Bread Upon the Water, by Deanna Klingel

Tell us about your book.


Bread Upon the Water is the true story of a boy in South Vietnam who has a calling to the priesthood. When the North Vietnamese Communists invade and overpower the country, Tien has no choice but to escape, in order to follow God's call. It takes two escape attempts, a debilitating disease, a hurricane at sea, dehydration, starvation, imprisonment, separation from his family,near death experiences, and a couple of miracles before Tien makes it to the U.S. There he meets his next nemesis- the English language.

A sneak peak? Okay.

The neighbor pounded at the doorway, shouting into their house, “Hurry, Pham Toá, gather your children. There is no time. They’re approaching. Run!” Pham Toá crossed herself and quickly gathered all the children.

“Run,” she said. “Fast as you can. Run to the Church and hide.” Along with all their neighbors, Tiến’s family ran across the market to their church. No one knew what would happen when the army arrived. The President of South Vietnam had commanded all the villages not to resist when the North Vietnamese army invaded their villages, hoping there would be less bloodshed.

“Will we all be shot?” they wondered aloud.

“They’re going to burn our homes.”

“Are we going to be prisoners?” The thoughts were terrifying. Young children clung to their parents who helped their elderly into hiding.

“I’ll not let them torture my children,” screamed one of the women, running with a knife in her hand.

Crouching silently and praying in the darkened basement of their church, Tiển and his family huddled tightly together, barely breathing. They kept watch from tiny darkened windows. The terror was so complete that even the babies were silent. Some of the adults were shaking. They were all praying, Buddhists and Catholics. Tien watched a woman pull a rosary from her pocket made of grains of rice. No one would ever be suspicious of a pocket full of rice.

“They are here. I can see them,” whispered Tiến to Phương, from his lookout place.

“What’re they doing?” she whispered behind him.

“They’re on foot! They’re walking around on foot in small groups. They aren’t marching. They don’t look like a fighting army,” he whispered in her ear. Phuong kept her hands over her eyes.

“The soldiers are all clean; their uniforms are cleaned and pressed,” said a neighbor woman who squinted through a crack in the door. “Doesn’t look like fighting to me. Not like a war.”

“Do they have guns?” someone asked.

“They’re armed, yes, but the guns are hanging loosely at their sides. They look like tourists,” Tiến whispered to them nervously.

“That’s right,” the neighbor agreed. “They just look around and walk slow.”

The soldiers looked around at the houses, peeked inside them, and walked through the market place. They seemed to be puzzled about what they were seeing. The frightened villagers peering out from the church peep holes saw the soldiers pointing, gesturing, and talking quietly to each other.

The church building where the villagers were hiding was a large, two-story, brick building. The church was upstairs, the school was downstairs. Frightened and displaced villagers crowded into the seven large classrooms of the school. As the quiet ensued, the nervous people looked out the door, and seeing no threatening armies, began slowly and quietly returning to their homes. The soldiers didn’t stop them. They watched them treading hesitantly and fearfully back to their homes.

“We’ll go home now,” whispered Pham Toá. “Be strong. Be brave. God be with us.”

Tiến’s family moved quickly from the church yard, across the market, and back to their home. Pham Toá’s market tables were still set up with her colorful displays of fruits and vegetables. She’d recently added more merchandise to her display including household items, clothing, and sandals.

Four soldiers approached her market table. They were talking and gesturing to each other. Tiến squatted beneath the table and listened to what they were saying. He could see their faces through the cracks in the tables. He was surprised to see what they looked like.

“Where is this poverty that we must liberate these peasants from? I see no poverty here.” The soldier said. He looked around at the substantial housing and colorful marketplace, and spat on the ground.

“There’s no squalor that disgraces our country. This place is clean and healthy,” said the second soldier, gesturing with his hand towards the swept yards and absence of trash. Tiến thought the soldiers sounded annoyed by this discovery, as if they wanted it to look trashy.

“Look inside this house.” He pointed into the door of the Dương’s home. “The floor is tile from the door to the end.”

“A tile floor? These people aren’t poor. These aren’t the homes of stupid indigent peasants.”

The soldier with a puzzled demeanor scratched his head.

“Could it be the government told us wrong? Is it possible that these Vietnamese countrymen aren’t our enemy?”

