Reading a Youth

On the folded cover of "The Simplest Way to Disappear" are a few words: 'Huy Bao. Born in 2004. Primarily writes poetry.' These few words are concise, as if wanting to hide oneself. To hide oneself so well that one chooses "the simplest way to disappear" as the title of this collection of 13 short stories.

Huy Bao, who "primarily writes poetry," has published a collection of poems and now a collection of short stories. Huy Bao's short stories serve as an extension (or expansion) of his poetry.

The stories are interconnected, complementing and overlapping each other, creating a world that seems to shrink endlessly inward with its rambling streams of thought. The space, therefore, also becomes diluted and blurred.

Until everything transforms into a realm of poetry. Each story is a part of a poem that has neither beginning nor end.

None of the stories in this collection have the title "The simplest thing is to disappear." It's simply a shared feeling. But what is disappearing? Is it the disappearance of a clear plot? Is it the disappearance of a character's identity?

Huy Bao personifies that disappearance as the image of "steam": "If I had never loved you, perhaps I would be steam right now. Steam has no one beside it. But only steam lingers on the windowpane a little longer" (from the story "Goodbye Blue Sky").

Even if it lasts "a little longer," the steam will eventually evaporate. Along with it, the characters, the spaces, and even the author's very existence will eventually evaporate. Because everything that exists in this world is simply disappearing.

The very state of these writings partly reflects the state of life of youth. A youth precariously searching for definition. A youth who both yearns to establish themselves and desires to erase themselves within the overwhelming machinery of life that surrounds them.

Therefore, reading Huy Bao is also reading about youth. Even if that youth is angry or deeply sad, we still find a freshness, a sense of unease rarely encountered in the writings of older, more experienced authors.

It was inevitable. Therefore, Huy Bao wrote: "From June to October. And so, I grew older" (from the story "From June to October").

Huy Bao writes prose as he writes poetry, still searching for something to anchor himself to. In this slim volume, we sometimes find images and sentences sufficient to anchor ourselves and prevent us from drifting along the author's vague and dreamy stream.

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HUYNH TRONG KHANG

Source: https://tuoitre.vn/doc-mot-tuoi-tre-20251026101033795.htm