Stress and Threats: Word Choice in “Have They Run Out of Provinces Yet?”

The problem with “Have They Run Out of Provinces Yet?” is that it is a joke with an unclear subject. In his controversial poem, Calvin Trillin describes the different provinces representingcalvin trillin different varieties of Chinese food, critiquing the drive to move between styles of cuisine. This poem has faced much criticism itself, from being xenophobic to simply being badly writtensatire, an argument noted by Katy Waldman in her article “Calvin Trillin’s New Yorker Poem Wasn’t Just Offensive. It Was Bad Satire.” Personally, I certainly agree with Waldman that the poem fails to portray its satire well. However, I think that in failing to perform as satire, it takes on accusatory and potentially racist tendencies, tendencies increasingly relevant within Trillin’s word choice.

Trillin begins his poem with a rhetorical question: “Have they run out of provinces yet?” (Trillin 1). This question does not seek an actual answer, instead, it serves to open his line of pondering upon the many different varieties of Chinese food. However, in addition to discussing cuisine, this question contains particular word choice which creates a problem in reading the poem. Who is “they?” Who has run out of provinces? Does “they” refer to theChinese Foodfood snobs that he claims the poem depicts (Waldman 2), or does “they” refer to the producers of the food themselves – Chinese chefs? This vague word choice affects and shapes the context of the entire poem. And as Trillin never mentions critics and snobs within the poem, the question’s “they” pronoun seems to signify the general idea of China or the Chinese, the one providing the provinces.

Trillin’s word choice also suggests a bias in his view of China and Chinese food. He writes “So we sometimes do miss, I confess, / Simple days of chow mein but no stress, / When we never were faced with the threat / Of more provinces we hadn’t met. / Is there one tucked away near Tibet? / Have they run out of provinces yet?” (Trillin 23-28). In this passage, Trillin assigns nostalgia to simplicity and to the lack of need to distinguish between Chinese food’s provinces. By noting how he misses “simple days” with “no stress” and “no threat,” Trillin presents a sense of security in correlation to the lack of knowledge about China’s variety. Furthermore, describing more provinces as a “threat” specifically assigns fear and alienation toward them.

The poem’s end returns to Trillin’s use of a vague “they,” repeating the same rhetorical question from the poem’s origin. After defining China and Chinese culture as a threat to his peace of mind, Trillin’s question “Have they run out of provinces yet?” (Trillin 28) has become better defined. Now, it is more accusatory, suggesting that China has provided something entirely unwanted.

Waldman’s perspective of this poem comes as more pacifistic. She writes “The poem doesn’t read like an indictment of casual racism. It reads like a good-natured poke at the snooty aspirations of wannabe hipsters. Yes, it is derisive, but of the wrong things. In its gusto to swat Katy Waldmanat ‘we’ white people, it hardly seems aware that its attitude toward Chinese people (‘they’) is problematic” (Waldman 3). I’m not sure that Waldman’s point rings true. Trillin’s word choice seems to assign a direct threat to Chinese cuisine and culture, as well as to suggest fear toward it. This poem doesn’t have any direct criticism of white food snobs – it never brings them up. But it does bring up China, and with its word choice, makes it a threat.

We vs. They: Pronouns in “Have They Run Out of Provinces Yet?”

The mentality of “us vs. them” has been highlighted by many as a concept that is irrational as it typically leads to division within society. Such grouping (often seen in war) tends to emphasize how the other side (“them”) is wrong in comparison to one’s own group (“us”) due to numerous factors that are different, such as culture, ideology, etc. In doing so, differences are heralded as bad, creating definitie barriers that essentially dehumanize certain groups of people: those who are not one of your own are “others”, aliens who cannot understand your ways.

