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A review by divineblkpearl
The Magic Fish by Trung Le Nguyen
5.0
**Many thanks to Random House Graphic for sending me an ARC!**
Review: ‘The Magic Fish’ is A Stunning, Hopeful Story In Graphic Novel Form
In The Magic Fish, our protagonist is young Tiến, a lovable thirteen-year-old kid who is well-loved by his best friends Claire and Julian, and also his parents. Set in the ’90s, he’s a son to Helen and John, first-generation Vietnamese immigrants, he loves to check out books from the library and take turns reading them with his parents aloud. It is a practice that he enjoys the most with his mother, who loves fairytales as much as her son, initially done in practice to improve her English. From the first chapter, it’s established that it is an intimate sort of ritual, one that both mom and son enjoy. It is also becoming apparent that through stories like the fairytales, both Tiến and Helen are attempting to process past and current experiences like their identities and expectations of who they think they should be in their family structures.
I have to be clear, this just isn’t one story. No. Tiến has a thread in this narrative as does his mother, Helen. Then are a few fairytales, one famously adapted again and again about a girl from the sea and one much closer to home for Helen. Through all these stories there are people who matter, people who have a home even if displaced, people who undergo a great conflict, a tragedy. Tiến who lives in these stories as much as his mother doesn’t have the words to express how he feels. He’s a kid who is figuring out that he’s gay and he doesn’t have the Vietnamese words for what he’s going through, he doesn’t words that will translate to his parents. He’s at a loss. He’s also not sure what people, especially he parents will think. Will they still love him? Will their roles as parents stay consistent–too often the young adults in the stories he reads are without parents or without good ones. Will he end up like them?
With Helen, her narrative thread is one of a mother who left home young as barely an adult and dreamt of home, of her own mother, and the limbo she finds herself in. Escaping Vietnam as a refugee, she’s made a new life for herself in a new land: she has fulfilling work, a family she adores, and a son she sees herself in, a son who loves what she loves fairytales. But when the laughter and chatter at home die down, she thinks of her homeland and her family and loss. She wonders whether she is preserving her culture or her language with her son, who is quickly growing up. She wonders if she’s a good daughter so far from home, even if she can’t visit or call more often. She, like Tiến, doesn’t always have the words to express what she wants to say in either language, her native tongue, and her still growing grasp of English. Through the stories that she and her son, love, she finds herself in them at times, still escaping monsters and wicked men.
Trungles’ art is is, by no secret or exaggeration, breath-taking. Gorgeous pages of princesses dancing the night away in the arms of princes, supportive allies coming to the aid of the one in trouble are lovely. Full of magic. That magic bleeds into the pages of Tiến and Helen’s lives, current and past. Pages of confessions, loving embraces, and worried expressions contain multitudes. I appreciate the research that went into the illustrating of the many costumes and clothing throughout the book, from Tien’s iconic jacket with the perfectly placed patch to the lovely Vietnamese áo dài to the many flowy, princess-like dresses that one might find on a stage.
A note opening the book reveals that in regards to the artwork, the first one hundred and sixty-eight pages were drawn traditionally and the remaining pages were drawn using a tablet using software like Adobe Photoshop. It’ is an illuminating fact as Trungles’ art style is very beautifully detailed. Reminding me of gorgeous storybooks of old but being unique in its own way, it has always caught my eye. Knowing a bit of the process for this work has given me a new appreciation of it and has shed light of the combination of traditional and more digital means in production. I’m sure other readers who are artists and creative souls will appreciate this information as well.
While The Magic Fish is geared for Young Adult audiences, I believe that this is a very accessible story for all ages. With that in mind, I would like to point out that there is a bit of blood and brief written descriptions of violence in the fairy tale portions–which should not come as a surprise as fairy tales of old tend to have a bit of violence in them, some versions more than others. (The Little Mermaid, for example, is my favorite illustrative example, depending on what version you read). There is also the implied violence of what happened in Vietnam in Helen’s memories that caused her to leave home and start anew in a different country–and the trauma she carries because of that.
