Hello! I'm finalIy back from vacation in Taiwan and Malaysia! I hope everyone had a memorable summer vaca. Sadly, time flies when you're having fun and my school is starting in less than 2 weeks 😭 I wish y'all a great start in a new school year!

Hey, it's nice to see you again!

No worries!

That's so great! I don't live there anymore but I really loved it there!

Aww stop! You're so sweet! Thank you so much!! I'm glad you like my reviews; I really try to help and they are really fun to write! And I love your fun fact...I lived in Vegas for 5 years so I have a fond spot for that city! 😉

The experience of discovering one’s roots, as anyone who has done so can attest, is deeply grounding and often offers a change in perspective. Mai, who is known as Mia to her friends, has a name that captures the duality of life as a native of the California sand and sunshine with Vietnamese roots. The events in this book, however, occur in the latter location, where she accompanies her grandmother (Ba, in Vietnamese) to follow the trail of her Ong, or grandfather, who disappeared and was never heard from again during the Vietnamese War. It is the summer before 7th grade, and she is nervous about what is happening at her home, for some reasons that are often attributed to this age (read: crushes). Moreover, she dreads the prospect of spending most of her summer with her grandmother and people from Ong’s former village, to whom she may or may not be related. Alone, since her mother has decided, of course, to stay in California to prosecute an all-important case; her father, meanwhile, has left to practice surgery on children living in rural villages in the distant mountains of Vietnam. A detective has found possible evidence of where Ong went in the form of a former guard of his, when Ong was captured and sent to the North of Vietnam. The detective and his loquacity factor heavily in this story. However, the process of getting the guard to where Ba is, and persuading him to tell all of what he knows, takes forever. During which, Mai is forced to stay in a new and unfamiliar village acclimating to her surroundings. Understandably, this is something she’s none too happy to do. A moving premise. A fresh narrator. A summer that will be like no other. The themes that resonated with me were finding one’s roots, especially those that are far away, perhaps in another country. Learning about Vietnamese culture? A welcome addition. Seriously, learning about your culture, and your grandfather whom you never knew, only heard about is almost as fresh and engaging of a plot as is possible. Mai’s distinctive voice (teenager in a new, unfamiliar country) mostly helps the story along, but there are instances where it muddles up the story and the experience. All the reduced relative clauses and casual narration may force a few rereadings of those offending lines. What is supposed to be an easy read turns into a moderately-difficult one. The same can sometimes be said about the plot and pacing. While most of the time it emphasizes Mai’s new experiences and her becoming ever closer to her heritage and the people who are a part of, and near it, some of these just demonstrate her snarky attitude, acting as filler for the plot. Without trodding into spoiler territory, I can say that some of the things she brings over, while slightly funny, do nothing to move the plot forward (perhaps because the author felt the book would be too short to be meaningful?) This isn’t true, as Ba’s poetic stories—about meeting Ong, naming her children, learning about his disappearance—usually stretch for a page or more, but offer a deep and resonant connection to this person, searching for her husband after all these years—if anything, just to let go and move on. They end the chapters they are introduced in with a sense of finality, as both we and Mai ruminate over these words. Another possible gripe is that aside from Mai and Ut and Ba, many of the massive cast of characters are not fully developed. So if you enjoy picking up books with many diverse characters, you are out of luck. Let me introduce you to some of them. Her dad and mom could very well be totally absorbed by their work. We hear, very rightly, from Mai’s thoughts, that her father should be accompanying his mother on this trip, instead of leaving Mai to “take care” of her grandmother. We already see the connection between grandmother and granddaughter, so wouldn’t it be good to also see the bond between mother and son, even through a few sentences near the end? Instead, we only get a brief comment about how Mai’s father, Mua, meaning rain in Vietnamese, likely thinks his name is strange. I mean, come on. This book is definitely recommended for anyone who wants to learn about Vietnamese culture or Vietnamese history (particularly the Vietnam War), or has Vietnamese roots, or really anyone who has ever learned, or are planning to learn about one’s roots and the lives of one’s ancestors. Though not everyone will like the narration style or slightly-jumbled events, most all will like the heartfelt, original story of this poignant middle-grade novel.

