BOOK REVIEW: THE ADVOCATE'S DEVIL TRILOGY BY WALTER WOON

For the uninitiated, click here to see Walter Woon’s illustrious career.

This will be a short review of The Advocate’s Devil trilogy. The three books in the trilogy are: The Advocate’s Devil, The Devil to Pay and The Devil’s Circle.

Upon finishing the first book, I quite liked it even if it was a little quaint. The protagonist in the trilogy is Peranakan lawyer Dennis Chiang who spent his formative years in an English public school and Cambridge. Thus Dennis’ voice in the book is very properly English, with all the vocabulary of an upper-class British upbringing and the slang and colloquialisms of that age (late 1930s). As mentioned at the start of this paragraph, I found the narration old-fashioned but interesting but readers accustomed to action-based and fast-paced books of today (especially of American origins) might be a little put off by it. My 16-year-old girl didn’t enjoy the book.

At the start of The Devil’s Advocate, Dennis Chiang had just returned from England and begun working at the law firm of d’Almeida & d’Almeida. The book is essentially a collection of cases encountered by Dennis Chiang, a sort of whodunnit with a legal twist. Think Enid Blyton’s Five Find-outers & Dog or Alfred Hitchcock’s The Three Investigators, but with adults attempting to solve the mystery or resolve the problem. Brisk pace of storytelling, interesting mysteries, and the added bonus of humorous writing, even if Walter Woon tends to veer towards the melodramatic at times.

Some gems of humour from the book:

The slide into genteel poverty was a common enough phenomenon among the Babas. Sometimes it was precipitated by a spendthrift wastrel son (a Baba black sheep, one might say).

Describing a lawyer who was presenting the other side in a case:

On the other side was a grizzled lawyer named K. Muthuraman. Muthuraman held himself out as a barrister and rather fancied that he was good at it. There was nothing he liked better than the sound of his own voice. He would stand in front of Judge and jury, hands clutching his robe, declaiming in flowing speeches like Olivier in ‘Hamlet’. We called him The Yeti because he was such an abominable showman.

On Dennis’ good friend Ralph, who is a veritable gentleman:

Ralph stopped abruptly. He began to get agitated. His face was white. He kept clenching and unclenching his fists. I’d never seen him quite so upset before. It was clear that some titanic oath was striving to burst forth. I waited for the eruption.

‘Blast the man!’ exclaimed Ralph.

I let out my breath and sighed inwardly. Being cursed by Ralph was not unlike being flagellated with a wet noodle.

Taken as a single book, I would have rated The Advocate’s Devil above average. However, when you take the trilogy into consideration, things get a lot more iffy.

The problem I have with the trilogy is that I find the books a little schizophrenic. The Advocate’s Devil, I’ve already mentioned, is written as a potboiler mystery, not unlike those penned by Agatha Christie and Dorothy Sayers. Funny, zippy-paced and loaded with descriptions of pre-war Singapore, I like.

The Devil to Pay is set during the war itself. So it’s structured more like a spy thriller in the first part of the book. Dennis Chiang and Clarence d’Almeida, the senior partner of the law firm Dennis was working in, went undercover in a British airbase in Malaya to try to uncover the culprit who was trying to subvert the Indian soldiers. Then halfway through the book, war broke out and the tone of the narration turned into that of a war epic. It was rather jarring.

The last book, The Devil’s Circle, deals with the aftermath of the war. War criminals had to be tried, Singapore had to be rebuilt, and the locals (or ‘natives’ as they were called in those days) had to deal with the withdrawal of the Japanese and the return of the British. But they were disillusioned by the British’s performance during the war and the writing was on the wall, where independence was concerned.

There is no dispute that Walter Woon has got a fine command of the English language. What I find confusing though is the non-consistency of the books’ structure. In fictional series, the structure of the books always remains the same, and for good reason. It is for the sake of continuation. That’s why the books form series!

Think JK Rowling’s Harry Potter — always school-based adventures, even as the danger and tension escalated book after book; only in the seventh book did the setting take place outside the school (the children were on the run), but even then, the tone was the same as the earlier six books’. Think JRR Tolkien’s Lord of the Rings trilogy — consistent tone and structure. Or Eoin Colfer’s Artemis Fowl’s series — always about the police-and-criminal partnership between Holly and Fowl. Ditto Darren Shan’s Demonata and vampire series. Ditto Rick Riordan’s Percy Jackson series.

