This was the first book I'd read about the Khmer Rouge regime in Cambodia, but I felt like I'd read it before. From the survivors of everything from Nazi concentration camps to Japanese internment camps to prisoner of war camps, you find similar themes of the human capacities for cruelty and for survival, how the will to endure can overcome excruciating deprivation and hunger, and how faith and luck and family and the kindness of others all come together to determine who lives another day and who doesn't. I had also read fictionalized accounts of life in North Korea and in China during the communist revolution, but what struck me reading Him's first-person account was that there was widespread suffering among the people who were supposed to be making up this new "equal" society, as opposed to among a persecuted minority. Yes, people were targeted for supposedly speaking out against the regime, but by and large people suffered and died doing exactly what they were supposed to be doing, fulfilling the great plans of those in charge. They were being forced to endure starvation and backbreaking labor not as punishment, not because they were perceived to deserve it, but because the remaking of society envisioned by those in power required everyone to be involved in this way, to leave behind "imperialist" modern conveniences like electricity and running water and return to the land through communal farming. No doubt those closer to the center of power did not suffer nearly as much as Him and her family, but we don't get to see that from her perspective.

Not only did Him and her family not suffer due to being specifically targeted and persecuted through intolerance, but they also weren't suffering due to living in the middle of a war zone. Yes, the Khmer Rouge were defending their hold on power at the borders, but for the most part, people were not dying due to weapons of war or because of blockades preventing supplies getting through. Everything they went through was due to the master plans for society being successfully put into place! It wasn't until reading this book that I understood just why the United States was so rabidly anti-communism in previous generations. The irony, of course, was that the Khmer Rouge received support from the U.S. because the U.S. was worried about Vietnam invading! If anything, this strengthened my belief that the United States' foreign interventions should be largely humanitarian, and we should stop trying to pick winners and losers with military support.

As far as Him's story itself, the writing definitely isn't the strongest, particularly when it comes to verb tenses, but I don't want to fault Him too strongly for that given that English isn't her native language. (I can fault her editors, however.) There are moments here and there that are included simply because Him remembers them, though they don't end up having any larger significance, and they probably could have been edited out. By and large, though, most of what she shares is captivating because of the constant life-or-death peril she was under for four solid years. It's somewhat questionable whether she can really remember all the events in such detail and in their precise order, and certainly the dialogue between her and others is approximate, but if you can suspend that disbelief you will get sucked into her story.

This book was chosen because my local book club wanted to read an Oregon Book Award winner for this month. I'm interested to see what we end up talking about — it seems more the kind of story you shake your head at in horror and pity than one that lends itself to discussion, but given all the tangential thoughts it stirred up for me personally (above), I'm sure we'll find something to talk about.

Chanrithy Him writes the tragic story of the suffering of herself and her family under the Khmer Rouge in Cambodia. Although it is the story of her family it is also the story of so many Cambodian families. This is a book that is difficult to read because the hardship and tragedy of Chanrithy’s childhood is so raw but it shows how the family strive to stay together and care for each other throughout their six years of fear, grief and hunger. This is a book that will stay with the reader long after the last page is turned.

Another one of those books that makes you think how people can live through so much trauma and come through it. The impact of what the Khmer Rouge did to the Cambodian people still lives today, just ask my sister who is there. "When Broken Glass Floats" shows the senselessness of most of the violence. An ideology that sends a country back 100 years or more and kills with no discretion just doesn't make sense to me. Along with "Escape from Camp 14," this book shows the PTSD and other psychological effects that linger even after the stomach is full and the body recovers. The actual writing of the book gets a little choppy especially at the end but you don't read a story like this for great literature but because it's real and raw.

This book is so depressing it would make Pollyanna eat a gun.

However, it was incredibly powerful and moving. I put the book down a few times, refusing to pick it up again. I skimmed some of the more awful parts (3 year old brother dying, pregnant woman being slaughtered) and was rewarded with one simple thing: this woman survives and comes out tough and compassionate. She manages to rise above where others crumble...

