Last Night I Dreamed of Peace: The Diary of Dang Thuy Tram

Overview

“Remarkable. . . . A gift from a heroine who was killed at twenty-seven but whose voice has survived to remind us of the humanity and decency that endure amid—and despite—the horror and chaos of war.”
—Francine Prose, O, The Oprah Magazine

Brutally honest and rich in detail, this posthumously published diary of a twenty-seven-year-old Vietcong woman doctor, saved from destruction by an American soldier, gives us fresh insight into the lives of those fighting on the other side of...

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Last Night I Dreamed of Peace: The Diary of Dang Thuy Tram

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Overview

“Remarkable. . . . A gift from a heroine who was killed at twenty-seven but whose voice has survived to remind us of the humanity and decency that endure amid—and despite—the horror and chaos of war.”
—Francine Prose, O, The Oprah Magazine

Brutally honest and rich in detail, this posthumously published diary of a twenty-seven-year-old Vietcong woman doctor, saved from destruction by an American soldier, gives us fresh insight into the lives of those fighting on the other side of the Vietnam War. It is a story of the struggle for one’s ideals amid the despair and grief of war, but most of all, it is a story of hope in the most dire circumstances.

“As much a drama of feelings as a drama of war.”
—Seth Mydans, New York Times

“A book to be read by and included in any course on the literature of the war. . . . A major contribution.”
Chicago Tribune

“An illuminating picture of what life was like among the enemy guerrillas, especially in the medical community.”
—The VVA Veteran, official publication of Vietnam Veterans of America

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Editorial Reviews

From the Publisher
“Now available for the first time in English – faithfully translated by Pulitzer Prize-winning Vietnamese American journalist Pham – [LAST NIGHT I DREAMED OF PEACE] is witness to the unjust horrors and countless tragedies of war, a reminder made more pertinent every day.”
The Bloomsbury Review

Last Night I Dreamed of Peace is a book to be read by all and included in any course on the literature of war.”
Chicago Tribune

“Remarkable. . . . A gift from a heroine who was killed at twenty-seven but whose voice has survived to remind us of the humanity and decency that endure amid—and despite—the horror and chaos of war.”
—Francine Prose, O, The Oprah Magazine

“As much a drama of feelings as a drama of war.”
—Seth Mydans, New York Times

“An illuminating picture of what life was like among the enemy guerrillas, especially in the medical community.”
—The VVA Veteran, official publication of Vietnam Veterans of America

"Idealistic young North Vietnamese doctor describes her labors in makeshift clinics and hidden hospitals during the escalation of the Vietnam War.
Tram did not survive the war. On June 22, 1970, an American soldier shot her in the head while she was walking down a jungle pathway dressed in the conventional black pajamas of her compatriots. Judging by her diary, rescued from the flames by another American soldier and first published in Vietnam in 2005, she died with a firm commitment to the Communist Party, the reunion of Vietnam, her profession and her patients, many of whom she saved in surgeries conducted under the most primitive and dangerous conditions imaginable. In one of her first entries, on April 12, 1968, she characterizes herself as having 'the heart of a lonely girl filled with unanswered hopes and dreams.' This longing and yearning—especially for the lover she rarely sees, a man she names only as 'M' — fills these pages and gives them a poignancy that is at times almost unbearable. Early on, Tram records her concerns about being accepted into the Party. She eventually—and gleefully—is, but one of her last entries reveals the results of an evaluation by her political mentors, who say she must battle her 'bourgeois' tendencies. It’s a laughable adjective to apply to a young woman dedicating her life to the communists’ political and military cause. Tram blasts the despised Americans over and over, calling them 'imperialist,' 'invaders,' 'bloodthirsty.' She notes with outrage the devastation wrought by bombs, artillery and defoliation. Describing her efforts to treat a young man burned by a phosphorous bomb, she writes, 'He looks as if he has been roasted in an oven.'
Urgent, simple prose that pierces the heart."
Kirkus Reviews

From the Hardcover edition.