The point I’m trying to make is that the tone of the narration and, to a certain extent, the genre of the series should remain consistent to avoid confusion in the reader, which is certainly what I suffered from by the time I finished the trilogy. I had no idea what I had just read. After finishing the first book, I had thought it was going to be about a collection of legal cases, which was obviously not the case by the time I embarked on the second book, which had only two or three such cases. The rest of the book revolved around the cloak-and-dagger business and the invasion of Singapore and Malaya by the Japanese.

If you want to read the series, I would advise thinking of each of them as a stand-alone book, so that you don’t get as disoriented as I did.

What I liked about the books:

Walter Woon’s so-correct Britishisms, his humour, his rather detailed portrayal of colonial Singapore. You also learn a bit about the law. Not enough to make you a legal expert, but you’ll learn some interesting facts that you did not know before (unless you’re a lawyer). And if you’re into Perankan culture, you’ll like the cultural titbits that he sprinkled liberally throughout the books.

What I didn’t like:

The romance was so off. It’s true, you know. Guys can’t write romance. A good romance makes you melt and root for the couple. Totally didn’t happen here.

I already mentioned the biggest problem for me: the change in genre and tone was too jarring.

Lastly, there were quite a few mistakes in the books. Grammatical errors and missing words. This I fault the publisher, who should have engaged a more proficient editor. I expected better from an established publisher like Marshall Cavendish.

BOOK REVIEW: LIFE AFTER LIFE

Life After Life by Kate Atkinson is another book with the reincarnation theme.

I first came across Kate Atkinson when I read Behind the Scenes at the Museum, a book which I enjoyed tremendously, for its matter-of-fact descriptions of a dysfunctional British family, and the surprise revelation at the end of the book, which I didn’t see coming.

Subsequently I read another book by Kate Atkinson (either Human Croquet or Emotionally Weird, I can’t remember which) and that book left totally no impression, as well as put me off Kate Atkinson for a long time. I discovered after reading the second book and again upon reading Life After Life that I only liked Kate Atkinson when I first came across her reading; it was novel and interesting for the first time, but there is something depressing about her writing, and that puts me off.

Hence it is after an interval of more than five years that I finally picked up another book by her, and this is because I read a review in Straits Times which mentioned Life After Life in comparison with the book it was reviewing. Like Cloud Atlas, Life After Life has a reincarnation theme. But the structure of this book is decidedly more conventional than Cloud Atlas, and it is a much tamer ride, unlike Cloud Atlas which was a bit of a emotional roller-coaster read.

 **SPOILERS AHEAD**

The structure of Life After Life is more conventional than Cloud Atlas but it’s still rather unusual, as far as novels go. The book follows the life of one Ursula Todd who was born on a cold winter night in 1910, but she died immediately after being expelled from her mother’s womb for she was strangled by her own umbilical cord. She was reborn and then met with another untimely demise when she drowned in the sea at the age of four. And she was reborn again… And so on.

The book follows the lives of Ursula Todd each time she was born. Some lives were long, others not. And through her various rebirths, we also get to know her family (parents, four siblings, a ditzy yet savvy aunt), friends (neighbours), servants and love interests. Her lives straddled both world wars (when she lived long enough, that is) and thus we also get a snapshot of how the wars, especially World War II, affected the British.

I find that the book ends with a whimper rather than a bang. It is hinted that Ursula’s numerous rebirths are because she has a destiny to fulfil — to avert World War II. She did this right at the beginning of the book, and I thought it was the author playing around with the timeline, putting the end of the story at the beginning of the book. Then when she finally succeeded in assassinating Hitler towards the end of the book and died in the process, she was reborn another two times, and I’m like WTF?! Then what’s the point of her rebirths?

Perhaps, just perhaps, Atkinson is using the story to illustrate the philosophy of time. The resident psychiatrist-cum-philosopher in the book, Dr. Kellet, had mentioned that time is circular, much like a snake consuming its own tail, and so we go round-and-round with Ursula Todd each time she was born. Or it could be as Ursula herself said, ‘It’s like a […] palimpsest.’, each life laid on top of another, and leaking memories and emotions from one to the other.

Life After Life is an okay read. If you’re wondering what to do with your time, this book could help you pass two weeks or thereabouts. There are worse books out there, but then again, there are also better books.

