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Autographics illustrating refugee and migrant experiences are frequently published, proof of the power of comics to engage with representations of trauma and vulnerability. Thi Bui’s graphic memoir The Best We Could Do tells the story of the author and her family as “boat people”, before and after migrating from Việt Nam to the US in the so-called second “wave” of refugees (1978–1980). If, as Judith Butler argues, vulnerable lives are more grievable when exposed and acknowledged, then self-representation of vulnerable lives might offer a site of resistance against precarity. Thi Bui’s graphic memoir is no exception, since she deals with common themes in Vietnamese American literature such as PTSD, inherited family trauma or everyday bordering, inscribing herself and her family in the counterhistory of the US regarding the Vietnam War, while also addressing themes and motifs recurrent in Asian American comics. The author follows a thematic concern present in Vietnamese American narratives, which tends to present the refugee experience from a heroic perspective, but this is limited and antagonised by Bui’s personal story, who feels estranged from her parents, their past in Việt Nam and the war. As this article shows, the recording and commemoration of her parents’ memories help her to identify with the family legacy of heroic vulnerability in her role as a mother. Full article

The literary topic of Siamese twins is not unfamiliar. American literary history tells us of the genealogy from Mark Twain’s pseudo-antebellum story The Tragedy of Pudd’nhead Wilson and the Comedy Those Extraordinary Twins (1894), Karen Tei Yamashita’s postmodern metafiction “Siamese Twins and Mongoloids: Cultural Appropriation and the Deconstruction of Stereotype via the Absurdity of Metaphor” (1999), down to Shelley Jackson’s James Tiptree, Jr. award winner Half-Life (2006). Rereading these works, we are easily invited to notice the political unconscious hidden deep within each plot: Twain’s selection of the Italian Siamese twins based upon Chang and Eng Bunker, antebellum stars of the Barnum Museum, cannot help but recall the ideal of the post-Civil War world uniting the North and the South; Yamashita’s figure of the conjoined twins Heco and Okada derives from Hikozo Hamada, an antebellum Japanese who made every effort to empower the bond between Japan and the United States, and John Okada, the Japanese American writer well known for his masterpiece No No Boy (1957); and Jackson’s characterization of the female conjoined twins Nora and Blanche Olney represents a new civil rights movement in the post-Cold War age in the near future, establishing a close friendship between the humans and the post-humans. This literary and cultural context should convince us that Yamashita’s short story “Siamese Twins and Mongoloids” serves as a kind of singularity point between realist twins and magic realist twins. Influenced by Twain’s twins, Yamashita paves the way for the re-figuration of the conjoined twins not only as tragi-comical freaks in the Gilded Age but also as representative men of magic realist America in our Multiculturalist Age. A Close reading of this metafiction composed in a way reminiscent of Jorge Luis Borges, Stanislaw Lem and Bruce Sterling will enable us to rediscover not only the role conjoined twins played in cultural history, but also the reason why Yamashita had to feature them once again in her novel I Hotel (2010) whose plot centers around the Asian American civil rights movement between the 1960s and the 1970s. Accordingly, an Asian American magic realist perspective will clarify the way Yamashita positioned the figure of Siamese Twins as representing legal and political double standards, and the way the catachresis of Siamese Twins came to be naturalized, questioned and dismissed in American literary history from the 19th century through the 21st century. Full article