“I am writing you from inside a body that used to be yours. Which is to say, I am writing as a son. If we are lucky, the end of the sentence is where we might begin. If we are lucky, something is passed on, another alphabet written in the blood, sinew, and neuron; ancestors charging their kin with the silent propulsion to fly south, to turn toward the place in the narrative no one was meant to outlast.”

Vuong is such a beautiful writer. There's something so visceral, raw, and emotional about the butterfly motif and metaphor that's brought up throughout the book and how Vuong relates it to him and his family—their move to the U.S. and the different ways his grandmother and mother try and prepare him for the world.