Bookstagram has enhanced my reading experience in many ways but one of the things it seems to have largely stolen from me is the joy of stumbling across a book I’ve never heard of (nor seen strewn across my instagram feed) and falling unexpectedly in love with it. It isn’t a criticism really, more an observation that usually a slew of you discover and fall in love with new titles before most of us have even learnt their names and I’d forgotten that feeling of being taken totally by surprise, going into a book with zero expectations and that thrill of finding an author with the skill to utterly silence the world around you from the first word to the last.

Perhaps one the advantages of my recent, boredom-induced Netgalley request binges is that I haven’t just been requesting those books I recognise from your posts, my free book gluttony has led me to a terrifying number of covers I don’t recognise, authors I’ve never heard of and titles that ring no bells. If even half of them are as good as How to Pronounce Knife, trying feebly to improve my reviewing score is going to be quite the journey.

I am perhaps not the best suited to judge a collection of short stories, I am struggling to think of more than a handful that I’ve read but, suitability issues aside, this is a stunning collection and debut from Souvankam Thammavongsa. Each story within the collection focuses on the experiences of Lao immigrants and refugees living in a never-named English speaking city but there isn’t the kind of sharp focus on pain and trauma we’ve come to expect from books clearly aimed at white audiences. These are quietly powerful tableaus of individuals, families, couples trying to make a life for themselves in a new place.

Each of the fourteen stories have a power and life of their own and the manner in which Souvankham manages to create such empathy and connection in just a handful of pages is utterly remarkable. Not only are each of the stories wonderful in themselves, they have been curated into a collection that sings like a perfectly crafted playlist. These could certainly be dipped in and out of, but there is true skill in the way these have been layered, with interlinking themes that weave in and out. Many of the narrators are children and a theme that appears time and time again and is particularly affecting is the heartbreaking necessity of immigrant children to protect their parents, whether it’s from the embarrassment of language constraints or the lash of a slur that hasn’t been understood.

Born herself in a refugee camp in Thailand, across 14 stories, Souvankam reminds us of the absolute, joyful necessity of engaging with own voice authored stories. This isn’t the ‘well-researched trauma porn’ we so often see from ‘well meaning’ white authors, it hasn't been written to elicit a specific emotional response from its (target white) audience, it’s a glance through a window, a flicker of understanding, a brush with empathy and it’s at times funny, touching, painful and evocative.

Highly recommending this one to anyone joining us on our #DoTheWorkBookClub journey. As of yet, I’ve struggled to find any OV reviews but I’m staying on the lookout so watch this space.