There are so many indicators in Vi Khi Nao’s novel (if you can really call it that) Fish in Exile of it being a book I seem primed to dislike that the mere fact that I feel the exact opposite is a total surprise to me. It’s total lack of narrative cohesion; the unreliability of its characters and its inconsistent tone should be markers for a terrible reading experience, but somehow, I was hypnotized throughout its slim, swift 194 pages. It does not have to be cohesive, relatable or even make sense most of the time. This book, which straddles the line between this world and the mythological and where grief negates the laws of the natural world, is simply an experience, a mainlined emotional phantasmagoria that left me deeply affected, mesmerized and feeling better once the book came to an end. I will try to explain what constitutes a plot, but it is fruitless endeavor. A couple, named Ethos and Catholic, are reeling from the deaths of their two children (the details of which aren’t revealed until well over hallway through). They deal with this trauma in different ways, Ethos, the man, begins to collect fish and sees his children in them. Catholic, the female starts sleeping with a next-door neighbor and get her tubes tied. Even this is too straight forward of a description of this book, where a haversack is simply a place to put unresolved problems and conversations peel away layers of unease within a relationship until ugliness if the only thing left to cling too. A book like this is really critic proof, and any complaint I could lob at it could just as well be something praiseworthy in the context of the book and what I think it represents, and even that I am not too sure about. Whether your reaction differs or is similar to mine, this is a wholly unique book that dares you to make sense of it.
Rating: 4/5
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