I picked up this book based on the author’s last name—Phạm. I didn’t know anything about her, but I wanted to hear more Vietnamese-American voices in the literary world. It didn’t take long for me to follow her lead. She took me deep into her world where art, sex, and everything else in between. She writes with raw emotion and fearless honesty. I love the intimate details in her personal life. I wish I knew more about art to appreciate her insightful criticisms. I am so glad that I have read this book and looking forward to reading more of her works in the future.

Here’s an excerpt Phạm writes about her family:

The trouble with leaving somewhere is that it means arriving, eventually, to some other place. No matter how far or long you go, eventually you’ll arrive somewhere where you need to refigure yourself. My father had done it, leaving his home in Vietnam to attend a university overseas, before war broke out again in earnest and he learned he wouldn’t be able to return home for decades. My mother’s family had done it, as refugees, airlifted out just after the fall of Saigon in April of 1975. Through a string of refugee camps, first in the Philippines, then Arkansas, she’d come to Portland, Oregon, where she met my father. And then they had me. A product of this political displacement, I’ve always been in this space of refiguring. I’ve never really felt I had a home, only places I’ve lived. I’ve always been aware of what my existence means, that my presence here-wherever here might be—is the result of an absence somewhere else.

I started hearing an unusual grinding sound coming from my 2011 Toyota Sienna engine about six months ago. It was irritating, but I couldn’t figure out where exactly the noise was coming from. I ignored it by playing loud music. The noise had increased recently and I suspect it was from the alternator.

On Monday I took our minivan to Ourisman Toyota, which is close to our house, for an oil change. Because our minivan hit 150,000 miles, I suspect they were going to give me a list of recommendations, but they didn’t. They just changed the oil. I informed the advisor about the noise and he said they had to diagnose it for $160 in order to find out what went wrong. Although I didn’t want to do the diagnostic, the technician noted the noise was coming from the water pump.

I knew I had an issue on hand and it would cost a fortune to fix, but I didn’t know where to go. I didn’t want to take it to Phạm’s Auto Care Center because their price would be closed to the dealership. Then I remembered Merrifield Citgo an acquaintance recommended for good service and fair price.

I dropped off my minivan. The service advisor seemed nice. He told me that they would charge $50 to diagnose the problem. He confirmed that the water pump and the drive belt needed to be replaced. The cost was $750.

I checked back my record and discovered that the alternator was replaced in 2018 for $700. I wonder if C&G Specialty Auto Repair and Auto Body didn’t do a good job on it that caused the grinding.

The cost for fixing and maintaining these cars are incredibly pricey. I despise owning cars. I wish I could do away with them. I have been thinking about Tesla simply for the low cost of maintenance. Someone once told me that when there’s an issue with an electric car, you simply reset the computer. If that’s true, I am all for it.

Nevertheless, here’s the breakdown of the cost from Merrifield Citgo:

• Water pump ($184)
• Anti-freeze coolant ($40)
• Drive belt ($18)
• Labor ($396)

The final cost is $716

I was roped into the intermediate maintenance package from Priority Toyota. It concluded the following services:

• Change engine oil, up to 5 quarts, and filter
• Add BE Advanced Formula MOA Oil Treatment
• Rotate tires, adjust tire pressure and check tire wear
• Replace engine air filter
• Replace cabin air filter
• Treat HVAC with BG Frigi Fresh
• 4-wheel brake inspection and measurement Top off under hood fluids
• Perform multi-point vehicle inspection
• Review maintenance action plan

The cost was $160, which was reasonable. Then they recommended:

• 4 new tires ($1,000)
• Replace windshield wiper blades ($65)
• Brake fluid service ($145)
• Mass air flow sensor service ($80)
• Throttle body service ($115)
• Evap service ($97)

So they recommended $1,502 worth of services. My wife bought the wiper blades from Costco and I replaced them in 10 minutes. I am not sure if the rest of the recommended services are necessary, therefore, I refused them for now.

I hardly use Facebook these days, but I have not deactivated or deleted my account. I logged in once in a while to catch up on friends and family members. I also checked Facebook to see if there were any death announcements. I wanted to share the pain and the grief.

