lacks some much needed coherence, but damn it's a good read. vuong reinvents the terms language and memory based on the narrators's experiences and weaves a poetic history of life tainted by war, drugs, and racism. he tells of mothers and monsters and sons and daughters and how they're much more similar in nature than one might expect. admittedly, it reads more like poetry than a novel, and readers should look past some of the confusing syntax rather than try to understand every single word. still, highly recommend!