In Calvin Trillin’s poem “Have They Run Out of Provinces Yet?”, the usage of the pronouns “we” and “they” are prominent. Told from the perspective of a foodie who is keen on trying out new dishes of Chinese cuisine, the poem satirically highlights how fanatic foodies can become, by expressing the concerns felt over missing out on the latest Chinese food trend. The speaker is a foodie (most likely a white American) who identifies as someone who is a part of group who loves eating Chinese food, meaning that the “we”in the poem are American foodies. Meanwhile, the “they” is a reference to the Chinese, as it is their provinces from which new food is being made. The title also contains the word “they”, demonstrating from the onset of the poem that there is a separation between groups.

While Trillin stated that “the poem was simply a way of making fun of food-obsessed bourgeoise who are fearful of missing out on the latest thing” (Waldman 1), many readers were upset, as the poem came off as offensive to Chinese people and culture. In her article “Calvin Trillin’s New Yorker Poem Wasn’t Just Offensive. It Was Bad Satire”, Katy Waldman discusses why people were angry with Trillin’s poem. One of the issues that Waldman notes is the suggested “us vs. them” tone within the poem. Waldman remarks how “some interpreted the final lines as a nostalgic wish for the days when Americanized noodles represented white people’s closest contact with the Asian ‘other'” (Waldman 1). This interpretation indicates that the Chinese are foreign others who produce strange and exciting foods, which in turn exoctizies an entire culture. Such a reading implies that readers saw Trillin’s use of satire and language as a separation between American foodies (“we”) and the Chinese (“they”), with the former eagerly awaiting for new arrivals from the Far East. With this in mind, it is easy to notice how labeling Chinese as “they”, or merely as provinces who constantly produce food, can be seen as problematic.

https://goo.gl/images/pcXxcD

Thus, the use of pronouns, such as “us”, “them”, “we”, and “they” can be seen as controversial as it belittles people to groups with no names or specific values worth mentioning. Even though Trillin may have had a satirical motivation, his poem can come across as offensive because the Chinese are written as a group of others who only have numerous provinces with local dishes. Labeling them as “they” erases identity and suggests that there is tension with an opposing side.

Works Cited

Trillin, Calvin. “Have They Run Out of Provinces Yet?” The New Yorker, 2016.

Waldman, Katy. “Calvin Trillin’s New Yorker Poem Wasn’t Just Offensive. It Was Bad Satire.” Browbeat, Slate, 2016.

Go home folks, it’s a Joke: Meter and Tone in “Have They Run Out Of Provinces Yet?”

  An angry mob      

   “A person is smart. People are dumb.”

– Kay, Men In Black (1997)

Ah, the internet. A wonderful tool useful for a great number of things, allowing groups of people to share information across vast distances, collaborating with one another in an instant. And while the internet has brought about many positive changes in the world, there have been a few negative adjustments as well. One of those is the prevalence and commonality of Herd Mentality (more commonly known as Mob Mentality) in social media.

A cross between Angry Birds and the twitter bird shows a very peeved blue bird.

Perceiving themselves to be in a group with their online communities, this psychological effect can result in people taking actions (tweeting and posting) based more off of irrational emotional responses than logical thought.

 

 

Such was the case with the rage and anguish over Calvin Trillin’s poem “Have They Run Out of Provinces Yet?”, a satirical piece that takes the perspective of a goofy and overexcited exotic cuisine enthusiast struggling to keep up with the large influx of new types of eastern dishes being introduced in the west. Due to the poem’s lighthearted and satirical reference towards a number of eastern countries and their cultural dishes, many social media denizens took upon the work in a kind of frenzied rage, accusing it of being a poorly conceived attempt at humor that is more offensive than funny.

On April 12th, 2016, Katy Waldman published what was perhaps an overview of many of the arguments being made on both sides of this debate. The essay, entitled “Calvin Trillin’s New Yorker Poem Wasn’t Just Offensive. It Was Bad Satire”, aims to get to the bottom of this debacle once and for all, denoting time to how Trillin’s use of language, subject matter, and voice weigh into the work’s overall effect this poem is having on its readers. But there’s one poetic element that’s given far too little time: Meter. And it’s perhaps the most important element of all, as a person’s careful investigation of this poem’s meter would end this argument before it even began.