Publishers Weekly

In 1970, while sifting through war documents in Vietnam, Fred Whitehurst, an American lawyer serving with a military intelligence dispatch, found a diary no bigger than a pack of cigarettes, its pages handsewn together. Written between 1968 and '70 by Tram, a young, passionate doctor who served on the front lines, it chronicled the strife she witnessed until the day she was shot by American soldiers earlier that year at age 27. Whitehurst, who was greatly moved by the diary and smuggled it out of the country, returned it to Thuy's family in 2005; soon after, it was published as a book in Vietnam, selling nearly half a million copies within a year and a half. The diary is valuable for the perspective it offers on war-Thuy is not obsessed with military maneuvers but rather the damage, both physical and emotional, that the war is inflicting on her country. Thuy also speaks poignantly about her patients and the compassion she feels for them. Unfortunately, the writing, composed largely of breathless questions and exclamations, is monotonous at times, somewhat diminishing the book's power. (Sept.)

Copyright 2007 Reed Business Information
Library Journal

While serving with a military intelligence detachment in Vietnam, lawyer Fred Whitehurst was charged with combing through captured North Vietnamese documents and burning those without military value. As he tossed documents into the fire, an interpreter stopped him and said, "Don't burn this one, Fred. It has fire in it already." It was the diary of a young woman named Dang Thuy Tram, begun in April 1968 when Tram was 25 years old and serving as a chief physician at a Viet Cong field hospital in central Vietnam and abruptly ended two years later when she was shot and killed by American soldiers. Whitehurst brought the diary home, eventually locating Tram's family and returning it to them in 2005; the book was soon published in Vietnam and sold nearly a half million copies. Although the writing is at times scattered and filled with random questions and thoughts, as one might expect in a personal diary, Tram offers a poignant perspective on the human suffering experienced by America's opponent and provides insight into Tram's personal and political struggles. Recommended for public libraries and academic libraries with Vietnam war collections. [See Prepub Alert, LJ5/15/07.]
—Patti C. McCall

School Library Journal

Adult/High School -Tram's extraordinary diary, which remained concealed in an American soldier's file cabinet for more than 30 years, brings to light the history, politics, trauma, and tragedy of the Vietnam War. It begins when Tram was 25 and covers two years, ending two days before she was shot by American troops. A doctor from a loving, urbane, and socialistic family in Hanoi, she decided to contribute her services for the war effort. Tram traveled deep into the jungle of Quang Ngai Province, where she worked at a series of inadequate clinics. Naive and idealistic, she originally enlisted out of love for her country and to follow (unsolicited) in the trail of her high school sweetheart, who became a soldier. Her clear, pure voice speaks of love, friendship, family, poetry, and music, as well as of longing for peace and independence for both North and South Vietnam. She was passionate about life while confronting bombs, immense and unalterable suffering, and the daily possibility of her own demise, and her words and presence linger long after the last page is finished. Photos showing a beautiful young woman and her family members, school, and home; footnotes describing historical, geographic, and cultural contexts; a detailed introduction; and an interactive Web site that contains study guides all add to the book's effectiveness. The volume will generate much discussion. It is an excellent source for nonfiction booktalks, book groups, World History and English classes, and public libraries everywhere.-Jodi Mitchell, Berkeley Public Library, CA

Copyright 2006 Reed Business Information.
Kirkus Reviews
Idealistic young North Vietnamese doctor describes her labors in makeshift clinics and hidden hospitals during the escalation of the Vietnam War. Tram did not survive the war. On June 22, 1970, an American soldier shot her in the head while she was walking down a jungle pathway dressed in the conventional black pajamas of her compatriots. Judging by her diary, rescued from the flames by another American soldier and first published in Vietnam in 2005, she died with a firm commitment to the Communist Party, the reunion of Vietnam, her profession and her patients, many of whom she saved in surgeries conducted under the most primitive and dangerous conditions imaginable. In one of her first entries, on April 12, 1968, she characterizes herself as having "the heart of a lonely girl filled with unanswered hopes and dreams." This longing and yearning-especially for the lover she rarely sees, a man she names only as "M"-fills these pages and gives them a poignancy that is at times almost unbearable. Early on, Tram records her concerns about being accepted into the Party. She eventually-and gleefully-is, but one of her last entries reveals the results of an evaluation by her political mentors, who say she must battle her "bourgeois" tendencies. It's a laughable adjective to apply to a young woman dedicating her life to the communists' political and military cause. Tram blasts the despised Americans over and over, calling them "imperialist," "invaders," "bloodthirsty." She notes with outrage the devastation wrought by bombs, artillery and defoliation. Describing her efforts to treat a young man burned by a phosphorous bomb, she writes, "He looks as if he has been roasted in an oven."Urgent, simpleprose that pierces the heart.
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Product Details

