When major world events happen, there’s almost always a book that seems written for the moment. Lawrence Wright’s The End of October foresaw the Covid-19 pandemic. Octavia E. Butler’s The Parable of the Sower is widely credited as predicting the first Trump administration. Dave Eggers’ The Circle captures the anxiety and surveillance of the social media age. Kevin Nguyen joins that list with his new book My Documents.
Nguyen’s story imagines a near-future America where a terror attack by seven Vietnamese men with no clear motive prompts the Republican-controlled government to round up Vietnamese Americans and send them to internment camps-a chilling echo of the Japanese American experience during WWII. The parallels to current events are striking, though Nguyen notes in a Lit Hub piece that he began this book seven years ago.
The narrative unfolds through four members of a Vietnamese American family: Ursula, Alvin, Jen, and Duncan. Each experiences the detainment program differently. Alvin, who works for Google, is shielded from internment by his employer. Ursula, a journalist with a Western-sounding last name, also escapes arrest. Jen and Duncan, along with their mother, are not so fortunate and are sent to the camps.
Their world falls apart with alarming speed. Democrats in government protest, but not quickly or forcefully enough to prevent the camps. Run by private contractors, the camps are dusty, bleak, and just civil enough for the media-and public-to lose interest. The news cycle moves on, and the camps fade from view. To say more would risk spoilers.
Early on, the premise of My Documents is as compelling as it sounds. There’s a palpable confusion in the first section, with many characters, tangled relationships, and short chapters that shift perspective before the reader can settle in. By the time the dust clears, the characters’ lives are irrevocably changed. Unfortunately, once the initial momentum fades, the novel seems uncertain of its direction. My Documents becomes a character-driven story, but the characters themselves remain frustratingly flat. None have a truly distinct voice, and the emotional register is muted. Even moments of reunion or trauma are rendered with a surprising blandness.
Ambiguity and unresolved threads are everywhere. Some events are introduced with weight, only to be left as loose ends. Characters who seem central are dropped without fanfare. Major traumas occur with little follow-through or resolution. While ambiguity can be powerful in fiction, here it feels more like a missed opportunity than a deliberate provocation.
Perhaps this is intentional, but I’m not convinced it’s justified. When the story does regain momentum, such as when Ursula finds a new source and embarks on a harrowing reporting trip, the pacing sputters, peaks, and fades so quickly it felt like I missed a page.
Despite my frustrations, I never considered putting My Documents aside. I wanted to see how it would resolve, and the political arc, the depiction of public opinion and government action, rings true. By the final section, though, I found myself skimming the character-driven passages to get back to the politics.
There are smaller irritations, too. Alvin’s actions at Google don’t align with his supposed genius, (and his colleagues use PowerPoint, which is unthinkable). Ursula’s workplace relationships are unconvincing, and the explanation for how she keeps her source secret is pretty handwavy.
I spent several days after finishing My Documents hoping something would click, that I’d see the book in a new light. Instead I found myself struggling to recall key details, left with the impression of a missed opportunity, a novel with the seeds of greatness that never quite takes root.
Nguyen’s book is eerily prescient for this political and cultural moment, but like The End of October, I don’t think it’s a great book. Nguyen deserves credit for capturing the zeitgeist, but for me, My Documents ultimately falls short.
Further Reading
Interlocutor Magazine interview