CLOUD ATLAS by David Mitchell

I first came across Cloud Atlas as a movie. There was quite a lot of advertisements and hype, and mistakenly thinking that it was a Hollywood production, I didn’t pay much attention to it.

Then Fate intervened. One day I was taking Aeroline; can’t remember if it was from Singapore to Kuala Lumpur or vice versa. What was important was that amongst the movie selection was Cloud Atlas. Even then, it didn’t entice me. It took a glimpse of a fellow passenger’s screen to finally intrigue my interest and make me tune into the movie. And you know what? I don’t regret spending three hours of my life on it. The movie was good. I especially enjoyed the Korean segment and even ventured to Fanfiction to feed my need for more Cloud Atlas.

Then I discovered that the movie was based on a book. Hallelujah! Quickly I hightailed to the nearest library and checked out a copy of the book, with a little fear that for once in my life, I might find the movie better than the book.

Well, that didn’t happen.

But would I say that the book is better than the movie?

Not exactly. I’ve come to view both book and movie as separate entities and I don’t overly prefer one or the other.

The movie

I watched the movie without having read the book and hence many nuances and details were lost to me. I managed to follow the gist of the movie but without 100% comprehension. It was an entertaining enough movie but what lifted the experience from a typically enjoyable viewing to one that left a deeper impression was the Sonmi story. I found the romance between Somni~451 and Im Hae-Joo touching. Which is quite amazing actually. In all my 41 years, I’ve never enjoyed a single Western romance. The Koreans do romance very well: My Name Is Kim San-Soon, Sassy Girl Chun-Hyang, My Girl, Coffee Prince, Best Love, City Hall, I’ve enjoyed them all. But I’ve never come across a Western romance movie or series that I liked. Hence my utter surprise when I found my heart softening, and then aching for the Sonmi-Haejoo pairing.

Imagine my further surprise when I discovered that the storyline in the movie was rather different from the one in the book. But since it worked well, I shan’t be a purist and complain.

Apart from Sonmi’s story, I didn’t find the other stories particularly inspiring. They were all right, just not outstanding.

The fun in watching Cloud Atlas the movie was in trying to spot which actor/actress was in which role. Some were pretty obvious, like Halle Berry as Luisa Rey or Zhou Xun as Yoona~939. Others, though, were so heavily made up that it made the guessing game quite challenging. I was shocked to find out that the actor cast as Im Hae-Joo was actually Jim Sturgess, a Caucasian actor!

Even though the movie stretched almost three hours (172 minutes), it was entertaining enough so that one does not feel the strain of time too acutely.

The book

The structure of the book is very interesting. It is made up of six stories:

1. The Pacific Journal of Adam Ewing — 1800s

2. Letters from Zedelghem — 1931

3. Half-Lives — The First Luisa Rey Mystery  — 1970s

4. The Ghastly Ordeal of Timothy Cavendish — 2012

5. An Orison of Sonmi~451 — 2144

6. Sloosha’s Crossin’ an’ Ev’rythin’ After — even later than Sonmi’s story

The six stories are listed according to chronology. What is rather novel is how David Mitchell, the author, arranged the stories. Instead of running the stories chronologically, he began with the first story but at a critical juncture, he broke off the story and started the second story. Likewise as the second story reaches the climax, he broke off and began the third story and this goes on until the sixth and final story, which is allowed to unfold in a conventional manner from beginning to end. Then we return to the fifth story and so on, finishing each story but in reverse order.

To be honest, it was quite infuriating, if interesting. I cheated anyway. For the stories that I find truly too interesting to resist (Letters from Zedelghem, Half-Lives— The First Luisa Rey Mystery, An Orison of Sonmi~451), I jumped ahead and finished them before continuing with the later story.  :)

What is impressive about the book is how Mitchell demonstrated his range of writing repertoire. Each story is a completely different literary genre. The Pacific Journal of Adam Ewing is a historical novel, or novella in this case, Letters from Zedelghem is a humorous epistolary memoir, Half-Lives—The First Luisa Rey Mystery is a potboiler thriller, The Ghastly Ordeal of Timothy Cavendish is a satire, An Orison of Sonmi~451 is about science fiction dystopia, while Sloosha’s Crossin’ An’ Ev’rythin’ After has a post-apocalypse fantasy setting.

When you think about how most writers specialise in just one genre for most of their writing lives, and here we have David Mitchell blithely exercising his creative juices by penning a total of six different genres, and doing it well… I take my hat off. Really.