I have a theory, Well not so much a theory as a baseless idea. We somehow feel better about our lives when we read of the horror of others lives. This book was hard to read for many reasons and It is awful that I somehow place my feelings in front of the friends I have known that have lived through or with the history of the Khmer Rouge. I think of all the refugees from all the different parts of the world as they came to my home in the projects. It's where all the people with nothing tended to start their new lives. I was always surprised and a bit shocked at the rawness and fierceness of the determination of my friends parents. This book gives as clear description as to any that I had heard.
Oppressively depressing at times but clearly a story of strength and hope I recommend this book be read so we don't allow this to happen again.

Although similar in many ways, I think I liked First They Killed My Father better. Neither are easy books to read since they tell the first-hand story of children and families living (or not) through the Khmer Rouge reign of terror in Cambodia. But for some reason I couldn't get into this narrator as much as I did with the one from the other book. Either way, this is a tremendously sad story that could be echoed by so many Cambodian families from that time.

In 2007 I had the opportunity to visit Asia, one of the countries being Cambodia. I was shocked to learn of the genocide that took place there. It wasn't something of the past; it ended 3-4 years before I was born. Our tour guide explained things with tears in his eyes. He had lived through it, suffered, and lost his family.
Cambodia today is a country of dirt roads and handcarts. Their economy has not recovered and due to the Khmer Rouge killing everyone with any education their children are uneducated- their parents not understanding the necessity of it. They are poor, barefoot, and older siblings beat younger ones on the streets. The Khmer Rouge was not in power long but their horrible "legacy" still remains.
I was embarrassed that I had known nothing of this taking place. We learn of the Holocaust but we aren't taught of things that have taken place since that time. Genocide is not something of the past. It continues to happen. I learned that I can't be apathetic to what takes place in the world. I resolved to learn more of what happened there and this novel helped me to do so. I hope that as a nation we will not blind to the suffering of others. I pray that we will get involved when such brutality exists and not simply when oil or political gain empowers us.

Tác giả nghiệp dư nên viết khá non tay, mọi việc chỉ xoay quanh tác giả và thân nhân sống dưới chế độ Khmer Đỏ tàn bạo.
Nếu được ai chấp bút hoặc có sự tìm hiểu để viết rõ hơn về bản chất của Khmer Đỏ thì mới thuyết phục hơn.

Extraordinary story of pain and survival. A view through the eyes of a child of the horrors the Khmer Rouge inflicted. As a refugee myself, this book moved me in ways difficult to put into words!

I learned a lot from this book and although I found it a bit repetitive it probably was true as to the happenings recorded as the authors experience. She was a young girl and her days were repetitive with work ,sickness and loss. Again it is a story of people affected by war and its terrible repercussions on the people caught up in a world they did not create. War uses resources and those resources usually produce want and death and life destroyed as these people [quite often children] know it.If they survive they have terrible memories that haunt them and the pain never really leaves.

”Good is symbolized by klok, a type of squash, and evil by armbaeg, shards of broken glass. The good will win over the evil. Now, klok sinks, and broken glass floats. But armbaeg will not float long. Soon klok will float instead, and then the good will prevail.”

I walked around the Killing Fields today as well as a former school turned into detention center; and had finished this book last night, and tremble with its sorrow. All of it. We are all witnesses, memory keepers, we don’t need to visit these places to be so, or read these works, but it strengthens the power. To be interested in what being human, as I am, means I must look at the dark side, at these sides where humans treat others as animals and can do tremendously dark, evil things to them. I can’t even imagine enduring these atrocities. I have fallen in love with the Cambodian people, they are kind and gentle and joyful despite it all, so this makes even less sense to me.

The author was a mere 10 year old when it started, and has a recall beyond her years. She writes the book so she can process her experience and also so her family who dislikes talking of it, can also begin to heal. I watched a talk of hers and she said she refused to let the Khmer Rouge take anymore of her loved ones. She is brave and beautiful. She says:
“In Cambodia the term for childbirth is chhlong tonlé. Literally translated, it means “to cross a large river,” to weather the storm. Looking back, I have crossed the river on my own, without my mother. I have started a new life in a new country. I have learned a new language and lived in a new culture. I have been reincarnated with a new body, but with an old soul. It lives symbiotically inside me.”

