All the Broken Pieces

Matt’s adoptive mother, who is once named as Elizabeth but is generally referred to as “mother” or “mom,” has yellow hair and “fills [Matt’s] room / with the smell / of summer” (11). She has a voice “like warm honey” (11) and sings Matt lullabies when he awakens from nightmares in the middle of the night. Her chosen lullaby, which is repeated several times throughout the novel, states that “There is darkness all around us” (11), but “you are safe now, you are home” (12). These lyrics encapsulate Matt’s mother’s message to her son throughout the novel, as she encourages Matt to remember and honor his Vietnamese heritage—and all the “darkness” it contains—while she also does everything she can to ensure Matt feels safe and loved in his new home.

Not only does Matt’s mother show him the comfort music can provide through her own lullabies, but she also arranges for Matt to take piano lessons, telling her husband: “Maybe music will help / soothe [Matt’s] monsters” (28). As the novel continues, Matt’s mother keeps her younger son from bothering Matt when he’s practicing piano and tells him he “sounds good” (149), clearly supporting his musical efforts. In fact, her “encouraging smile” (177) applies not only to piano—rather, Matt realizes his mother “tries so hard” (177) with everything she does, always ready to listen to Matt and give him what he needs.

Significantly, Matt’s mother understands that what her child needs most is love and understanding. When Matt finally shares the story of how he believes he failed his brother, she assures Matt that “nothing, nothing / will ever change” (205) the fact that she and her husband love Matt as a son. Furthermore, she encourages Matt to love both his birth mother and brother, and his new family—there is always “room / for more love” (208). Matt’s mother even promises to help Matt find his birth brother one day. Clearly, she loves her son for who he truly is and wants Matt to find peace and thrive in his new life, while also honoring the land and people he came from.

Like Matt’s adoptive mother, Michael supports his son in both confronting his past and living a happy, emotionally secure life in the present. Matt’s father uses his passion for baseball to express his love to his son, repeatedly telling him that whether or not he makes the baseball team, whether or not he pitches a good game, and so on, Matt will “always be our MVP” (51). In fact, much of Matt’s father’s interaction with his son revolves around baseball: he’s practiced pitching and throwing with Matt every Saturday since first adopting Matt, has always praised Matt’s baseball skills, and “is glowing” (78) when Matt pitches a perfect game.

In addition to his focus on baseball, Matt’s father also takes Matt to the Vietnam veterans’ meetings and encourages Matt to talk about his own experiences in Vietnam. Matt’s father assures Matt “it’s okay” if he doesn’t “want to talk about it right now” (201), but adds that “someday, / I hope you will” (202). Matt realizes that many of his father’s high-school friends went to Vietnam, sacrificing their own dreams, while Matt’s father took the “legitimate deferment” (113) of going to medical school instead. Matt’s father always hoped to help people by becoming a doctor, but as he tells Matt, when he sees his peers who were inwardly and outwardly wounded in Vietnam, he questions if his choice was “enough” (114). Matt even wonders if adopting him was a way for his father to assuage his guilt, “like the coin / you drop in the poor box / at church” (115).

By the end of the novel, when Matt admits to his American parents that he played a role in his brother’s disfigurement, Matt’s father demonstrates that he sees his son as much more than a charity case. Matt’s father seems to refer to both his own and his son’s guilt when he tells Matt “what happened to your brother / wasn’t your fault”—rather, war was to blame, for “War is a monster / with a mind of its own” (205). By the end of the novel, Matt can truly believe his father’s words that no matter what happens, Matt will “always be our MVP” (190).

Tommy, Matt’s “now brother” (8) born to his American parents, is an all-American toddler Matt sees as very different from himself. Unlike dark-haired Matt, Tommy has curly hair the color of “yellow-and-white sweet corn” (8), and Tommy himself “is summer— / sunlight, peaches, / wide, grinning sky” (8). Tommy, born into a world of peace and safety, forms a clear contrast with Matt’s background of violence and deprivation. Matt clearly loves Tommy, pushing him on the swings, playing with him, and wondering, if his parents send him away, “How many more piggyback rides” he’ll get to “give Tommy” (94). Yet at the same time, Tommy brings up Matt’s guilt about how he failed his Vietnamese brother, and his resulting fear that his American family will decide to give him away. “With a cute kid like [Tommy],” Matt asks himself, “why do they need me?” (64).

By the end of the novel, Matt’s mother helps him to resolves his feelings about both Tommy and his birth brother. His mom points out that just because she loves Matt, that “doesn’t mean / [she] love[s] Tommy / any less” (208). Similarly, Matt himself can love Tommy, without forgetting or abandoning his birth brother. At the end of the novel, Matt’s memories of his past with his biological brother, and his present with Tommy, come together. In the opening of the novel Matt remembered his birth brother with “a laugh like a / babbling, bubbling […] brook” (9). On the final pages of the novel, Matt is outside throwing a baseball with Tommy, and Tommy is the one “laughing like a / babbling, bubbling, / quickly tumbling / brook” (218-19). This image of Tommy prompts Matt to remember his Vietnamese brother’s name, and to vow to find this first brother—while still loving Tommy just as much. Thus, Matt’s relationship with Tommy becomes another example of his journey to integrate his Vietnamese past with a happy, loving American present.