Then there was a friend-request pending. I don’t know the man. I never met him, but I heard a lot about him. He used to own a car garage and my sister befriended him. Even when he closed up shop and retired, he still fixed her car. He even helped her fix things around her house like unclogging her sink, replacing her toilet flush or changing light bulbs. He was the handyman that she needed.

My mother spoke highly of him. She said he was kind and generous. She told me he had a good heart. Whenever I visited my mom, she always asked me to buy chả lụa or bánh bột lọc so she could gift him and his family. I hadn’t had a chance to meet him, but I had tremendous respect for him through what my mom was telling me.

One day he came by to fix my sister’s car. They worked on the car in the street parking out and neither of them wore a mask. Later that evening he fell ill. A few days later my sister fell ill. A few weeks later my mom passed away after her fierce battle with Covid.

In retrospect, the entire situation could have been avoided. She didn’t have to end up that way. I didn’t want to accept it, but she did. Even at near the end of her life, my mother never blamed him or my sister for spreading the deadly virus to her. Even as she was getting worse, she still asked if they were getting better. Her unconditional love for her daughter and others was what I remembered the most in those painful moments.

After several weeks, I finally accepted his friend request. I hold nothing against him or my sister. They were also the victims of the global pandemic. During the lockdown, I could not have imagined how close it would hit home. Cases were up, hospitals were packed, and people were dying, but everything felt so far away. Then it struck the person I loved the most and nothing I could do about it. It gave me a different perspective on the space between life and death. It is much closer than I thought.

My supervisor announced her retirement at our staff meeting yesterday. When she told me a few weeks ago, before she made the official announcement, I was caught off guard. I was happy for her, but also devastated.

She has been a caring, accommodating boss. She trusts me to do my job and supports me whenever I need her. She gives me the flexibility to take care of my family. In a decade working for her, she never said no when I needed to take time off, even on short notices. We never had any conflict or friction. She has been the reason I had stayed at the law school until this day. I turned down several opportunities because I didn’t think I could find a boss like her even if the pay was higher. Even my wife has encouraged me to stay for our kids.

I am not sure what the future will be after she’s gone. I might get pulled out of the library and restructure under the school communications office. Even though I don’t do anything related to the library, I have had a wonderful working relationship with my colleagues. They are a diverse group of talented librarians and technicians. With a supervisor who shields us from office politics, we are able to focus on doing our job. I hope that her successor will do the same.

I woke early this morning and was saddened by Virginia’s election results until I read that Van Jones called Glenn Youngkin a “delta variant of Trumpism.” It’s true and dangerous, but also hilarious. I have learned the hard way not to invest myself and my emotion into politics.

Like anything in life, politics is just a game. Like any competitive, one-on-one sport, you win some you lose some. As much as I was rooting for the Democratic Party, I had a feeling that they won’t beat the odd this time. The results are in and we just have to accept them. It is the way democracy work. I did my part, but I have only one voice and one vote. Nothing I can do about the results.

We have lived and survived four years under Trump. Just when we thought he was done and gone, a variant of him has shown up. The threat of a “delta variant of Trumpism” is real and it is invading our state. We need to be careful and to protect ourselves, our family, and our community.

I am not going to get mad and depress. I can zone out politics and focus on something else more meaningful to me like skating, reading, or blogging. I am going to keep my head up and just moving forward.

I voted for Democrats up and down the ballot to keep Virginia Blue. Virginia has been progressing and thriving under Democrats. If Republicans take control, we will be heading backward.

As I had pointed out, Glenn Youngkin is simply too dangerous for Virginia. If elected, he will bring in Trump’s racist agenda and Republicans’ death cult to our state. We cannot let him win.

Terry McAuliffe made some parents upset, but I am not mad at him. He had done well for Virginia in his previous term. Let’s give him one more term to make Virginia even better.

I made my case, I voted, and I hope McAuliffe will win, but I won’t let the results get to me if the election won’t turn out the way I wanted. I’ve done my part and that’s all I can do. I don’t want to keep up with politics. I don’t want to follow the news. The previous presidency was very bad for my mental health. I do not want to get myself caught up in it again.

