Thuận’s novel, ”The Elevator in Saigon,” translated by Tobias Theander, opens with a jarringly absurd death: a mother plunges from the open shaft of a newly installed elevator, the first private elevator in Vietnam. This unsettling event serves as the catalyst for the daughter’s journey into her mother’s enigmatic past, a journey that unfolds like a detective story, though it’s ultimately much more than that. The daughter, now a language teacher in Paris, struggles with her own identity, caught between her Vietnamese heritage and her life in France. Just as her mother’s life was marked by the complexities of a nation grappling with its colonial history and embracing socialism, the daughter navigates the subtle prejudices and assumptions she encounters in both Paris and Saigon. The mother’s death becomes a symbolic representation of the unresolved traumas and lingering ambiguities of Vietnam’s past, forcing the daughter to confront not only her mother’s secrets but also the larger narrative of her nation.
Set in 2004, fifty years after the pivotal Battle of Dien Bien Phu, which marked the end of French colonial rule in Southeast Asia, the novel emphasizes the enduring impact of history on individual lives. The mother’s life, spanning this tumultuous period, remains shrouded in mystery. The discovery of a faded photograph tucked inside a cushion, bearing the name Paul Polotski and a Parisian address from 1954, ignites the daughter’s quest for answers. The year 1954 holds significance not only as the year of the battle but also seemingly as a pivotal year in the mother’s life, a year that perhaps holds the key to understanding her ultimate fate. This photograph, a tangible link to the past, sets the daughter on a path of investigation, propelling her between Paris, Hanoi, and Saigon, searching for traces of this unknown man and his connection to her mother.
The daughter, the narrator of the story, presents herself as driven by a need to understand her mother, an almost compulsive desire to piece together the fragments of her life. However, her reliability as a narrator is increasingly questioned. Her narrative voice oscillates between assured pronouncements and hesitant speculation, revealing her own biases and the limitations of her perspective. Her memories are interwoven with imagined scenes, like the romanticized vision of her parents’ divorce proceedings, where she pictures her mother performing the role of the ideal socialist citizen before an approving tribunal. This blurring of fact and fiction underscores the difficulty of reconstructing the past, especially a past obscured by political upheaval and personal trauma.
The narrative structure mirrors the daughter’s fragmented understanding of her mother’s life. The story shifts between different time periods and locations, mirroring the daughter’s piecing together of clues. The reader is led along on this quest, captivated by the mystery of Paul Polotski. However, the true heart of the novel lies in the peripheral vision, in the glimpses of a larger story unfolding in the background. The search for Polotski becomes a vehicle for exploring the profound impact of imperialism, the challenges of exile, and the ongoing process of healing in a nation marked by deep historical wounds. These themes are subtly woven throughout the narrative, enriching the personal story with a broader historical and political context.
The mother’s time in a colonial prison, briefly mentioned, becomes another focal point of the daughter’s investigation. The ambiguity surrounding this imprisonment – the reason for it, the people she met, the experiences she endured – fuels speculation and further underscores the mother’s hidden life. This brief episode symbolizes the larger mysteries surrounding the mother’s existence. It hints at a life lived in the shadows, a life shaped by the complexities of a society in transition. The daughter’s attempts to uncover the truth about this imprisonment parallel her attempts to understand her mother’s entire life, a life marked by secrets and silences.
“The Elevator in Saigon” operates on multiple levels: as a personal quest for understanding, a detective story, and a historical reflection on a nation struggling with its past. While the surface narrative focuses on the mystery of the mother’s death and the search for Paul Polotski, the novel’s true power lies in its exploration of the lasting impact of history on individual lives. It’s a story about the search for identity in a post-colonial world, the complexities of memory, and the enduring power of the past to shape the present. The elevator itself, a symbol of modernity and progress, ironically becomes the instrument of the mother’s demise, perhaps suggesting the disruptive and unpredictable nature of change and the lingering presence of the past even amidst apparent advancements.
