Aubade with Burning City

Fiction | Poem | Adult | Published in 2014

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Summary

Background

Poem Analysis

Themes

Symbols & Motifs

Literary Devices

Themes

Endings and Beginnings

In the minds of many Americans, the Fall of Saigon and the end of the Vietnam War is where the conflict ends. It was the end of a nearly 20-year struggle, and the media dubbed it the "postwar period" once the United States withdrew. However, both South and North Vietnam continued to face massive casualties leading up to April 29, 1975, and the North Vietnamese victory was only the beginning of new economic and political challenges.

Apocalyptic imagery in “Aubade with Burning City” conveys this morbid mood. When people walk through the square, their footsteps sound “like stones fallen from the sky” (Line 9). The rule of law and any sense of safety breaks down as military trucks move through the streets, children scream, and an unseen figure throws “A bicycle […] / through a store window” (Lines 19-20). Colors convey the sense of doom simply and effectively: “Red sky” (Line 34); “The city so white it is ready for ink” (Line 37). A shell flashing in the hotel room momentarily illuminates the present, and when the light leaves, the darkness is hauntingly final: “Don’t worry, he says, as the first bomb brightens / their faces, my brothers have won the war / and tomorrow… / The lights go out” (Lines 45-48).

As destruction brings Saigon to an end, the possibility of the future is also held aloft. The white city "ready for ink" (Line 37) could refer to bloodshed, but it could also speak to the uncertainty that tomorrow brings. The soldier in the hotel room might be woefully misinformed about his brothers winning the war, or he might be trying to cheer his lover, or he might be genuinely optimistic. If what is portrayed is a budding relationship, then it is just the sort of thing that might make someone foolishly hopeful about the future. Even the repetition of the “White Christmas” lyric, “I’m dreaming, I’m dreaming…” (Line 49) retreats from the horror of the moment into imaginative possibility.

The Domestic and Public Spheres

The two scenes at the center of “Aubade with Burning City” sit at the poles of private and public life. The lovers in the hotel room are indoors, in a bedroom, drinking and touching one another. Outside, a conflict between nations wreaks havoc. The square, a public space, becomes chaotic with civilians, soldiers, and weapons. Fighting, screaming, bleeding, and fleeing are all demonstrative actions. The people inside seem to be doing their best to ignore the terror outside. Their drink of choice, champagne, connotes luxury and ease, or perhaps a toast to a new beginning.

These two spheres demonstrate the range of human experience Vuong intends to explore throughout his collection. Whether the atmosphere is domestic or private, he looks for specific moments where he can zoom in on an individual until they show the reader something about them. There are presumably crowds of people in the square, but the speaker most often focuses on one living being at a time: the police chief; the dog; the nun. The only thing the woman in the hotel room says is “something neither of them can hear” (Line 42). Still, the poem insists on her presence by referencing her dress and her actions. The poem treats everyone’s experiences of this crisis with care, from the public to the private. This choice implies that these experiences are equally important and vital to understanding this moment.

Acts of Care

There are two acts of tenderness featured within this poem about the ruination of a city. In the first instance, the soldier takes a servile approach: filling the cup for his lover, elevating it to her lips for her so she doesn’t have to lift a finger. All she needs to do to drink the champagne is open her mouth when he tells her. At the very end of the poem, a nun on fire “runs silently” (Line 52). The verb choice suggests urgency, but the adverb suggests resignation or perhaps an inability to struggle any longer. When the “he” in Line 53 tells the nun to "[o]pen" (Line 53), she does exactly as she’s told, just like the lover. This time it is an act of mercy, welcoming her into the embrace of a peaceful and loving afterlife.

Although the descriptive language presents the interaction between the lovers as mutual and kind, the context invites the reader to consider what dangers might be hiding underneath the surface. An American soldier and a Vietnamese woman might have an imbalanced power dynamic, given that one of them has come to this country to kill Vietnamese people. Given this possibility, it’s up for debate how much agency the woman has in this scene. Likewise, the nun is already on fire, moving toward her god both literally and figuratively. Her choices are limited, so when her god offers her release, she will take it.