But I must warn that not all the stories are equally enjoyable. You know my three favourite. Top story for me is a close fight between Letters and Sonmi, but Letters wins by a tiny margin, mainly because of its humour and compelling narrator, Robert Frobisher. (Yes, in the movie, Sonmi wins hands down.)

The Pacific Journal of Adam Ewing takes some time for one to settle into because of the archaic language used. But once you get into the story, it is all right. I found The Ghastly Ordeal of Timothy Cavendish a little over the top, but overall, still rather enjoyable. Sloosha’s Crossin’ an’ Ev’rythin’ After was, for me, the weakest story. Maybe it was because by the time I got to this story, I was exhausted (it’s a thick book — 529 pages!). But I particularly didn’t like it because of the language that Mitchell used to depict the primitive state the people returned to after the (hinted nuclear) apocalypse.

Apart from being awed by the writing skills of Mitchell, another thing I like about the book is how the stories are all inter-linked. These links come in many layers. Firstly, it is strongly hinted that the main character in each story is the same soul, reincarnated over several lives. This soul is identified by the comet-shaped birthmark that accompanies him in each life.

Then we have artefact from each story falling into the hands of a character in the next story, like Robert Frobisher coming across Adam Ewing’s journal, Luisa Rey find Robert Frobisher’s letters, Timothy Cavendish receiving a manuscript based on Luisa Rey’s story, Sonmi~451 watching a movie based on Timothy Cavendish’s story, and Zachry viewing Sonmi’s orison and thinking she is a goddess. Sublime really, all these connections.

But what is even more sublime is how the various characters would have premonitions or deja vu of incidents that occurred in other lives. It’s like past and future events breaking down the barriers of time and manifesting as dreams and inexplicable sensations.

This book is highly recommended. Read it for Mitchell’s brilliant writing, his wide repertoire and its innovative structure.

I generally don’t buy books. In Singapore’s birdcage-like apartments, there isn’t much space to store books. I only buy books that I really, really like. The last book I bought was Suzanne Clark’s Mr Norrell & Jonathan Strange. I’m seriously considering getting this one.

Goodies From Taiwan

In July Hubby went on a business trip to Taiwan. He came back with bags of goodies, courtesy of his colleague in Taiwan as well as the local hosts.

The irony was that in June we had just gone on a family trip to the very same country. (It seems that Taiwan seems to be having a renaissance of some sort when it comes to travel. In the last decade or two, many people were visiting China, its booming coastal cities as well as the more exotic places of attraction in its vast interior. But in the last two to three years, it seems an increasing number of people are beginning to go to Taiwan for vacations again, judging from anecdotes and the burgeoning number of blogger posts about Taiwanese trips. Which is a good thing, for Taiwan is a friendly and beautiful country. And getting around it is easy, especially for Singaporeans who speak Mandarin or Hokkien.)

Er hem, I digress.

Back to our Taiwanese trip. As we didn’t have much time (we went the inefficient and circuitous route of Taipei — Taichung — Hualien — Taipei in 6 days; don’t ask why, it’s a long story) and didn’t do much research beforehand, I didn’t manage to lay my hands on a couple of Taiwanese products that I’ve heard people raving and ranting about — the sun cakes ( 太阳饼 ) and the almond powder.

Imagine my delight when Hubby returned from his business trip lugging these amongst the other goodies!

The sun cakes were from Li Ji ( 犁记 ) and they were every bit as yummy as I remember sun cakes to be.

It seems that Taiwanese pineapple tarts ( 凤梨酥 ) tend to be more popular but I generally find them to be overly sweet, and more than a little synthetic in taste, including the ones Hubby brought back this time. But I have always loved the rich taste of sun cakes and the ones from Li Ji did not disappoint.

 Each cake comes with a red stamp on it, saying sun cake in traditional Chinese. So old-school that it brings back the memories. I used to loathe eating anything with red dye. Perhaps because the young me associated the colour with blood, and being no vampire, I didn’t find the idea of ingesting blood the least bit attractive. In fact, it was revolting.

Fortunately the old me has no such qualms. I wolfed down the sun cakes all right, and found them to be utterly delicious, the buttery fragrance mixed with the complex richness of malt sugar. The pastry was just the right thickness, not too thick but thick enough to prevent the mixture from being overpoweringly sweet.

