Honda Dream

Rating:
Summary: Honda Dream, an American Dream Made in Japan?
Review: Honda Dream, an American Dream Made in Japan? Keiko Takioto Miller

A casual reader may pick up a mystery simply to satisfy his/her sense of logic by untangling the knots cleverly crafted by its author. Liam Patrick Galbraith, in his first novel titled Honda Dream, not only demonstrates his skill in how to create those complex pathological knots for his reader to unravel with his pen, but also distracts our rational train of thoughts by using his other prowess, that is, to awaken our senses. As soon as we open to the first page, we are treated to a kaleidoscope of multi-sensory and multi-cultural experiences. Although Galbraith writes from the perspective of the protagonist, a middle-aged Vietnamese-American investigator named Tran, his own personal experience as a frequent traveler and sojourner abroad has not only helped thicken the plot with authentic details but also relieves us from our intense over-involvement with the riveting plot, like a good friend coaxing us for a much needed long walk in the middle of our tangled thoughts. The poet in him tingle our senses of smell, sight, palate, touch and hearing, as his voice leads us through the characters' living quarters, ethnic neighborhoods, seascapes, or romantic restaurants. This kind of subtle "sensory breaks", which seem to creep up just when your logic gets geared up, is telling of the author's influence of the Buddhist wisdom of knowing when to empty one's mind and focus on one's task. Like Isaac Newton, whose inspirational clarity regarding the principle of gravity was metaphorically ascribed by an innocently falling apple from its tree under which he happened to have been resting, Galbraith, too, has created temporary "rain shelters" from under which for us readers to gaze the rainy landscape long enough so that we may be able to per chance see that something in the nature's pattern may foretell the way things flow in our human lives. We are fools if we simply pretend to see only the blossom at its peak. In beauty holds the potential for its decay and in decay its potential rebirth of beauty. Not all his distractions are solemn. He does not spare his well-timed whimsical sense of humor. On the one hand Galbraith sets up a romantic mood for a couple to have lunch at a seaside Italian restaurant. Then on the other hand he suddenly yanks us away from our unguarded dreamy state into a hearty laughter with a stroke of image of a character caught in his clumsy act of ingesting his pasta. In this way Galbraith succeeds in making us also laugh at ourselves several times no matter what ethnic group you may identify with.

The credibility of the story is found in the author's dynamically detailed descriptions of the actual times, places and experiences, which the author himself has encountered. His references to the Western cultures counterbalance the mainly Asian-American ambiance.. The reality of the Little Saigon and its surroundings is neither totally dreamy nor desolate; it thrives in the suspenseful space between the raw edges of these two worlds. Those who have enough sense to muster up their internal energy to align themselves with the ever-changing external elements seem to be rewarded with the fruit of their reasonable balancing acts so grossly demanded of them during the time of transition.

Transition is hard for anyone, but especially for those Vietnamese refugees who were brought to this country. Unlike other immigrants who fled their homeland by choice; they arrived in a strange country, as French would say, by force. But the hardships did not end there; they paid for their meager chance for freedom literally not only with their own material possession, but also with their flesh, blood, sweat and tears. Practically every human cruelty imaginable had been done to them even before they arrived at the shore of their host country America. Should they be relieved at this point now that they have arrived in America? No chance. Their trying times were only to be scoffed at by some of the arrogantly ignorant Americans, who have forgotten the kinds of sacrifices made by their immigrant forefathers and have known no other way to measure others but by their material wealth bequeathed to them. For the first and second generation immigrants, and particularly refugees, the transition period is a double-edged wound, which offers no time to its soul to heal for a very long time.

What, then, is an American Dream to such immigrants? It's an ironical dream. Those who think they have attained it by reaching material goals have not yet realized the emptiness it promises. And those who have just arrived here to pursue it would have to know how to outlive the cruelties measured by those who think they are ahead in this meaningless game in the pursuit of happiness. Sooner or later, we must all realize that the happiness is the way, not a means to an end. Galbraith's words both depict the reality from which we must learn to live. Those who can capture that ecstatic moment of harmony within a continuous undulation of dynamic tensions created by opposing forces get to savor the core of the fruit of life, as did some of his characters. Life is a Carpe Diem that dies the moment it is born. Static characters miss the right moment to align themselves with and jump into the force created by the two ropes crisscrossing in the game of a double Dutch. The book contains a great deal of graphically depicted violence. Yet, for some ironical reason, he succeeds in leaving us with a message that exercising of our humor and compassion is in order. Look for his poetical caresses and humors in unsuspected moments in between horrors of the reality. It may be his first novel, but like a healthy newborn child, sometimes a good book like this one is born out of a man's womb, where he allowed himself to nurture his own soul through many adventurous journeys.

