Through a series of short stories, Souvankham Thammavongsa’s How To Pronounce Knife explores the textures of the daily lives of immigrant families, elderly neighbours, curious children, and more. Tender but never nostalgic, Thammavongsa breaks down essential parts of love and intimacy with precise prose. In early November, the novel earned Thammavongsa the 2020 Scotiabank Giller Prize.
Thammavongsa was born in Nong Khai, Thailand in a Lao refugee camp and was raised in Toronto, where she still resides. She is a University of Toronto alum, where she studied English literature. After completing her undergraduate degree in 2003, Thammavongsa published her essays and poems in various publications and completed a number of writing residencies.
In How To Pronounce Knife, Thammavongsa’s short stories focus on the seemingly mundane aspects of different peoples’ lives: a former boxing champion getting a job at his sister’s nail salon, friendships formed while working at a chicken plant, and a mother obsessed with a country singer.
Many of these characters navigate challenging workplaces, romance, and changing family dynamics as immigrants or refugees, undergoing experiences that Thammavongsa draws from her own life.
Her stories highlight the hopes and desires of groups often undiscussed and ignored, like nail technicians, agriculture workers, and immigrants. By shining a light on the invisible, Thammavongsa is able to convey the universality of the desire to be loved and understood.
In focusing her work squarely on immigrant and refugee families, Thammovangsa pulls out a range of emotions other narratives about these groups often fail to achieve.
“I knew that whenever we encounter stories of immigrants and refugees, they are always sad and tragic. And rightly so; they are. But I feel like that image is very narrow about who we really are. We’re also fun and ferocious and hilarious. And also we can be ungrateful and there should be room for that. I wanted the story to address that,” Thammavongsa told CBC Books in an interview earlier this month.
Despite the romantic nature of many of her stories, Thammavongsa’s prose is economical; she wastes no time dwelling. In this way, her stories hit more deeply — rooted in simple truths, the love and loss her characters experience feels all too real.
Bitingly funny in parts and heartbreaking in others, Thammavongsa’s How To Pronounce Knife is a must-read for anyone interested in picking up some literature this coming winter break. At 192 pages in the paperback version, the book is a breeze to read, but don’t let that fool you — Thammavongsa wastes no time or ink in her thoughtful explorations of the daily lives of immigrants and refugees.