“This is confusing,” the fourth soldier said, looking around at the well-organized village. “But, no, the communist government is never wrong. The NLF knows all. We are never wrong. Never!”

“That’s right,” they all agreed.

“Here, woman,” the first soldier said. “I want to buy these sandals.” He held four pair of sandals in his hand. He sneered condescendingly at Pham Toá. He turned to the second soldier and winked his eye. Tiến peered at them from under the table. He saw the soldier whisper to the others.

“The poor woman will be grateful that I give her any money. These pitiful peasants are always groveling, and now they’ll see that their new government is generous to them. They’ll be better off now that we have liberated them. They’ll be grateful to us.” He grinned at Pham Toa.

Tiến watched as the soldier reached into his shirt pocket and proudly presented Pham Toá with the small amount of money he had. She looked at the money disdainfully. A couple of the children muffled their laughter, knowing that the amount didn’t pay for even one pair of the fine sandals. Tiến was outraged that the soldier would offer such an insulting pittance to his mother.

“No,” said Pham Toá proudly. “You may keep your money. I don’t need it, and I have many sandals. You may keep these sandals.” She gave him a dismissive wave of her hand.

She ushered her family into the house leaving the soldier, embarrassed, with his puzzled comrades. Her quiet, stoical children wanted to cheer her, but they moved quietly into the house and resisted looking back at the humiliated soldiers. Tiến was proud of his mother’s courage. She held her head high, but once inside the house, she collapsed in the chair and covered her face. Her children gathered around her, whispering and celebrating her small victory. They were all proud of her. Her hands trembled. Theirs patted her shoulders, congratulating her.

What inspired this book?

The inspiration for this book was Father Tien himself. He was our pastor for two years. He's a holy and inspiring man, and extremely humble. He's the last person who would consider himself a hero or a model for faith. But he is. I convinced him to share his story with me so we could share it with young readers.

What has been your most challenging experience writing a book?

Probably the biggest challenge with any book is getting it to a publisher. But besides that, I think it's a huge challenge to pare down the volumes of research into the tiny bit that actually enhances the story.

What is your favorite thing to write about (i.e, forgiveness, rebellion, etc.)?

Hmm. I like writing about humanness. Is that a word? It's the feelings that make us human, our souls, perhaps. It's the experiences that make people who they are. In the Avery and Gunner stories it was Avery's growth from boyhood to manhood, the sum of his experiences during the war and how it helped him to be the man he became. It was how his belief in God influenced his decisions, and how those decisions decided his future. In Bread Upon the Water, it's Tien's determination to follow God's call, and his faith that enabled him to endure the many hardships.

What do you hope readers will take away from this book?

My hope for this book is that it will inspire young readers to examine their own faith. Tien, as a young boy, as a teenager, was just like them. He was angry at what was happening politically. He felt helpless at times, overwhelmed, and often confused, listening to all the propaganda and differing opinions. His world was being destroyed. He had a calling and a dream of following it. But most of us don't know we have the capacity for the amount of faith Tien had to face his future. Trust in God was all he had. I hope my readers will see how that could work for them.

What is your favorite color?

I'm not sure. My favorite vegetable color is green. My favorite jeans color is blue. My favorite flower color is coral, favorite dog color, golden. My favorite sock color is all of them and I like red anything. Except nail polish. I really don't like red nail polish.

Do you have a favorite recipe?

What's on the menu?

If you could travel back in time when and where would you go?

I recently finished a rewrite of a short story, Rebecca & Heart, which is on Storyrealm.com. I've rewritten it as a full length novel during war time England. I was fascinated by the things I discovered. It must have been a frightening time, but the people were so committed, so brave. And I would like to have met Winston Churchill. I might like a visit there, then. With a gas mask, of course.

What project are you currently working on?

I constantly read, re-read, cut and paste, reword, all my work, all the time. But, my focus right now is launching Bread Upon the Water. My project is keeping my frustration under control. The book was supposed to be out between Thanksgiving and Christmas. Then Christmas. Then before New Year's. Then by February. It still isn't out. I don't know why. I've got other manuscripts out that I'm waiting to hear about and one going to contract. I travel nearly every weekend to Civil War re-enactments, living histories at museums and National Parks, and do school visits with the Avery and Gunner books. You can find me on the last page of my website http://www.booksbydeanna.com/.
I might be in your area. I'd love to meet you.