By David K. Shipler
Saigon fell
to the North Vietnamese army 50 years ago today, yet “wars never end,” says
Nguyen Phan Que Mai, an eloquent novelist and poet who has kept alive the
beauty and suffering of her native Vietnam.
She was speaking recently in
Washington, DC, alongside the photographer Peter Steinhauer, who was captivated
in childhood by pictures of Vietnam taken by his father, a US Navy oral surgeon
stationed in Danang during the war. As an adult, the son traveled there, then
lived there, and has made part of his profession the celebration in images of the
country’s landscapes and architecture. Marc Knapper, the current US ambassador
to Vietnam, is the son of a Vietnam War veteran.
And so it goes, through multiple
generations. Vietnam does not release you easily. For Vietnamese who fled into
exile, the natural pull of the homeland’s culture remains. For many Americans,
too: Vietnam is still embedded in their lives, whether they went to fight the
war or to write about it, to profit from it, to study it, or to oppose it by
giving benevolent aid.
I am among those who have carried
Vietnam with me all these years. My new novel, The Interpreter,
is inspired by a Vietnamese translator who gave me essential help when I
reported for The New York Times. It is dedicated “to those who interpret
their countries’ wars for audiences who watch from safety.” Interpreters,
“fixers,” are behind every story you read or hear or see.
Like many interpreters, my semi-fictional character flies above the political categories imposed by wars. He translates words and interprets his culture. “I give the words true meaning,” he says. As North Vietnamese tanks approach Saigon, he must choose whether to leave for safety in the US or stay at risk in his beloved country—a choice made every day by people in upheavals across the globe.