In her very first paragraph, Waldman does formally recognize the poem’s form as “rhymed couplets of anapestic trimeter”. What this means for the piece is much better witnessed for one’s self rather than explained, so I’ll give you the first two lines of Trillin’s piece as a free sample:

Have they run out of provinces yet?                                                                                      If they haven’t, we’ve reason to fret.

Didn’t that feel good to read? It’s got a very powerful and potent rhythm to it, something reminiscent of a children’s rhyme or lullaby. But not just any lullaby: A limerick, a nine-line poetic form that’s instantly recognizable through just a single example. Here’s one of the more famous children’s limericks: “There was an Old Man with a Beard” by Edward Lear.

There was an Old Man with a beard,
Who said, “It is just as I feared!—
Two Owls and a Hen, four Larks and a Wren,
Have all built their nests in my beard.

As you can tell from these examples, the first two lines of each poem (colored green) read with a very similar sense of flow to them – in poetic terms, this would be referred to as Trimeter. For Trillin’s piece, this flow suggests that the poem is best read through a cartoonish and lighthearted lens. Similarly, it suggests that all absurd or unusual aspects of this poem are to be read in a lighthearted manner as well – It did the same for Lear’s work, as readers are quite clearly not intended to weep for this old man with birds in his beard. And while, yes, one could remove the cartoonish lens and lament Lear for writing about a poor old man whose sedentary lifestyle has allowed birds to live inside of his facial hair, one would be hard-pressed to ignore the poem’s comical metric structure, a structure that suggests the writing does not intend to make harsh statements on mature topics.

Does Waldman speak to this? Kind of. She points to it most directly in her essay’s concluding paragraph, where she admits that Trillin’s poem “reads like a good-natured poke at the snooty aspirations of wannabe hipsters” (Waldman). What’s left out is an examination of how the social media buzz around this issue unfairly shaped and distorted it, and allowed an unruly froth of rage to spew out over the pot of discussion and rational thought.

 

Works Cited

Men in Black. Directed by Barry Sonnenfeld, 1997.

Trillin, Calvin. “Have They Run Out of Provinces Yet?” The New Yorker, 4 Apr. 2016.

Waldman, Katy. “Calvin Trillin’s New Yorker Poem Wasn’t Just Offensive. It Was Bad Satire.” Slate, 12 Apr. 2016, slate.com/culture/2016/04/ calvin-trillins-new-yorker-poem-have-they-run-out-of-provinces-yet-was-bad-satire.html.
Accessed 26 Nov. 2018.

Lear, Edward. “There Was Once an Old Man with a Beard.” Poetry Foundation, www.poetryfoundation.org/ poems/45755/there-was-an-old-man-with-a-beard. Accessed 26 Nov. 2018.

B6

“Have They Run Out of Provinces Yet?”: Trillin Informs His Readers But Waldman Thinks Otherwise

Chinese Provinces

I could not help but smile when reading Calvin Trillin’s food poem, “Have They Run Out of Provinces Yet?” (2016). Perhaps my joy is because of the rhymed couplets, which reminded me of a childish song, that Trillin uses to inform his readers about numerous Chinese provinces as they connect to Asian cuisine. Or greater than this, upon first reading Trillin’s piece, it reminded me of cherished memories with my grandmother. Every weekend I would indulge in sharing “Szechuan” crispy shredded beef with my grandma at our favorite Asian restaurant, “Hunan” Ritz (Trillin 5, 11). Therefore, with these fond memories in mind, I was shocked to read Katy Waldman’s negative reaction to Trillin’s poem in her piece, “Calvin Trillin’s New Yorker Poem Wasn’t Just Offensive. It Was Bad Satire” (2016). Nevertheless, while Trillin’s piece personally evoked nostalgia, I can understand the backlash Waldman brings up and critiques. However, given the speaker’s inquisitive and informative tone, I believe Trillin looked to “delight in the cultural richness left to discover” rather than intentionally spread bigotry towards Asians (Waldman 3).

