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[a:Ocean Vuong|4456871|Ocean Vuong|https://images.gr-assets.com/authors/1561472666p2/4456871.jpg]'s words fill the yawning chasm of the grief felt due to being uprooted, smothering the void with delicate, carefully sculpted words that somehow mask the vicious undercurrent of anguish. Much like the Japanese artform of Kintsugi, Vuong's words meld together the fractured landscape of a war-displaced Vietnamese family, restoring the pieces of an erstwhile happiness, through poetic prose.

[b:On Earth We're Briefly Gorgeous|57045282|On Earth We're Briefly Gorgeous|Ocean Vuong|https://i.gr-assets.com/images/S/compressed.photo.goodreads.com/books/1613198131l/57045282.SX50.jpg|61665003], though essentially a rambling letter in English (in the loosest sense) from Little Dog to his mother (who does not speak the language), is so much more. At its heart, it is a reclamation of life , of embracing new power dynamics in an alien land, of navigating a new 'normal' (though what is normal, really?). Little Dog dances on eggshells around his mother, who speaks almost no English, and struggles to maintain a relationship of respect with her son when they immigrate to the States, their hierarchies being reversed when it is Little Dog, who, with his English, must help his mother find her way about. I stopped several times during my reading of this book to mark sentences, which were ephemerally beautiful, placed just so. His grandmother Lam, a tenuous link to his Vietnamese origins, reminds him of his familial past.

Little Dog's sexuality is an important part of this book, as Vuong details his burgeoning relationship with a white man. This relationship is an uprooting within an uprooting, taking Little Dog further away from his mother than a lack of language ever could. As he struggles to come to terms with his otherness , he finally discloses his sexuality to his mother, in a most mundane setting.

"You want sugar, Ma?" I asked. "What about cream, or actually, maybe a doughnut? Oh no, you like the croissants -"

"Say what you have to say, Little Dog." Your tone subdued, watery. The steam from the cup gave your face a shifting expression.

"I don't like girls."

I didn't want to use the Vietnamese word for it - pê-đê - from the French pédé, short for pédéraste. ... the epithet for criminals"

Eventually, the reader hopes, Little Dog gets through to his Ma, employing his words to give shape to his inner turmoil. Though he does not know the pain of his initial displacement from Vietnam, the repercussions of that move, and the subsequent losses he endures, confer on Little Dog a grave clarity, allowing him to introspect on the different relationships which have helped him survive, even thrive, in Hartford, Connecticut.

The entire story is akin to a Jenga-tower. Not one word out of place, a fragile structure in its temporariness, waiting for a gust of wind to demolish it. This is a bildungsroman quite possibly like no other, and I would definitely recommend it to everyone.

I think it was perhaps a stroke of fortune that prompted me to pick this up for my last read of 2021.

Snufkin has always been one of my favourite characters from [a:Tove Jansson|45230|Tove Jansson|https://images.gr-assets.com/authors/1419249529p2/45230.jpg]'s Moomin series, perhaps because a lot of his traits resonate with me. He prefers solitude, is nomadic, and indulges in quiet rumination. He eschews material wealth, preferring to embrace a spartan existence, and dislikes authority figures. He reminds me a lot of two other characters who share similar personalities - the Dúnadan, Aragorn son of Arathorn from [b:The Lord of the Rings|33|The Lord of the Rings|J.R.R. Tolkien|https://i.gr-assets.com/images/S/compressed.photo.goodreads.com/books/1566425108l/33.SX50.jpg|3462456], and Roronoa Zoro from the One Piece franchise. Each of these characters embodies a quiet, introspective persona, and each is a man of few words, which, when spoken, are carefully chosen.

This book introduces us to snippets of Snufkin's ruminations from the different Moomin books, sorted by general themes. Snufkin has pondered on various aspects of his world and existence, and I am sharing below some of the book's particularly memorable quotes, especially in light of the coming year.

Walking was easy because his rucksack was almost empty and he didn't have to worry about anything. Snufkin was pleased with the forest, the weather and himself. Tomorrow and yesterday were equally distant from him now, for just at that moment the bright red sun was shining down from the birch trees, and the air was cool and mild.

"I live all over the place," answered Snufkin, and put the coffee pot on the fire. "Today I happen to be here; tomorrow I will be somewhere else. I wander about as I please. When I find a place I like, I pith my tent and play my harmonica."

Snufkin walked about quietly, the trees of the forest surrounding him. It began to rain. The raindrops fell on his green hat and rain jacket. The pitter-patter and rustling of the rain was everywhere and the comforting, exquisite solitude of the forest engulfed him.

"Tonight is the night for a song," thought Snufkin. "I'll think up a new song that is one part anticipation, two parts pining for spring, and the rest a joyous declaration of how wonderful it is to be alone and at peace with yourself."

Snufkin's pace of life inspires me to remember to slow down, imbibe my surroundings, pay attention to the small things, and be comfortable in my skin.

This book is for anybody who needs a reminder of the things that really matter in one's life.