Ask any enthusiast of Asian literature to name a favorite author, and chances are you’ll hear a Japanese or Korean name. Rarely, if ever, will it be a Vietnamese one. And if it is, it’s probably Ocean Vuong.
Ocean Vuong has undeniably become a voice for the Vietnamese diaspora—but he represents only one facet of a far more complex literary landscape. The vast body of literature written by Vietnamese, in Vietnamese, remains largely untranslated and invisible to the English-speaking world.
That silence is what Kim Tran and Pascal Nguyen are working to change with Major Books–an independent publishing company dedicated to bringing Vietnamese literature to the English-speaking world.
Kim’s perspective was shaped by a life lived between Hanoi and London, in international lecture halls that claimed to be global, yet barely skimmed the surface of Asian literature.
“Despite all the wonderful authors and stories I grew up with, Vietnam is still only known globally through food or war,” Kim explains. “Our literature is viewed as a ‘minor language literature’.”
For Pascal, the disconnect was more personal. A Vietnamese-French who doesn’t read Vietnamese fluently, he grew up always hearing people talk about classic works like The Tale of Kiều—his parents, relatives, everyone—but he couldn’t read it himself.
“Partly because of the language barrier, and partly because so few Vietnamese works are translated into English. That gap was frustrating and Major Books is a small first step toward bridging it,” says Pascal.
I talked to Kim and Pascal to understand how Major Books came alive—born from one’s search for his roots through literature, and the other’s mission to amplify Vietnamese voices on the global stage.
Because Vietnam is more than its food, its landscapes, or the shadow of war—it is a country with its own voices and stories still waiting to be heard.
How did the idea for Major Books begin?
Pascal: I think it really ties back to the theme of identity—especially on a more personal, micro level.
When I met Kim, I realized just how little I knew about Vietnam, about my roots. I grew up in France and never really connected with the Vietnamese community in Paris. My grasp of the language was limited to its simplest form: everyday words exchanged within the walls of my family home. My understanding of the culture and history was just as surface-level, distant and fragmented.
Meeting Kim made me confront that. My Vietnamese was terrible, and my grasp of the country’s literary and cultural landscape was just as limited. This need to learn, to reconnect was how the journey started.
It was Kim who came up with the idea to translate Vietnamese literature. And for me, selfishly, that felt like the perfect tool, an incredible bridge to help me begin that process of rediscovery.
So when she brought it up, my response was immediate: yes, let’s do it.
What’s the connection between your identity and Vietnamese literature?
Pascal: It’s a very personal answer, but I think one that many overseas Vietnamese can relate to. Since we started this, I’ve spoken to a lot of people in the diaspora and many of whom are in the same position I was in: frustrated, yet without any real way to connect with Vietnamese literature.
There’s often a kind of... not shame, but caution in how our parents or grandparents talk about Vietnam and its history. There’s this feeling of: we got out, now you have a new life, just live like a Westerner.
So growing up, I had very little exposure to our myths, our folklore, or even our history. These stories just weren’t told.
And if you don’t hear them firsthand, your only access is through media, books, films, Wikipedia but even that is so limited. What’s available is often about the war, and usually from a very American perspective. You get the Rambo-style narratives, or news documentaries framed through the eyes of foreign correspondents.
On the other end of the spectrum, there’s the tourism version: rice fields, street food, Ha Long Bay. Beautiful, but not exactly grounded in real life. There’s rarely anything in between—nothing that tells you what it’s like to be a contemporary Vietnamese, or what stories Vietnamese children grow up with.
Even for a foundational piece like The Tale of Kiều, I had still never read the entire story before starting this journey with Kim. By contrast, I’ve since learned that every child in Vietnam studies it. A few English translations do exist, but they aren’t widely promoted, and their quality remains a subject of debate.
Before we began translating new works, I read whatever was available, and again, it was mostly stories of diaspora or war such as The Sorrow of War, all filtered through the trauma of conflict.
That’s why I’ve found this project so exciting. As we build the catalogue, I finally get to read something different—something fuller. And each time I receive a first draft of a new translation, I feel genuinely privileged. Every book shows me another facet of what it means to be Vietnamese.
