MY MOTHER, THE MERMAID CHASER
BY JAMIE JO HOANG | PUBLICATION: SEPTEMBER 23, 2025CROWN BOOKS | GENRE: YA FICTION
RATING: ★★★★
"It holds space for forgiveness, for healing, for the limits of what people can endure."
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Told in dual POV, this gripping companion piece to My Father, the Panda Killer, follows a teenage son who defies his sister's wishes by searching for more information about their absent mother. Meanwhile, his mother's poignant backstory reveals her struggle with grief and longing, culminating in her heart-wrenching decision to leave her children.
San Jose, 2008: Paul yearns to know more about the mother who abandoned his family, but she is the only topic no one discusses. Now’s he’s in Vietnam, feeling displaced and considered an outsider. Plus, a ghost is haunting him even though he doesn’t believe in ghosts. His cousin and the grandmother he’s never met before now keep telling him that he’ll get answers only if he’s willing to open his ears.
Vũng Tâu, 1975: Ngọc Lan is eleven when her family breaks her brother is drafted into the army; her father leaves on the last helicopter to the US. She and her sister are sent from Vietnam on a harrowing journey by boat. Only Ngọc Lan will survive. But what is the American dream when you are haunted by the death of your sister, missing your homeland; seeing ghostly mermaid sightings; lost in an abusive marriage; struggling as a parent?
Told in the alternating perspectives of Paul and Ngọc Lan, My Mother, the Mermaid Chaser is a haunting story about the intergenerational effects of war, estranged family bonds, and how a teenager discovers a new connection to a lost part of himself.
San Jose, 2008: Paul yearns to know more about the mother who abandoned his family, but she is the only topic no one discusses. Now’s he’s in Vietnam, feeling displaced and considered an outsider. Plus, a ghost is haunting him even though he doesn’t believe in ghosts. His cousin and the grandmother he’s never met before now keep telling him that he’ll get answers only if he’s willing to open his ears.
Vũng Tâu, 1975: Ngọc Lan is eleven when her family breaks her brother is drafted into the army; her father leaves on the last helicopter to the US. She and her sister are sent from Vietnam on a harrowing journey by boat. Only Ngọc Lan will survive. But what is the American dream when you are haunted by the death of your sister, missing your homeland; seeing ghostly mermaid sightings; lost in an abusive marriage; struggling as a parent?
Told in the alternating perspectives of Paul and Ngọc Lan, My Mother, the Mermaid Chaser is a haunting story about the intergenerational effects of war, estranged family bonds, and how a teenager discovers a new connection to a lost part of himself.
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I came to this book without having read its companion, My Father, the Panda Killer. And maybe that’s fitting—because this story, too, begins with absence. With the ache of not knowing. With a boy named Paul, who chooses to seek the truth about his mother, even when that truth might hurt.
This is a poignant novel. It blends adventure and humor with the quiet devastation of wanting to understand your parents. Beneath the surrealism and whimsy lies something raw: the longing to make sense of abandonment, of trauma, of choices that ripple across generations.
Paul is the heart of this story. He’s like an open vessel—willing to receive, willing to give, willing to believe. His openness stands in sharp contrast to his sister Jane, whose guardedness feels like a shield forged from years of disappointment. Watching Paul navigate this emotional terrain is deeply moving. He steps into adult shoes, yes—but he never stops being a boy.
Hoàng has a gift for writing complex family dynamics. She doesn’t shy away from pain, but she also doesn’t drown in it. Her prose carries trauma and tenderness in equal measure, often laced with humor and surreal imagery that make the emotional weight bearable.
As a mother myself, I found myself asking: How could a mother abandon her children to an abusive father? It’s a question that lingers. And yet, Hoàng invites empathy—not just for the children, but for the flawed adults who made impossible choices. The story doesn’t excuse, but it understands. It holds space for forgiveness, for healing, for the limits of what people can endure.
There are slow parts, yes. But I stayed. Because some stories deserve patience. And this one, with its quiet bravery and emotional honesty, is worth every page.
This is a poignant novel. It blends adventure and humor with the quiet devastation of wanting to understand your parents. Beneath the surrealism and whimsy lies something raw: the longing to make sense of abandonment, of trauma, of choices that ripple across generations.
Paul is the heart of this story. He’s like an open vessel—willing to receive, willing to give, willing to believe. His openness stands in sharp contrast to his sister Jane, whose guardedness feels like a shield forged from years of disappointment. Watching Paul navigate this emotional terrain is deeply moving. He steps into adult shoes, yes—but he never stops being a boy.
Hoàng has a gift for writing complex family dynamics. She doesn’t shy away from pain, but she also doesn’t drown in it. Her prose carries trauma and tenderness in equal measure, often laced with humor and surreal imagery that make the emotional weight bearable.
As a mother myself, I found myself asking: How could a mother abandon her children to an abusive father? It’s a question that lingers. And yet, Hoàng invites empathy—not just for the children, but for the flawed adults who made impossible choices. The story doesn’t excuse, but it understands. It holds space for forgiveness, for healing, for the limits of what people can endure.
There are slow parts, yes. But I stayed. Because some stories deserve patience. And this one, with its quiet bravery and emotional honesty, is worth every page.
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About the Author:
Jamie Jo Hoang is the daughter of Vietnamese refugees. She grew up in Orange County, CA—not the rich part—and worked as a docuseries producer before shifting to writing full-time. Her debut young adult novel, My Father, The Panda Killer, was named one of NPR’s Books We Love and received an Honorable Mention from the Freeman Book Awards. Hoang is also the author of the award-winning adult novel Blue Sun, Yellow Sky, which was named one of the best books of the year by Kirkus Reviews and won a silver medal at the Independent Publishers Awards. Her work has been published in TIME, SALON, and Tiny Buddha. When she’s not writing, Hoang loves to take long walks, travel, and scuba dive. She lives in house covered in Post-It Notes with her husband and son.
Jamie Jo Hoang is the daughter of Vietnamese refugees. She grew up in Orange County, CA—not the rich part—and worked as a docuseries producer before shifting to writing full-time. Her debut young adult novel, My Father, The Panda Killer, was named one of NPR’s Books We Love and received an Honorable Mention from the Freeman Book Awards. Hoang is also the author of the award-winning adult novel Blue Sun, Yellow Sky, which was named one of the best books of the year by Kirkus Reviews and won a silver medal at the Independent Publishers Awards. Her work has been published in TIME, SALON, and Tiny Buddha. When she’s not writing, Hoang loves to take long walks, travel, and scuba dive. She lives in house covered in Post-It Notes with her husband and son.
*Penguin Random House provided the ARC
in exchange for this unbiased review.
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