Novel Without a Name

The final section begins with two very short subsections about a major battle; one of these sections is a single paragraph, the other a single sentence. Later, Quan describes a second battle in this section: “The battle had unfolded as predictably as if it had been a parade: assault, a rapid conclusion” (282). In both cases, the lack of detail provided drives home a recurring theme throughout Novel Without a Name, which is the focus on how war affects people on a more personal, emotional level as opposed to on a larger scale. This is exemplified by the lack of focus on particulars of battles themselves. Huong inserts mentions of battle almost as afterthoughts; it’s not the fighting itself that matters, but the effect it has on the people who are fighting. In this manner, the novel functions counter to much military fiction that precedes it, while maintaining a thread common to prose about the Vietnam War: an increased focus on the humanistic ephemera of conflict. 

Quan’s growing mistrust of the Party comes to a head in the conclusion of the novel, as seen through his conversation with Kha. When Quan reprimands Kha for destroying American property that now “belongs to the [North Vietnamese] people […] Kha just laughed. ‘Ah, but do the people really exist?’” (274). After further pressing from Quan about Kha destroying property, and televisions in particular, Kha responds, “But the ones who get to watch have nothing to do with the people…The people, that’s my mother, my father, your parents, the soldiers. None of them will ever get a crumb” (274). Throughout the novel, Quan has wrestled with his feelings about the Party and has held opinions that approach Kha’s, but Kha’s assertions are more explicit than anything Quan has said or thought.

While Quan initially disagrees with Kha, he soon acknowledges that “[d]eep down inside […] [he] knew [Kha] was right” (278). Everything Quan has experienced up to this point reinforces what Kha has told him, whether he wants to believe it or not. Quan finally understands that they “had wedded [their] dignity to that hatred [of foreign invaders], confused survival with destruction” (285).

At the novel’s end, whatever shreds of hope and longing for glory that Quan had been clinging to in order to keep moving are gone. He tells Thai: “We’re all in the same herd of sheep” (288). When Thai tries to comfort Quan by telling him they will receive medals and advance in their careers as soldiers, Quan’s mind drifts–as it often has in pivotal moments of the novel–to nature, the past, and Vietnamese culture.