They have a branch in Shanghai too. So the next time you are in Taipei or Shanghai, pick up a couple of boxes of this. I assure you they’ll disappear real quickly.

The other gem from the bags of goodies was this:

Instant All Natural Almond Powder from
Golden Mountain

To prepare this, add three teaspoons of the powder into a cup of cold or hot water. Then stir until all the powder has dissolved. And you’ll end up with a smooth, creamy cup of almond milk.

I’ve been drinking it hot. And I like it thick so instead of three teaspoons, I add three tablespoons  :)

I find that immediately after adding the hot water, there tends to be a bit of burnt taste but that goes away pretty quickly. So I’m not sure if it’s my imagination. Taste is pretty good too. Mildly sweet and if you like the fragrance of almonds, this will be a hit with you.

There are supposedly a ton of benefits associated with this drink too. It is supposed to give a radiant complexion (no wonder the girls always buy tons of this when they visit Taiwan) and helps to boost your memory too. Tastes good and is good for the brain. What’s not to like?

I was told that a different brand of almond powder can be purchased in the NTUC in Jurong Point, so I’ll be trying to hunt it down. I’ve already finished this can. If anyone knows where else in Singapore I can get my hands on instant almond powder, kindly drop a comment to let me know. I’ll be eternally grateful.

For any Chinese reader who
may be reading this   :)

TRAVELS WITH CHARLEY By John Steinbeck

John Steinbeck is one of USA’s literary giants. Yet I’ve never read any of his works. I know, I know. My only excuse is that Singapore is an ex-colony of Britain and my own reading tastes tend to veer towards British writers. Another reason is that I tend to be sceptical of American claims which tend to be larger than life.

I read about this book somewhere on some website and out of idle curiosity, while I was in the Jurong East Regional Library one day, I decided to check to see if the library had a copy and they did. I checked the book out, out of the same idle curiosity.

Right from the start, Steinbeck’s writing blew me away. His writing was brilliantly original, witty and sharp, and deeply American, which I realise is not a bad thing when done properly — it adds an authentic flavour to the book.

Travels With Charley was published in 1962, the same year in which Steinbeck was awarded the Nobel Prize for Literature. It was based on his four-month journey around the States in the late fall and early winter of 1960. He travelled in a mobile home — a truck with an attached cabin that contained the comforts of home — that he christened Rocinante after the hero’s horse in Don Quixote. Although his wife joined him at certain short segments of the trip, his only constant companion was his dog, Charley, hence the title of the book.

At the start of the book, Steinbeck explained that he embarked on the trip because of travel lust, a restlessness that had plagued him since he was young. He kept putting it off, think that age would temper the urge, but upon realising that even at the grand old age of 58, he was still possessed by this compulsion, he decided to give in to it. He set off with the intention of learning the truth about his country, though he cautioned the reader that truth is always subjective, focused through the lens of the person experiencing it.

The book is divided into four parts. Part 1 is the introduction in which he explains his rationale for the trip as well as his plan and preparations.

Part 2 plunges into the start of his trip. He set off from his home in Sag Harbour, New York, and travelled north to Massachusetts, Vermont and New Hampshire. He stopped in Maine before heading north to Canada briefly and then returning to USA, passing through Ohio, Michigan and Illinois at high speed. He stopped briefly in Chicago where he was joined by his wife.  And that concluded Part 2.

In Part 3, Steinbeck describes his journey through Illinois, Wisconsin, Minnesota, North Dakota, Montana, Washington, and Oregon before he reached California, where he had spent his childhood. After spending some days there, he left for New Mexico and that concludes the third part of the book.

The last part of the book covers Steinbeck’s journey to Texas (where he again met up with his wife) and New Orleans before he finally turned round and headed for home.

What makes the book interesting is Steinbeck’s detailed observations of his country’s landscape and his keen insights on his countrymen. Some of his observations remain relevant, and are even prophetic, some fifty years after he had penned his sojourn. There are many reasons to read this book: to gain a better understanding of that vast and complex superpower, the USA (USA is too complex to be succinctly described in a thin book, but Steinbeck’s travels give us a relevant perspective); it’s a good way to pass time (his wicked humour is highly entertaining); Steinbeck’s sharp understanding of human nature is enlightening; and to see how the English language is wielded by a master.

