BOOKS! (The Woman Warrior)

Want to know a funny story? Before I'd looked her up, I thought Maxine Hong Kingston was either a blasian woman, or a black woman who married an Asian man. The only Maxines I've ever heard of are black, and I've certainly never heard of an Asian woman having that name. So I was sure that this author must be black or connected to black people in some way! Come to find out, she is a first-generation Chinese American; her parents came from China before the Chinese Communist Revolution.

The Woman Warrior: Memoirs of a Childhood Among Ghosts by Maxine Hong Kingston

Like The Namesake, this book largely a story about immigrants. It's considerably different however; it plays out on the West Coast, and it is written from a female perspective. As Kingston demonstrates in some of the stories she tells, women are expected to be the keepers of culture, home/family, and tradition. However, while they are burdened with such responsibility, they suffer the worst during hard times and periods of change because they have little agency in traditional society. With this in mind, "woman warrior" can mean a number of things. It can mean an actual warrior who is empowered to defy rules and to protect and uplift her people. In a simpler sense, it can also mean any everyday woman fighting to survive, stand up for themselves, and/or make sense of life.

The first word that comes to mind when I think of this book is "stories". Kingston even uses a term "talk-story" to indicate when people tell tales. The book is full of them: ancient myths, folk tales, anecdotes, unmentionable secrets of the past, world events, recollections. They also vary in location and perspective, ranging from the legend of Fa Mulan, to Kingston's mother's experience fighting off a ghost, to Kingston's bullying of a childhood friend. It can be confusing to keep track of what's going on as she wraps one tale around another, pauses one retelling to add pieces of another. However, I think that confusion is the point. For much of her life it seems that she herself is confused. It is hard for her to distinguish between what is particular to her own experience and what is Chinese/Chinese tradition. I think she uses a variety of interconnected stories to demonstrate that, growing up Chinese-American, her experience and identity are not bound by one place and one time period. Also, since stories function as memories here, they do not just belong to her or her generation.

The second word that comes to mind here is "ghosts". There are a variety of ghosts in this book. Some are literal ghosts (evil spiritual entities not be confused with the more revered and benevolent "spirits"). Some are imagined or felt, and function as warnings. Some are people. It's interesting to me that Kingston rarely refers to Americans as people. She and other Chinese characters in her memoir speak of them as "ghosts". If I were to guess why (assuming there's a reason for this) I'd say that it conveys the sense of being on guard in a strange land, surrounded by ignorant yet powerful strangers who are sure to have malicious intentions. Emigrants need to make a life in their new home, yet also keep their distance from American "ghosts" in order to avoid losing themselves.

While it's not the easiest read, I really appreciate Woman Warrior for its complexity. It's not even just the content; some aren't even sure what genre this book fits into! And I think that being able to create something that no one can seem to put a finger on or enclose in a box is an incredible skill and  accomplishment.

Favorite quotes:

"Perhaps women were once so dangerous that they had to have their feet bound." (p. 19)

"I can't sleep in this country because it doesn't shut down for the night... Time was different in China. One year lasted as long as my total time here; one evening so long, you could visit your women friends, drink tea, and play cards at each house, and it would still be twilight... Here midnight comes and the floor's not swept, the ironing's not ready, the money's not made. I would still be young if we lived in China." (p. 105-106) 

BOOKS! (Twelve Years a Slave)

I saw the movie in November and found it to be profoundly moving, and I recently received the book for my birthday. This is the opposite of how I usually do things (I like to read the book first and then see the movie, because I'm always partial to the written word). But hey, that's just how it worked out.

Twelve Years a Slave by Solomon Northrup

In his autobiography Northrup, a free-born man from New York state, recounts the twelve years of bondage he endured in Louisiana after being kidnapped  and sold into slavery. He describes the locations, people, and horrors that he encountered using real names and sometimes excruciatingly vivid detail. This was meant to impress upon readers that he was telling the truth. It was also meant to assert to supporters of slavery at the time that slavery was not a system that benefited black people; blacks were equally human as anyone else, slaves did not enjoy being slaves, and they were not entirely ignorant of what freedom meant.

Reading this book, I surprisingly connected  more with the character named Patsey on paper than I had with Patsey on screen. As a cotton-picking slave she is expected to always be strong and perform exceptionally, yet she is never appreciated for her work, is sexually assaulted by her master on a regular basis, and is constantly blamed for wrongs that are not her own doing. I think that African-American female readers can all find something in Patty that resonates with their own individual experience. Because unfortunately, Patty's plight is consistent with a reality that many black women face in society and media as hyper-sexualized objects of both desire and derision. We are expected to be both tirelessly hard-working and ashamed of ourselves at the same time.