  • ISBN-13: 9780307347381
  • Publisher: Crown Publishing Group
  • Publication date: 10/7/2008
  • Edition description: Reprint
  • Pages: 256
  • Sales rank: 189,580
  • Product dimensions: 7.98 (w) x 5.08 (h) x 0.56 (d)

Meet the Author

DANG THUY TRAM was a Vietnamese doctor who volunteered at the age of twenty-four to work in a Vietcong battlefield hospital in the Quan Ngai province. In the two years she worked in the hospital before her death in 1970, she recorded all she saw and felt in the pages of her diary.

FRANCES FITZGERALD covered the Vietnam War for The New Yorker. Her resulting book, Fire in the Lake, received the Pulitzer Prize.

ANDREW X. PHAM is the author of the award-winning memoir Catfish and Mandala and The Eaves of Heaven.

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Read an Excerpt

book I

1968-1969

The inflamed days

Joy, sadness condensing in my heart

A person's most valuable possession is life. We only live once; we must live so as not to sorely regret the months and years lived wastefully, not to be ashamed of the months and years lived wastefully, so that when we die we can say, "All my life and all my strength have been dedicated to the most noble goal in life, the struggle to liberate the human race."

n. a. ostrovsky1

To live is to face the storms and not to cower before them.

8 April 1968

Operated on one case of appendicitis with inadequate anesthesia. I had only a few meager vials of Novocain to give the soldier, but he never groaned once during the entire procedure. He even smiled to encourage me. Seeing that forced smile on lips withered by exhaustion, I empathized with him immensely.

Even though his appendix had not ruptured, I was very sorry to find an infection in his abdomen. After a fruitless hour of searching for the cause, I could only treat him with antibiotics, insert a catheter, and close the wound. A whirl of emotions unsettled me: a physician's concerns and a comrade's compassion and admiration for this soldier.

Brushing the stray hair back from his forehead, I wanted to say, "If I cannot even heal people like you, this sorrow will not fade from my medical career."

10 April 1968

It is finished. You have all gone this afternoon, leaving us in an empty jungle with only our intense yearning, this loss of you.2 You have gone, but this place holds your shadows: the pathways, the pretty benches, the echoes of your impassioned poems.

"Everybody put on your pack. Let's go."

At Brother Tuan's3 order, you shouldered your crude rucksacks made from salvaged American bags. All was ready, but each of you still lingered, waiting your turn to shake my hand for the last time. Suddenly a strange longing for the North surged through me like a stormy river and . . . I cried so hard I could not face all your farewells.

No, be on your way brothers! I'll see you again one day in our beloved North.

For a night and a day, I worried about Sang's4 operation. I was so happy to see him sit up this afternoon. His face bore deep lines of pain and fatigue, but a smile slowly bloomed on his fragile lips when he saw me. His hands cupped over mine, a touch filled with warmth and trust.

Oh, you young, brave wounded soldier, my love for you is as vast as it is deep: it's a physician's compassion for her patient; it's a sister's love for her sick brother (we're the same age, you and I); and in admiration, it is a love special beyond others.

Did you see it in my anxious glance? Did you feel the tenderness in my hand on your wound, on your pale, thin arms? I wish you a quick recovery, San, so you can return to your comrades, return to your lonely old mother, who waits for you every hour, every minute.

12 April 1968

Afternoon in the forest, the rain has left the leaves wet and fragile, pale and lucid in the sunbeams, these emerald hands of a maiden imprisoned within a forbidden fortress. The air has gone somberly sad. In the patient ward, silence broods. Murmurs of Huong's5 conversation drift from the staff's room.

