Genre Fiction
![Carolyn Huynh - [object Object] author](https://res.cloudinary.com/readsomnia/image/upload/authors/a_a_carolyn_huynh.jpg)
The Fortunes of Jaded Women: A Novel
For fans of Jonathan Tropper, KJ Dell'Antonia, and Kevin Kwan, this "sharp, smart, and gloriously extra" (Nancy Jooyoun Kim, The Last Story of Mina Lee) debut follows a family of estranged Vietnamese women-cursed to never know love or happiness-as they reunite when a psychic makes a startling prediction.
Everyone in Orange County's Little Saigon knew that the Duong sisters were cursed.
It started with their ancestor, Oanh, who dared to leave her marriage for true love-so a fearsome Vietnamese witch cursed Oanh and her descendants so that they would never find love or happiness, and the Duong women would give birth to daughters, never sons.
Oanh's current descendant Mai Nguyen knows this curse well. She's divorced, and after an explosive disagreement a decade ago, she's estranged from her younger sisters, Minh Pham (the middle and the mediator) and Khuyen Lam (the youngest who swears she just runs humble coffee shops and nail salons, not Little Saigon's underground). Though Mai's three adult daughters, Priscilla, Thuy, and Thao, are successful in their careers (one of them is John Cho's dermatologist!), the same can't be said for their love lives. Mai is convinced they might drive her to an early grave.
Desperate for guidance, she consults Auntie Hua, her trusted psychic in Hawaii, who delivers an unexpected prediction: this year, her family will witness a marriage, a funeral, and the birth of a son. This prophecy will reunite estranged mothers, daughters, aunts, and cousins-for better or for worse.
A multi-narrative novel brimming with levity and candor, The Fortunes of Jaded Women is about mourning, meddling, celebrating, and healing together as a family. It shows how Vietnamese women emerge victorious, even if the world is against them.
Everyone in Orange County's Little Saigon knew that the Duong sisters were cursed.
It started with their ancestor, Oanh, who dared to leave her marriage for true love-so a fearsome Vietnamese witch cursed Oanh and her descendants so that they would never find love or happiness, and the Duong women would give birth to daughters, never sons.
Oanh's current descendant Mai Nguyen knows this curse well. She's divorced, and after an explosive disagreement a decade ago, she's estranged from her younger sisters, Minh Pham (the middle and the mediator) and Khuyen Lam (the youngest who swears she just runs humble coffee shops and nail salons, not Little Saigon's underground). Though Mai's three adult daughters, Priscilla, Thuy, and Thao, are successful in their careers (one of them is John Cho's dermatologist!), the same can't be said for their love lives. Mai is convinced they might drive her to an early grave.
Desperate for guidance, she consults Auntie Hua, her trusted psychic in Hawaii, who delivers an unexpected prediction: this year, her family will witness a marriage, a funeral, and the birth of a son. This prophecy will reunite estranged mothers, daughters, aunts, and cousins-for better or for worse.
A multi-narrative novel brimming with levity and candor, The Fortunes of Jaded Women is about mourning, meddling, celebrating, and healing together as a family. It shows how Vietnamese women emerge victorious, even if the world is against them.
Editorial Reviews
"A war bubbles at the core of The Fortunes of Jaded Women, but perhaps not the one you'd expect. Rather than retreading the conflict that has been the focus of most Vietnam-centric literature for the past 70 years, Vietnamese American author Carolyn Huynh offers up a refreshingly buoyant and irreverent debut novel about a fiery group of estranged mothers and daughters. . . . Fantastical elements and an abundance of sisterly squabbles and scandals keep things juicy and bring plenty of laughs, but the characters are the real stars of the show. Each woman is joyfully rendered and fully developed, offering a welcome contrast to cliched depictions of meek and docile Asian women, and a powerful subversion of monolithic depictions of a people who have for too long been solely defined by tragedy. The Duong women have fire in their bellies, desire in their hearts and the grit needed to overcome any obstacle. The Fortunes of Jaded Womenwill certainly appeal to fans of over-the-top excess à la Kevin Kwan's Crazy Rich Asians, but readers who love rich explorations of thorny mother-daughter relationships and the ways we weather." -- Stephenie Harrison ― BookPage (starred review)
"You can always count me in for a story about generations of cursed women, but I was surprised-and thoroughly delighted-to discover how much I would laugh out loud at the exploits of these mothers, daughters, and sisters. Carolyn Huynh's The Fortunes of Jaded Women is a terrific debut. I'm eager to read more from her." -- Lisa See
"Sharp, smart, and gloriously extra, The Fortunes of Jaded Women pays homage to the counterfeit-Louis-Vuitton queens of the Vietnamese diaspora and West Coast witches everywhere. I laughed out loud at the familiar stubbornness, the high- and low-stakes cutthroatedness of these complex and lovable mothers and daughters." -- Nancy Jooyoun Kim, the New York Times bestselling author of The Last Story of Mina Lee
"Clever, hilarious, and deliciously dramatic. In this knockout debut, Huynh weaves a tangled, multigenerational story between fierce, stubborn Vietnamese mothers and their estranged daughters that is equally wild and heartfelt. It beautifully captures how far mothers would go to create a better life for their daughters and reconnect with them when their efforts go awry. ...
