Q. What inspired you to write Dragon House?
A. For a long time, I’ve found Vietnam fascinating due to its history—which is dominated by its external conflicts as well as its internal ones. In part due to this fascination, I’ve been fortunate to travel extensively throughout the country. While exploring Vietnam I felt quite connected to its citizens, who usually went out of their way to make me feel welcome. I talked about peace with a man who once dug tunnels that were used to attack American bases. I listened to stories from people who endured tremendous hardships. Most important, at least in terms of Dragon House, was the fact that I interacted on a daily basis with some of the thousands of street children who are so visible in parts of Vietnam. I felt like the stories of these children needed to be brought to life on the page.

Q. Can you describe your trips to Vietnam?
A. I first went to Vietnam in 1993. Only recently had the country opened itself back up to American tourists, and it felt almost surreal to explore the landscape. I was only twenty-four, and often thought about young men my age being sent to Vietnam to fight in the war. One thing that amazed me at the time (and to this day) was that the Vietnamese were thrilled to discover that I was American. If I met someone who fought with the United States, that person would shake my hand and tell me how delighted he was to have Americans back in his country. If I met someone who fought against the United States, that person would nod his head and say that the past was the past, and that he was glad Vietnam and America were normalizing their relationship. I felt almost no malice during my entire trip.

I returned to Vietnam in 1999 with my wife. The two of us rode in a van with a leaky roof all the way from Ho Chi Minh City to Hanoi. It was an amazing experience, one that exposed us to a diverse landscape and people who made the hardships of our trip worthwhile. During this trip I sensed my connection to Vietnam growing stronger.

To research Dragon House, I traveled to Vietnam in 2007. I was amazed at how much things had changed. Fourteen years before, it seemed as if everyone rode a bicycle. In 2007, everyone appeared to be on a motor scooter. Moreover, Ho Chi Minh City was full of fancy hotels and restaurants—things I didn’t recall from my earlier visits. Of course, the people were still the same—warm and friendly and welcoming.

Q. You’ve written several novels set in Asia. What fuels your passion for this part of the world?
A. I lived in Japan for a few years after graduating from college, and quickly fell in love with the region. I am a big fan of Asia’s history, people, food, natural beauty, and weather. Driving a scooter around, I’ve been able to cover vast areas, experiencing cultures that have thrived for thousands of years. I’ve felt welcomed by people all over Asia. Strangers have brought me into their homes, taken the time to brighten my day. For me, traveling around Asia has been a wonderful adventure. As a writer, it’s gratifying to bring that adventure to life through my novels.

Q. In your experiences with street children, what did you find most compelling?
A. I’ve spoken with hundreds of street children throughout Asia, and what I’ve been most impressed with is the children’s optimism. Though they sleep on the streets, sell trinkets for money, and dress in rags, the children haven’t given up on life. They yearn for simple things—to go to school, to have a safe place to sleep. They know that these things aren’t impossibilities, and they try, with the very few resources at their disposal, to make such things become realities. These children are bright and eager and quick to laugh. They’re strong. They would rather work than beg. One time, when I was about to leave Vietnam, I had a bunch of Vietnamese coins in my pocket. I offered them to a young boy. He told me that he would rather work for them. So I asked him to find me a newspaper written in English. This was 1993, and such newspapers weren’t exactly sitting on every corner. Nonetheless, he returned thirty minutes later with an old USA Today in his hand, grinning from ear to ear about his accomplishment.

Q. The Vietnamese characters in Dragon House all seem to have unique and compelling voices. How did you create such memorable characters?
A. By meeting such people in real life. I never base a character on a particular person, but rather on memories of encounters, on bits and pieces of people I’ve interacted with. The characters in Dragon House were resurrected in my mind long before I sat down to try to put them on a page. I find giving life to such voices to be extremely rewarding. At first characters are tough to write. They are one-dimensional and bleak. But after many edits and a lot of thought, the characters start to speak for themselves. I love it when this transition occurs.

Q. Why did you decide to have Noah be an Iraq War vet?
A. Vietnam was a land torn apart by war, and that history is a big piece of the fabric of the country today. I wanted Noah (as well as Sahn) to have experienced such strife. Somehow Vietnam has managed to find peace, and I wondered if my characters could find peace as well. I wasn’t honestly sure when I started writing the novel if they would. As far as Noah goes, I felt that because of his past suffering, he’d be better able to connect with and help the street children. I wanted him to understand their pain. I did the same thing to Iris, to a lesser degree.

Q. To you, what does the relationship between Iris and Sahn symbolize?
A. Well, I think that the partnership they ultimately make is symbolic in some ways of the relationship that Vietnam and America now have. Initially Sahn hates Iris and all that she stands for. But he comes to understand that she is good, and he grows to admire her. I don’t think that is so different from what has happened between Vietnam and America. Five million people died in the war, which occurred only two generations ago. Craters and unexploded bombs still litter the landscape. And yet, when one is in Vietnam, the war can seem like ancient history. It’s a thing of the past that is no longer dwelled on. I found the capacity of people to forgive very uplifting.

Q. Do you considerDragon House to be an antiwar novel?
A. I was born during the Vietnam War, so I can’t honestly say whether or not I think the United States should have sent troops to Southeast Asia. It’s sometimes hard for me to judge history if I wasn’t alive during the event in question. I will say that I believe war is often rushed into, which I view as rash and naive. I think war should be entered into only as a last resort, when diplomacy has failed and the welfare of good nations is in immediate danger. In terms of how such thoughts are expressed in Dragon House, I show the suffering that the Vietnam War created on both sides of the conflict. And my character, Noah, speaks at length about how he believes the Iraq War was a mistake. Readers may or may not agree with Noah. I don’t expect everyone to share his thoughts. I’ve certainly spoken with brave and good soldiers who support one side of the argument or the other.

Q. What messages do you hope to pass to readers?
A. I don’t write novels to try to pass my personal thoughts along to readers. Perhaps I have a few musings that I share during the course of a novel, but I don’t write in an effort to spread my beliefs. That would be incredibly presumptuous. I will admit that through Dragon House I want to expose readers to the sufferings of street children. This problem, which is massive in scope, doesn’t get the attention that it merits.

Q. What will your next novel be about?
A. I’m working right now on an outline for my next book. The story I want to tell is of a father and a daughter who travel the world together, guided by the words of his deceased wife, her mother. The father and daughter will embark on this journey to once again find joy, and will experience pain and beauty, sadness and salvation. Through the landscape they travel, and the people they meet, I want to bring a series of countries and cultures to life, creating experiences that will shape the father and daughter into what the dying woman hoped that they might become.