Phang My is Matt’s Vietnamese mother, a woman whose memory Matt carries “in [his] blood” and “in [his] bones” (2). Matt’s most vivid memory of his birth mother is of her pushing him toward an American helicopter, urging him to “survive” (4). Matt does have memories of his mother’s love for him: After Matt’s brother was injured, she insisted “it [wa]sn’t [Matt’s] fault” (89), and Matt remembers her comforting him with music just as his American mother does. “She held me,” Matt says of Phang My, “and sang a soft song” (151).

Yet despite Matt’s more positive memories of his mother, he’s still ambivalent, thinking, “Didn’t she say / she loved me too? […] And didn’t she give me away?” (67). Matt isn’t sure he can believe in his mother’s love, and when he’s asked to write a description of a family member for school, he draws boxes around the words “my mother” (60) and colors them till “no one would even know / there’s something inside” (60). Clearly, Matt is blocking out his full memories of his birth mother, as he can’t handle simultaneously missing and feeling abandoned by her.

Matt’s perception of his mother changes, however, when his teacher Jeff discusses Matt’s past with a veterans’ group. Jeff points out that Matt’s mother put so much trust in the American soldiers, she allowed them to care for the son she loved. Jeff asks the soldiers “what kind of faith” Matt’s mother must have had, “What kind of love?” (156). Hearing these words, Matt understands for the first time that his mother didn’t send him away “because of / who I was and what / I’d done” (156-157), but “because” his mother “loved” him (157). As a result, Matt is ready to remember Phang My clearly. As he recounts the story of his brother’s injury to Rob, Matt sees his mother’s “face, / open and clear,” and “hear[s] her voice, / like on a tape recorder” (198), telling him it isn’t his fault. Now secure in the knowledge his Vietnamese mother loved him and wanted him to have the best life possible, Matt is able to honor her memory and move forward with his life.

Matt’s birth father is an American soldier who lived with Phang My, fathered her children, then went back to America but promised to return to his Vietnamese family—yet he never did. Matt, bitterly resenting his biological father’s abandonment, says that “To me, / he is nothing” (1). While Matt’s adoptive father says they could track down his birth father, Matt is not at all interested. Since Matt’s dad “did not come back” (6), Matt believes there is nothing “left to say” (6), no reason to find him.

At one point, a veteran in the Vietnam vet group Matt attends tells Matt not to “think too badly / of your birth father” (161)—it’s hard for vets to return to Vietnam, and “it doesn’t mean he didn’t care” (161). However, Matt doesn’t seem to take these words to heart, and he doesn’t mention his biological father in the remainder of the novel, even as he begins to remember his biological mother and brother more clearly. Matt chooses not to focus on the man who left him, but rather on the new father who took Matt into his American home, and who vows Matt will always be his “MVP” (190).

Matt’s biological brother Huu Hein is six years younger than Matt, and thus was three when Matt left Vietnam. For most of the novel, Matt is torn with guilt because he believes he caused his brother to suffer debilitating injuries, and he does not find the courage to state his brother’s name until the final page of the novel.

In the opening pages of All the Broken Pieces, Matt contrasts Huu Hein with his adoptive brother Tommy: whereas Tommy has bright features and a sunny disposition, Huu Hein has “dark skin, dark eyes,” and “straight black hair” (9)—but Matt’s biological brother can also be cheerful, with a laugh like a “babbling […] brook” (9). However, Huu Hein is also “mangled and deformed […] with missing fingers / and stumps instead of legs” (9)—and as a result, though Matt pleads with his mother to send Huu Hein to America too, she will not. Huu Hein “might not survive” (9) in America, his mother says—but Matt will.

As the novel continues, readers come to understand Matt’s role in his brother’s “deformed” (9) body, and the incredible guilt Matt feels over what happened to his brother, as well as about leaving Huu Hein behind in Vietnam. Not only does Matt “think about” his brother, thinking “he would like it here” (16), in a country of piece and playgrounds made “just for children” (16), but Matt also worries that if his parents knew the truth about what happened to his brother, they would “hate me and / want to send me away” (203).

While Matt flashes back to the scene of his brother’s injury a few times during the novel, he doesn’t relive the entire memory until a climactic scene near the end of the novel. Matt describes how his mother left him and his brother alone and ordered Matt to watch his brother and stay inside. Matt went out to search for treasures from the American soldiers, and his brother followed—“he followed me everywhere” (195), Matt says—and his brother stepped on a land mine that destroyed his legs and fingers. Even though his mother said he wasn’t to blame, Matt tells Rob, “I knew it was all my fault” (197). While Matt first tells the story to his teammate Rob, he realizes he must share it with his parents as well. When he does so, and his adoptive father tells Matt, “What happened to your brother / wasn’t your fault” (205), Matt is finally ready to believe him.