Read the rest of my review here: https://blacknerdproblems.com/the-magic-fish-a-graphic-novel-review/
Review: ‘The Magic Fish’ is A Stunning, Hopeful Story In Graphic Novel Form
In The Magic Fish, our protagonist is young Tiến, a lovable thirteen-year-old kid who is well-loved by his best friends Claire and Julian, and also his parents. Set in the ’90s, he’s a son to Helen and John, first-generation Vietnamese immigrants, he loves to check out books from the library and take turns reading them with his parents aloud. It is a practice that he enjoys the most with his mother, who loves fairytales as much as her son, initially done in practice to improve her English. From the first chapter, it’s established that it is an intimate sort of ritual, one that both mom and son enjoy. It is also becoming apparent that through stories like the fairytales, both Tiến and Helen are attempting to process past and current experiences like their identities and expectations of who they think they should be in their family structures.
I have to be clear, this just isn’t one story. No. Tiến has a thread in this narrative as does his mother, Helen. Then are a few fairytales, one famously adapted again and again about a girl from the sea and one much closer to home for Helen. Through all these stories there are people who matter, people who have a home even if displaced, people who undergo a great conflict, a tragedy. Tiến who lives in these stories as much as his mother doesn’t have the words to express how he feels. He’s a kid who is figuring out that he’s gay and he doesn’t have the Vietnamese words for what he’s going through, he doesn’t words that will translate to his parents. He’s at a loss. He’s also not sure what people, especially he parents will think. Will they still love him? Will their roles as parents stay consistent–too often the young adults in the stories he reads are without parents or without good ones. Will he end up like them?
With Helen, her narrative thread is one of a mother who left home young as barely an adult and dreamt of home, of her own mother, and the limbo she finds herself in. Escaping Vietnam as a refugee, she’s made a new life for herself in a new land: she has fulfilling work, a family she adores, and a son she sees herself in, a son who loves what she loves fairytales. But when the laughter and chatter at home die down, she thinks of her homeland and her family and loss. She wonders whether she is preserving her culture or her language with her son, who is quickly growing up. She wonders if she’s a good daughter so far from home, even if she can’t visit or call more often. She, like Tiến, doesn’t always have the words to express what she wants to say in either language, her native tongue, and her still growing grasp of English. Through the stories that she and her son, love, she finds herself in them at times, still escaping monsters and wicked men.
Trungles’ art is is, by no secret or exaggeration, breath-taking. Gorgeous pages of princesses dancing the night away in the arms of princes, supportive allies coming to the aid of the one in trouble are lovely. Full of magic. That magic bleeds into the pages of Tiến and Helen’s lives, current and past. Pages of confessions, loving embraces, and worried expressions contain multitudes. I appreciate the research that went into the illustrating of the many costumes and clothing throughout the book, from Tien’s iconic jacket with the perfectly placed patch to the lovely Vietnamese áo dài to the many flowy, princess-like dresses that one might find on a stage.
A note opening the book reveals that in regards to the artwork, the first one hundred and sixty-eight pages were drawn traditionally and the remaining pages were drawn using a tablet using software like Adobe Photoshop. It’ is an illuminating fact as Trungles’ art style is very beautifully detailed. Reminding me of gorgeous storybooks of old but being unique in its own way, it has always caught my eye. Knowing a bit of the process for this work has given me a new appreciation of it and has shed light of the combination of traditional and more digital means in production. I’m sure other readers who are artists and creative souls will appreciate this information as well.
While The Magic Fish is geared for Young Adult audiences, I believe that this is a very accessible story for all ages. With that in mind, I would like to point out that there is a bit of blood and brief written descriptions of violence in the fairy tale portions–which should not come as a surprise as fairy tales of old tend to have a bit of violence in them, some versions more than others. (The Little Mermaid, for example, is my favorite illustrative example, depending on what version you read). There is also the implied violence of what happened in Vietnam in Helen’s memories that caused her to leave home and start anew in a different country–and the trauma she carries because of that.
Read the rest of my review here: https://blacknerdproblems.com/the-magic-fish-a-graphic-novel-review/