52 pages • 1 hour read
Monique TruongA modern alternative to SparkNotes and CliffsNotes, SuperSummary offers high-quality Study Guides with detailed chapter summaries and analysis of major themes, characters, and more.
Binh goes home with men, some of whom he meets at Stein’s home—none is appealing from a relationship point of view, and all are just objects of lust. Binh instead longs for his scholar-prince, the hero of the stories his mother would tell him as they cooked together. He shares his plans for the meal he will prepare for Lattimore’s dinner party, sharing his own recipes, along with those of his brother and his mother, in sensuous detail.
Binh’s mother called him her little scholar-prince when he was about 11. This confused him, as he had always imagined himself in place of the young girl in the story, awaiting his own scholar-prince.
The narrative skips ahead to the morning after Lattimore’s “dinner party.” No one came—it was just a rendezvous for the two men. When Binh dresses to go home, he notices a bulge in his shirt pocket and assumes it is money. He then hears his father’s voice calling him a whore. He rushes back to Stein and Toklas’s, worried about his late return.
Binh describes meeting the man on the bridge before Binh began working for his Mesdames. The two have an interesting conversation, which is a treat for Binh because the man is also Vietnamese, so Binh can express himself as he wishes. He feels an attraction to the man, but it’s not clear how the man on the bridge sees Binh. Binh calls the man on the bridge a scholar-prince but doesn’t explain the significance to his new friend. The man asks Binh what brought him to Paris and what keeps him there. This question will reverberate in Binh’s mind in the years to come. Through their conversation, Binh discovers that the man on the bridge was the kitchen boy Bao had told him about—the one who wrote letters for the sailors.
Binh and the man play a game: Binh bets he can tell what neighborhood Paris addresses are located in from memory. Binh wins the game, and the man takes him to a restaurant where a friend is the chef. They have a warm exchange over dinner, but the man is leaving Paris that night. Binh is crestfallen and offers to walk the man to the train station, but the man insists the station is a bad place for goodbyes.
Binh keeps going to the bridge, hoping for the man to return.
Binh faces his Mesdames, dreadfully late after his tryst with Lattimore. At first, he claims that Lattimore had given Binh a bottle of rum as a bonus payment, and that having drunk it all, Binh had passed out on a park bench. The women are furious with Lattimore, so Binh takes the blame. Risking unemployment, he claims he lied about Lattimore and the rum—he says that he had bought the alcohol himself. The ladies sternly tell Binh to never lie to them again. The Old Man’s voice in Binh’s ear tells Binh he is a fool to tell Stein and Toklas the lie. He feels his actions have put some distance between himself and his Mesdames, and he is sad.
Binh then thinks back to the money he assumes is in his pocket, feeling used: “A pocketful of money and an empty bed mean the same things everywhere. You are dismissed. Your services here are done” (103). When he pulls the paper from his pocket, he finds money wrapped in red string and a note from Lattimore saying that next Sunday they will again be the only guests. Binh feels “at sea.”
On the ship, Bao had told Binh to use a fake name with employers. They laughed at some of the silly names that Bao had given his bosses, the employers not knowing the translations of the Vietnamese phrases that Bao claimed were his name. Binh’s laughter eased his seasickness and he found Bao attractive. When their voyage ended, he had a full list of questions he wanted to ask Bao but decided Bao would dodge the truth with his answers, so it was better those queries remained unasked.
Binh addresses Lattimore, whom Binh now calls his Sweet Sunday Man, in the second person. On their Sundays, Lattimore refers to Binh as Bee. Lattimore tells Binh that he spotted him in the flower market two days before, and this has a profound effect on Binh. He no longer feels like an anonymous exile living unnoticed in Paris: He has been witnessed, and this makes him feel more real. Binh wishes silently that their life together would expand beyond one day a week. As it is, he has to leave at three in the morning to return to the Stein/Toklas residence. Binh wishes Lattimore would ask him to stay the entire night and choose a side of the bed.
