Author Quế Mai and Dust Child in Vietnamese. — Photo coutersy of Nguyễn Phan Quế Mai

Nguyễn Phan Quế Mai has launched her second novel, Dust Child, in Việt Nam. She wrote the novel in English and then co-translated it into Vietnamese for publication in her homeland. Born and raised in Việt Nam, Mai is the author of thirteen books in Vietnamese and English.

She spoke to Việt Nam News about her work.

Could you sum up Dust Child in brief?

Dust Child is my passion project and took me seven years to write. Inspired by real-life stories as well as my PhD research, this book is a suspenseful saga about family secrets, hidden trauma, and the power of forgiveness, set during the war and in present-day Việt Nam.

Through the book, readers will travel into life in southern Việt Nam and experience our history, society, and culture.

They will meet Phong, a man who was abandoned at birth and is searching for his parents; Trang and Quỳnh, two sisters who have to survive the war and its aftermath; and Dan, an American war veteran who returns Việt Nam to search for healing and forgiveness.

I took a big risk by writing this book in English with part of it told from the perspective of a traumatised American veteran. I am very grateful that it has been published in 20 countries in 14 languages. I am so excited that the book is now home, meeting beloved Vietnamese readers. The best moment for me was to watch my mother read the final chapter of the novel, the surprised look on her face, her gasp, and then her many conversations with me afterwards about the book. My mother’s life inspired me to become a writer so it feels like a full circle that I was able to gift her my first copy of Đời gió bụi (the Vietnamese translation of Dust Child).

You have written two novels in English, which are internationally recognised with numerous awards. Why did you write in English?

I wouldn’t be able to write The Mountains Sing and Dust Child without my years working as a literary translator. My love for poetry compelled me to become a translator of Vietnamese poetry into English. With these translation projects, I wanted to invite international readers to experience Việt Nam as a country with more than four thousands years of history and culture. After publishing a few books of translated poetry, I was looking for a novel to translate until I thought, “Why don’t I write the novel myself?”

That began the crazy journey of penning The Mountains Sing, a family saga set in northern Việt Nam. Writing in English allows me to take a step away from our complicated history, so that I can have a fuller view, just like Grandma Diệu Lan told her granddaughter Hương in the book: “The challenges faced by Vietnamese people throughout history are as tall as the tallest mountains. If you stand too close, you won’t be able to see their peaks. Once you step away from the currents of life, you will have the full view. . . .”

Writing in English also gives me the opportunity to decolonize world’s literature about Việt Nam. A few years ago, I visited the New York Public Library and went through its list of tens of thousands of books in English about Việt Nam.

I was astonished by how many of the books only focused on Việt Nam as a war, how many were written by Westerners who portrayed Vietnamese people as a background for Western stories, and how few of the titles were written by Vietnamese authors or translated from the Vietnamese language.

So I decided to write in English to reclaim the Vietnamese right to tell our own stories about Việt Nam.

Another reason I write is to counter the common representation of Việt Nam and Vietnamese women in Hollywood movies. In those movies, for example, we often appear as victims who need Westerners to rescue us. In my novel Dust Child, Trang – a bar girl in the novel – is a poet, and she tries to rescue her American boyfriend from the horror of war by reciting poetry and singing Trịnh Công Sơn’s songs to him.

What sources and experiences inform your work when you write war-themed novels?

My war-themed novels are informed by a combination of personal history, extensive research, and deep listening. I grew up in Việt Nam in the aftermath of war, surrounded by silence, loss, and unspoken trauma. Stories of war were not always told openly, but they live in the bodies, habits, and memories of the people around me – my parents, relatives and neighbours. Therefore, as a researcher, I also learned to listen to what was not said.

When I write, I take into account survivors’ testimonies, memoirs, archival documents, and oral histories from multiple sides of history. I believe it is important to honour lived experiences while also approaching them with humility and empathy. Writing about war, for me, is not about recreating battles, but about exploring how war shapes ordinary lives long after the guns fall silent.

I write war stories to call for peace and for humans to love humans more. I hope that one day, there is no more war on Earth.

With such a rich tradition of war-themed literature in Việt Nam, how do you expect Dust Child to be received by Vietnamese readers?

Việt Nam has a long and powerful tradition of war literature, much of it written by those who experienced the conflict firsthand. I approach that tradition with great respect.

