A particularly enjoyable section is when the three main characters go to Provence for the summer. Bin is strongly attracted to the muscular sons of the local farmers, but has to content himself with getting drunk with them (he drinks heavily throughout the book).
This is Monique Truong's first novel, but her short stories and essays have been so highly regarded that they're already being taught in American universities. And it's easy to see how this book will suit the current academic preoccupation with political correctness. Post-colonialists will enjoy Bin's controlled annoyance at Toklas calling him her "little Indochinese" and "thin Bin," and the later tragic meeting of the Americans and Vietnamese can be foreseen by those with an eye for such things, especially at the end of the novel when the Steins set sail back to the US.
The novel is most notable for its clusters of unforgettable sentences. Here is one typically memorable one: "When melted butter is brought to the color just moments after gold, it inexplicably acquires ... the taste of hazelnuts roasted over a wood-fed flame." Quinces, too, receive something approaching a eulogy. And the descriptions of how to make a perfect omelet (an art, Bin remarks, that separates the experts from the rest), or cook Vietnamese pineapple and beef, are likely to be cut out and pasted into readers' cookbooks.
This suggests a possible weakness. The strength of Truong's style lies in the detail. She is wonderful in vivid short passages, but less strong on cumulative effects. There's also little drama in the tale, even when elements of the plot, such as the filtching of the notebook, could easily have allowed it.
This nuanced tale is likely to become an established classic in literary circles, a success that will only be reinforced by its incorporation of an important modernist writer (limited though it makes her look) into the story. Its very subtlety, though, is unfortunately likely to prevent it from ever being a popular best-seller.
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