BookBrowse Reviews All That's Left Unsaid by Tracey Lien

BookBrowse:

A moving exploration of family, grief, community and what it means to call somewhere home.

Ky Tran was born in Vietnam but raised in Australia after her family fled the war. Having never felt Vietnamese enough to understand her parents' perceived eccentricities, and having never felt accepted by her white peers in the Sydney suburb of Cabramatta, she moved to Melbourne to pursue a career in journalism. But when news comes of her teenage brother Denny's brutal murder, she is compelled to return to her family. Once home, she is horrified to learn that, despite the fact that he was killed in a restaurant full of people, no witnesses have come forward regarding her brother's death. With little in the way of police support, Ky sets out to find the truth by herself. But this forces her to confront demons from her past (namely, her estrangement from a former best friend), as well as the reality of rampant racism and gang culture in the town she grew up in.

Though Ky channels her grief into a search for answers, and thus a thread of mystery runs throughout the story, All That's Left Unsaid by Tracey Lien is not a crime novel in the traditional sense. It would be much more accurate to describe it as a family drama. Growing up, Ky resented her parents for their supposed refusal to fully learn English. Now, she is able to see the importance language plays in connecting refugees to the homeland they were forced to leave, as well as the fear they face that their attempts to learn a new language (and thus their inevitable mistakes) will be met with ridicule. She also sees the pressure she and her brother felt to be "perfect" for what it was: their own internalized desire to ensure their parents' sacrifices were worthwhile. It's these quiet revelations and moments of character growth that hit home with the greatest poignancy. In this respect, the book is a very intimate look at the weight of generational trauma and our ability to hurt those we love the most.

Lien's novel is also a dissection of life for Vietnamese immigrants in Australia in the 1990s, when the main events of the story take place. Cabramatta (see Beyond the Book) was a hub for Vietnamese Australians at the time, but a lack of public support for those still processing trauma and adjusting to new surroundings, coupled with racism and conflict with the police, had established an atmosphere of drug abuse and gang culture. It is immediately apparent — though no less wrenching — that this backdrop will undoubtedly have played a role in Denny's demise.

Throughout the novel, as we uncover the truth, the perspective shifts between Ky and the various people who were present during her brother's death. Though remaining in the third person and always feeling like a single, cohesive narrative, Lien's story gives each character's section a distinct voice, ensuring we never lose track of whose version of events we are currently seeing.

As the book is focused on the messiness of life, and the need to forgive and let go if we are to ever move on from loss, it feels fitting that Lien provides closure while resisting the urge to wrap up every loose end. A refusal to adhere to the blueprint of a happily-ever-after further enhances the stark realism of this powerful debut.

This review was originally published in The BookBrowse Review in October 2022, and has been updated for the October 2023 edition. Click here to go to this issue.