Catfish and Mandala

Catfish and Mandala Andrew X. Pham 9/10

Something about a book writing about familiar locations seems foreign - it feels like I'm cheating, or like I'm not really reading a book but a classmate's story. Catfish & Mandala was set in very familiar locations - Carmel, Santa Cruz, Crescent City, Portland, Seattle...even Nha Trang, Vietnam. These are all places I've visited, even lived at. This intimate knowledge of the places he describes (ie his friend's house in Southeast Portland, where you can party a little longer into the night without worry) felt odd and strangely comforting. Perhaps it has influenced my outlook, but I really enjoyed this tale of a man and his journey to understand his heritage.

Catfish and Mandala. The catfish are a staple food in Vietnam, strong symbolism for what the author feels the Vietnamese do very well: survive. Not only is the catfish capable of surviving, but the catfish also provides an amazing long-term sustenance for the poor who have to find something to eat. The Mandala, on the other hand, is representative of what his journey was to him. Buddhist monks will use the creation of the mandala as a tool for concentration, slowly placing the sand over a course of weeks before destroying the entire pattern weeks later. His physically strenuous journey allowed him this level of clarity - not because he was able to think so clearly while he exercised: quite the opposite in fact. The exercise cleared his mind of thought, it became a physical meditation.

The author was strangely condemning and disrespectful of the Vietnamese - he didn't see any beauty in his "home" country, only the ugliness of poverty and a beaten people. In his Vietnam the cops are corrupt, the poor shameless, all the women temptresses vying for an opportunity to leave Vietnam to America, the "golden land of opportunity". This was not what I saw in my visit to Vietnam, but there are other things he describes that I connected with. Mostly, just the description of life. The crazy driving, the strange way that every transaction is negotiable (I could never get used to this, I hate bartering to try and get the best price), the shops lining the street...it was all familiar and accurate, it brought back memories that were somehow already buried -- it's only been a few months, and already I'm forgetting.

I recommend Catfish and Mandala to anyone with an interest in Vietnam, but it's not just a book for Vietnamese. It is about a misplaced person on a journey to find his source, trying to find out what it means to be American or Vietnamese, and it's a journey worth reading about.