By the end of the novel, Matt finds a way to love and enjoy spending time with his new brother Tommy, while honoring his memories of his biological brother at the same time. Matt describes Tommy as sharing his birth brother’s “babbling, bubbling” laughter (218), and for the first time he states his brother’s name, Huu Hein. Matt affirms that Huu Hein “follows me still” (219)—Matt will always carry his memories of his brother with him—and that he hopes to bring his American and Vietnamese families together as “one day / we’re going / to find him” (219).

Rob Brennan is one of the few seventh-grade boys who makes the baseball team along with Matt, and Rob’s own brother died fighting in Vietnam. Rob bullies Matt, calling him “Frog-face” (82) and tripping or pushing him at every opportunity, and most of all telling Matt that “My brother died / because of you” (48). Rob’s racial slurs and accusations encapsulate Matt’s sense that he does not belong in his new American home, that his heritage will always differentiate him and, worse, cause him to receive the blame and resentment of so many Americans whose lives were impacted by the war. Of course, Matt’s turmoil is compounded by the fact that he feels he’s to blame for destroying his own brother’s life; at one point, Matt imagines receiving the accusations of Rob and others, going from “Because of you, my brother died” (111) to his own brother saying “Because of you, I have stumps instead of legs” (111).

Significantly, Rob’s confrontation forces Matt to face his own memories and guilt, and as a result, both boys can begin to heal. As Rob reveals memories his brother, Matt is also prompted to forge a bond through words. Once Matt tells Rob “I know how you feel” (191) and shares the full story of his brother’s accident, Rob lets go of his anger and even asks Matt if he’s all right, handing Matt a bandanna to wipe his tears as a sort of peace offering. Matt and Rob become friendly and even visit their coach in the hospital together, and through their experience, the author suggests that honest communication and empathy can help people overcome the differences that divide them. 

Jeff Harding gives Matt piano lessons and works at the same hospital as Matt’s father. Jeff had planned to go to music school in New York, but instead he went to Vietnam and cared for wounded soldiers in helicopter ambulances. Matt is awed by Jeff’s graceful piano playing, wondering “How can such big hands / make such quiet music?” (41), and Jeff’s example inspires Matt to dedicate himself to improving his own musical skills. As a result, Jeff prods Matt to develop a new way to express himself and to increase his self-esteem.

While Jeff’s musical influence certain plays a large role in the novel, Jeff’s character is even more important because, like Matt, he has lived through the horrors of war-torn Vietnam. As a result, Jeff can understand and help Matt in a way few others can—and Jeff provides an example of someone who uses inner strength to overcome painful experiences. Matt envies Jeff his “calm quiet” (42), saying Jeff seems to have “looked into / a closet of monsters / and found empty / candy wrappers instead” (42).

Jeff encourages Matt to face his own “monsters” as well, by taking Matt to his veterans’ group and urging Matt to explore his own memories of Vietnam. Jeff even uses Matt’s story as an example of the good American soldiers did in Vietnam, saying the Americans couldn’t “have been all bad” (156) if mothers like Matt’s “entrusted” (155) their children to the Americans, hoping to give their daughters and sons a better life. “What kind of faith is that?” Jeff asks, and “What kind of love?” (156), and Matt sees for the first time the depth of his mother’s love for him. This revelation, and his connections with Jeff and the other members of the veterans’ group, allow Matt to accept his past and move forward with his life.

Of course, part of moving forward includes Matt’s continued piano lessons with Jeff, and his dedication to practicing on his own. By the end of the novel, Matt is so confident that at times his fingers “fly over the keys” (212), and Jeff congratulates him—but also reminds him that in addition to the notes, he must “play / the silence too” (212).

Matt’s first baseball coach, Coach Robeson, impresses upon Matt and his teammates the importance of acceptance and of working together to achieve something great. Through the course of the novel, Matt also witnesses his coach’s struggle to fight back against cancer, and he sees that war is not the only “poison” (171) that can attack the people who least deserve it.

Coach Robeson’s first major appearance in All the Broken Pieces sets the tone for his role throughout the book: during the first practice after Matt makes the baseball team, Coach Robeson has heard about the racially charged comments other boys have directed at Matt. He warns the team that “Prejudice is ignorance / in a catcher’s mask” (58), with eyes “like steel bullets” (58) to back up his words. From the beginning, Coach makes it clear that playing baseball is as much about accepting each other, learning the value of teamwork, and developing strong morals as it is about winning a game. Even when Matt helps his team win by pitching a perfect game, Coach emphasizes that “working together” is “what makes / a championship team” (81).

While Coach Robeson is a strong character and a role model for Matt, Matt sees his coach’s more vulnerable side when Robeson discovers he has cancer and has to stop coaching. Matt’s father describes cancer as a disease that “creep[s] up on you / and invade[s]” (135), and the author creates a parallel between an illness that invades and destroys lives unfairly, indiscriminately, and a war that has done the same. However, Coach Robeson stays strong, speaking of his own disease when he says, “you’ve gotta play your best / even if you’re losing” (145), and he inspires Matt to find courage to face his own challenges.