Shin - Cậu Bé Bút Chì (Tập 6) - Bản Đặc Biệt tải về miễn phí cuốn sách

Nathan Theobald adventureka5b7 — I read a criticism of this memoir by someone else who seemingly panned it on the basis that it was not written in a linear or chronological fashion, as memoirs are "supposed to be." I think this is a common misconception of memoir -- that it is "supposed to be" a time line of one's life, from birth to some magical resolution. Not true. I generally find books like that exceedingly dull. Setting out to write one's memoir, one might outline the book in a loosely chronological order, but I think ultimately, your story can tell itself more naturally in thematic "clumps," for lack of a better descriptive. I think that's what Nguyen's story does -- orders itself in clusters around central truths or discoveries throughout her youth. I would much prefer it thus, rather than Nguyen straining to smush everything in chronologically and sacrificing the truths and discoveries that hold her stories together and make her experiences relatable. And I did find her stories largely relatable, as a fellow Asian child of the '80s struggling to be American in the heart of white Midwestern America, where the contents of your lunchbox could make or break you, the taper of your jeans were a reflection of your potential for acceptance vs. your relegation to the social graveyard, and the color of your skin trumped all. For me, my attraction to Nguyen's writing was 40% due to the nostalgia factor, 60% due to the chords her experiences struck in my own memories of ethnic/cultural awkwardness and the quest for belonging among my gleaming white peers. Her writing is sound, expressive and descriptive, and although it did not sweep me off my feet with an unprecedented kind of lyricism or other particularly novel style, I was drawn in and found myself one of Nguyen's classmates, watching her fight through many of the same battles that I fought, inwardly and outwardly, in those times. Lastly, I have to give a great big exaggerated eye-roll to the criticisms that seem to dock this book for not being the "immigrant/refugee survival story" that they were expecting. I resent that you can go to the biography or memoir section of the library or bookstore and find shelf upon shelf of memoirs written by white Middle Americans who can write whatever they care to write, to similar reviews trumpeting their insight and humanity. Whereas any writer of color, and particularly those with *copping hokey accent* "foreign-sounding" names, are stamped with their corresponding ethnic labels and sent off to the corresponding "minority" section that is exactly 5 titles wide. I mean, what were you expecting? Twenty chapters of starving on a boat, punctuated by refrains of "God Bless America"?