An immense longing envelops me.

Whom do I miss?

Dad, Mom, people who left . . . and a patient waiting for me to come to him.

Within this longing roosts a secret and profound sorrow, silent as this air, heavy as this earth. I feel the wound in my heart still bleeds, an excruciating pain that neither work nor memories can numb.

Oh, let's forget it, Thuy!6

Forget it for a new hope, something greener, healthier. Take your pride to forget despair. That person does not deserve your pure and faithful love.

Oh, my dearest ones in this land of Duc Pho, can anyone see my heart? The heart of a lonely girl filled with unanswered hopes and dreams.

13 April 1968

So many letters come from all over. Thank you all for showering me with such warm affection. I read your letters with both joy and sadness.

Why can everyone else love me so, but the man who has my faithful heart cannot?

Isn't that sad, M.?7

I want to fill the emptiness in my soul with the affection within these kind letters, but it is impossible. My heart beats stubbornly with the tempo of a twenty-year-old, full of love and affection. Oh, be calm my heart, seek the peaceful rhythm of the sea on a windless afternoon.

14 April 1968

A wounded soldier under my care wrote me a poem. He was sincere in his admiration for my dedication. The poem was filled with compassion for my broken heart, it spoke of the bitter grief of a girl betrayed by her lover.

Reading his words . . . I am dismayed. I can't help but return the poem with a note beneath it: "Thanks for your loving sympathy, but it seems you don't understand Tram yet. I promise someday I will let you know this woman of SOCIALISM."

Oh! This is the saddest part of my relationship with M. Everyone blames M. and sympathizes with me. But it hurts to know they pity me! I don't care whether it is Thiet, Hao, Nghinh,8 or anyone else who wants to give me his sympathy, I don't want it.

I can overcome my sorrows alone. I have the will to bury nine years of hope-my soul is still fertile, still strong enough for a beautiful season of flowers yet.

Oh, friends, please don't water this soil with tears of pity. The blooms to come should be nurtured with only freshness and pureness.

M. has made my love for him fade with each passing day. A distance grows between us.

That person doesn't deserve me, does he?

15 April 1968

At noon, the jungle sleeps beneath a thick blanket of silence. I hear San is sick, so I come to his ward. All patients in the room are sleeping, including San. Not wanting to wake him, I tiptoe out, but San's moan pulls me back. He smiles uneasily. . . . He is not sick; perhaps he just wants to see me. I've been busy all day. We haven't talked about his wound.

San asks me, "This was the day you came to Duc Pho, wasn't it?"

A full year exactly, San.

I am surprised by his question. I want to sit down and tell San the whole story of the past year, a year of hardships in San's homeland, worthy of pride, but I find it hard to begin. My work means nothing compared to San's or to that of the people of Duc Pho who have fought courageously for twenty years. And it's even sillier to talk with San about how much I miss my family.

San's mother is old. San's father died when she was only twenty-two years old. A young widow, she did not remarry, sacrificing her youth to raise San until he joined the army at nineteen. Five years of flirting with death, and he is still alive.

A month ago, the enemy attacked his unit. San escaped their claws. Fifteen of his comrades sacrificed their lives. But for a twist of fate, he could easily have fallen like the rest at the foot of Portal Mountain9; and then, even if San's mother shed all her tears, her son would never come back.

Today they bring San to me. I can never let Death rob this precious son from his mother. She has pinned all her hopes on her precious only son. Never! I must do my best for San as well as for other patients!10 Isn't that a physician's proud duty?

Van sent me a letter and a gift. How I love Van! Her life is full of sorrows-sorrows that a kind person like Van should never have to bear. She lives with altruism and hopes, and carries the firm convictions of a true revolutionist. There must be compensations for that. Why does life always bring her misfortunes?

I must assume this responsibility; I must bring her hope and joy.

17 April 1968

I said good-bye to Ky and Phuong.11 After a whole year living together, I finally understood how much they love me today.

Late at night after the farewell party, Ky came to my room. Neither of us knew what to say. He sat with the notebook open, pen in hand, and scribbled meaningless lines.

