Audiobook Sample
Listen to the sample to experience the story.
Please wait while we verify your browser...
- Title: On Earth We’re Briefly Gorgeous: A Novel
- Author: Ocean Vuong
- Narrator: Ocean Vuong
- Length: 07:19:12
- Version: Abridged
- Release Date: 04/06/2019
- Publisher: Penguin Audio
- Genre: Fiction & Literature, Literary Fiction, Asian American Literature, LGBTQ+
- ISBN13: 9.78E+12
There’s something profoundly intimate about hearing an author narrate their own work, especially when that work is as raw and vulnerable as Vuong’s debut novel. As someone who’s spent years collecting stories from around the world, I can tell you that the best ones always carry the weight of lived experience in their telling. Vuong’s narration does exactly that – his voice becomes the perfect vessel for Little Dog’s letter to his mother, carrying all the quiet tremors of love, pain, and longing that make this story so devastatingly beautiful.
Listening to this audiobook reminded me of those evenings in Oaxaca when the grandmother would tell stories – the way Vuong uses silence between sentences feels just as deliberate and meaningful. His pacing allows each carefully crafted phrase to land with its full emotional weight. When he describes the ‘peach light’ of Hartford mornings or the taste of mangoes sticky with fish sauce, you can almost feel the humidity clinging to your skin, taste the sweet-saltiness on your tongue.
The novel’s exploration of immigrant identity, queerness, and intergenerational trauma resonated deeply with my own experiences documenting diaspora communities. Vuong’s background as a poet shines through in every sentence – the language is lush yet precise, each metaphor landing like a carefully placed stepping stone across the river of this narrative. The audiobook format particularly enhances the poetic quality, as hearing the rhythm of Vuong’s words adds another layer of meaning.
What makes this performance extraordinary is how Vuong’s voice carries both the fragility and resilience of his characters. There’s a moment when Little Dog describes his mother’s hands – ‘those hands that could pick a whole chicken clean in minutes’ – where Vuong’s voice cracks just slightly, and you realize you’re not just hearing a narration, but witnessing a soul baring itself. It’s these raw, unpolished moments that make the audiobook feel like a whispered confession rather than a performance.
The story unfolds like a series of postcards from different emotional landscapes – some nostalgic, some brutal, all beautiful in their honesty. As a travel writer, I particularly appreciated how Vuong renders place with such sensory specificity. Whether describing the tobacco fields of Connecticut or the streets of Saigon, each location becomes a character in its own right, carrying memories and meaning.
While the content is often heavy – exploring addiction, violence, and the wounds of war – Vuong’s delivery maintains a tenderness that makes the difficult moments bearable. His voice becomes a lifeline, guiding listeners through the darkness with compassion. The audio quality is excellent throughout, with no distracting production issues that might pull you out of the story.
If I had one critique, it’s that some listeners might find the nonlinear structure challenging in audio format, especially during the more experimental passages. There were moments when I wished I could flip back pages to revisit a particularly stunning passage – a reminder that this is a book worth experiencing in multiple formats.
Compared to other literary audiobooks I’ve loved – like Tommy Orange’s ‘There There’ or Max Porter’s ‘Grief Is the Thing With Feathers’ – Vuong’s work stands out for its lyrical intimacy. While those books benefit from professional narrators, there’s an undeniable power in hearing the author’s own voice, especially when the story is this personal.
This audiobook would particularly resonate with listeners who appreciate poetic language, complex family dynamics, and stories that blur the line between memoir and fiction. It’s perfect for long journeys or quiet evenings when you want to be fully immersed in someone else’s world. Just be prepared – you might need to pause occasionally to catch your breath or wipe your eyes.
As I write this from a roadside café in Hoi An, with motorbikes humming past and the scent of pho in the air, I’m reminded again of how stories can transport us – not just across geographies, but into the deepest chambers of the human heart. ‘On Earth We’re Briefly Gorgeous’ is one of those rare audiobooks that doesn’t just tell a story; it makes you feel less alone in yours. Until our next literary adventure, keep listening deeply. – Marcus
Marcus Rivera