As a teacher, during writing lessons, I would explain to my students that to describe a place, they need to use their five senses as much as possible. And because humans are highly visual creatures, the most important sense that needs to be described is sight. If they should be stumped about what to describe, they can always fall back on colours.

There is no better way to illustrate this than to see how a master wordsmith does it. A couple of examples here:

In the Bad Lands

Steinbeck initially found the Bad Lands foreboding and unwelcoming. But he discovered that as day turned into night, the passage of time drastically transformed the Bad Lands into the ‘Good Lands’.

[…] And then the late afternoon changed everything. As the sun angled, the buttes and coulees, the cliffs and sculptured hills and ravines lost their burned and dreadful look and glowed with yellow and rich browns and a hundred variations of red and silver grey, all picked out by streaks of coal black. It was so beautiful that I stopped near a thicket of dwarfed and wind-warped cedars and junipers, and once stopped I was caught, trapped in colour and dazzled by the clarity of the light. Against the descending sun the battlements were dark and clean-lined, while to the east, where the uninhibited sunlight poured slantwise, the strange landscape shouted with colour.

In Oregon where he visited redwood country to pay homage to the ancient trees

The trees rise straight up to zenith; there is no horizon. The dawn comes early and remains dawn until the sun is high up. Then the green fernlike foliage so far up strains the sunlight to a gold green and distributes it in shafts or rather in stripes of light and shade.

The middle segment of the book lags a little, so some readers may find it dreary, and all the place names can be confusing for a non-American. But as an introduction to Steinbeck’s writing, it is a superb initiation and I can’t wait to start reading his famous works of fiction, The Grapes of Wrath and East of Eden.

So Pho

B1-08 Jem, Jurong East

Tel: 6339 0058

B1-15  Serangoon Nex

Tel: 6636 8195

Even before my sister sang the praises of the banh mi (a legacy of France’s colonisation of Vietnam) she tasted in Hoi An, I knew I would like it. That’s because I’ve always liked baguette.

An old secondary school friend of mine commented before on my perverse taste: I like old apples that are slightly soft (I find it sweeter and enjoy the melty texture) when crunchy apples are the mainstream flavour; I like bread that is hard on the outside (hence my very soft spot for baguette), and don’t mind if the interior is a little tough rather than soft and fluffy.

Anyway, I knew bahn mi would be a hit with me. And I was proven right when I finally tasted my first bahn mi last month at Pho Street, Westgate. It wasn’t the best meal of my life but I enjoyed it. Then I tried the one at Nam Nam, Raffles City. Also nice, but a tad too rich.

Today I tried my third bahn mi (fourth if one wants to be accurate, I tried two at Pho Street but alas, took neither pictures nor notes so I can’t do a review on them) at So Pho, at the basement of Jem.

From their name card, I realise that So Pho is owned by Katrina Holdings, which manages quite a number of other brands, the most famous of which is Bali Thai.

At So Pho, the menu has been tweaked to cater to local tastes, so apart from the typical Vietnamese fare like spring rolls, pho and banh mi, they also serve hotpot. Weird, since I didn't realise Vietnamese cuisine includes hotpot, but I could be mistaken.

Decor was nice and pleasant, but nothing outstanding. The broadcasted music was a little too loud though, more intrusive than adding bustle.

  

I didn’t dine at the restaurant. Instead, I ordered a grilled chicken banh mi for takeaway.

Banh mi with grilled chicken and chicken pate;
S$5.90 before GST, S$6.30 nett

The banh mi came with slices of grilled chicken and chicken pate, accompanied by julienned carrots, cucumber, cilantro and mint. There was also some plant that tasted like lemongrass or some similar pungently fragrant leaf. Or it could be the mint. Either way, I'm not really a fan of it.

On the whole, it was nothing special. It wasn’t bad, just average, middling, mediocre. The grilled chicken was nothing to shout about, and the chicken pate was tasteless, adding nothing to the experience but a strange floury, starchy and wet texture to the bread. The bread was also not crunchy on the outside, a no-no for me — baguette has to be crisp on the outside!

At S$5.90 before GST, it’s a dollar cheaper than the equivalent at Pho Street, just a building across in the basement of Westgate, and I prefer the latter, if simply for the crunchy exterior of the baguette. Will I be back again? Perhaps, if only to try their pho and see how that compares with Pho Street’s pho or Nam Nam’s. But it’s doubtful that I would order their bahn mi again.