A few posts ago, I mentioned being interested in reading Alex Mindt's Male of the Species. The book is a collection of short stories about fathers and their children, and it explores several themes of interest to me. I have a sometimes strained relationship with my father, am often befuddled by men, and identify with the immigrant experience. Recently, I also started paying attention to book trailers.

As I watched the video, I zeroed in on the line: "A Vietnamese immigrant—a boat person, an Elvis impersonator—tells the story of how his father helped him escape Vietnam." The accompanying image is of an Asian man, with an anguished expression on his face, running through a field as an American soldier watches from behind. My first reaction was, "Well, isn't that typical." Most Americans can't tell Asians apart by looking at them, whether they be Vietnamese, Korean, Japanese, Chinese, etc. The photo in the video, of a running Asian dude and an American G.I. onlooker, literally screams Vietnam War thanks to Oliver Stone and the media.

Being the child of a Vietnamese immigrant, I can generally pick my ethnic brethren out of a crowd. However, I was raised in the United States and still have trouble distinguishing between the Japanese and Chinese, for example, since my experience with them is limited. My Vietnamese mother, on the other hand, can sort Asians with 100% accuracy because she innately sees subtle differences in eyelid and bone structure. To this curious child, such an ability seemed like a magical power so guessing ethnicity became a kind of a game between us, with her always being right and me usually being wrong. Even today, I often ask her to use her "power" when we see an Asian on television or in a movie. She amazes me every time.

Anyway, after watching the trailer for Male of the Species, I tore through the book looking for the Vietnamese names. "King of America" is told by Tran Nguyen, a Vietnam War refugee cum American immigrant cum Elvis impersonator in Vegas. He loves a Vietnamese woman, a showgirl who is pregnant by another Elvis impersonator, and offers to raise her biracial child as his own. Intertwined with the present day storyline, Tran shares memories of his father's murder by the Viet Cong and his family's subsequent escape to Malaysia on a fishing boat.

"King of America" is loaded with cliches. Tran Nguyen's name, written surname first in the Vietnamese way, is roughly equivalent to "Bob Smith." The Viet Cong murders an American sympathizer. A family escapes on a fishing boat. Rape and starvation run rampant in refugee camps. Although I would love to read about something other than the usual fare, the sad truth is that such events are the shared Vietnam War experience. Furthermore, some details felt inauthentic. For one, I have never heard anyone refer to the language as "Viet." Tran also names each of his relatives, but the Vietnamese actually use numbers. I call my cousins, the children of Auntie Three, Number Two, Number Three, Number Four, etc. Unlike the fictional Chinese detective Charlie Chan, we Vietnamese have no "Number One Son" so the count always starts at two regardless of gender.

Yet, "King of America" packs a lot of punch into a few pages. Its overarching grand themes make up for slips in the tiny details. Tran's desire to do the right thing for the pregnant showgirl complements his own father's nobility in helping others escape the war. The abject racism of his co-Elvis impersonator contrasts against the American G.I. who carried his father to safety amidst flying bullets. Forbidden by the Viet Cong, the King and his music symbolize freedom, dreaming of a life beyond war, and the endless possibilities of the American experience. Alex Mindt has crafted an ambitious short story, and I look forward to reading the book in its entirety.