Binh and Lattimore have found a way around the language barrier. Lattimore, who is from New Orleans, speaks both English and French. They rely on shared words and body language. Lattimore is a quasi-doctor who diagnoses a person’s health by observing their irises. Lattimore explains to Binh that his father is white and his mother is mixed-race. Lattimore has money from his mother who took him to the northern US for college and then on to Paris.
Lattimore tells of meeting both the Emperor of Vietnam and the Crown Prince of Cambodia and having the opportunity to diagnose both using the aforementioned quasi-medical technique. The Emperor called out Lattimore for passing for white; since Lattimore bleaches his skin and straightens his hair, the Emperor claimed he was acting not out of bigotry but a desire to be honest in their dealings. Lattimore diagnosed both royal men with impotence. Neither denied it.
These chapters delve more deeply into Binh’s personal life, exploring the theme of Race and Sexuality. For Binh, romance is often separate from desire: He has sexual encounters with men he does not see as romantic partners, and at the same time yearns for the idealized figure of the scholar-prince. This elusive fairytale character is a double-edged sword. On the one hand, having the vision of his dream lover in mind helps Binh contextualize the short relationships he experiences with men from Stein’s salon. On the other hand, when Binh actually gets a chance to have a meaningful connection with Lattimore, Binh cannot help comparing the reality of this man with the fantasy of the scholar-prince. This introduces the theme of The Power of Stories. Binh grew up hearing this story and internalized it to the point that it has become a permanent part of his identity.
No one could live up to Binh’s imaginary lover—not even the man who comes closest to embodying this figure in real life, the mysterious man on the bridge, who leaves a lasting impression on Binh after they meet for a day. Though it has not been revealed yet, the man on the bridge is Ho Chi Minh, who became Prime Minister and then President of North Vietnam from the mid-1940s until his death in 1969, taking the country through independence from France and a brutally repressive Communist regime. Minh symbolizes Binh’s lingering attachment to his homeland, and it’s telling that while Binh is attracted to the man, it’s unclear how the man feels about Binh in return. The man’s association with a bridge, a liminal space between two pieces of solid ground, reinforces Binh’s rootlessness and the ambiguity of Binh’s ongoing choice: stay in Paris or return to Vietnam.
Ho Chih Minh is a fitting historical figure to represent the ambiguity of Vietnamese identity in French Indochina. Accounts differ about his life before he came to power as prime minister of Vietnam in 1945, as he traveled widely and used pseudonyms. He moved to Paris in 1911 and joined the French Communist Party using the name Nguyen Ai Quoc, or “Nguyen the Patriot.” Ho Chi Minh, another pseudonym, means “Bringer of Light.” A communist supporter before his return to Vietnam, he lobbied for Vietnamese independence at the Versailles Peace Conference and attended the Comintern in Moscow (“Ho Chi-Minh.” Biography, 21 Apr. 2021). Thus, in The Book of Salt, Ho Chi Minh represents Vietnam’s complex history and the uncertainty of expatriate Vietnamese identity, which Binh experiences as well. At this time—the 1910s and 1920s—he is a romantic figure, a real-life scholar prince, foreshadowing his deity-like status when he becomes the leader of Vietnam. While there is no historical evidence that Ho Chi Minh was gay, his early personal life remains open to speculation (“Ho Chi Minh—The Unknown Years,” translated from Vietnamese. BBC, 2 Sept. 2003). This provides an opening for Truong to incorporate Ho into the fictional narrative without contradicting historical facts.
In these chapters, Binh’s life in Paris slowly allows him to settle into a new emotional peace. Though his past haunts him ceaselessly, Binh is in a place where his sexual orientation is tolerated, where he’s found an appealing lover in Lattimore, and forged a connection with alternate heads of family in Stein and Toklas. Despite his limited French, his race, and his sexuality, in many ways, Binh is more himself in France than he could be in his homeland.