’s understanding of a healthy family, but also her representation of childhood. Many moments and themes of this collection struck me as I was reading, but the one part of these stories that genuinely gave me that smile-while-tearing-up feeling was in just how beautiful Thammavongsa writes and understands children.

I think, quite often, it’s easy to write a kid's character as a nuisance or a means to an end. In many stories I’ve read, children become an excuse for immaturity or receive the blame for an incident that didn’t have much to do with them. They are so often seen in this archetype of unintelligence that it’s easy to forget how authentic and connected most of them are to a genuineness that adults cannot grasp anymore, especially when they must understand hardship from a young age. Truthfully, I would believe a child much sooner if they said they didn’t trust someone compared to the opinion of someone my own age, and Thammavongsa clearly captures that feeling of two-way trust in her young characters and their families. These kids are unadulterated pictures of respect and love that I rarely see in other novels. The last time I read a child’s character that had this same level of authenticity was in Comfort Woman by Nora Okja Keller and Obasan by Joy Kogawa. All three of these novels are beautiful, heart-wrenching tales by Asian American women that I think would be excellent for anyone looking to begin or broaden their personal library to a more diverse one.

Overall, anyone who reads these reviews and/or knows me knows how much novels mean to me when they shift my perspective and make me question who I am. This collection does that and more. Souvankham Thammavongsa’s How to Pronounce Knife is one of those bodies of work that remind me why it is that I love to not only read, but to write, be creative, and simply just live and find meaning. It is the kind of writing that I live for, and I genuinely could go on and on about how incredible it is, so I hope these words have encouraged you to go read it!