The experience of discovering one’s roots, as anyone who has done so can attest, is deeply grounding and often offers a change in perspective. Mai, who is known as Mia to her friends, has a name that captures the duality of life as a native of the California sand and sunshine with Vietnamese roots. The events in this book, however, occur in the latter location, where she accompanies her grandmother (Ba, in Vietnamese) to follow the trail of her Ong, or grandfather, who disappeared and was never heard from again during the Vietnamese War. It is the summer before 7th grade, and she is nervous about what is happening at her home, for some reasons that are often attributed to this age (read: crushes). Moreover, she dreads the prospect of spending most of her summer with her grandmother and people from Ong’s former village, to whom she may or may not be related. Alone, since her mother has decided, of course, to stay in California to prosecute an all-important case; her father, meanwhile, has left to practice surgery on children living in rural villages in the distant mountains of Vietnam. A detective has found possible evidence of where Ong went in the form of a former guard of his, when Ong was captured and sent to the North of Vietnam. The detective and his loquacity factor heavily in this story. However, the process of getting the guard to where Ba is, and persuading him to tell all of what he knows, takes forever. During which, Mai is forced to stay in a new and unfamiliar village acclimating to her surroundings. Understandably, this is something she’s none too happy to do. A moving premise. A fresh narrator. A summer that will be like no other. The themes that resonated with me were finding one’s roots, especially those that are far away, perhaps in another country. Learning about Vietnamese culture? A welcome addition. Seriously, learning about your culture, and your grandfather whom you never knew, only heard about is almost as fresh and engaging of a plot as is possible. Mai’s distinctive voice (teenager in a new, unfamiliar country) mostly helps the story along, but there are instances where it muddles up the story and the experience. All the reduced relative clauses and casual narration may force a few rereadings of those offending lines. What is supposed to be an easy read turns into a moderately-difficult one. The same can sometimes be said about the plot and pacing. While most of the time it emphasizes Mai’s new experiences and her becoming ever closer to her heritage and the people who are a part of, and near it, some of these just demonstrate her snarky attitude, acting as filler for the plot. Without trodding into spoiler territory, I can say that some of the things she brings over, while slightly funny, do nothing to move the plot forward (perhaps because the author felt the book would be too short to be meaningful?) This isn’t true, as Ba’s poetic stories—about meeting Ong, naming her children, learning about his disappearance—usually stretch for a page or more, but offer a deep and resonant connection to this person, searching for her husband after all these years—if anything, just to let go and move on. They end the chapters they are introduced in with a sense of finality, as both we and Mai ruminate over these words. Another possible gripe is that aside from Mai and Ut and Ba, many of the massive cast of characters are not fully developed. So if you enjoy picking up books with many diverse characters, you are out of luck. Let me introduce you to some of them. Her dad and mom could very well be totally absorbed by their work. We hear, very rightly, from Mai’s thoughts, that her father should be accompanying his mother on this trip, instead of leaving Mai to “take care” of her grandmother. We already see the connection between grandmother and granddaughter, so wouldn’t it be good to also see the bond between mother and son, even through a few sentences near the end? Instead, we only get a brief comment about how Mai’s father, Mua, meaning rain in Vietnamese, likely thinks his name is strange. I mean, come on. This book is definitely recommended for anyone who wants to learn about Vietnamese culture or Vietnamese history (particularly the Vietnam War), or has Vietnamese roots, or really anyone who has ever learned, or are planning to learn about one’s roots and the lives of one’s ancestors. Though not everyone will like the narration style or slightly-jumbled events, most all will like the heartfelt, original story of this poignant middle-grade novel.

"Now, I cannot emphasize this enough to the people of San Francisco: You need to get out. And I mean now. And if you can’t, find any means possible to drop, cover, and hold on—because your life is gonna depend on it. God be with you.” ~ Dr. Lawrence Hayes...One day, an earthquake so devastating, so powerful, will split the entire San Andreas Fault in two—triggering magnitudes of 9.0 and beyond. The question isn’t if this will happen... but when. With the fault line already over a century overdue for a rupture, San Andreas dives headfirst into that chilling reality and explores what might happen if disaster struck today. The film follows Ray, played by Dwayne Johnson, a rescue helicopter pilot navigating both a high-stakes job and the collapse of his family. After learning that his soon-to-be ex-wife, Emma, and their daughter Blake are planning to move in with Emma’s new boyfriend, Ray feels like his world is already falling apart. But then... it actually does. When a catastrophic 9.0 earthquake rocks California and threatens to destroy everything in its path, Ray and Emma must reunite to find and save their daughter—separated and stranded in a crumbling San Francisco. Meanwhile, Blake proves to be far more than a damsel in distress. Resourceful and quick-thinking, she teams up with two British brothers, Ben and Ollie, to navigate the devastation and survive rising floodwaters, collapsing buildings, and deadly aftershocks. San Andreas is terrifying—but in the best possible way. It taps into our fascination with “what if?” and presents a frighteningly plausible look at a real-life disaster scenario. The special effects are jaw-dropping, the pacing is relentless, and yet amidst the chaos, there’s heart. The emotional tension between Ray and Emma adds warmth and humanity to an otherwise intense survival thriller. It’s important to note that this film contains some disturbing imagery. Death is depicted in sudden, unsettling ways—from people falling from skyscrapers to being crushed by debris—making it potentially difficult for more sensitive viewers or those unfamiliar with the reality of death. I personally am not usually brave when it comes to disaster films, and there were definitely moments that shocked and unsettled me. But even with those moments, I found this movie too powerful and well-done to miss. Strong language is present, though it feels authentic given the extraordinary circumstances. The destruction is large-scale, the stakes are massive, but the film remains grounded in the personal story of a family trying to come back together. I recommend San Andreas for ages 15 and up due to its intense themes, realistic disaster violence, and strong language. But overall, this is a thrilling, emotional, and unforgettable ride that will have you holding your breath until the very end. Happy watching—and maybe have a pillow or blanket to hide behind. Just in case. 😉