The Committed: A Review

That was why I never threw myself as wholeheartedly into the study of French as I did with English and why, ever since leaving the lycée, I had hardly ever spoken a word of French. French was the language of our enslaver and rapist, whereas English was a novelty, heralding an American arrival that spelled the end of our French debasement. I mastered English without ambivalence because it had never mastered us.

In a nutshell, the Committed is Viet Nguyen’s sequel to The Sympathizer. While it is a sequel in the narrative sense, it’s a continuation of Viet’s original goal in the Sympathizer, which assessed the consequences of western colonialism/imperialism and its impact on the communities of the colonized.

Consider the recent awakening and discussions about the consequences of colonialism and its impact on marginalized communities in America. Viet uses the Committed as a vehicle that provides additional commentary and insight on that very discussion. The Committed shines in its ability to touch upon and delve into the externalities of colonialism beyond America and France and its colonialism during the early 1940s. Rather than just write about the movement, Viet can draw forth more reader empathy by letting us see how our protagonist lives thru what happens when the colonizers try to turn their past transgressions into myth.

With that context in mind, the novel kicks off, taking place after The Sympathizer’s events when our narrator, aka “the Crazy Bastard” now known as Vo Danh, finds himself in Paris in 1981 after suffering thru re-education camp, which was the concluding scene of The Sympathizer.

“I have enough humility to know that I’m not a real revolutionary. Just a sympathizer,” says our narrator, Vo Danh, as he kicks off the novel in 1981. 1981 is significant because it is the aftermath of France’s Trent Glorienses, the 1945–1975 period of rapid and tremendous economic growth for France. Ironically, this growth was possible thanks to France’s colonial efforts in Africa and Southeast Asia during that time. This tension point and historical context provide the needed backdrop as we explore Paris in the aftermath of Trent Gloriesness and how the French feel about immigrants in their country and their fading relevance on the global stage.

Even here in France we are in danger of being Americanized. The American Way of Life! Eat too much, work too much, buy too much, read too little, think even less, and die in poverty and insecurity. No, thank you. Don’t you see that’s how the Americans take over the world?

As one can imagine, the tension that occurs when a colonizing nation suffers an economic slowdown allows Viet to explore and highlight, in a much more relevant way, the story of immigrants during this tumultuous time (tumultuous for the white French) as these communities have to live within the borders of their colonizers. Yet, this exact ability to share the immigrant story in the land of their colonizer and what happens when you mash together various immigrant communities provides the vehicle for the Committed’s rich plot. By highlighting immigrant communities rather than the typical charming tourist destinations of Paris, Vo Danh, can introduce the readers to Paris from the eyes of an immigrant’s eyes, rather than the traditional romantic structures and formats that we’re so used to thinking about Paris. Viet instead reveals a version of Paris that highlights the immigrant experience rather than the tourist experience or the traditional Western structure.

For example, when Viet describes the Eiffel Tower, he does so with so much crass in his observation that it is relatable and rings true.

Trust me, the view’s even better, the Boss said, grinning. He turned his gaze back to the windows spanning the width of the living room. What do you see? The Eiffel Tower? I said. Yes, yes, the Eiffel Tower. But what does it remind you of? I hesitated. Even thinking hurt. A sundial? A sundial? The Boss squinted. I guess so . . . but look again. A finger? Just one finger? Where are the other fingers? I stared at the tower once more. A pipe? Are you fucking blind? he cried. It’s a gigantic dick! Le Cao Boi and the luscious secretary both chuckled at my lack of imagination.

Likewise, rather than highlight the touristy districts of Paris and discuss the Louve or Moulin Rouge, Viet highlights the 13th arrondissement of Paris, which is the mainstay of Vietnamese and Asian culture in Paris.

The housing was a short walk away, through an area whose pedestrian architecture was charmless. Unlike the Paris of Maurice Chevalier and Catherine Deneuve, most of the 13th arrondissement was deficient in charm, although it was unclear whether the authorities permitted Asians to live in this quarter because of its ill-favored qualities or whether the presence of Asians added to the unloveliness.

More revealing isn’t just Viet’s depiction of the 13th arrondissement of Paris or highlighting the realities of Vietnamese culture in Paris. He uses the narrator, Vo Danh’s immigrant reaction and interpretation to describe the non-romanticized Paris and showcase the real Paris that existed for immigrants.

Our next stop was Delights of Asia, located on rue de Belleville, where Bon would work as a line cook. Cook? Bon had said. I don’t know how to cook. Don’t worry about it, the Boss had said. The place isn’t known for its food. In this restaurant not known for its food, the white tiles of the floor throbbed with varicose veins of brown grease, the yellow walls were stained with what I hoped were sticky fingerprints, and the surly waiters and cursing chefs could be heard shouting and cackling whenever the kitchen doors swung open. Next to the register, a stereo played cassettes of high-pitched Chinese and Vietnamese opera. Behind the register was the maître d’ and musical curator, Le Cao Boi, who, from looks to manners, was the typical romantic Vietnamese man: part poet, part playboy, and part gangster.

Viet, thru Vo, highlights the realities of what happens when communities of the colonized must live in proximity with one another in the land of their colonizers. Immigrants, refugees, the members of these communities have suffered the brutal violence of their colonizers and have had to live thru that. Algerians, Senegalese, Chinese, Vietnamese have all suffered, and their suffering does not uphold the myth of the model minority in the Committed. Instead, we see what happens when the marginalized communities try to thrive and survive in the land of their colonizer. The trauma of that violence plays an outsized role with the violence they give to one another.