There was little time. There were many important things you needed to say and write, but why did you keep your silence, my brother? Were you imparting your feelings to me through your red, sleepless eyes, or through your dark, sad smile, the lines on your thin, pale face? He took me in his wiry arms, a brotherly embrace that moved me so much.

When he left, I accompanied him to the stream. Melancholic, I walked back slowly and found the memo he had left for Lien.12 A few short lines: "You and Tram must love each other sincerely. Tram came here alone, far away from her family, she has only friends. . . ."

Oh, brother Ky, thank you. I will never forget your love.

And the last night, lying in sister Phuong's comforting arms, I listened to her advice and kept quiet, but I could not stop the hot tears rolling down my face and spilling onto hers.

Oh, sister, I'm still not a Party member today.

22 April 1968

Oh, Huong! Huong died? The news stuns me like a nightmare. One comrade falls down today, another tomorrow. Will these pains ever end? Heaps of flesh and bones keep piling up into a mountain of hatred rising ever taller in our hearts. When? When and when comrades? When can we chase the entire bloodthirsty mob from our motherland?

It's over, our nights of heart-to-heart will never happen again. I can still hear Huong's soothing voice encouraging me, praising me for the faithfulness of my love. It's over, the baths in the stream, the times we shared sweet desserts. Suddenly I remember the day we met by the stream at Nghia Hanh13: Huong embraced me, kissed my hair, kissed my cheek while tears of joy came to our eyes.

I feel a stinging stab in my belly when I see Uncle Cong,14 still calm and unaware of the tragic news that will strike him like a lightning bolt. Losing a daughter like Huong is more painful then losing an arm. Oh, Uncle! Please smother your pain when you hear the news.

Oh, poor Quang,15 so many years you have waited faithfully for Huong to be yours. You will never have your dream now. Your Huong lies forever within the bosom of your homeland.

23 April 1968

A day of utter exhaustion: three seriously injured soldiers are brought in at the same time. All day I stand at the operating table, the tension in my head building toward the point of bursting. The men's wounds. Uncle Cong's heartrending cries when he hears his daughter Huong has died.

Duong is captured while on duty.16 Can that joyful, eager boy endure the enemy's tortures? I feel so very sorry for him. My letter to Duong will never reach him; the messenger died and Duong is captured.

I hear a voice from far, far away singing a sad song: Mother's heart is as vast as the ocean, her sweet lullabies as tender as a serene stream. Was it Duong's voice the other night? Was it Duong crying out from his dark prison when he thought of his old mother, when he remembered her lifelong struggle to raise him, her sacrifices and joys invested in her beloved child?

Many mothers will cry until their well of tears runs dry.

Oh, if I fall, my mom will be just like Duong's. She will suffer forever because her child has fallen in a fiery battlefield. Oh, Mom! What can I say when I love you a hundred, a thousand, a million times over and still I had to leave your side.

The enemy is still here; many mothers will still lose their children, and many husbands will lose their wives. The immensity, the enormity of our sufferings!

25 April 1968

There is more sad news: a group of Duc Pho cadres has been ambushed on its way back from a seminar in the province seat. I hear a few have sacrificed their lives to save their comrades. Nghia17 is in the group. I wonder if anything has happened to my young brother. He is active, courageous, and capable of leading the group.

Oh, brother! What will I do if something happened to you? Will I cry through many quiet nights, will my tears run dry, or will a bright hostile flame flare within my heart against our enemy?

I have been waiting for your return, but now . . .

26 April 1968

My heart is heavy as I read brother Tam's letter sent from H818-not a letter from M. The past is gone, why did you remind me of it, Tam? You feel bad for me, but you unintentionally hurt me. You tell me that M. is sick; you say you understand me, empathize with me, but in fact you do not know me at all. Don't you understand that an educated woman has pride? If you did . . . it would have been better if you had talked with me about important things, my work, my awareness-and no more.

30 April 1968

Why are you still sad, Thuy? The critically wounded soldiers survive. Didn’t the wan smiles on their pale faces bring you happiness? Didn’t the recent praises for the clinic give you joy, Thuy? And yet you are still sad.