I think Twelve Years is excellent. It is honest, it sugarcoats little, and except for some outdated terms and phrases, it is easy to understand. The only problem I have with it is that Northrup  seems to make too many excuses for the so-called "good" slaveholders, claiming that it's the "barbarous and unjust" system's fault rather than their own that they developed such a cruel and callous disregard for human life. I don't find it remarkable that some masters pitied the plight of their slaves and treated them with kindness;  this is the least a man can do toward a fellow human being.  Having good hearts or good intentions doesn't outweigh the fact that these slaveholders owned slaves, and were complicit in the race-based institutionalized murder and degradation of innocent people.

One can never know this for sure, but I wonder if  Northrup would have made the same concessions about slaveholders had he been born into slavery. I do not mean to discredit the severity of his suffering (and Northrup does recognize the exceptional nature of his own background and position in the book). But being a free-born, educated, jack-of-all-trades black man from the North who was a slave for  only 12 years, Northrup discusses slavery from a privileged position that allows him to analyze the system in depth and pardon certain slave masters for their transgressions. Others who were born and died in chains might not have had the same perspective, and furthermore I do not think anyone should be pardoned for having perpetuated the horror of slavery, even if they might have felt a little bad about it. I apologize for getting on a soapbox about this point. I know that I do not have the right to argue with a dead man about his account of his own experience, but this is the one aspect of the memoir that I just couldn't get with.

I would like to say again that this book is outstanding. Depending on how much African-American literature you have read already, it might not teach you anything about slavery that you were not already aware of. However, it offers a unique and incredibly interesting experience through which one might contemplate slavery, race, and the American notion of liberty in new ways.

Favorite quotes:

"Not by human dwellings─not in crowded cities alone, are the sights and sounds of life. The wildest places of the earth are full of them. Even in the heart of that dismal swamp, God had provided a refuge and a dwelling place for millions of living things." (p. 92)

"Truly, Patsey was a splendid animal, and were it not that bondage had enshrouded her intellect in utter and everlasting darkness, would have been chief among ten thousand of her people." (p. 123)

BOOKS! (Mogo's Flute)

 I was checking out a second-hand bookstore called 2nd & Charles, and at the door I found this children's book in the "FREE" bin. I almost put it back down and walked away, but I had just watched the documentary Dark Girls the night before and the lack of positive representations for brown-skinned people was still weighing heavily on my brain. Plus, it's an original copy from 1966, and I'm not one to ignore a sign like that when something that old just falls into my hands. I also extrapolated far into the future thinking, Well if I ever have kids, I could give them books by and/or about black people like Ma did me, and this would be an excellent book to start with. So I took it.

Mogo's Flute by Hilda van Stockum

 Mogo is a young Kikuyu boy in Kenya who suffers from a thalu (a sickness or curse that his ancestors placed upon him because people praised him too much as a baby). Because of this he is small, weak, clumsy, and often sickly. He cannot do what other boys his age can do, like play games and work in the fields. The only thing he is good at is playing the flute, a skill that one of his older brothers taught him. This is more than a skill, however. Some people say that Mogo has magic; his music captivates people,  summons and calms animals, calls on nature around him to flourish and shine. But at the same time people regard him as a pitiable, useless boy who will forever be a burden to his family if he does not learn to do other things. Following the advice of the village's wise man, Mogo focuses on  discovering his purpose in life.

After his flute is destroyed by a monkey, Mogo puts forth his best effort to succeed at tasks he is given by his father, like planting and goat herding. He gains respect from others as well as physical strength, but he still longs to play music again. One day, his uncle gives him his flute as a present. As Mogo is entrusted with more responsibilities and uses the flute to save his village's source of livelihood, he realizes that he does not have to choose between what he loves and what he feels obligated to do in order to become a respectable man. He is celebrated, for he has proven to everyone that his gift is not useless.

I appreciate this story a lot because it addresses coming-of-age in a way that people my age can relate to. For some people transitioning to adulthood means giving up childhood fantasies, quelling deeply-felt passions, and becoming serious; it means devoting themselves to what's required or expected of them in order to have a stable or quantitatively successful life. But van Stockum is trying to make readers understand that it does not have to be that way. You do not have to choose between what gives your life meaning and what makes people respect you. Whatever gift it is that you have, you've been given it for a reason! Lately I've been having a crisis about my future and important decisions I'll need to be making, and I tend to be too serious because that's the safe route for me. Believe it or not, Mogo's Flute has made me consider that maybe my problem is that I'm just thinking too small and trying to do too much.

Favorite quotes:

"It was a hard lesson for me to have to wait while nature did its work. But never mind, soil does not cheat a man. In the long run we are rewarded." (p. 50)

"All the things he had not been able to say poured out of his flute; he blew away all his longings, he freed the feelings that had been locked up for long months in his heart, transformed them into fountains of song that seemed to reach to the skies." (p. 71)

BOOKS! (The Namesake)

During my winter break I was able to read six books, the first which was The Sailor Who Fell from Grace with the Sea. What follows today and tomorrow will be my reviews of the other five, starting with The Namesake. I read Lahiri's Interpreter of Maladies two years ago and was awed by her way of vividly yet succinctly portraying human experience and intentions, especially in regard to culture and cross-cultural situations. I bought a copy of The Namesake a while ago, and it was second on my self-assigned winter reading list. Here are my thoughts on it. Also, in case anyone is wondering, I have not seen the film that's based on this novel, so I won't be touching on it at all.

