Dust Child and Star Dust — Francis French

Back in March, I was fortunate to meet author Nguyễn Phan Quế Mai on her book signing tour, along with the talented actor Quyên Ngô, who is the narrator of the audio version of Quế Mai's new novel, Dust Child. The event was more than a simple talk and book signing; there was singing, poetry in English and Vietnamese, and the sharing of cultures and moving life experiences. It was an experience.

As with many book signings, while waiting for the event to begin I cracked the book open and started reading. Then, later, I heard Quyên Ngô read those same pages and – oh my. The difference when a professional reads them, compared to simply reading them myself, was profound. I was glad I was there for it. I generally encourage people to read a book rather than hear one, but in this case… the audio version might win out. Wow.

Dust Child, Quế Mai's second novel, is amazing, and moving. It relates the intersection of two cultures in the time of the Việt Nam War, and the long-lasting consequences. If you think you know this story from other explorations of war’s aftermath – no. This is different. Just as Amy Tan’s novel The Joy Luck Club broke into a mainstream audience with an exploration of how seemingly placid, present-day lives can hide past trauma, so this book shows the effects of war can be felt far away from the battlefield.

What Quế Mai does best, I feel, is share empathy for some characters who might not immediately seem redeemable. She shows the arrogance of Americans coming back to Việt Nam decades later, looking for answers to heal their own mental wounds and clear their consciences of decades-old secrets. Meanwhile the Vietnamese people have lives that continue, with their own healing to tend to, and they are clearly under no obligation to provide the comfort the Americans seek. And yet, even so, you feel for the veterans who are, years later, making some fumbling efforts to repair the damage of their youth – inflicted on them, and others. People and countries come across here as complex, and real. Answers are not easy to find and, when they are, don’t always give the closure the characters hoped for.

It’s a powerful, suspenseful, poetic novel of intertwining lives, showing the heartbreaking erosion of trust and innocence of both American and Vietnamese youth, and the consequences for children born into one culture and despised for looking like “the enemy” from their moment of birth.

This month, I was delighted to reconnect with a longtime astronomy colleague Scott Kardel at Palomar College in San Diego County, where he was presenting a planetarium show. Palomar College Planetarium – not to be confused with Palomar Observatory at the top of a nearby mountain – is a world-class example of how less can be more. It’s not the biggest planetarium in the world, or even in the county. But it is state of the art, and when the lights go down, the size of the dome doesn’t matter, because you feel like you are whooshing through the infinity of space and time. Scott’s light, laconic delivery reminds me of when you are settling into your seat on a long airplane flight, and the pilot has that reassuring voice… and you know you are in good hands. His presentation reminded me of trying to go to the planetarium as a child every time I visited London, and how that escape into the universe seemed to put every earthly concern into perspective. We are tiny. So are our worries, when placed into the perspective a planetarium journey can provide.

But I am not bringing up Scott for this reason. I was reminded, when talking about local light pollution issues, that he is a major proponent of dark sky initiatives. I encourage you to check out the International Dark Sky Association. Dark skies are important for more reasons than you may think. Not only for astronomy, but for wildlife, energy savings and – few know, but – less light is more when it comes to safety and security. Burglars often hide in the glare of over-floodlit areas and break in unseen. I encourage you to give their web site a look.

For some reason I can’t work out, there was quite a bit of talk online this month about one of the books I edited some time ago. Apollo Pilot: The Memoir of Astronaut Donn Eisele was released in 2017 – three decades after Eisele passed away. It’s lovely to see people are still coming across this book and sharing their excitement about it.

I discovered the unpublished manuscript drafts in his widow’s closet many years ago and, with her permission, was able to edit it into his direct account of the first crewed Apollo flight. It was a labor of love – all of my proceeds go to a library fund in Broward County, Florida, where there is a moon rock exhibited in Donn Eisele’s name, along with more information about him. I received a letter from the library this month telling me how much royalty money they have just received, and what they are doing with it to help the local kids. The book has raised almost six thousand dollars. This feels good.

It was also an honor this month to get a mention in my friend Jess’s excellent Pawkward Blog. It’s wonderful to see a friend live their dream. She has some great travel tips in there too! If you can ever help a friend live a dream – do so.