I noticed there’s already an existing translation of The Tale of Kiều by Penguin, which is another UK-based publisher. What made you decide to produce a new translation?
Kim: The Penguin translation was done by Timothy Allen, who’s an award-winning British poet. In his edition, he spends about 40 pages introducing the context of Ming Dynasty in China, which makes sense to a degree—Kiều was inspired by a Chinese novel from that era.
But the issue is that The Tale of Kiều isn’t about the Ming Dynasty. It’s far more ambiguous, and to frame it so firmly within that historical context is to strip away the author–Nguyễn Du’s creative agency. It disconnects the work from the Vietnamese language, landscape, and imagination that truly shaped it.
Kiều isn’t just a love story, it’s deeply layered, rich in cultural meaning, and saturated with Vietnamese linguistic nuance. That’s something we felt was missing from previous translations. So to us, it felt important that a new version be done by a native Vietnamese speaker—someone who can intuitively navigate those layers, and translate not just the words, but the layered meanings embedded in the text.
It’s also about voice.
Having The Tale of Kiều retold through a Vietnamese perspective, rather than solely through the lens of Western literary norms, shifts the center of gravity back to where it belongs.
Now, if you’re an English reader who’s less concerned with representation, you might prefer Timothy Allen’s version—it reads smoothly, the verses are polished, and as a poet, he’s obviously skilled at crafting elegant lines in English. But for readers who care about cultural context, linguistic fidelity, and oral tradition, the Vietnamese perspective offers something deeper.
I’ve really appreciated the version we’re working on because it includes invaluable extensive notes. I find joy in understanding the provenance of each word: is it of Chinese origin? What’s the cultural subtext? How does it fit into our tradition of storytelling? All of those details matter, and our goal is to bring them to light.
What are your goals for Major Books this year in terms of distribution and getting the work out into the world?
Pascal: Our main goal is simple: to get as many people as possible reading books written by Vietnamese authors. That’s really at the heart of everything we do.
My personal ambition is that there’s no reason Vietnamese books can’t reach the same level of recognition as Korean or Japanese literature. We want to be part of that next wave. We're a small team, and we don’t have a big budget, but we’re dedicated. And we’ve been lucky—distributors and bookstores in the U.S. have started reaching out to us, saying they’ve heard of our titles and want to carry them. That kind of organic interest is really encouraging.
Little by little, we’re hoping to prove that Vietnamese literature not only has a rich tradition, but also a vibrant future—one where our writers, illustrators, and translators are recognized on the global stage.
Kim: On a more personal note, something I’ve been focusing on recently, especially through my work with San Hô Books–the publishing house in Vietnam, is supporting new voices.
We just launched a new writing competition, with the hope of showing emerging writers that writing isn't a dead end. That it’s not a meaningless pursuit or a career without a future.
I want them to know there is an outlet. There is a publisher committed to bringing their stories to a wider world. The goal is to keep Vietnam’s literary landscape contemporary, dynamic, and very much alive.
Promoting Vietnamese literature is a long road. When you look at countries like Korea or Japan, they receive strong government funding to support translation and global promotion. Is there anything similar in Vietnam? Or is this, for now, more of a personal effort?
Kim: At the moment, there hasn’t been any financial support from government bodies, not in the way countries like Korea or Japan fund and promote their literature as part of cultural diplomacy.
But hopefully, if we keep doing the work and doing it well, we’ll be able to gather more support over time. We have to build that momentum ourselves first.
Pascal: You really see the difference at international book fairs. Japan and Korea often have major national stands, fully backed by their governments. It’s clear they’ve made a deliberate effort to export their culture through manga, K-pop, literature, everything.
Vietnam hasn’t had that same level of investment, so we’re starting more or less from scratch. But personally, I think it just takes one breakthrough. One author who becomes our Murakami or wins a major prize and that spark will be enough.
Then, the world will start paying attention to this small Southeast Asian country of 100 million people.
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Perhaps it shouldn’t fall on individuals to carry the weight of a nation’s literary future. And yet, in the absence of institutional support, they move quietly.
A single move may not shift the scene, but that’s how anything major begins. It begins small.
About Major Books
Major Books is an independent publishing company dedicated to bringing Vietnamese literature to the English-speaking world.
View their online bookstore and where to find them via this website.