Rating:
Summary: Honda Dream, an American Dream Made in Japan?
Review: Honda Dream, an American Dream Made in Japan? Keiko Takioto Miller

A casual reader may pick up a mystery simply to satisfy his/her sense of logic by untangling the knots cleverly crafted by its author. Liam Patrick Galbraith, in his first novel titled Honda Dream, not only demonstrates his skill in how to create those complex pathological knots for his reader to unravel with his pen, but also distracts our rational train of thoughts by using his other prowess, that is, to awaken our senses. As soon as we open to the first page, we are treated to a kaleidoscope of multi-sensory and multi-cultural experiences. Although Galbraith writes from the perspective of the protagonist, a middle-aged Vietnamese-American investigator named Tran, his own personal experience as a frequent traveler and sojourner abroad has not only helped thicken the plot with authentic details but also relieves us from our intense over-involvement with the riveting plot, like a good friend coaxing us for a much needed long walk in the middle of our tangled thoughts. The poet in him tingle our senses of smell, sight, palate, touch and hearing, as his voice leads us through the characters' living quarters, ethnic neighborhoods, seascapes, or romantic restaurants. This kind of subtle "sensory breaks", which seem to creep up just when your logic gets geared up, is telling of the author's influence of the Buddhist wisdom of knowing when to empty one's mind and focus on one's task. Like Isaac Newton, whose inspirational clarity regarding the principle of gravity was metaphorically ascribed by an innocently falling apple from its tree under which he happened to have been resting, Galbraith, too, has created temporary "rain shelters" from under which for us readers to gaze the rainy landscape long enough so that we may be able to per chance see that something in the nature's pattern may foretell the way things flow in our human lives. We are fools if we simply pretend to see only the blossom at its peak. In beauty holds the potential for its decay and in decay its potential rebirth of beauty. Not all his distractions are solemn. He does not spare his well-timed whimsical sense of humor. On the one hand Galbraith sets up a romantic mood for a couple to have lunch at a seaside Italian restaurant. Then on the other hand he suddenly yanks us away from our unguarded dreamy state into a hearty laughter with a stroke of image of a character caught in his clumsy act of ingesting his pasta. In this way Galbraith succeeds in making us also laugh at ourselves several times no matter what ethnic group you may identify with.

The credibility of the story is found in the author's dynamically detailed descriptions of the actual times, places and experiences, which the author himself has encountered. His references to the Western cultures counterbalance the mainly Asian-American ambiance.. The reality of the Little Saigon and its surroundings is neither totally dreamy nor desolate; it thrives in the suspenseful space between the raw edges of these two worlds. Those who have enough sense to muster up their internal energy to align themselves with the ever-changing external elements seem to be rewarded with the fruit of their reasonable balancing acts so grossly demanded of them during the time of transition.

Transition is hard for anyone, but especially for those Vietnamese refugees who were brought to this country. Unlike other immigrants who fled their homeland by choice; they arrived in a strange country, as French would say, by force. But the hardships did not end there; they paid for their meager chance for freedom literally not only with their own material possession, but also with their flesh, blood, sweat and tears. Practically every human cruelty imaginable had been done to them even before they arrived at the shore of their host country America. Should they be relieved at this point now that they have arrived in America? No chance. Their trying times were only to be scoffed at by some of the arrogantly ignorant Americans, who have forgotten the kinds of sacrifices made by their immigrant forefathers and have known no other way to measure others but by their material wealth bequeathed to them. For the first and second generation immigrants, and particularly refugees, the transition period is a double-edged wound, which offers no time to its soul to heal for a very long time.

What, then, is an American Dream to such immigrants? It's an ironical dream. Those who think they have attained it by reaching material goals have not yet realized the emptiness it promises. And those who have just arrived here to pursue it would have to know how to outlive the cruelties measured by those who think they are ahead in this meaningless game in the pursuit of happiness. Sooner or later, we must all realize that the happiness is the way, not a means to an end. Galbraith's words both depict the reality from which we must learn to live. Those who can capture that ecstatic moment of harmony within a continuous undulation of dynamic tensions created by opposing forces get to savor the core of the fruit of life, as did some of his characters. Life is a Carpe Diem that dies the moment it is born. Static characters miss the right moment to align themselves with and jump into the force created by the two ropes crisscrossing in the game of a double Dutch. The book contains a great deal of graphically depicted violence. Yet, for some ironical reason, he succeeds in leaving us with a message that exercising of our humor and compassion is in order. Look for his poetical caresses and humors in unsuspected moments in between horrors of the reality. It may be his first novel, but like a healthy newborn child, sometimes a good book like this one is born out of a man's womb, where he allowed himself to nurture his own soul through many adventurous journeys.