Ocean Vuong

It's a pleasure to be here.

It's a pleasure to be here.

It's a pleasure to be here.

I imagine every author is nervous because you put so much care and work into something, but I... I never expected to write on my own terms so soon in my life. Everything I did was for my family, and I got really comfortable with that. It was never a burden. But then when my mother passed, I inherited my brother. My brother moved in, so my family got bigger.

I imagine every author is nervous because you put so much care and work into something, but I... I never expected to write on my own terms so soon in my life. Everything I did was for my family, and I got really comfortable with that. It was never a burden. But then when my mother passed, I inherited my brother. My brother moved in, so my family got bigger.

I imagine every author is nervous because you put so much care and work into something, but I... I never expected to write on my own terms so soon in my life. Everything I did was for my family, and I got really comfortable with that. It was never a burden. But then when my mother passed, I inherited my brother. My brother moved in, so my family got bigger.

We moved, and I started writing this book January 18, 2020. And it was my way out of grief. I thought, okay, I'm fully an orphan now. You know, I said, goodbye, mom. I'm going to write this without you. It's my first book from start to finish without her.

We moved, and I started writing this book January 18, 2020. And it was my way out of grief. I thought, okay, I'm fully an orphan now. You know, I said, goodbye, mom. I'm going to write this without you. It's my first book from start to finish without her.

We moved, and I started writing this book January 18, 2020. And it was my way out of grief. I thought, okay, I'm fully an orphan now. You know, I said, goodbye, mom. I'm going to write this without you. It's my first book from start to finish without her.

Sure. It's a town where high school kids, having nowhere to go on Friday nights, park their stepfather's trucks in the unlit edges of the Walmart parking lot, drinking Smirnoff out of Poland Spring bottles and blasting Weezer and Lil Wayne until they look down one night to find a baby in their arms and realize they're 30-something and the Walmart hasn't changed except for its logo.

Sure. It's a town where high school kids, having nowhere to go on Friday nights, park their stepfather's trucks in the unlit edges of the Walmart parking lot, drinking Smirnoff out of Poland Spring bottles and blasting Weezer and Lil Wayne until they look down one night to find a baby in their arms and realize they're 30-something and the Walmart hasn't changed except for its logo.

Sure. It's a town where high school kids, having nowhere to go on Friday nights, park their stepfather's trucks in the unlit edges of the Walmart parking lot, drinking Smirnoff out of Poland Spring bottles and blasting Weezer and Lil Wayne until they look down one night to find a baby in their arms and realize they're 30-something and the Walmart hasn't changed except for its logo.

brighter now, lending a bluish glow to their time-gaunt faces. It's where fathers in blue jeans flecked with wood stains stand at the edges of football fields, watching their sun steam in the reddened dawn, one hand in their pocket, the other gripping a cup of Dunkin' Donuts.

brighter now, lending a bluish glow to their time-gaunt faces. It's where fathers in blue jeans flecked with wood stains stand at the edges of football fields, watching their sun steam in the reddened dawn, one hand in their pocket, the other gripping a cup of Dunkin' Donuts.

brighter now, lending a bluish glow to their time-gaunt faces. It's where fathers in blue jeans flecked with wood stains stand at the edges of football fields, watching their sun steam in the reddened dawn, one hand in their pocket, the other gripping a cup of Dunkin' Donuts.

they could be statues for what it means to wait for a boy to crush himself into manhood and each morning you'd sit on the frost-dusted bleachers a worn copy up to the lighthouse on your lap and watch the players on the field blue tomahawks shivering on their jerseys their plastic pads crackling in the mist

they could be statues for what it means to wait for a boy to crush himself into manhood and each morning you'd sit on the frost-dusted bleachers a worn copy up to the lighthouse on your lap and watch the players on the field blue tomahawks shivering on their jerseys their plastic pads crackling in the mist

they could be statues for what it means to wait for a boy to crush himself into manhood and each morning you'd sit on the frost-dusted bleachers a worn copy up to the lighthouse on your lap and watch the players on the field blue tomahawks shivering on their jerseys their plastic pads crackling in the mist

And when you turn the page, it would slip right off the binding, flutter through the field, gathering inky blotches through the wet grass until it tangles between the boy's legs and disintegrates under a pair of black cleats. The words gone to ground.

And when you turn the page, it would slip right off the binding, flutter through the field, gathering inky blotches through the wet grass until it tangles between the boy's legs and disintegrates under a pair of black cleats. The words gone to ground.