Trillin’s poem begins with the question, “Have they run out of provinces yet?” (1). Paired with the second line, “If they haven’t, we’ve reason to fret” creates a good-natured inquiry (Trillin 2). Trillin advocates for additional Asian cultures to gain respect. The speaker asks this question because it is a bigger problem if additional provinces seize to exist instead of looking at them as an emerging threat. Waldman argues that Trillin’s “interchange[ing]” of “Chinese cuisines” is a main reason for angering readers (Waldman 1). However, Trillin does not interchange these cultures, but rather distinguishes the importance of each. His tone informs readers that “Long ago, there was just Cantonese” (Trillin 3). It was not until “Szechuan came our way” that people questioned the different provinces within Chinese cuisine (Trillin 5). Until then, Chinese cuisine was generalized as only one thing. Trillin is informing readers of the progression of provinces that influenced foods they believe they know all about, but actually may not know the history behind. Waldman states that the “Americanized noodles represented white people’s closest contact with the Asian ‘other’” (1). Thus, Trillin is informing “white people” about the distinct cultures that “noodles” emerged from, creating an understanding instead of “other[ing]” (Waldman 1). While Trillin’s attempt to inform readers may come off as stereotyping, considering “burn[ing] through your tongue” is not the only characteristic of “Szechuanese” food; ultimately, Trillin’s poem “reads like a good-natured poke at the snooty aspirations of wannabee hipsters” (Trillin 8,7; Waldman 3). One may not know about the origins of the food they love, or perhaps they complain about the numerous options when they simply want noodles. Trillin attempts to remedy both categories of customers through information and distinction between cultures many (mis)associate with their favorite chow.

Szechuan Crispy Shredded Beef

Trillin’s “Have They Run Out of Provinces Yet?” is not a perfect poem. Waldman’s commentary reveals the insensitivity many readers felt in Trillin’s work. What one reads as nostalgia can be interpreted as bigotry by another. Nevertheless, whether one reads this poem as “good [or] bad satire,” Trillin reveals a list of different provinces and cultures (Waldman 2). While one reader may take offense by Trillin simply dropping names with little elaboration, he also exposes readers to over five provinces they may never have heard of before. Waldman cites an “eye-rolled Rich Smith at the Stranger;” however, perhaps it is more eye-opening (2). The next time you “slurp dumplings” remember they originate from “Shanghainese” culture (Trillin 10, 9). This is a fact unknown from the generic name of Chinese restaurants, but one revealed by Trillin, making readers potentially think twice about food they casually eat thanks to the information they learned in his poem. B6.

Works Cited

Trillin, Calvin. “Have They Run Out of Provinces Yet?.” The New Yorker, 4 Apr. 2016.

Waldman, Kate. “Calvin Trillin’s New Yorker Poem Wasn’t Just Offensive. It Was Bad Satire.” Browbeat, Slate, 12 Apr. 2016.

 

 

China Personified as the “Other”- What is Being Satirized?

Satire is meant to be offensive. However, when the label of ‘satire’ is used to mitigate blame after writing offensive content, it is worth questioning what is being mocked, and why. Calvin Trillin’s poem “Have They Run Out of Provinces Yet?,” published in The New Yorker in 2016, is narrated by a food critic upset by the various Chinese provinces with unique cuisines. After criticism for the poem’s dismissive tone toward Chinese cultures, Trillin defended himself by saying that the poem is satire of foodies, and Chinese cuisine was merely an example. Katy Waldman criticizes this defense in the article “Calvin Trillin’s New Yorker Poem Wasn’t Just Offensive. It Was Bad Satire,” saying “Trillin… doesn’t give us enough reason to think its parodic heart is any more honorable than its bigoted tongue” (Waldman 1).An Anthology, And A Life, Full Of 'Funny Stuff' : NPR

