Book Review: How to Build a Bridge Across the Ocean by Matthew Torralba Andrews
Former BR contributor Matthew Torralba Andrews’s How to Build a Bridge Across the Ocean, the C&R Press Summer Tide Pool 2024 Chapbook Awardee (forthcoming, April 2026), is a collection of linked short stories that shimmers like moonlight bouncing off the iridescent underside of seashells washed up on the shore, finally out of the shadows. Throughout this chapbook, readers face waves at beaches, journey across deserts, and pull off to the side of highways as stories about love, family, and grief unfold in brief scenes tying in heartfelt reflections and wistful remembrances. The short stories making up this collection are more akin to poetic flash fictions as the musical quality to Andrews’s language brings together the main character, Alon’s, story.
The opening epigraph by Filipina American poet Michelle Peñaloza hints at the Filipinx American experience embedded into the heart of this collection. Indeed, Alon’s Filipinx American background shines through with the subtle boldness of stars in the desert sky. For instance, Alon’s name means “wave” in Tagalog and numerous recollections of Alon’s mother’s life in the Philippines are included, such as how she met his dad at Clark Air Base. In “The Shack,” Alon even recalls a story told to him by his mother, about a time when she saw an American soldier holding a rifle above a dead Filipino in front of the base gates. Through these striking details woven into Alon’s journey, Andrews conveys the Filipinx American experience of piecing together your family’s history and how that story fits into a larger collective history. As the child of Filipino immigrants myself, these details brought back memories of my own parents’ stories about the Philippines. Like Alon, these stories have swirled within me, both linking me to and reminding me of the distance between myself and a Philippine homeland.
Structurally, the chapbook is split into two sections: “Forest of Stone” and “How to Build a Bridge Across the Ocean.” The first section drifts between snippets of Alon directly addressing his mother whom he misses, and snapshots of the progression and deterioration of his relationship with boyfriend Kai. As these two narrative lines ebb and flow, Andrews creates a nostalgic tone and mood. The second section provides more foundation to the first by fleshing out Alon’s family background with the introduction of other characters into the picture such as his sister Keely and Tito Boboy. The charting of Alon’s relationship with Keely, backstory about his mother, and context surrounding his family’s coming to America add weight to Alon’s grief introduced in the first section. Meanwhile, both sections integrate visceral descriptions of nature—from juniper trees to shrubs to sun-kissed hills—to complement the narrative and Alon’s contemplations.
In How to Build a Bridge Across the Ocean, Andrews lyrically pulls readers into Alon’s life as he moves across various settings and times to process shifting understandings of home and the constant pursuit of it. Through it all, Andrews generously invites readers to consider how they might build their own imaginary bridges between themselves and places, people, past memories. Upon reading the last page, I felt encouraged to pick up where Alon left off, and map my own way to someplace called home.
You can also watch Trin’s conversation with former BR contributor Matt here! Enjoy!
Trin Encarnacion (she/her) is the Filipina American daughter of immigrants who moved to the United States from the Philippines in the 1970s. She grew up in San Diego, California unsatisfied with the lack of Asian characters in the books at her school library. She now resides in Bellingham, Washington where she pursues an MFA in creative writing at WWU, teaches first-year writing, and writes stories about the Gen Z Filipina American coming of age.