The Namesake by Jhumpa Lahiri

This novel reminded me a lot of Zadie Smith's White Teeth, in that it depicts the cultural and generational differences that arise between a pair of immigrant parents and their first-generation American children. The story begins with a father's inspiration to move from Bengal to Boston, and continues with his adult Indian-American son's struggle to reconcile his dual identities. This struggle of Gogol/Nikhil Ganguli is exemplified through his life experiences and his peculiar Russian-Bengali, Eastern-Western name (hence, The Namesake).

When Gogol Ganguli is born, "Gogol" is only meant to be his temporary and informal name, but as a child he insists on keeping it. As he grows older, he grows to hate both his name and his small world, which is largely composed of Bengali people and customs. During adulthood he legally changes his name to Nikhil (but Lahiri continues to refer to him as "Gogol"), decides to become an architect, moves to New York City, and has three unsuccessful long-term relationships (two of which are with non-Bengali women). Whether in effect or by intention, all of these decisions rebel against his parents' preferences. He is determined  to become his own man and distance himself from what he believes to be stifling traditions and expectations. Even after his father tells him about the near-death experience and affinity with Russian literature that gave him his name, Gogol still feels burdened by it.

The sudden death of his father is what leads Gogol to accept his name. At the end of the novel, he finally reads the book written by his namesake (Russian author Nikolai Gogol), which his father had given him as a birthday present while he was still alive.

What I like most about this book is that the immigrant parent-American child dynamic is not extreme. On their end, Gogol's parents are not strict or overbearing in their traditionalism. They adjust to life in America and let their kids live as they choose, while quietly retaining their resignations about American culture and their children's decisions. On his end, Gogol is not an American-born brat who hates his family and completely rejects his culture. He is a conflicted man, and while he loves and respects his parents, he also takes advantage of the opportunities he has to be different from them and find himself. Though his circumstances are particular, Gogol's experiences are not uncommon. I think that this aspect makes his story very relatable to young adults and 20-somethings in general, regardless of their parents' origin.

Favorite quotes:

"For being a foreigner, Ashima is beginning to realize, is a sort of lifelong pregnancy─a perpetual wait, a constant burden, a continuous feeling out of sorts. It is an ongoing responsibility, a parenthesis in what had once been ordinary life, only to discover that that previous life has vanished, replaced by something more complicated and demanding." (p. 49-50)

"She has the gift of accepting her life; as he comes to know her, he realizes that she has never wished she were anyone other than herself, raised in any other place, in any other way." (138). 

Oranges

"Danielle, you always lookin' at the outside. The outside don't make the orange! " -Ma

My Grandpa 11

We were waiting for everyone to arrive at the New Year's gathering yesterday, when we saw Cousin M and his wife pull up outside the house.

 

Cousin B (to all of us sitting inside): Now you know Cousin M's going to talk us to death, so don't y'all act like you don't know.

 

Grandpa: Well, if we act like we don't know him, maybe he won't talk so much.

Twenty14

I Rip Van Winkle'd my way into 2014.

My family's church's Watch Night service ended at 9:30pm, and this chick is not the partying kind. But I really wanted to bring in this New Year a different way. I didn't want to stay up and simply watch the minutes go by, as if just another day was coming. So I figured I'd go to bed early and let the New Year come in the night like a present, like Christmas morning is supposed to. Sleep came quickly; I didn't hear anybody's countdown, and by the grace of God I didn't hear anybody's gunshots.

I knocked out for 12 hours, and when I woke up it was another year!

All I want this year is consistency and balance. There are a number of other personal attributes that I could stand to develop, but I believe that once I have the first two, the rest will follow. It may very well take more than 2014 for me to get there, but I'll try my best not to get discouraged and go backwards.

 

A few days ago I was reading a passage in the Bible where Jesus sends his disciples out to do His work, and the verses below really spoke to my spirit:

"But when they arrest you, do not worry about what to say or how to say it. At that time you will be given what to say, for it will not be you speaking, but the Spirit of your Father speaking through you" -Matthew 10:19-20 (NIV)

I think that this will be the passage that guides me for the year. I tend to keep quiet in front of others because I'm not always sure how to say things, and I often worry about how people will receive me and my words. But this year, like last year, I'm going to push myself to be more honest and vocal. I'm a person just like anyone else, and I think I deserve to speak and sing like my life depends on it. Because it does.

 

That's all I have to say about today. No resolutions. Just my most pressing needs. To whomever may be reading this,  I thank the Lord above that you and I have been blessed to see 2014. Be Happy and God Bless! Happy New Year!