“At least that was the case for Uglier, who sneered and said, Who’s afraid of the Big Bad Chink? I was going to die, wasn’t I? But if I was going to die, then I would die to the best of my ability, at least until it was too painful to do so. I like that, I cried. That’s even better than Crazy Bastard, you racists! We’re not racists, said Beatles. We just don’t like you.”

Viet, again through Vo, who is “a mind of two minds,” frequently grants Viet the ability to provide his commentary and critique of the scenario, which matches his day job as a professor USC (who was a professor of mine) and can express his views thru bits like this

I am also still a man of two faces and two minds, one of which might perhaps yet still be intact. With two minds, I am able to see any issue from both sides, and while I once flattered myself that this was a talent, now I understand it to be a curse. What was a man with two minds except a mutant? Perhaps even a monster.

Or this

Like me, he had father issues. But I don’t hate my father, the Mona Lisa said. If he beat me and my brothers, it was only because the French beat him first. Or maybe not only. Maybe he really is just an asshole and the French only made it worse. Who knows?

Viet showcases the conflicts and conversations of immigrants in Paris and provides a richness that did not exist for many novels whose setting takes place in Paris.

As Vo contrasts the US to France, and their colonial systems, Viet posits Vo’s evolution as a character and narrator, thru his commentary on Paris as things move towards 1984, which is when the march against racism takes place

The occasion is a march against racism and for equality, dominated by those protesting against the maltreatment of Arabs and Africans, but this black-and-white picture shows a band of young people of Vietnamese descent, which you know because the sign above their heads says VIETNAMESE IN FRANCE. Below it, the sign says IDENTITY IN INTEGRATION. Oh, how these young people give you hope! More than a crucifix or a communist flag. You recognized some members of the Union among them, including some of your clients. As Ho Chi Minh understood sixty years ago, the oppressed must stand in solidarity with one another. But what of the French with Vietnamese ancestry, many of whom feel they are not oppressed?

This march brings commentary and critique from Viet full circle as he’s finally able to highlight the story and perspective of “the other”

One answer is that there is no better way to demonstrate one’s Frenchness than by demonstrating, especially on the side of the oppressed. The other, related answer is that people do not have to be oppressed to march against oppression, in solidarity, against all kinds of racism, including the racism that benefits them as French people who are not Arab, or African, or black, or Muslim, or immigrant. But as remarkable as this display of solidarity is, what strikes you the most are the three young men wearing masks. White masks.

This allows Viet to showcase how colonizers try to erase their problematic history, and how erasing that history empowers them and perpetuates the colonizers to continue to exercise their power by turning their horrendous and violent past into myths. These acts of forgetting are how colonizers can keep and exercise their power.

This same power lets them erase their violent history and grants them the ability to turn fact into myth, parallels so many of the discussions that were taking place for African Americans this past year.

While a spry thriller, the Committed isn’t a novel but a vehicle for empathy, giving voice to the marginalized an opportunity to bring audiences in and share, express, recognize and highlight how they have to live with the externalities that their colonizers placed upon them.

In 2016, in his book Nothing Ever Dies: Vietnam and the Memory of War, Viet said, “All wars are fought twice, the first time on the battlefield, the second time in memory,” which is a recurring theme in Committed. Vo Danh’s story allows readers to see firsthand the mental toll that colonization had on Vo, his friend Bon, and the entire country of Vietnam. With the Sympathizer, we saw the consequences of America’s imperialism on Vietnam. In the Committed, we see the consequences of France’s colonization of Vietnam.

Vo carries ghosts as he sees his mom, his old boss, and the others close to him who’ve died, and he carries the consequences of those memories, which allows Viet to not just provide commentary about colonialism, but gives Viet the platform to talk about his most infamous topic, the voice of the refugee.

Viet, has written about Refugees in the past, (“The Refugees” is the title of his collection of short stories), which caused many to deem him a writer that represents “a voice for the voiceless.” And as he insists he’s not the voice for the voiceless, he continues to make sure we do not forget their voices. So often as we read about refugees’ realities, which have become more shared and highlighted over the past four years, both their experience and oral history, refugees, and their stories are being shared on a large scale. Those same stories are constantly politicized, which prevents them from being heard. And while literature should and can be a tool of politics, we must not forget that so much English literature has been a tool that justifies colonization through the sheer notion that it often makes western culture the center of the universe. Not to deny the beauty and wonder of the English language, and the stories and wisdom that is unlocked for so many but, but the syntax, format, and nature of it makes it so much harder for the consumers of westernized content to see, hear, feel the stories and cultures of refugees. Those cultures and stories from those who can’t share their tales and stories with an English first voice. While we can’t easily access the refugee stories of tomorrow as easily as it is to purchase a book on our Amazon Kindle, Viet’s commentary through his protagonist, and though this sequel (which is written in English as is The Sympathizer) …he’s able to remind us, after the novel, similar to when an artist changes the melody of their hit song at a live concert…giving the audience a greater appreciation for that hit, Viet reminds us that the Committed is not just a critique of colonization disguised as a spy novel, but instead thru its plots and characters, it is a reminder that refugees and members of marginalized communities have so many stories, and although we’re finally hearing some of their voices….their stories are still so often not actually heard.