Fortunes Wagered

A Small Fortune by Rosie Dastgir earns the “Austen-esque” description its sepia teacup cover seems to court, delivering a rare example of well-done third person omniscient POV. Harris, a Pakistani who’s spent more than half of his life in England, receives the title sum as a divorce settlement from his wealthy English wife and must decide where to bestow it – on his daughter Alia (who has dropped out of med school without telling him), the cousins he left behind in his impoverished home village, his alternately caretaking and scheming cousins in Northern England, or perhaps an investment in one of his friend Omar’s international business deals. Aside from a few moments in the storyline centered around Rashid (the Pakistani cousins’ eldest son, whose English education Harris has supported), A Small Fortune avoids melodrama, painting the flaws and foibles alongside the enthusiams and kindnesses of the entire cast, from Alia’s English boyfriend to Dr. Farrah, a widowed literature professor and potential romantic interest for Harris. In a comedy of manners it can sometime be easy to forget how deeply our manners reflect our values; with stakes both large and small, the dry but affectionate and totally believable A Small Fortune remembers.

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In another novel that concerns itself with both money and national identity, English school Headmaster Percival Chen of Saigon (born Chen Pie Sou in Shantou province, China) clings to the belief that, with the proper bribes, his business can prosper under any political system – be it colonial French, colonial American, or even Vietnamese. Though his more politically savvy lieutenant and his Vietnam-born son challenge this belief, Chen stubbornly holds faith, blinding himself to the changes taking place around him while enjoying all the restaurants, clubs, gambling parlors, and high class escort services Saigon (and Cholon, its neighboring Chinatown) can offer. History will not, however, leave the headmaster untoched, and tensions build – and then break and splatter and settle a bit and rise almost reluctantly again – as we journey with him from 1966 to 1975. Though the novel includes some elements that would suit a Bond or Tarantino film (kidnapping! hookers! brutal imperialists! secret police! casinos! communists!), the close focus on Percival’s daily life (noodle dishes! loan payments! mah jong! bribe packets!) makes this a subtler, psychological story. In other hands (or with a truly omniscient POV instead of a distant but perceptive limited third), Percival might have emerged as the most unlikeable of protagonists, but Vincent Lam’s storytelling leads you (or, at least, me) to truly care for this often frustrating character. Ultimately, The Headmaster’s Wager is a tale of fathers and sons and what’s important in life – from the distant ancestor who found good luck and greener passages on Gold Mountain, to the father who left young Chen Pie Sou behind in order to establish himself in Vietnam’s rice trade, to the legacy Chen hopes to leave his sons as it becomes ever more uncertain where their futures will take them.