Kevin Nguyen’s My Documents is not merely a novel about state-sanctioned cruelty—it’s a terrifying exercise in extrapolation, taking America’s historical sins and projecting them into a future that feels uncomfortably close. The author, known for his sharp cultural commentary at The Verge and previously at GQ, brings his outsider’s perspective on technology and American culture to bear in this debut novel that reads like a warning we should have heeded yesterday.
The Architecture of Oppression
The narrative unfolds through the lives of four Vietnamese American cousins whose blood ties are more complex than they appear. Ursula, an ambitious journalist climbing the ranks in Manhattan; Alvin, a Google engineer whose privilege offers protection; Jen, a naive NYU freshman wrestling with her identity; and Duncan, a high school linebacker carrying his father’s absence—each represents a different face of the American Dream, until the government begins rounding up Vietnamese Americans following a series of coordinated attacks.
Nguyen’s world-building is disturbingly precise. The “American Advanced Protections Initiative” isn’t just a plot device—it’s a bureaucratic machine that operates with the same cold efficiency as any historical parallel we might name. The camps themselves are rendered with such mundane detail that their horror becomes insidious. The author’s background in digital journalism shows in his attention to how technology both enables and fails resistance.
Characters That Breathe and Bleed
- Ursula emerges as perhaps the most complex character, embodying the moral ambiguity of using suffering as material for career advancement. Her relationship with Jen—a source turned sister—becomes the novel’s beating heart, raising questions about exploitation, responsibility, and the price of bearing witness.
- Jen’s transformation from sheltered college student to underground journalist is rendered with particular nuance. Her discovery of “El Paquete,” an ingenious contraband network modeled after Cuba’s real-world file-sharing system, becomes both an act of defiance and a way to preserve humanity in the face of dehumanization.
- Duncan’s arc might be the novel’s most heartbreaking. His devotion to football—and the way authority figures use his athletic prowess to promise liberation—illuminates how systems of power manipulate individual ambition for collective control.
- Alvin’s Google exemption serves as a sharp critique of how corporations become complicit in state violence, a theme that feels particularly urgent in our current moment.
A Language of Resistance
Nguyen’s prose is deceptively casual, often employing dark humor that catches in your throat. He has a particular gift for capturing the banality of oppression—the ways in which great cruelty often manifests through mundane discomforts and bureaucratic indignities.
“She used to have a curfew. She used to have dreamless sleep. She used to be disconnected from the world. She used to be bored. She used to have nothing. Well, that wasn’t totally true. She used to have a brother.”
This repetitive structure, with its gut-punch ending, exemplifies how Nguyen uses form to mirror content, building dread through accumulation.
The Underground Press as Literary Device
The novel’s most innovative element may be its use of “Korematsu,” the underground newspaper Jen helps create. These passages serve multiple purposes: they document camp life, provide meta-commentary on journalism’s role in resistance, and showcase Nguyen’s versatility as a writer. The newspaper becomes a character itself, evolving from act of defiance to dangerous liability.
Historical Echoes and Contemporary Warnings
While drawing heavily from Japanese incarceration during World War II, My Documents by Kevin Nguyen avoids simple historical allegory. Instead, it weaves contemporary anxieties about surveillance, social media, and the weaponization of fear into a tapestry that feels both familiar and unprecedented.
The title itself—My Documents—works on multiple levels. It refers to the personal histories the characters carry, the official papers that define their legal existence, and the documents of resistance they create. This multiplicity enriches every reading.
Flaws Worth Noting
The novel occasionally falters under the weight of its own ambition. Some secondary characters, particularly among the camp population, remain sketches rather than fully realized presences. The romance between Jen and Brandon, while serving the plot, sometimes feels obligatory rather than organic.
The ending, while emotionally satisfying, relies perhaps too heavily on coincidence. However, given the novel’s exploration of how chaos can arise from oppressive systems, this may be more feature than bug.
A Necessary Addition to American Literature
My Documents by Kevin Nguyen joins a vital conversation that includes works like Kazuo Ishiguro’s Never Let Me Go and Margaret Atwood’s The Handmaid’s Tale—speculative fiction that uses alternate realities to interrogate our own. Yet Nguyen’s Vietnamese American perspective offers something unique: a view of American power from those who have experienced its brutality firsthand, whether in Vietnam or in the refugee experience.
The novel’s examination of family—particularly the revelation about shared fathers and complicated ancestry—adds personal stakes to its political allegory. We care about these characters not just as symbols of oppression, but as people trying to navigate love, ambition, and survival in impossible circumstances.
For Contemporary Readers
In an era where immigrant detention, surveillance overreach, and the manipulation of national security concerns remain urgent issues, My Documents by Kevin Nguyen feels less like speculative fiction and more like required reading. Nguyen doesn’t just ask us to imagine how quickly democracy can fracture—he shows us the hairline cracks already present in our foundations.
This novel will particularly resonate with readers who appreciated Viet Thanh Nguyen’s The Sympathizer or Ocean Vuong’s On Earth We’re Briefly Gorgeous, though Nguyen’s work carves out its own distinct territory in the landscape of Vietnamese American literature.
Final Verdict
My Documents by Kevin Nguyen succeeds as both a gripping narrative and a profound meditation on power, family, and resistance. Kevin Nguyen has crafted a debut that feels urgent without being didactic, human without sacrificing its sharp political edge. While not without its rough patches, the novel’s ambition and execution mark Nguyen as a voice we need to hear—and one we’ll likely hear from again.
In a genre often criticized for privileging concept over character, My Documents proves that the most powerful speculative fiction uses the impossible to illuminate uncomfortable truths about our present. It leaves readers with a question that lingers long after the final page: How close are we to the world Nguyen has imagined, and what are we willing to do to prevent it?
