Welcome to Shelf Life, ELLE.com’s books column, in which authors share their most memorable reads. Whether you’re on the hunt for a book to console you, move you profoundly, or make you laugh, consider a recommendation from the writers in our series, who, like you (since you’re here), love books. Perhaps one of their favorite titles will become one of yours, too.
After making a name for himself with his first poetry collection, followed by a popular novel, Ocean Vuong returned with his second collection of poems, Time is a mother (Penguin Press), which explores loss, grief, and memories following the death of his mother.
King, whose? The night sky with wounds at the exit won the Whiting Award (he buying a house for his mother with prize money) and the TS Eliot Prize, which is consulting on a film adaptation of his novel On earth we are simply gorgeous at A24.
Born in Saigon, Vietnam, he moved to the United States at the age of 2 and was raised by his mother and grandmother in Hartford, Connecticut. He dropped out of business school at Pace University and earned a degree in 19th Century American Literature from Brooklyn College, after which he received his MFA in poetry from NYU and currently teaches in the MFA Program for Poets and Writers at the University of California. UMass-Amherst. In partnership with the Smithsonian Asian Pacific American Center, he co-founded the Refugee Poison Mobility Center at the Asian Arts Initiative.
He maintains a meditative practice of Buddhism, which his mother wants Name he’s after Jackie Chan (see why he ended up playing Ocean in this Jeopardy! Clue); unable to drive (he failed his driving test five times), has a Shih Tzu poodle mix named Tofu; attended Baptist church as a child, mainly for ice cream sandwiches after services; worked at Panera Bread and a tobacco farm; do not think writer block is one thing; wear jade carving of the benevolent god Guanyin from his mother, like Frank Oceanand wrote a letter from the Renaissance painter Salaì to his teacher, Leonard da Vinci as part of Operation Valentino.
That book:
… Helped me through loss:
The phrase ‘unflinching’ is often used to refer to works that revolve around grief and loss but I have yet to see it applied more appropriately than Roland Barthes’ Diary of mourning. Originally written on sticky notes to follow the year after his mother’s death, this fragmentary, heartbreaking, and incredibly vulnerable book affirms and expands on how lonely the grieving process can be. .
… Made me miss a train stop:
Anne Carson Red’s Autobiography. Entirely engaging and exemplifies the special use of a distant third-person perspective to portray the closeness of childhood as it reaches for the expression of an artistic self.
… I recommend repeating:
Federico García Lorca’s New York Poet. Lorca wrote these poems during a trip to New York amid personal heartbreak and serious professional doubt. His firsthand account of the stock market crash of 1929, the horror and chaos, the men jumping off the buildings, the trash and vomiting, the purely American spectacle, is to this day an invaluable document on the dark side of the empire, seen through the eyes of a foreigner.
… shaping my worldview:
The Tibetan Book of Life and Death by Sogyal Rinpoche. A great book on the scope and specificity of visualizing a way of death as well as the myths and practices of its unfathomable mysteries. A humbling and inspiring read for me.
… made me rethink a long-held belief:
Thomas Merton’s New seeds of contemplation helped broaden my thinking about religion and Christianity in particular. As a Trappist, Merton’s curiosity, forgiveness, and erudition in exploring global perspectives on religion and philosophy has helped me see, or re-see, Christianity. beyond the confines and reduction of sects or regimes, leading me to explore a more energetic and mystical approach to its practices, thus breaking its more formal hegemony into something much more malleable and amorphous.
… I swear I’ll finish one day:
Proud and prejudice by Jane Austen. I’ve tried reading this book probably seven times so far, and each time I’ve only written 40 pages before I get the urge to wash the dishes and clean my entire house, anything but termites. interest of the upper middle class about who gets married to whom. among 18th-century English aristocrats. I know people from all walks of life who loved this book — so this book is clearly my own failure. Obviously I couldn’t read a book about rich people dancing in ballrooms, drinking tea, and getting “hot” from trotting along country roads.
… Currently sitting on my nightstand:
JR Ackerley’s We think your world.
… I will pass on to my children:
By Arthur Rimbaud Complete work, selected letter. Rimbaud has a special place in my heart because he is my way into poetry. I read him once a year because the work is filled with aspiration to be layered with complete reverence for the state while emphasizing that the work of creating and expressing the literary arts is a sacred calling. spiritual and spiritual — that’s a very worthwhile thing to do, not to mention a writer whose entire contest lasted but five years.
… I would like to give a present to a recent graduate:
Writing life by Annie Dillard. An appeal, a summons to art, rather than a manual book. I often return to this sentence to anchor me when the wind blurs my vision — besides, the sentences aren’t perfect.
… I want to turn it into a Netflix show:
By Scott McClanahan Sarah’s Book. A cinematic treatment that would bring this hit classic to a wider audience, it was totally worth it. Other than that, I just want to see it. I imagine it moving along the line Fight Club with neurotic narrator/voice — but better, more soulful, more vulnerable, and more real to America’s underclass.
… The first time I bought:
The Dhammapada sutras, pocket edition. My mother actually bought this for me, at a Barnes & Noble outside of Hartford. I told her that I wanted to study Buddhism more deeply – to understand Vietnamese culture better. She was so happy to hear that I was so interested in books and spirituality that she drove me right after work and bought it for me. She was very proud when she went to the counter and bought a book. It was the first book she bought. And it was for me. I will never forget that memory as long as I live.
… has the best opening line:
John Irving’s A prayer for Owen Meany. “I will certainly remember a boy with a ravishing voice — not because of his voice, or because he was the smallest person I ever knew, or even because he was instrumental in death. of my mother, but because he is the reason I believe. in the Lord; I am a Christian because of Owen Meany”
… I consider literature as comfort food:
James Baldwin’s essay. Even all these years later, he still convinces me so much of the country and what it feels like to live in it that his essays are a bit like magic.
…makes me feel seen:
VS Naipaul’s Mysterious arrival captures this quiet alienation image of a first-generation college student, an aspiring writer, to the point where the specifics make it impossible for me to read every time I read it. A final, self-affirming story of your quiet faith and your quest to find your way into your art when, or perhaps because, there is so little precedent before you, so little path. , if any, is set for you to join.
… I was only able to discover at Codex Books, NYC:
Male color: Homosexual construction in Tokugawa Japan by Gary P. Leupp.
… filled with hope in me:
Saint Augustine Confession. What I love most about Confession is Augustine’s poignant question about self-examination and the integral role of life forged through intellectual enrichment — and finding out if it’s worth the work. A powerful and competent bargaining chip that no doubt applies to any job.
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