Wo was known for his comic, soulful essays, published in n+1, The New Yorker, and The Millions. Songs on Endless Repeat gathers those essays together, along with previously unpublished fiction. Written with razor-sharp wit and an unflinching eye, the essays examine his youth in California, the lives of his refugee parents, his intimate friendships, loss, pop culture, and more. And in linked fiction following three Cambodian American cousins who stand to inherit their late aunt's illegitimate loan-sharking business, So explores community, grief, and longing with inimitable humor and depth.
There’s plenty of humor here, but it rubs intimate and sharp shoulders with raw, elemental depictions of the losses, challenges, and heartbreaks stemming from the horrors of Pol Pot’s regime ... So’s generous writing spirit shines through, capturing a community of people in flux, all of whom are trying to make space for themselves — and each other — in a sometimes-claustrophobic world.
Glorious as the essays are to read, those already familiar with his nonfiction may find themselves, like me, impatiently flipping ahead to the fresher quarry of So’s novel, which is unwisely chopped up and slotted in between sections of nonfiction. The choice to alternate sections of fiction and nonfiction was made, Dee notes in his introduction, so as to stage a kind of dialogue between his two kinds of writing and to reveal the permeable boundary they share. It strikes me as an unnecessary move.
The polyphonic novel is terrific ... So was also an astute nonfiction writer, and his essay topics range from movie reviews and personal works to a list of his yearly reading. All would be fine if they had been grouped together, say, after the novel, rather than inserted every few chapters, which makes for a disjointed reading experience.
