Like many of their real-life countryfolk, the members of the Trần family endure unimaginable hardships across the 20th century. While most respond at one point or another with hatred and a desire for vengeance, the events of Nguyễn’s novel present a forceful argument for the greater value of treating people with love and forgiveness, even when they seem undeserving.

There are many faceless enemies in The Mountains Sing: the French colonizers, the Japanese invaders, the South Vietnamese soldiers and their American allies. While individuals representing each of these groups visit great harm on the Trần family, there are also plenty of decent folk whose examples invalidate any meaningful attempts to vilify their people. In an early example, despite her hatred for the United States, Hương cannot help but feel pity and respect for the American pilot, noting that “[h]e didn’t make a sound when the rock hit him; he just bent his head lower” and that there seemed to be “tears trickling down his face, mixing with his blood,” all of which makes her wonder “what would happen to my parents if they faced their enemy” (13). Her instinct to humanize her enemy, whom she realizes might “have a daughter like me” (41), is vindicated when Đạt tells her that an American soldier saved his life: “In that instant,” Đạt tells his niece, “we looked into each other’s eyes as if into mirrors” (162).