A major problem with Trillin’s poem is that the target, which is supposedly ‘foodies,’ is unclear. Waldman points out that “the poem doesn’t read like an indictment of casual racism. It reads like a good-natured poke at the snooty aspirations of wannabe hipsters…it hardly seems aware that its attitude toward Chinese people (“they”) is problematic” (Waldman 3). While I agree with Waldman, her analysis makes me question how problematic it is that Trillin chooses the Chinese to use as a scapegoat for his ‘satire’ of foodies. In fact, Trillin personifies the Chinese provinces themselves, assigning blame to them for the effects they have on the ‘foodie’ community. Rather than taking personal responsibility for ignorance over the various regions and cultures of China, the narrator personifies these provinces as malicious. This personification is apparent in the line, “Now, as each brand-new province appears, It brings tension, increasing our fears” (Trillin). The verbs “tension” and fears, according to Waldman, “seemed to stoke xenophobic anxieties” (Waldman 1). These lines say that the country of China itself is conspiring against these ‘foodies’ by endlessly revealing these new provinces.

After years of Americans homogenizing not just China, but Asia as a whole, the choice to personify China in this way is ill-advised. While the poem does not seem to be meant to mock the Chinese, is not evident why Trillin chooses Chinese cuisine as a punchline. It is even less certain if Trillin is also satirizing the homogenization of the Chinese, and Asia, by the United States. The most egregious aspect of “Have They Run out of Provinces Yet?” is how incomplete its supposed critiques are and lack of awareness of its subjects.

Works Cited

Trillin, Calvin. “Have They Run Out of Provinces Yet?.” The New Yorker, 4 April 2016.

Waldman, Kate. “Calvin Trillin’s New Yorker Poem Wasn’t Just Offensive. It Was Bad Satire.” Browbeat, Slate, 12 April 2016.

The Fine Line Between Satire and Insensitivity

Calvin Trilling

Is it funny or is it offensive? With comedy I often stop to question whether or not what I am hearing is objectionable, though it is being said in the name of satire. The outrageous quality of comedy is what makes it so funny, and yet there is a fine line on which the comedian must tread carefully. If the two sides one must walk between are agreeable and distasteful, Calvin Trillin’s “Have They Run Out of Provinces Yet?” lands heavily upon distasteful. While many have gone back and forth over the meanings and intentions of Trillin’s poem, the use of rhetorical questions within “Provinces” creates an imperious tone that, regardless of satirical value, must be seen as offensive.

In her article “Calvin Trillin’s New Yorker Poem Wasn’t Just Offensive. It Was Bad Satire,” Katy Waldman critique’s “Provinces,” arguing that Trillin’s poem and the negative feedback it received “place the entire genre of satire on trial” (Waldman 2). We do not know Trillin’s intentions, Waldman argues, and so we cannot say for certain that the poem is not a work of comedy, that the poem is certainly racist. Waldman acknowledges the multiple understandings of Trillin’s work, stating that the poem is well intentioned but culturally unaware; in short, that it is bad satire. Drawing of Man LaughingHowever, far from satirical, the rhetorical questions the narrator poses in “Provinces” are just plain derogatory. Even the title, “Have They Run Out of Provinces Yet?,” a question which the narrator continues to ask throughout the poem, trivializes Chinese culture, suggesting a lack of value in the many regions of China. The use of rhetorical question gives this line a sarcastic tone, belittling the many aspects of Chinese culture that have made their way to the United States. It seems, almost, to imply that there are too many Chinese provinces, too many aspects of culture to keep track of. This sense of American entitlement, white entitlement, is furthered by Trillin’s use of the word “they.” As Waldman points out in her critique, the use of “they” and “we” essentially “others” those who are Chinese. To ask whether they have run out of provinces yet suggests that these provinces are items that the Chinese supply to the United States and that they are simply there for white enjoyment.

