The story subtly incorporates the themes of the Indochina War and the Vietnam War, even though Dao doesn't explicitly mention them. Dao alludes to the Indochina War—the conflict between Vietnamese nationalists and the French from 1946 to 1954—when he questions Ho about his disappointment in Dao's absence from the fight. Ho expands on this by talking about the common objectives shared by the Vietnamese and Americans, both of whom aimed to curb the Japanese empire's growth. Ho’s reflections create a connection between himself and those involved in this earlier conflict with the Vietnamese who later participated in the Vietnam War and their ongoing struggles, including the division of their country. Interestingly, Ho’s comments also inadvertently connect him with Thang and Loi, who fought on the opposing side during the Vietnam War.

Although Dao seems not to have been directly involved in the conflict, he refers to it in different ways. Thang and Loi both served in the South Vietnamese army, with Thang as a colonel and Loi as a lieutenant. They feel bitterness over their exile after the fall of South Vietnam, placing some blame on the Americans. Dao also recalls experiencing the 1968 Tet Offensive with his wife, hearing bombs detonate outside. These memories underscore the persistent challenges faced by the Vietnamese in the latter half of the twentieth century.

As Dao approaches the end of his life—though not ill, he is nearing 100 years old—he increasingly reflects on his past and how it shapes his perspective on the present. The story begins with a visit from Ho, someone Dao hasn't seen in many years. It quickly becomes clear that several factors motivate Dao to reconnect with Ho. Primarily, Dao struggles with internal conflicts related to family matters. Although he is aware that Thang and Loi are implicated in a political murder, his religious convictions and cultural values compel him to preserve family unity. Additionally, as Ho observes, Dao has never been involved in "the political thing." Dao's focus on the past is also evident in his vision of the village square, populated by those who have passed away. In this imagined afterlife, Dao hopes to reunite with those who were important to him: his wife, his firstborn son who died as an infant, the first person to address Ho as "monsieur" ("mister"), and the Dakar natives who were sent to their deaths in shark-infested waters by French colonial officials. Dao projects his thoughts about his own impending death onto Ho, asking about whom Ho has encountered in the afterlife. Ho paints images of people Dao hadn't considered, such as young Vietnamese men who sought recognition for their country from European powers.

Family ties hold a significant place in Vietnamese culture and are central to the narrative. As Dao approaches the end of his life, he follows Vietnamese traditions by gathering his family to bid his final farewells. This custom allows the elderly to share their emotions, seek understanding, or simply say goodbye to their loved ones. Over the course of several days, Dao's family comes together to pay their respects. However, this time of peaceful farewells is interrupted by his "insincere" son-in-law, Thang, and his grandson, Loi. Dao discovers a web of deceit within his family, realizing that these two young men were somehow involved in the murder of a Vietnamese journalist who supported national unity. Dao's daughter, Lam, is also part of this secret. She warns them against discussing it in front of her father, indicating her knowledge and possibly her approval. Only Dao's eldest daughter, whose name is not mentioned, fulfills her responsibilities with...

The collection presents a variety of perspectives on what it means to achieve "The American Dream." A recurring theme is finding happiness in love, as depicted in stories like "Fairy Tale," "Snow," and "Love." Career or business success is another prominent theme, particularly in "Crickets," where the narrator boasts about being the leading chemical engineer at his firm. In "The Trip Back," the narrator is portrayed as a businessman driving a luxurious Lexus, comfortably supporting his wife's grandfather. Similarly, "The American Couple" focuses on Vinh, the narrator's husband, who is a successful importer of duck feathers for pillows and has vacationed in "the slick American places."

Family and tradition play significant roles in the face of cultural assimilation in "Crickets." The story centers on a father who strives to instill an appreciation for cultural heritage in his son. In "The Trip Back," the narrator assumes the duty of looking after his wife's grandfather, a task neglected by other family members. Meanwhile, in "In the Clearing," a distant father wants to ensure his son is familiar with the dragon myth, symbolizing the roots of the Vietnamese people.

"Open Arms" vividly portrays the clash of moral values, particularly when set against the haunting memories of war. The story revolves around a translator who defected from the Communist side after tragically losing his wife and children at the hands of his own forces. He finds himself morally outraged when Australian advisors, seemingly indifferent to his years of strict indoctrination and recent personal loss, indulge in a night of crude pornographic films.