And

“I am reminded of the Buddhist doctrine Mean ruup mean tok, which means “With a body comes suffering.” I heard a monk say these words once and immediately thought them overly grim. But to survive Pol Pot is to accept this doctrine as readily as you might accept the change of the seasons, the death of winter and the rebirth of spring. In the end, I know only that war is inevitable in the world as long as leaders such as Pol Pot are empowered by their kind—and as long as those who can make a difference by doing good deeds choose to look the other way. Under those conditions, more human lives will be lost, and many more children will be parentless. The cost of war is a lifelong legacy borne by children.”

There are little words I can say to improve on hers. I walked in the ruins of some of the most magisterial ruins of the Angkor Archeological complex one day and the museums of the genocide of another, Cambodian history laid bare and raw before me, the two sides of the coin, one of beauty, one of sorrow, and can’t even know how I am changed. I am an optimist, but even that is shaken by this.

“Mak, (mother) we’ve brought you rice,” I whisper, producing a pouch of rice the size of a small melon from my scarf. She puts her arms around me. Chea and Ra (her sisters) sit by her side, their eyes gazing at Mak’s silhouette, loving her in the Cambodian way. In our voices, Mak can feel our longing to be near her as clearly as any physical embrace. Our escape, the effort to bring food, speaks louder than any warm words we might offer.”

“They embrace, jumping, making dull, muffled sounds in the paddy. For the first time in a long time, I see happiness again. All of us smile at the thought of no more Khmer Rouge. My heart dances in my chest, my mind sings the word “freedom” repeatedly. Years ago, I knew only its pronunciation, but now, at thirteen, I truly understand what it means to have freedom, and to have it taken away from me.”

“Our shack is more crowded with the addition of Ry and Map, but I wouldn’t have it any other way. I remember a saying in a song, “It’s more bearable to have a crowded home than a crowded heart.”

“Suddenly a song comes on and the bus fills with sensational music: Oh oh yeah yeah I love you more than I can say I love you twice as much as tomorrow…. Smiling through my tears, I gaily tell Ra and Ry that I understand these words. They smile, looking proud. I turn back, wiping away my tears and enjoying the song.”

This book started off slow but really picked up. Chanrithy's riveting account of surviving the killing fields of Cambodia and living under the Khmer Rouge kept me turning the pages, holding my breath, and praying that every person in her family makes it out alive. Sadly this is not the case. Throughout her story she loses her father, mother and half her siblings through awful circumstances. The Him family is driven from their home, starved, forced into hard labor camps that benefits the Khmer. Living under the oppressive regime that sees the Cambodians as commodities to be used up, Chanrithy is subjected to cruelty and apathy and lives an existence I cannot fathom. When the family is first forced from their homes they flee to stay in a village with other relatives. It is soon discovered that the village is crawling with informants who will report any indication of words or actions not favorable to the new government. She relates a story of sleeping on the floor and looking through the slats in the floorboards because she feels like someone is watching her. There she sees an informant standing in the basement shadows. I cannot even begin to understand what kind of psychological impact that would have, the fear, the paranoia it makes me shudder. Later her father is taken away for "orientation". They are told he will return in a month. A month passes and he does not return. After weeks of begging for information, a neighbor finally tells Chanrithy's mother the truth in hushed words. Her husband was was considered an enemy of the Khmer Rouge. There was no orientation, instead he and some other men were rounded up, marched to a field, forced to dig their own graves and executed. Chanrithy's mother must then relate the truth to her children, but because of the informants she cannot show any signs of sadness or remorse for fear of being labeled a traitor. She tells her children their father's fate as though she is telling them she plans on making chicken for dinner.

Somehow Chanrithy manages to survive everything. When I look back and realize she was just a little girl, I marvel at how she made it through alive. The horrors of war and dictatorship are made all to real to the reader.