Themes The Emperor of Gladness Ocean Vuong

Survival Through Chosen Family

Thematic Claim: Connection as a Lifeline

In The Emperor of Gladness, Ocean Vuong argues that survival—physical, emotional, and spiritual—depends on the deliberate creation of chosen families. These intentional bonds of care, forged between individuals who have been failed or abandoned by their biological families and conventional institutions, provide both the refuge and the practical scaffolding necessary to endure grief, addiction, and systemic neglect. The novel demonstrates that such families are not substitutes for biological ties but transformative counterweights to loss, allowing characters to hold their pain and, through shared ritual, begin to move forward.

Part 1: The Rescue and the Renaming

The central chosen family forms in chapter 2, when Hai, standing on King Philip’s Bridge intending to jump, is startled by a floating bedsheet and shouted down by Grazina Vitkus. She brings him into her decaying house, renames him “Labas” (the Lithuanian word for “hello”), and enlists him in her ritual of crushing dinner rolls with his feet to dispel sorrow. This act of renaming is the first step in reframing Hai’s identity away from loss and toward possibility. Grazina offers him a room in exchange for help around the house—a practical arrangement that immediately becomes a lifeline. The offer is not charity but mutual need: she is isolated and aging; he is homeless and grieving. Their arrangement transforms a temporary shelter into a surrogate home.

Part 2: Mutual Care and the Creation of Rituals

Over the following weeks, Hai and Grazina build a daily rhythm of small, sustaining acts. Grazina’s corn bread becomes a recurring symbol of tangible care—she insists he bring more, linking food with emotional nourishment. Hai reads The Brothers Karamazov in her lamp-lit living room, a book he once planned to read with his dead friend Noah (the friend referenced in the owl-collection conversation). In chapter 10, Hai confides to Grazina about Noah’s death, using her owl figurines to stage a dialogue between himself and his lost friend. Grazina listens without judgment, validating his grief. She, in turn, shares stories of her estranged daughter Lina and her abusive husband. These exchanges create a space where sorrow is held rather than hushed. The owl collection—objects Grazina has amassed over years—becomes a symbol of the memories they both carry and the companionship they offer each other.

Part 3: The Wider Chosen Family

The surrogate bond expands beyond Hai and Grazina to include Sony (Hai’s cousin), Maureen, BJ, and Wayne. In chapter 15, Hai and Sony share a late-night conversation in a parking lot, listening to a sad song that Sony initially finds puzzling. Hai explains that the music gives the feeling “a place to stand in, like a little bus stop.” This metaphor captures how the crew functions: they provide a temporary but vital shelter for each other’s emotions. Sony, whose mother is in prison and whose father abandoned him, has already built his own fragile chosen family with the HomeMarket coworkers. When Grazina is forcibly taken to Hamilton Home in chapter 25, Hai gives Sony his savings—the money Grazina had set aside—to enable Sony to move out with Aunt Kim. This act of generosity is the direct inheritance of Grazina’s care: Hai passes on the practical support he received.

Complexity and Contradiction

Vuong does not romanticize chosen family as a cure-all. Hai’s recovery is not linear: in chapter 13, he finds Grazina’s old prescription bottles and takes a pill, relapsing into the numbing behavior he had tried to escape. The chosen family cannot erase his addiction or the structural poverty that surrounds them. Grazina is removed by state authorities despite Hai’s efforts to keep her home; his bond with her cannot override the social service system. Similarly, Hai’s relationship with his biological mother remains fraught—he spies on her through a window, seeing her happy without him, and he cannot bring himself to knock. The chosen family offers survival, not transcendence. The salamander migration that ends the section is both beautiful and terrifying: the creatures cross a parking lot en masse, braving certain destruction, and Hai sees in them a model of bravery without guarantee of safety. That is the nature of survival in this novel: it is a collective, precarious, and ongoing act.

Study Questions and Answers

  1. How does the act of renaming function in Hai and Grazina’s relationship?
    Grazina calls Hai “Labas” (hello) as a way of greeting him into a new identity, separate from his past as a dropout and someone who nearly died. The new name creates a small daily ritual of recognition, affirming that he belongs in her house and in her care.

  2. In what ways does the corn bread serve as a symbol of chosen family?
    The corn bread is a tangible offering that Grazina requests from Hai after he first arrives. It represents sustenance, routine, and the pleasure of sharing food—a basic yet profound act of nurturing that defines their household together.

  3. How does Hai’s conversation with Grazina about Noah (using the owl figurines) advance the theme of chosen family?
    By using her owls to stage a dialogue between himself and his dead friend, Hai makes his grief visible and audible to Grazina. Her willingness to listen without interruption or judgment creates a safe space for mourning—a key function of a chosen family.

  4. Why does Hai give his savings to Sony after Grazina is taken away?
    Hai has internalized Grazina’s model of practical care. The money, originally from Grazina’s tin, allows Sony to escape the halfway house and live with his aunt. Hai passes on the support he received, extending the line of chosen kinship.

  5. What does the salamander migration at the end of chapter 24 suggest about survival?
    The salamanders cross a parking lot in a massive, coordinated migration, vulnerable yet determined. For Hai, their bravery is awe-inspiring. The scene suggests that survival requires collective movement despite inevitable losses—a metaphor for the fragile, interwoven bonds that keep characters going.