Twelve years ago, I visited Cambodia for the first time to begin co-writing the memoir of my friend Chantha Nguon, a Cambodian survivor and social entrepreneur. As I traveled around the country with Chantha, echoes of history were everywhere: ruined temples, bomb craters from American B-52s, unmarked mass graves. We also tasted history in the meals we shared—at roadside stands and in her kitchen. I soon learned that food unlocked Chantha’s memories, so we decided to tell her life story through remembered meals and recovered recipes. Meanwhile, I read books that informed our project, a few of which I’ve listed below.
Elizabeth Becker’s sweeping account of Pol Pot’s genocidal regime was essential reading for me as I struggled to understand what befell Cambodia in the 1970s-90s. A foreign correspondent in Cambodia starting in 1973, Becker witnessed some of Cambodia’s disasters firsthand and interviewed scores of survivors and perpetrators, including Pol Pot himself, at great personal risk.
This book adds vital context from the French colonial era, Pol Pot’s political education in Paris, U.S. bombing campaigns, and Lon Nol’s 1970 coup before “Pol Pot Time” (as Cambodians call the Khmer Rouge era) to the aftermath: Vietnam’s invasion and occupation, refugee camps and refugee policy in the West, the peace process, and Cambodia’s first postwar elections. I turned to Becker’s book again and again to put Chantha’s memories into historical context and (occasionally) inform our explanatory footnotes.
award-winning journalist Elizabeth Becker started covering Cambodia in 1973 for The Washington Post , when the country was perceived as little more than a footnote to the Vietnam War. Then, with the rise of the Khmer Rouge in 1975 came the closing of the border and a systematic reorganization of Cambodian society. Everyone was sent from the towns and cities to the countryside, where they were forced to labour endlessly in the fields. The intelligentsia were brutally exterminated, and torture, terror, and death became routine. Ultimately, almost two million people,nearly a quarter of the population,were killed in what was one…
Loung Ung’s harrowing memoir was the first of many Khmer Rouge survivor accounts I read, and it’s perhaps the most widely read KR memoir; it’s also been adapted by Angelina Jolie and Netflix into a stunning feature film.
Ung’s writing is simple and lyrical, and she captures her own childhood voice to heartbreaking effect as she recalls her family’s destruction at the hands of the Khmer Rouge, who seized power when she was five years old.
Ung has an astonishing ability to find humanity and hope amidst the worst horrors imaginable—a trait that Chantha shares and expresses in her sumptuous cooking, her nonprofit work with rural Cambodian women, and her dogged pursuit of a beautiful life.
A major film, co-written and directed by Angelina Jolie
Until the age of five, Loung Ung lived in Phnom Penh, one of seven children of a high-ranking government official. She was a precocious child who loved the open city markets, fried crickets, chicken fights and being cheeky to her parents.
When Pol Pot's Khmer Rouge army stormed into Phnom Penh in April 1975, Loung's family fled their home and were eventually forced to disperse to survive. Loung was trained as a child soldier while her brothers and sisters were sent to labour camps. The surviving siblings were only finally reunited…
The Not Quite Enlightened Sleuth
by
Verlin Darrow,
A Buddhist nun returns to her hometown and solves multiple murders while enduring her dysfunctional family.
Ivy Lutz leaves her life as a Buddhist nun in Sri Lanka and returns home to northern California when her elderly mother suffers a stroke. Her sheltered life is blasted apart by a series…
I loved Vaddey Ratner’s debut novel, which offers another heart-wrenching child’s-eye view of life under the Khmer Rouge. Raami, her seven-year-old protagonist, is marched out of Phnom Penh in April 1975 with her family, who is of royal stock and, therefore, in extreme peril.
Raami details the horror and cruelty she endures as the regime becomes ever more paranoid and murderous. She fights to retain vestiges of her earlier self, recalling her favorite myths and tales from Cambodian folklore—in this, I saw a parallel with how Chantha turns to her food memories and recipes to remember who she was before the disasters began. Ratner, a Khmer Rouge survivor, writes beautifully of endurance, survival, and hope amidst horror, and like Ung, she’s an important voice for Cambodian survivors, the conscience of a generation.