It is true that most satire walks a thin line, yet it is not fair to the art of satire to write off Trillin’s cultural insensitivity as merely a weakness of comedy. To call Trillin’s poem to be a piece of satire-gone-wrong is to excuse the ignorance withinB6

Works Cited

Trillin, Calvin. “Have They Run Out of Provinces Yet?.” The New Yorker, 4 April 2016.

Waldman, Kate. “Calvin Trillin’s New Yorker Poem Wasn’t Just Offensive. It Was Bad Satire.” Browbeat, Slate, 12 April 2016.

Blog Prompt #6: Calvin Trillin’s, “Have They Run Out of Provinces Yet?”

Blog Post #6 Due: Mon 11/26, 8:30am // Comment #6 Due: Mon 11/26, 11:59pm

Trillin's New Yorker ImageRead Calvin Trillin’s poem and Katy Waldman’s commentary on it. Then, develop your own argument about Trillin’s poem in conversation with Waldman. Focus on one specific literary device / pattern in Trillin’s poem and produce a detailed close reading of this device / pattern. Your analysis must clearly demonstrate how you are agreeing with, adapting, extending, or challenging Waldman’s argument.

Remember to introduce both Trillin’s poem and Waldman’s article. Please also be attentive to the format and organization requirements of the blog post (see Blog Post Assignment Sheet).

Finally, come to class on Monday prepared to lead a segment of our class discussion based on your blog post.

 

Erasing the Past: Vietnamese Identity in “Love and Honor and Pity and Pride and Compassion and Sacrifice”

Multiple images of Vietnam War

The past is often inescapable. Try as one might, there are certain things that simply cannot be erased. In “The Literature of the Korean and Vietnam Wars,” Daniel Kim and Viet Thanh Nguyen argue that the Vietnam War continues to define Vietnamese Americans in this way. It can be seen through literature, as “most Vietnamese literature continues to be about the war or its consequences” (Kim 67). This is certainly true of both “Aubade with Burning City” and The Gangster We Are All Looking For. These works are a “direct confrontation with the war” (Kim 69), detailing the war and its aftermath on the characters. The stories and authors, therefore, come to be defined by the Vietnam War or its consequences.

In “Love and Honor and Pity and Pride and Compassion and Sacrifice,” on the other hand, the narrator spends most of the novel trying to distance himself from his past. Using flashbacks, the narrator discusses his hatred for his father, sharing specific examples from childhood to comment on their strained relationship. In doing so he distances himself from his father, simultaneously distancing himself from Vietnam. Kim and Nguyen argue that Nam Le uses this perceived distance in order to “to demonstrate that a Vietnamese author in the United States…does not have to write about Viet Nam” (Kim 67). However, though Le’s story is not explicitly about the Vietnam War, ironically the story is incomplete without it. In one particular scene, the narrator speaks of the time when he “discovered that [his father] had been involved in a massacre” (Le 13). In the three plus pages Le uses to describe this massacre, it is clear that without Vietnam, the story is incomplete. Of course this flashback is used to shed light on the narrator’s childhood and to build the character of the narrator’s father, yet in doing so it is clear that much of the narrator’s relationship with his father and the strain it constantly seems to be under, is a result of the Vietnam War.Father and Son Silhouette

Therefore, though the use of flashbacks can be seen as a tool to create distance between the narrator’s current life and any attachment he has to his Vietnamese ethnicity, flashbacks also function to tie him to this identity. While the narrator works to distance himself from his father for the entirety of the work, in the end, the father’s story still comes to define the son. B4.

Works Cited

Kim, Daniel Y., and Viet Thanh Nguyen. “The Literature of the Korean and Vietnam Wars.” The Cambridge Companion to Asian American Literature, edited by Crystal Parikh and Daniel Y. Kim. Cambridge University Press, 2015, pp. 66–72.

