Stealing Buddha's Dinner: A Memoir

By Bich Minh Nguyen

As a Vietnamese woman coming of age in Grand Rapids, Michigan, Nguyen is full of a rapacious starvation for American id, and within the pre-PC-era Midwest (where the Jennifers and Tiffanys reign supreme), the need to belong transmutes right into a ardour for American nutrition. extra unique- seeming than her Buddhist grandmother's conventional specialties, the campy, preservative-filled "delicacies" of mainstream the US seize her mind's eye.

In Stealing Buddha's Dinner, the sleek branded attract of Pringles, package Kats, and Toll apartment Cookies turns into an creative metaphor for Nguyen's fight to turn into a "real" American, a contrast that brings with it the dream of the suitable tuition lunch, burgers and Jell- O for dinner, and a trip from the Kool-Aid guy. shiny and viscerally strong, this impressive memoir approximately growing to be up within the Eighties introduces an unique new literary voice and a completely new spin at the vintage assimilation tale.

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By Bich Minh Nguyen

As a Vietnamese woman coming of age in Grand Rapids, Michigan, Nguyen is full of a rapacious starvation for American id, and within the pre-PC-era Midwest (where the Jennifers and Tiffanys reign supreme), the need to belong transmutes right into a ardour for American nutrition. extra unique- seeming than her Buddhist grandmother's conventional specialties, the campy, preservative-filled "delicacies" of mainstream the US seize her mind's eye.

In Stealing Buddha's Dinner, the sleek branded attract of Pringles, package Kats, and Toll apartment Cookies turns into an creative metaphor for Nguyen's fight to turn into a "real" American, a contrast that brings with it the dream of the suitable tuition lunch, burgers and Jell- O for dinner, and a trip from the Kool-Aid guy. shiny and viscerally strong, this impressive memoir approximately growing to be up within the Eighties introduces an unique new literary voice and a completely new spin at the vintage assimilation tale.

Show description

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But the foundations appeared to be various for Anh. at the summer time day she blocked me from the lavatory, then and there finishing the baths we had continuously taken jointly, I knew she had gotten a go to maneuver ahead. i used to be nearly seven years previous then, and Anh purely 8, however it was once transparent that she’d made her option to best friend with our stepsister, to proportion a replicate and the perennial query: “How do i glance? ” i noticed that Crissy and Kenny have been female friend and boyfriend whilst Bobby stopped displaying up. I’d see Kenny lounging within the basement, his hair all feathered and mulleted, hearing Duran Duran. while Rosa stuck wind of this she forbade him from stepping foot in the home back. She informed my father and he yelled at Crissy, “No boys! ” difficulty was once the notice they used. which means damage and humiliation. Peril, a cyclone of doom. yet in cautioning opposed to hassle they invited it. Crissy drew herself up, undeterred. She wouldn't be locked down in the home with a number of little children. She disappeared for lengthy afternoons, notwithstanding i'd see proof of her in an empty plate streaked with honey, sitting within the kitchen sink. Her buddy Keri wrote her letters from Ohio and that i peeked at one. have you been fingered? she requested. Crissy’s hair was once getting greater, curlier, bangs poufier. She fought with our mom and dad, defiantly elevating the growth field quantity to Def Leppard making a song, F-f-f-foolin’. To Anh and me she’d drop blithe references to “the mall” and bring an astounding array of daring new jewelry, outfits, and make-up in colours of fuchsia and peacock blue. while I requested her how a lot all of it rate she smiled with out answering. That summer time I joined a Brownie troop with my acquaintances from Ken-O-Sha. although the opposite ladies have been straight-up Grand Rapidian—proper and Dutch, from reliable fresh homes—I knew at the very least this used to be a neater membership to get into. So I seemed ahead to the conferences with Debora, the gorgeous blond troop chief who had a bit boy named Cameron. i presumed his identify grand, high-class sounding, and used to be inspired through Debora’s two-bedroom condominium with its white carpet and queenlike wicker chair within the lounge. That’s the place Debora sat in the course of the conferences, which I bear in mind not anything approximately other than the Grasshopper cookies and punch that we took turns bringing. Cameron’s father wasn’t round, and the conditions of his absence have been as murky to me as that of Crissy’s father. We met as soon as a month to cross-stitch, or move on walks, and when we took a journey of Debora’s office. She prepped frozen nutrients for Gordon nutrients companies, and had a stash of paper toques to put on. Her paintings uniform used to be all white. She defined how the food she made may prove in resorts and eating places all around the nation. On our short stopover at to the Gordon meals kitchen I marveled on the stainless-steel cabinets stacked with cans and packing containers. the surroundings used to be either sterile and chaotic—part sanatorium, half manufacturing facility, half supermarket. I puzzled the way it was once attainable to make every little thing the exact same for each tray of lasagna or turkey tetrazzini.

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