"You can always count me in for a story about generations of cursed women, but I was surprised-and thoroughly delighted-to discover how much I would laugh out loud at the exploits of these mothers, daughters, and sisters. Carolyn Huynh's The Fortunes of Jaded Women is a terrific debut. I'm eager to read more from her." -- Lisa See
"Sharp, smart, and gloriously extra, The Fortunes of Jaded Women pays homage to the counterfeit-Louis-Vuitton queens of the Vietnamese diaspora and West Coast witches everywhere. I laughed out loud at the familiar stubbornness, the high- and low-stakes cutthroatedness of these complex and lovable mothers and daughters." -- Nancy Jooyoun Kim, the New York Times bestselling author of The Last Story of Mina Lee
"Clever, hilarious, and deliciously dramatic. In this knockout debut, Huynh weaves a tangled, multigenerational story between fierce, stubborn Vietnamese mothers and their estranged daughters that is equally wild and heartfelt. It beautifully captures how far mothers would go to create a better life for their daughters and reconnect with them when their efforts go awry. ...
Short Excerpt Teaser
Chapter 1: Oanh Duong 1 Oanh Duong
EVERYONE IN ORANGE COUNTY'S Little Saigon knew the Duong sisters were cursed.
They heard that the curse began in Vietnam when Oanh Duong's ex-mother-in-law, Lan Hoàng, had gone north to visit the reclusive witch who lived in Sa Pa, at the foot of the Hoàng Liên Son mountains. The trip across the volatile terrain was treacherous; only truly diabolical souls who wanted to inflict generational curses on others would be able to survive. Like all slighted Vietnamese women, Lan Hoàng wished for the type of scarring that would make her wanton daughter-in-law and all her future kin ostracized forever. She just didn't know what that would look like.
The night Lan arrived at the quiet village, she was exhausted. The fickle weather had brought an onslaught of all four seasons within a few days, and she hadn't been as prepared as she thought. The rustling wind had been her enemy one day, and her friend the next. Thankfully, her hired guide had enough shearling to keep her warm for the final leg of her travels. She begged him to take her to see the witch immediately. The more time wasted, the closer Oanh would be to conceiving a child.
The guide dropped Lan off in front of the tiny, all-white stone home at the foot of the mountains, and wished her luck, though he wasn't sure if he meant it. The old man had taken many desperate women-mothers, daughters, and sisters-across the country to visit the witch, but he'd never once stepped foot inside. He knew better than to interrupt the flow of the universe. Only women were brave enough to tempt fate like that.
Like every other French colonial home that lined the dirt road, the house had stone pillars that held up the front, like Atlas holding up the weight of the world. Wild ivy wrapped all the way around them, mirroring hands that held a tight grip on all lost souls who entered. Though the exterior appeared welcoming, the inside looked as if light had never been able to find its way in, no matter how hard it tried.
Lan shivered, suddenly feeling nervous for the first time in her journey. She'd dreamt about this moment for months, and now that she was finally here, she was afraid. Afraid of what she would become if she went through with it. Would she still have a soul after? As she second-guessed her decision, the dilapidated wooden front door squeaked open, expelling a sinful pheromone, tempting Lan inside. The witch's face peeked out from the shadows, and she pushed the door further ajar and beckoned her. The woman was more petite than imagined, and she had a strangeness about her that Lan couldn't place. Though quite angular with her face structure, uncommon for Vietnamese people, the witch's beauty was enhanced by her dark hair that had grown wild every which way. Lan couldn't discern her age; every time she tried to guess, she felt like her eyes were deceiving her.
"You're late." The witch's voice had traces of irritation, but her impish eyes worried Lan the most. She couldn't read the intent behind them, but she could sense the greed, and it exacerbated her nerves. "Hurry up, you're letting the heat out." Lan didn't ask her how she knew she was coming. She didn't want to know more than she should because she was afraid of ghosts and spirits following her home. She was already testing the universe's patience by being there.
Lan timidly entered the house and followed the woman to the back room. Her nose crinkled at the pungent smell that cloaked the room. She spotted a man in the corner, his face hidden behind shadows and a cap. His age was also amorphous. He was busy pounding a gelatinous substance in his mortar. Behind him, stacked glass jars full of questionable liquids and dry herbs teetered back and forth, desperately trying to stay in rhythm with one another to avoid toppling over. He locked eyes with Lan as she passed him by. The bulbous veins on his hands came dangerously close to revealing his real age. She gulped down the bile in her throat, regret once again bubbling up.