This sorrow has seeped far into my heart like the relentless monsoon rain willing itself deep into the earth. I have searched for carefree joy, but I have failed, my mind already furrowed with somber thoughts— there is no way to erase them. Perhaps I can banish them by dedicating myself entirely to curing the wounded and improving the clinic.

Oh, why was I born a dreamy girl, demanding so much of life?

By any measure, my life is a dream: I have a whole and good family.19 I still have opportunities to advance my career, and I have tasks commensurate with my capabilities. People treat me with kindness. . . .

I demand too much of life, don’t I?

Answer that, Thuy, Miss Stubborn, difficult to please.

1 May 1968

Once more, we celebrate Labor Day20 in the jungle—it is a long, silent day, submerged in longings. I miss Hanoi, Dad, Mom, and my siblings terribly.21 I doze off at noon and find myself coming back to see Mom and my sisters in the Supplementary School for Public Health Officers,22 down that narrow road, to that gate at Mr. Nghiep’s23 house; I slip through the broken lattices of the gate as easily, as happily as I did in those younger carefree days.

From the Hardcover edition.

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Introduction

Last Night I Dreamed of Peace is the diary of Dr. Dang Thuy Tram, a twenty-seven-year-old Viet Cong doctor serving in a field hospital during the Vietnam War. She penned these entries under extreme duress, writing in battle trenches, bomb shelters, triages, and wards filled with dying patients. Through her words, the destruction, hunger, and trauma that she lived with comes to vivid life. But her diary is more than a record of the war–it is the record of a young woman in extraordinary circumstances who sacrificed her life for her ideals. Saved from the fire of war by an American soldier, her diary provides us with a rare glimpse at an aspect of an enemy we rarely see or consider–her humanity. This guide is a starting point for your discussion of Thuy Tram’s remarkable diary.

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Foreword

1. Based on her own account of her life, what kind of person do you think Dang Thuy Tram was? How would you describe her character?

2. How much do you know about the Vietnam War? What was the mood of the country during the U.S. involvement? Discuss your personal experiences or memories of life during the war. How do you think this diary would have been received in America at the war’s end? How might this diary be controversial even now, more than thirty years after the war’s end?

3. Like Dang Thuy Tram’s diary, Anne Frank: The Diary of a Young Girl was published after the wartime death of it’s author. Now a classic, Anne Frank’s diary is a moving testament to a young girl’s hopeful spirit and faith in humanity as well as a glimpse of a life very different from our own. How do you think Last Night I Dreamed of Peace compares? Do you think this diary has the same kind of cultural relevance?

4. What special challenges does a translator face when working on a personal diary?

5. Discuss the universal losses of war. In any war, what do both armies have in common?

6. Thuy often speaks of a man she calls M. in her diary. She wills herself to forget him and devote herself more fully to the Communist party. Is she successful? How does Thuy respond to sympathy over her unrequited love for him?

7. Reread the entry from April 30, 1968, in which Thuy counts her blessings. What do her words reveal about her? Which do you think Thuy wants more, love for herself or freedom for Vietnam?

8. Why is gaining membership in the Communist party so important to Thuy? Why does she think she has been unable to getin? How does she feel when she is finally admitted?

9. Is Thuy a pessimist or an optimist? A romantic or a realist? Do you think she would agree with your accessment?

10. Discuss Thuy’s life at the clinic. What are the joys? The sorrows? The risks? What makes her so committed to her patients? Do you think she is well suited to the dangers she faces there? Why or why not?

11. How is Thuy a typical young woman? What makes her seem older than her years? Discuss the effects of war on innocence.

12. Thuy often speaks of her important friendships with both men and women, even calling those closest to her Little Brother or Big Sister. How might their living conditions and the long struggle contribute to the forming of such intense friendships?

13. Have you ever kept a diary? If so, why and when? Did you write it as if no one would ever see it, but you or were you conscious, on some level, of a future reader. Does anything in Thuy’s tone suggest her awareness of a reader other than herself? What did you think of her writing style in general? Were there any passages that seemed particularly evocative to you?

