The Emperor of Gladness: Oprah's Book Club: A Novel

When Ocean Vuong's On Earth We're Briefly Gorgeous was published, the book club group I was facilitating at the time wondered if the author would be able to make the transition from poet to full-fledged novelist---because the first novel flew primarily on the wings of poetry.His second novel---The Emperor of Gladness--- does seem to lack the poetry of his first book. Nevertheless, it is poignant and powerful---and it is at its very best when the author explores the profound and touching relationship between the central protagonist Hai and the demented old woman Grazina. Grazina is, in fact, the glue that holds this book together. And yet, the novel's other characters who live in the fast-food world of Home Market, are just as significant in their own way and connect powerfully to the mood, tone and themes of the author's book.The novel does seem pretty dismal, and I was reminded again and again of its epigraph from Act 4, scene 3 of Hamlet: the true emperor of the world is the worm. "We fat ourselves for maggots."So, the world is a wasteland of sorts in which, in the end, the American Dream ends most logically in a nursing home or in a dumpster where we sit contemplating stars in the night sky that we can neither reach nor comprehend. Where is the beauty in our lives? "What good is beauty if nobody wins?" The lies we tell ourselves and one another. The delusions we use to cope with trauma, with the brutality of war and the senseless slaughter of humans and animals. The numbing realities of our existences. It is all pretty grim.But the writing is breathtaking, and many of the scenes in this novel are unforgettable and brilliant, including a pill-popping Hai (as "Sgt. Pepper") sitting in a bathtub with the demented Grazina as they take a midnight ride in a "jeep" that sweeps them across war-torn Europe on their way to the battlefields of Gettysburg. And the final section of the novel (Spring) is so powerfully imagined and rendered that the last pages of the book might leave you in tears.What are we? Who are we supposed to be? Do we ever rise above the level of our own mediocrity? What happens now? The Emperor of Gladness provides much food for thought, and I can only continue to admire its sensitive and intuitive author who is so very young and yet writes with such compassion and wisdom.

Ocean Vuong’s novel “Emperor of Gladness” offers a poignant snapshot of a gay (this is the spoiler alert)Vietnamese immigrant grappling with addiction and the complexities of identity. The opening passages are beautifully poetic, setting a lyrical tone that I initially hoped would carry through the entire book. However, as the story unfolds, the prose becomes more straightforward, especially in the dialogue, which at times felt somewhat simplistic—perhaps reflecting the challenges of language barriers between the protagonist and his mother.Despite its focus on the seemingly ordinary experiences of a young adult, the novel held my attention, driven largely by my curiosity about the character’s journey. There’s little in the way of traditional action, yet Vuong’s writing manages to keep the reader engaged through its emotional depth and introspective moments.I found it interesting that the main character’s Vietnamese name translates to “Ocean,” mirroring the author’s own, which made me wonder if the novel is partly autobiographical. Throughout the book, themes of imprisonment—both mental and societal—resonate strongly, especially in today’s context where mental health is so vital.Ultimately, “Emperor of Gladness” made me reflect on my own life and the support systems I’m fortunate to have, as well as the profound struggle of living with addiction. It’s a novel that lingers in your thoughts, prompting deeper contemplation about resilience, belonging, and the human condition.

I should have known what would happen when a poet writes a novel: readers would be gifted with an extraordinary literary achievement. Author Vuong has done just that. In a novel that is as funny as it is poignant, he has mined the depths of the human experience from inside the cramped confines of a fast-food restaurant in suburban Connecticut. What results is a staggering epic filled with unforgettable characters trying to make sense of a world that has left them behind.Hai is a nineteen-year-old Vietnamese boy about to end his life by plunging from a railroad bridge, when he is accosted by octogenarian Grazina, yelling at him from the window of her dilapidated house. She persuades him to move in with her and “start again,” providing him with what might be graciously called “room and board” while he makes sure she takes all of her medications on time. He soon learns that her increasing dementia straddles life between World War II and her precarious present, and before long he becomes her “Sergeant Pepper,” incorporated into her delusions, guiding her through war-torn Europe.Then there is Sony, Hai’s younger cousin, an autistic savant with encyclopedic knowledge of the American Civil War. BJ, the woman who manages the HomeMarket (“This is where America is fed”) has aspirations of breaking out of fast-food and becoming a professional wrestler. Russia, “the white boy with the nose ring,” mans the drive-thru, while redheaded Maureen takes orders, and the always sweating Wayne keeps the chickens roasting. As the story progresses, we find that “the usual suspects” are anything but usual, each quirky and flawed in their own way, living lives where putting one foot in front of the other is an act of courage.The writing is as beautiful as the story is profound. Its humor and its pathos become an indictment of a society that discards human beings as easily as disposable Styrofoam cups. Trust me, once you have read this soaring novel you will never hear the standard words of a fast-food server in the same way again:“How can I help you?”