The themes of alienation, separation, and loss are central to "Letters from My Father." The young woman mourns not only the years of estrangement but also the ongoing silence even after the family has reunited. In "The Trip Back," the narrator's wife longs to make up for the years she was separated from her grandfather. She treasures her past memories with him, but he can no longer recall who she is. In "In the Clearing," the narrator writes to a son in Vietnam, whose mother has remarried, making it improbable that the son will ever meet his biological father.

"Mr. Green" contains a hint of mysticism, as the parrot reproduces a coughing sound that hasn't been heard since its previous owner passed away, years prior to the beginning of the story. The supernatural plays a crucial role in "A Ghost Story," where the narrator repeatedly encounters a ghost. Similarly, in the collection's title story, the late Ho Chi Minh visits the narrator in a dream.

Robert Olen Butler's "A Good Scent from a Strange Mountain" forms a tapestry of interconnected stories, each offering a unique Vietnamese voice. These narratives, woven together, capture the complexities of the Vietnamese diaspora in Louisiana after the war. The collection's eponymous story, along with its concluding piece, resonates with thematic depth, enriching their meanings when viewed collectively rather than in isolation.

For instance, reading the final story independently would highlight Ho Chi Minh's historical efforts at Versailles to gain political representation for the Vietnamese in the French parliament. This aspect alone is significant, yet it becomes more profound when seen in relation to the opening story, "Open Arms." This story offers a parallel narrative set in another Versailles, a modern community near New Orleans teeming with North Vietnamese immigrants. Here, a Buddhist narrator engages in dialogue with a communist leader, drawing thematic connections between seemingly disparate tales.

Despite their interconnectedness, each of the fifteen stories in the collection stands strong on its own. Fourteen of them were published individually before being compiled, showcasing their ability to independently captivate and inform. Yet, when read together, they create a richer, fuller picture of cultural and historical narratives interwoven with personal experiences, reflecting the broader story of the Vietnamese diaspora in America.

The narrative intricately weaves together historical events, fantasy elements, and contemporary violence to illustrate that the repercussions of the Vietnam War stretch far beyond their apparent boundaries. This complex tapestry reveals how the war's origins and impacts are deeply rooted in historical, spiritual, and political domains, extending their influence across time and geography, affecting both Vietnam and the United States.

Central to this exploration is the ideological conflict embodied by two prominent figures: Ho Chi Minh's adherence to the Western doctrines of Karl Marx, contrasted with Dao's devotion to the Eastern spiritual philosophies of the Buddha. This divergence reflects a profound division within the national psyche, highlighting the personal and political fragmentation experienced by the nation and its citizens. This schism is poignantly illustrated in a conversation between Ho and Dao, where Ho remarks, "You have never done the political thing," acknowledging Dao's inaction despite his awareness of his son-in-law and grandson's violent deeds.

Dao, however, challenges Ho with the thought-provoking question, "Are there politics where you are now, my friend?" This exchange underscores the persistent and multifaceted nature of politics, suggesting that understanding the complete picture is crucial for achieving a sense of wholeness. The story concludes with a resonant assertion: "I wanted to understand everything . . . you knew you had to understand everything or you would be incomplete forever." This quest for comprehension encapsulates the enduring struggle of reconciling diverse elements of history, spirituality, and politics within the human experience.

The narrative leaves us pondering the possibility of reconciling a fractured political and psychological landscape. The end of the story is marked by Dao’s tranquil anticipation of sleep and, by extension, death. He harbors the belief that he and Ho will "be together again and perhaps we can help each other. I know now what it is that he has forgotten.” This sentiment carries a sense of optimism, hinting at a future reunion where wisdom and understanding might be exchanged.

Yet, this hopeful vision is mired in ambiguity. Dao’s focus is firmly planted on the afterlife, a realm that offers potential unity and redemption far removed from the gritty reality of political turmoil and violence. This raises questions about whether his final vision embodies a transcendence that absorbs history and violence into a greater framework or merely perpetuates a form of passivity. Such passivity, after all, would leave the onus of action on those who wield violence, offering no real-world resolution.

As the story closes, it invites reflection on these contrasting interpretations. Does Dao's peaceful anticipation signal a triumph over historical conflicts through spiritual reconciliation, or does it suggest an escape into the realm of dreams, leaving the tangible world unchanged and fraught with unresolved divisions?