"Snake heart," the witch said, as if responding to Lan's thoughts. "Makes men stronger. To produce more sons."
The witch hurried Lan along, past the man, into the windowless back room, and motioned for her to sit on the floor pillows. She took her own place across the circular wooden table, heated up water, and set out some cups. The flimsy table between them was the only thing keeping the gates of hell from opening on Lan, and she prayed that the table would hold the barrier, just a little while longer.
"Why have you come?" the witch asked as she poured tea leaves into a cup, and gently drizzled hot water onto the leaves, allowing the aromatics to open up first.
"My daughter-in-law," Lan said. "She has betrayed...
EVERYONE IN ORANGE COUNTY'S Little Saigon knew the Duong sisters were cursed.
They heard that the curse began in Vietnam when Oanh Duong's ex-mother-in-law, Lan Hoàng, had gone north to visit the reclusive witch who lived in Sa Pa, at the foot of the Hoàng Liên Son mountains. The trip across the volatile terrain was treacherous; only truly diabolical souls who wanted to inflict generational curses on others would be able to survive. Like all slighted Vietnamese women, Lan Hoàng wished for the type of scarring that would make her wanton daughter-in-law and all her future kin ostracized forever. She just didn't know what that would look like.
The night Lan arrived at the quiet village, she was exhausted. The fickle weather had brought an onslaught of all four seasons within a few days, and she hadn't been as prepared as she thought. The rustling wind had been her enemy one day, and her friend the next. Thankfully, her hired guide had enough shearling to keep her warm for the final leg of her travels. She begged him to take her to see the witch immediately. The more time wasted, the closer Oanh would be to conceiving a child.
The guide dropped Lan off in front of the tiny, all-white stone home at the foot of the mountains, and wished her luck, though he wasn't sure if he meant it. The old man had taken many desperate women-mothers, daughters, and sisters-across the country to visit the witch, but he'd never once stepped foot inside. He knew better than to interrupt the flow of the universe. Only women were brave enough to tempt fate like that.
Like every other French colonial home that lined the dirt road, the house had stone pillars that held up the front, like Atlas holding up the weight of the world. Wild ivy wrapped all the way around them, mirroring hands that held a tight grip on all lost souls who entered. Though the exterior appeared welcoming, the inside looked as if light had never been able to find its way in, no matter how hard it tried.
Lan shivered, suddenly feeling nervous for the first time in her journey. She'd dreamt about this moment for months, and now that she was finally here, she was afraid. Afraid of what she would become if she went through with it. Would she still have a soul after? As she second-guessed her decision, the dilapidated wooden front door squeaked open, expelling a sinful pheromone, tempting Lan inside. The witch's face peeked out from the shadows, and she pushed the door further ajar and beckoned her. The woman was more petite than imagined, and she had a strangeness about her that Lan couldn't place. Though quite angular with her face structure, uncommon for Vietnamese people, the witch's beauty was enhanced by her dark hair that had grown wild every which way. Lan couldn't discern her age; every time she tried to guess, she felt like her eyes were deceiving her.
"You're late." The witch's voice had traces of irritation, but her impish eyes worried Lan the most. She couldn't read the intent behind them, but she could sense the greed, and it exacerbated her nerves. "Hurry up, you're letting the heat out." Lan didn't ask her how she knew she was coming. She didn't want to know more than she should because she was afraid of ghosts and spirits following her home. She was already testing the universe's patience by being there.
Lan timidly entered the house and followed the woman to the back room. Her nose crinkled at the pungent smell that cloaked the room. She spotted a man in the corner, his face hidden behind shadows and a cap. His age was also amorphous. He was busy pounding a gelatinous substance in his mortar. Behind him, stacked glass jars full of questionable liquids and dry herbs teetered back and forth, desperately trying to stay in rhythm with one another to avoid toppling over. He locked eyes with Lan as she passed him by. The bulbous veins on his hands came dangerously close to revealing his real age. She gulped down the bile in her throat, regret once again bubbling up.
"Snake heart," the witch said, as if responding to Lan's thoughts. "Makes men stronger. To produce more sons."
The witch hurried Lan along, past the man, into the windowless back room, and motioned for her to sit on the floor pillows. She took her own place across the circular wooden table, heated up water, and set out some cups. The flimsy table between them was the only thing keeping the gates of hell from opening on Lan, and she prayed that the table would hold the barrier, just a little while longer.
"Why have you come?" the witch asked as she poured tea leaves into a cup, and gently drizzled hot water onto the leaves, allowing the aromatics to open up first.
"My daughter-in-law," Lan said. "She has betrayed...