I avoided political discussions at Scout meetings and camping trips. I started talking about ice skating and rollerblading instead and other parents have no interest whatsoever. I encouraged them to start skating and they shook their heads.

My point is that I am aware of politics and I participate in elections, but I am not doing anything beyond that. I don’t want to get involved or to get into arguments in politics. Fuck them.

In my work office, I have an empty desk right next to the huge glad windows. It was set up for a formal colleague until he worked remotely and moved on to a different job. I requested to have the desk removed, but no one bothered to take it out. As a result, I just turn it into my reading table. Whenever I needed a break from my computer desk, I would sit, read, and catch some sunlight. The latest book I am reading is Mark Argetsinger’s A Grammar of Typography. Because the book is so humongous (almost 9 inches by 12 inches and 500 pages), I do not want to lug it around. I also don’t want to damage it either. I read a few pages each day and take my time to enjoy the writing and illustrations. Argetsinger delves into the history as well as every technical aspect of book design. Even though I don’t design books, I find the materials inspiring, especially the examples included throughout the book. It definitely deserves a spot on every designer’s desk as it is already on mine.

The boys went out trick-or-treating around the neighborhood and got buckets full of candies. After that, we went over to my sister-in-law’s house for dinner. The kids hung out together and ate candies while my wife prepared mussels and her sister fried chicken. The kids played video games for a bit.

Everything went smoothly until we got ready to go home. Xuân put his hands inside his jacket and walked up the steps. He slipped and busted his chin open against the hardwood floor. His blood gushed out and my wife freaked out. We put a bandage on him and drove home.

I brushed his teeth and gave him a short bath. I opened up the bandage and saw an opening on his chin. It didn’t look too bad. Should we just let the cut heal on its own or should we take him into the emergency room to stitch it up? Thinking back to my own childhood, I couldn’t recall any incident like this happened to me. If it did, I am sure my mom would have done anything necessary for me.

My wife was freaking out because she had a similar experience when she was a kid and she still has a scar on her chin. We decided to take him to the ER to get him checked out. Fortunately, the children’s ER was empty. We were in and out in about two hours. Although the doctor reassured us that the opening was not so bad, he stitched him up. While the doctor and the nurse were doing the stitching, I held Xuân’s hand and looked away. I learned my lessons not to look at needles, scissors, fresh, and blood. I didn’t want to end up in the ER myself.

We left the hospital around midnight. Xuân wanted to stay in my bed. I watched him sleep for a bit. I was glad that he was doing OK. I will never forget this little accident.

In her eye-opening book, Bernadette Barton, professor of sociology and gender studies, examines America’s raunch culture through sexism, misogyny, and pornography. From politics to religion to workplace, raunch culture has taken over every aspect of our lives. Boys learned about sex though gonzo porn on the internet and applied violent techniques to thier girlfriends. Men objectified women for their own pleasure. Girls competed for sexual attention on social media. The country elected someone who bragged about grabbing women by the pussy to the highest office.

Reading this book made me realize that I had been exposed to raunch culture since I migrated to America at the age of twelve. I noticed the difference between Vietnam and America in regard to sexualized advertisements, rap music videos, as well as the way boys talked about girls at school. I didn’t know what objectify meant, but I was there when a group of boys checked out and commented on girls’ bodies. There was an incident where a boy came up behind a girl and dry-humped her. She punched him back, but the boys laughed. I thought it was inappropriate, but I didn’t say anything. I had friends who handed me adult magazines covered in folders. I took a job at a local video rental store just so I could have access to the porn section. At a certain point, I was craving for real sex after watching porn videos. I had to quit that job and dumped all of my porn stash in the trash as I realized that I had a problem. Nowadays, porn is only a click away. I can’t even begin to imagine if gonzo porns were available when I was growing up.

Reading stories from this book horrifies me. We’re living in a time in which raunch culture is thriving and it is impossible to escape. Fortunately, I am in a different place in my life where I have a meaningful relationship with my wife. She keeps me grounded and away from temptations and seductions. I worry about my boys and their exposure to raunch culture. I had no guidance when I was growing up, but I hope that they can come to us if they come across it.

After reading this book, I am optimistic there is still hope and Barton has provided a path out of raunch culture. Read it, learn it, and apply it.