A beautiful celebration of the power of hope, this New York Times bestselling novel tells the story of a girl who comes of age during the Cambodian genocide.
You are about to read an extraordinary story, a PEN Hemingway Award finalist “rich with history, mythology, folklore, language and emotion.” It will take you to the very depths of despair and show you unspeakable horrors. It will reveal a gorgeously rich culture struggling to survive through a furtive bow, a hidden ankle bracelet, fragments of remembered poetry. It will ensure that the world never forgets the atrocities committed by the Khmer…
I’m a huge admirer of the late Cambodian American author Anthony Veasna So—he had an eye for the perfect, defining detail. In his debut short-story collection, published after his death, he bore witness to his beloved Khmer diaspora community’s loves and losses, traumas and triumphs—somehow balancing bitter wit and humanity as he tackled the Big Questions: How do you remake a life after witnessing the worst horrors imaginable? How can the next generation truly understand what their elders endured?
So was an extraordinary talent—what a tragedy that he died so young. Thankfully, he left the world this splendid document of his generation’s experience of growing up as exiles in the shadow of genocide. Reading these stories as Chantha and I worked on her memoir helped us connect the parallel threads of what it was like for those who left Cambodia in the 1970s and made new lives abroad and for those who returned and built a life back home.
WINNER OF THE JOHN LEONARD PRIZE AT THE NATIONAL BOOK CRITICS CIRCLE AWARDS AND THE FERRO-GRUMLEY AWARD FOR LGBTQ FICTION THE NEW YORK TIMES BESTSELLER
'So's distinctive voice is ever-present: mellifluous, streetwise and slightly brash, at once cynical and bighearted...unique and quintessential' Sunday Times
'So's stories reimagine and reanimate the Central Valley, in the way that the polyglot stories in Bryan Washington's collection Lot reimagined Houston and Ocean Vuong's novel On Earth We're Briefly Gorgeous allowed us to see Hartford in a fresh light.' Dwight Garner, New York Times
'[A] remarkable debut collection' Hua Hsu, The New Yorker
Tina Edwards loved her childhood and creating fairy houses, a passion shared with her father, a world-renowned architect. But at nine years old, she found him dead at his desk and is haunted by this memory. Tina's mother abruptly moved away, leaving Tina with feelings of abandonment and suspicion.
To understand Cambodia, I needed to taste its flavors. Nhum (which means “eat” in Khmer) was a great way for me to learn more about Khmer cuisine between trips to Cambodia. Nhum is a beautifully designed cookbook—and it’s a historical document meant to help preserve Cambodian foodways, which were nearly wiped out by the Khmer Rouge’s campaign of murder, starvation, and cultural erasure.
Rotanak—known as “Chef Nak” to her fans—has become a celebrity in Cambodia, with two Cambodian cookbooks, a homestay/cooking lesson business in Phnom Penh, and a social media video series featuring her traveling the countryside, asking elders to share their recipes. The “Ingredients” section alone is a masterclass on what you’ll find in Cambodian gardens, pantries, and kitchens and how and why to use it.
Chantha and I met and cooked with Chef Nak a few years ago, and we admire her work preserving traditional recipes. I hope Chantha’s and Nak’s advocacy will help others fall in love with Khmer cuisine the way I have.
In this book, Chantha Nguon recounts her life as a Cambodian refugee who loses everything and everyone—home, family, and country—all but the remembered tastes and aromas of her mother’s kitchen.
Throughout her life in exile and thereafter, Nguon recreates the dishes from her childhood—as an act of resistance, of reclaiming her place in the world, of upholding the values the Khmer Rouge sought to destroy, and of honoring the memory of her beloved mother, whose “slow noodles” approach to healing and to cooking prioritized time and care over expediency. This is a testament to the power of food to keep alive a refugee’s connection to her past and spark hope for a beautiful life.