14. Discuss the entry from June 20, 1970, the diary’s last, in light of Thuy’s death two days later.

15. What are the lessons to be learned from Thuy’s diary? About humanity? About war? About love and courage?

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Reading Group Guide

1. Based on her own account of her life, what kind of person do you think Dang Thuy Tram was? How would you describe her character?

2. How much do you know about the Vietnam War? What was the mood of the country during the U.S. involvement? Discuss your personal experiences or memories of life during the war. How do you think this diary would have been received in America at the war’s end? How might this diary be controversial even now, more than thirty years after the war’s end?

3. Like Dang Thuy Tram’s diary, Anne Frank: The Diary of a Young Girl was published after the wartime death of it’s author. Now a classic, Anne Frank’s diary is a moving testament to a young girl’s hopeful spirit and faith in humanity as well as a glimpse of a life very different from our own. How do you think Last Night I Dreamed of Peace compares? Do you think this diary has the same kind of cultural relevance?

4. What special challenges does a translator face when working on a personal diary?

5. Discuss the universal losses of war. In any war, what do both armies have in common?

6. Thuy often speaks of a man she calls M. in her diary. She wills herself to forget him and devote herself more fully to the Communist party. Is she successful? How does Thuy respond to sympathy over her unrequited love for him?

7. Reread the entry from April 30, 1968, in which Thuy counts her blessings. What do her words reveal about her? Which do you think Thuy wants more, love for herself or freedom for Vietnam?

8. Why is gaining membership in the Communist party so important to Thuy? Why does she think she has been unable to get in? How does she feel when she is finally admitted?

9. Is Thuy a pessimist or an optimist? A romantic or a realist? Do you think she would agree with your accessment?

10. Discuss Thuy’s life at the clinic. What are the joys? The sorrows? The risks? What makes her so committed to her patients? Do you think she is well suited to the dangers she faces there? Why or why not?

11. How is Thuy a typical young woman? What makes her seem older than her years? Discuss the effects of war on innocence.

12. Thuy often speaks of her important friendships with both men and women, even calling those closest to her Little Brother or Big Sister. How might their living conditions and the long struggle contribute to the forming of such intense friendships?

13. Have you ever kept a diary? If so, why and when? Did you write it as if no one would ever see it, but you or were you conscious, on some level, of a future reader. Does anything in Thuy’s tone suggest her awareness of a reader other than herself? What did you think of her writing style in general? Were there any passages that seemed particularly evocative to you?

14. Discuss the entry from June 20, 1970, the diary’s last, in light of Thuy’s death two days later.

15. What are the lessons to be learned from Thuy’s diary? About humanity? About war? About love and courage?

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Sort by: Showing all of 4 Customer Reviews
  • Anonymous

    Posted January 30, 2008

    A wonderfully chilling Diary

    I served in the 11th Light infantry Brigade in 1968 as a 4.2 FO for C 4/3. This Diary is a compelling account of a committed revolutionary and brilliantly trained doctor who lived an unbelievable if short life. I am saddened by the brutal conduct of American forces in this AO. This wonderful Diary by a 20 year old female is a work of love and hope that should be shared by future generations.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted November 10, 2007

    A reviewer

    I had read about the Dairy of Dr. Tram, a young Vietnamese doctor killed during the war. I had to wait over two years before the book was for sale. When we read or listen to the news, the people we are fighting are faceless, and devoid of humanity. They are our enemy. Reading this young, idealistic girl's thoughts and feelings, memories, hopes, and fears, I discovered a love for her, for life, for humankind, as well as a desire to return to the pure unadulterated dreams of my youth. Her bravery and heroism to leave a life of ease and comfort, a loving family and friends to follow the dreams of her devotion to her country, for a cause she truly believed in, at the cost of comfort to endure unbelievable hardships, heart ache, and personal loss brings the reader to want to comfort her, and abhor the destruction of war. This book should sit next to The Diary of Anne Frank, as required reading for the young. As much as we honor our fallen soldiers, and citizens who sacrificed their lives, this young doctor exemplifies the same love, patriotism, and dedication to her country and people.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted December 5, 2008

    No text was provided for this review.

  • Anonymous

    Posted April 15, 2010

    No text was provided for this review.

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