The Boat, a collection of short stories by Nam Le, came to me as one of two books, for achieving the short list for the Litopia short story competition on the subject "First Twin".
In his opening story, Le plays an authorial game. A member of a writing group claims he is sick of "ethnic lit", of writers posing on jacket covers in traditional costume, of stories with descriptions of exotic food. Nam Le is Vietnamese, a member of a writing group and every one of his stories concerns a different type of ethnicity and, of course, contains a mention of some ethnic dish.
This sly humour is characteristic and refreshing. It's needed, because the subject matter is often dark. A child describes his life as an evacuee from his native city. American planes fly overhead on secret missions, his parents visit, reassure him; then return to Hiroshima. A Colombian hitman, barely into his teens, discovers love, loyalty and the price of friendship. An aging artist receives news of terminal illness and desperately attempts to contact his beloved, estranged daughter. A Vietnamese girl boards a boat crammed with other illegal immigrants. A storm blows them off course and supplies of water and food begin to run out.
It's a moving, stunning collection of tales and if Le occasionally allows allusiveness to descend into incoherence, it's forgivable, because these are stories which should drift into silence, rather than end with a bang. And it's only at the end that the point Le makes at the beginning becomes clear: however different our background and experience may appear to make us, just under the surface, we're all human.