Dust Child enters this literary landscape by focusing on voices that have often been marginalised, particularly mixed-race children born out of relationships between American soldiers and Vietnamese women.

I hope Vietnamese readers will see Dust Child as part of an ongoing conversation rather than a departure from tradition. My wish is that the novel encourages empathy, dialogue and healing, and that it opens space for acknowledging painful histories that may still be difficult to discuss openly. If the book helps readers reflect on compassion and reconciliation, then it has fulfilled its purpose.

You graduated with a degree in business administration before earning a PhD in creative writing. Why did you switch your career?

I have always loved reading. When I was a child, my family faced a lot of difficulties, and books gave me strength, hope, and courage. Books empowered me, so I wanted to be a writer. But my family was in debt, and I needed to help my parents. I needed a career that would provide financial stability. That was the reason I chose to study business.

Later, after I gained some savings through my business career, I decided to return to my childhood dream: being a writer. I first wrote poetry for fun, and then I realised I could use my pen for a purpose. I quit my paid job to stay home and work on historical fiction. I doubted my decision for many years, but I felt most happy when I was working on a book project. I wrote for myself first and foremost.

I wrote to understand my parents better. I wrote to appreciate Vietnamese people and our history and culture more. I am just so grateful that my books are being read and shared.

Being a full-time writer is more than a dream come true. One of the unexpected joys is that I often receive messages from international readers who tell me they are travelling around Việt Nam with my books, or they decided to travel to Việt Nam after reading my fiction or poetry.

Another unexpected gift is that I often receive invitations to speak at schools and universities. I love to inspire students to overcome challenges and achieve their dreams while making meaningful contributions to society.

During the past few years, I have had the honor of working with thousands of students in Việt Nam via my school visits. I have enjoyed designing creative writing workshops in Vietnamese and English for students at United Nations International School of Hanoi, Saigon South International School, Delta Global School, Concordia International School Hanoi, British International School Hanoi, British International School HCM City, EMASI Vạn Phúc… I have met such incredible talents at these schools – students who can create wonderful work in multiple languages.

In your view, what matters most for a writer in creating a compelling poem or a successful novel?

Many years ago, when I was a communications consultant for UN agencies in Việt Nam, I used to make short documentaries with Paul Zetter.

Paul told me once: “You can’t make a good film unless your hands tremble behind the camera.” I found out that it’s the same with writing. I can’t write a good poem or a good novel unless my hands and my heart tremble with emotions for the subjects that I address with my work.

I always do a lot of research for my book projects. The most important element of my research is to find emotional empathy for the people or subjects I write about. To write about war veterans, for example, I sat down to speak with a lot of them. I travelled with them to former battlefields, I translated their meetings with former enemies.

I care deeply about the topics I write about in my books, from family relations to healing and reconciliation. And I also want to be compelled when I write, so I create a lot of surprise and even shocking elements in my books. I love writing fiction because it’s magical.

It was my characters who led me to unexpected places; I didn’t plan for the endings of both of my novels, The Mountains Sing and Dust Child. When I reached the end, I screamed.

You are regarded as one of the leading figures of contemporary Vietnamese literature on the international literary scene. Do you feel a burden of responsibility when you represent Việt Nam, and how do you handle it?

Thank you for your compliment. I am learning every day to be a better writer and a better human being. I am grateful for readers’ support and would like to thank them via my next book, which I have been working on.

I am very grateful that with the publication of my novels, I have had the chance to travel to many countries around the world to present my work. Because I am very proud to be Vietnamese, I always take advantage of those opportunities to showcase the beauty of Vietnamese culture and language.

During my book events, I always read a poem in Vietnamese and English, and sometimes I even sing a cải lương song that I composed for readers. I run mini Vietnamese language lessons, where readers have a great time learning how to pronounce Vietnamese words and appreciating the tonal marks of our language.

But I also speak about serious issues, such as the impact of Agent Orange and unexploded bombs on innocent Vietnamese civilians. I speak about the hundreds of thousands of Vietnamese families who are still searching for family members missing from the war.

In my role as a writer and speaker, I would like to be an advocate for Việt Nam, for world peace, for human compassion, and for literature. I do these activities with joy and commitment and with a deep sense of gratitude, because Vietnamese authors are rarely given the chance to present our work internationally.

I don’t see myself as speaking for Việt Nam, but speaking from my own experience as a Vietnamese writer. Việt Nam is vast, diverse, and multifaceted, and no single voice can represent it fully. — VNS