All this time I told myself we were born from war -- but I was wrong, Ma. We were born from beauty. Let no one mistake us for the fruit of violence." (p.231)

I was talking to a friend about this book recently. I had already finished it and she was in the middle. "This book is called 'On Earth We're Briefly Gorgeous', but where's the gorgeous part?" she asked. And she was right to do so because much of this book is an exploration of things that are distinctly not gorgeous.

War, intergenerational trauma, domestic violence, mental illness, addiction, racism, poverty, internalized homophobia, disease, decay, death. These are all described and dissected in oftentimes graphic detail, albeit in poetic prose.

My friend compared the reading experience to 'A Little Life', but I vehemently disagree. 'A Little Life' is a void that, by the admission of the author, is horrible for the sake of it and as a result, it feels soulless. Ocean Vuong, however, takes the bleakness and the ugliness of life, stares them in the face and says: 'I choose love. I choose beauty.'

But he's not making the claim that suffering is worthwhile because it can result in art. He's not claiming that there is beauty in misery; he's saying that these things are real, that they matter, but that it's still possible to choose beauty, however 'briefly gorgeous' it may be.

He describes the oftentimes abusive relationship Little Dog had with his mother; the beatings, the emotional manipulation, but he also, especially towards the end, he acknowledges the brief moments of happiness he experiences with her. He writes of his mother with deep compassion even as he doesn't excuse her abuse. And this quiet forgiveness and understanding doesn't actually seem like it's for her (given that this letter is written and she can't read); it's for Little Dog. In the end, after the catharsis of all the moments of anger and fear and sadness, he chooses the lens of beauty because it makes him happier.

The same could be said of the tragedy of Little Dog's relationship with Trevor. It was overall not a good or healthy relationship, but still it had moments of beauty, of tenderness, of love, of friendship, and those moments still matter. Maybe they matter the most.

So, yes, in the end, this is a novel about the brevity of beauty in otherwise very dark and ugly situations, and Ocean Vuong is not suggesting that we use the lens of beauty to overlook the broken systems that lead to that ugliness and pain (and he's pretty blatant about who is at fault for those broken systems), but that the way we view our memories is within our power, and that that choice is something that can release us from aspects of cyclical abuse and violence, at least interpersonally. He says that finding that beauty in our memories is what can fuel a person to strive for something better for themselves and ultimately for the world.

If you liked 'On Earth We're Briefly Gorgeous' and want another queer story built on many of the same themes, all the way down to having a protagonist exploring the intersection between his queer and cultural identities while reconciling his relationships with his mother and grandmother, check out 'Jonny Appleseed' by Indigenous Canadian author Joshua Whitehead.