By Justine Trinh
Vanessa Le’s debut fantasy novel, The Last Bloodcarver, is not a book I would normally read. In my teen years, I used to gravitate towards fantasy books like the Percy Jackson or Eragon series, but as I got older, I did not have time to read the books I wanted to read anymore. There was too much to do. I had exams and finals to study for and math equations and theorems to memorize. How could I find time to read a book that I was not being tested on? Now, a majority of the books I have to read are memoirs and academic texts because of my research interest. While these books interest me and relate to my research, The Last Bloodcarver allowed me to indulge in a genre that I had previously enjoyed.
As a bloodcarver, Nhika can alter human biology just by touch; however, this ability villainizes her as a heartless monster that only kills for her own delight. This is proven untrue: in the opening pages of the novel, Nhika uses her powers to heal a sick woman instead of hurting this woman more. Unfortunately, this choice costs her her freedom, and she is captured and auctioned off to the highest bidder. She is purchased by the wealthy and prestigious Congmi family, who recently lost their patriarch in a supposed freak accident. The Congmi family, however, believe it was no accident, but rather murder, and demand Nhika to heal their comatose driver, who was the sole survivor and possible witness of this accident/murder. Nhika is thrust into an opulent world that is foreign to her as she investigates who could have killed the Congmi patriarch.
As soon as I got the book, I devoured it in one sitting. I had meant to pace myself, but I got lost in a new fantastical world that blends both science and magic. Nhika’s powers might be magic, but in order to use them, she needs to have an understanding of human anatomy to enact her abilities. Similarly, the technological and medical advancements the Congmi family and Dr. Santo, a family friend to the Congmis, perform are comparable to magic, despite stemming from science. While in reality, these ideas, magic and science, are treated as polar opposites, as if neither can exist simultaneously, Le’s world allows them to coexist and inform one another.
I was also interested in how complex and nuanced the characters are—they are not innately bad or evil, but rather victims of circumstances that end up doing bad things. Le shows through her characters how far people are willing to go in their grief and to protect the ones they love. One such instance is when Mimi purchases Nhika to heal her family’s driver. She is not generally in the business of purchasing people, yet she is so desperate to know what happened to her father that she is willing to do so regardless of the danger she puts Nhika in. Similarly, Ven Kochin, Dr. Santo’s aid, acts entitled and rude in his attempts to push Nhika out of the new social circle. While those of the upper crest of society offer Nhika opportunities that she did not have access to before her capture, Kochin has a reason to dissuade her from taking part and this justifies his disparaging behavior.
The description of the book claims that it is “Vietnamese-inspired,” but there is more to unpack with this claim. In the blog, BookmarkeD, Le writes, “My debut was quintessentially Vietnamese simply because I was. But those familiar with the culture might find it at once recognizable and warped…. Everything in The Last Bloodcarver is both Vietnamese and not.” Being Vietnamese American, I recognized the Vietnamese phonetics of the names, yet I knew right away they were not (the character name, Trin, is pronounced similarly to my last name Trinh). Rather, it is more in line to say the book stems from the Vietnamese American experience. As culture is passed down generation to generation, things such as language adapt to the present generation in order to survive, such as the creation of Vietlish. Le mentions that she was “trying to cling to the remnants of my own heritage,” and this is reflected through Nhakia. Nhakia comes from a line of bloodcarvers, but because her family is dead, she does not have any guidance with navigating these abilities. Thus, she struggles with being a part of a legacy and passing that down as well as identity. Although she is Yarongese, she was born and raised in Theumas, and thus is not knowledgeable of what life was like on Yarong. The Yarong her parents and grandma grew up with is not the same Yarong either. This mirrors how the second generation of Vietnamese Americans are Vietnamese despite being born in the United States. The Vietnam of our parents no longer exists whether that be due to time or war, and this often broaches the question, “what does it mean to be Vietnamese outside of Vietnam?”
As I mentioned earlier, I remember reading books like Percy Jackson, and while these were books I did enjoy, many of the characters were white and based on Western culture. A part of me thought I would never see a fantasy book with Asian characters or based on my culture or experience. Le provides young adult readers something that I did not have as a kid: a chance to see themselves represented in a world with powers and abilities, and that is really powerful and needed.
Justine Trinh is an English literature Ph.D. student at Washington State University. She graduated from the University of California, Irvine with B.A.s in Asian American studies and classical civilizations and a B.S. in mathematics. She then went on to earn her M.A. in Asian American studies, making her the first student to graduate from UCI Asian American Studies’ 4+1 B.A./M.A. program. Her research interests include Asian American literature, critical refugee studies, family and trauma, and forced departure and disownment.