Unraveled Wednesday: 6/25/25

I'm joining Kat and the Unravelers with some SIPs (Socks In Progress). It's been too d*&n hot to do much else beside sit in front of the air conditioner and knit small things. There were several hours of awfulness where I had to pick snow peas in John's garden at Ryan's but it was as terrible as you might imagine so I won't dwell on that. 

The blue and green striped one is ready for me to start on the toes, and the rainbow one is ready for the heel flap and turn if I can gather some gumption. Today it's supposed to reach 100 again, but motivation might be just around the corner tomorrow when the temperatures (hopefully) begin to drop. 

I read only one book this week, but it was a memorable four-stars. Ocean Vuong’s The Emperor of Gladness is a tender, quietly powerful novel that explores the fragile beauty of human connection, the resilience of the working class, and the long, difficult journey toward self-worth. This is Vuong’s first full-length work of fiction since On Earth We’re Briefly Gorgeous, and once again he brings his signature lyrical style to a narrative that is emotionally rich and deeply humane.

At the heart of the novel is Hai, a 19-year-old Vietnamese American who survives a suicide attempt only because it’s interrupted by Grazina, an elderly widow with dementia and an unshakable sense of presence. In a move that serves both of them, Hai agrees to become her caretaker. What follows is not a conventional redemption arc, but a deeply nuanced exploration of grief, shame, dignity, and the strange, sometimes stubborn ways people come to care for one another.

Vuong’s prose is spare but luminous, filled with quiet observations that land like revelations. He gives dignity and emotional texture to the lives of people often overlooked—immigrants, the poor, the aging, the young who are barely hanging on. The relationship between Hai and Grazina unfolds with the slow trust of real life, becoming a kind of found family that neither of them expected but both desperately need.

Some readers might find the narrative more reflective and "dreamy" than event-driven, but that’s part of its strength. Vuong doesn't seem interested in melodrama—he's invested in emotional truth. And in that sense, this novel delivers in every line.

The Emperor of Gladness is a poignant meditation on what keeps us alive, and who we might become when someone—unexpectedly, stubbornly—believes we are worth saving. Quietly devastating and deeply compassionate, this is a novel to read slowly, and remember long after.

What are you making and reading this week?