Seeking Spirit by Linda Trinh

Reviewed by Jerry Levy

Reading through Linda Trinh’s memoir, Seeking Spirit, one can’t help but be reminded of Joseph Campbell’s seminal work on comparative mythology, The Hero with a Thousand Faces. In that latter book, Campbell examined ancient hero myths, heroic narratives, and concluded that across global storytelling, all such heroes undergo a similar transformative journey toward self-discovery. A journey of many steps and phases – which includes not only a “mentor” but also a quest for connection with the transcendence or divine – that leads to revelations about sacred universal truths. Truths not only inherent in the universe but also within oneself. It is, in effect, a journey of enlightenment, transformation, and self-discovery.

But this journey is not easy for Trinh as she seems to inhabit a never-never-land, “the space in between” as she calls it. Even more succinctly, she envisions herself as someone who is never quite whole. Much of this attributable to the fact that while her background was distinctly Vietnamese, her formative years were spent in Winnipeg, playing with blue-eyed, blond-haired Barbie dolls and reading the books of Lucy Maud Montgomery.

Seeking Spirit is peppered with statements and questions that talk of searching for all these things, and, similar to the hero in Campbell’s work, is a book that looks for answers and insights into the realm of transcendence, of a higher and more authentic state of being, and ultimately, of trying to reclaim oneself. Here are a few:

“I wanted to continue to unmask the divine at each sacred space I visited…”

“Growing up. I was bits and pieces of raw materials. Was there enough fabric to stitch together a coherent ensemble of myself?”

And perhaps most importantly, “How am I the hero of my life?”

But as Trinh’s story progresses, she finds that seeking faith/divine answers and the hero within does not come easily; for grief and misery infiltrate her life and pile up – she ends up in the hospital and things go dramatically south at work (where her new boss reminds her that the workplace is just that, a place to work and not a family). To gain a measure of peace, she seeks out Quan Am, the goddess of her ancestors. Even wears a Quan Am pendant. But as Trinh reveals: “As the goddess of my ancestors, she became the centre of my search for faith. Yet, my chosen goddess became mysterious. Silent. Hard to get to know.”

So while goddesses (and other mythological figures stayed away), Trinh remained steadfast on her quest. She knew that Buddhism, a religion she grew up with, was not the answer. The rituals she witnessed there did not ring true for her. And even the proud and mighty Trung sisters (reminiscent of Joan of Arc), who rallied their Vietnamese people against Chinese colonial oppression some 2,000 years earlier, while much admired by Trinh and even serving as role models, did not represent the final answer for her. She needed more, “a crack in the window, a doorway not quite shut, a lid slightly ajar. Enough of an opening through which light may pass, air may flow, water may seep, and spirit may come.”

Told in a series of essays, Seeking Spirit begins in Winnipeg, when the author was three years old, her sister Jen, ten. Her father, her Ba, persuaded his wife to move away from Vietnam, from her family, for a better life. But he died only a short time later, and, after a series of moves, the family settled in to a tiny 800-square foot one-storey house where all the houses on the street were packed tightly together and the garages scrawled with gang graffiti. Where police sirens could be heard at all hours. And where the family was exposed to blizzards and freezing weather. It all had the makings of something tragic, a widow, with limited language and employment skills, trying her best to navigate this very unforgiving and foreign land, and raise two daughters on her own. This is Trinh writing at her best – we feel for the family, this brave mother and her two young children, hoping they can somehow manage and come out intact.

Actually, there is much to be admired in the writing of the memoir. It is exemplified and illustrated in the many travel adventures undertaken to Vietnam, China, England, Scotland, France, and Egypt, where we travel with Trinh on camels to the pyramids and climb with her to the top of the Tor in Glastonbury: “The stairs cut into the earth were like segments of serpents slithering from side to side up the steep hill, leading me closer to the heavens.” Wonderful.

Not only is the quality of writing outlined in those trips abroad, but also, it is shown in the relationships Trinh has. With her mother, her husband Ryan, with the medical community, and with co-workers. And certainly with her sister Jen, For example, as they grow up, the relationship between the two is sometimes strained: “Jen and I didn’t say sorry to each other. We didn’t acknowledge hurt feelings, we just moved on. We carried invisible backpacks, heavy with old hurts, words that we could never take back, and moments when we had disappointed each other.”

From a shy child to a business-school student, to a wife, mother, devoted family member, and ultimately to a seeker, Trinh takes us on her journey. We witness her evolution throughout and come to see that she is anything but one-dimensional, rather very complex. While taking business classes, for instance, she immerses herself in electives comprised of creative writing, feminist studies, and religion. Moreover, she is a lover of mythology and various cultures. But throughout, we see how she manages the everyday world, where the Quan Am’s and Vietnamese Emperor’s and Egyptian Pharaoh’s cannot help her. Where magical swords and divine assistance are of no assistance and wield no power. Again, it is here, in the common and mundane world of work and hospitals, that we are exposed not only to Trinh’s struggles but also her strengths.

Quite apart from more metaphysical leanings, and with a fervent love of writing (started in grade school), Trinh not only finds an enthusiastic mentor in the field but also composes a personal mantra related to her writing. And this mentor of hers, with parallels to Joseph Campbell’s archetypal mentor in his Hero’s Journey, encourages her to accept the writing odyssey.

While Trinh’s memoir has many fine and exemplary examples of writing as mentioned, and the narrative flows fluidly and easily, perhaps a paring down of the essay concerning mandalas (including a circular diagram) and, moreover, the mandala of the mind, one inhabited by her father, life partner, and son, might have allowed the reader a more immersive experience. With its current length and complexity, and while it has an authentic vibe for the author, it has a certain niche feel to it, appealing to a smaller audience.

Overall, Seeking Spirit is a poignant and unique memoir, incorporating earthly human connection and more ethereal mythology, heroes, and spirit. Similarly, it includes not only aspects of uncertainty, adversity, grief and loss, but also strength, hope, and resilience. The extraordinary within the ordinary. A very captivating read.

Seeking Spirit is published by Guernica Editions.