Le, Nam. “Love and Honor and Pity and Pride and Compassion and Sacrifice.” The Boat, Alfred A. Knopf, 2008, pp. 3–28.

Grave Rubbing: Independance and Choice in The Namesake

I was a very obedient boy – being an only child, I often had a great bit of focus placed onto me, and as such I, more often than not, did what I was told. It’s for this reason that I remember the first time I openly said no to my mom, and it was during the classic nightly call for bedtime. I don’t remember how old I was, but I do remember that this time, for whatever reason, I just wasn’t feeling it.

So I crossed my arms across my chest, looked her in the eyes, and said very plainly, “I refuse.”

What a little badass I was.

Meanwhile, in Jhumpa Lahiri’s The Namesake, young Gohol’s first conscious refusal is a bit less direct but just as impactful: Asked to get rid of a number of rubbings taken from gravestones, the youngster secretly defies his mother.

“But Gohol is attached to them. For reasons he cannot explain or necessarily understand, these ancient puritan spirits, these very first immigrants to America, these bearers of unthinkable, obsolete names, have spoken to him so much that in spite of his mother’s disgust he refuses to throw the rubbings away.” (Lahiri 71)

A tombstone

While Gohol’s first refusal of his mother’s request may not have been as direct as my own, Lahiri’s description of it makes it just as mythical of a moment. It’s very clear here that something has happened — the structure makes that obvious, as Lahiri slowly works through the different sections of the deep connections Gohol feels to theses dead puritans. The focus on the “unthinkable, obsolete names” clearly attributes part of the connections to Gohol feeling closer to them due to the unusual nature of his own name, but there’s a lot more going on here, even if we don’t quite know what (Lahiri 71). The narrator’s reference to this makes that clear: as he “cannot explain or necessarily understand” the nature of his feelings, neither are we told what they are in this moment, in this peek into his mind (Lahiri 71).

But that doesn’t mean we can’t figure them out.

See, here’s the funny thing about Gohol’s first refusal: It’s not. His first refusal actually occurs in chapter 2, during the ceremony in which he is asked to choose his destiny among a number of items placed in front of him. Instead of listening to any of the urgings from the voices around him, he begins to cry, denying everybody and refusing everything at the same time. And the reason for his refusal isn’t because of him not wanting to choose any of those items, it’s because of all the voices screaming at him because he WANTS to refuse.

A man refusing

Both refusals have been desperate attempts clutching at some form of independence, the first, in chapter 2, over the right to choose his own destiny, and the second in chapter 3 over the right to choose his own connections.

B5

Images of Life and Death in “The Namesake”

Life and death. While many texts explore this dichotomy, The Namesake by Jhumpa Lahiri complicates these terms by juxtaposing them in relation to trauma. The Namesake explores a family of Indian immigrants in the United States and their adjustment to a new culture, parenthood, cultural conflicts, and trauma. In the first chapter of the novel, Ashoke describes his near death experience from years prior, in which he almost died after a train went off course. This leads to a conflict with his new role as a father.

Easter: It's a Matter of Life and Death - Feed the Hunger

Ashoke’s trauma conflicts with his desire to be the best parent possible, as his first moments with his newborn son are infiltrated with violent images. This uncomfortable contrast suggests that Ashoke has Post Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD) from his near death experience.

As Ashoke waits for his son’s birth, he connects the arrival of new life with his traumatic experience, saying:

“Although it is Ashima who carries the child, he, too, feels heavy, with the thought of life, of his life and the life about to come from it… Again he tastes the dust on his tongue, sees the twisted train, the giant overturned iron wheels.” (Lahiri 30)

Ashoke fully identifies with Ashima’s experience as a pregnant woman in these thoughts, and feels heavy in a metaphoric sense. While Ashima feels the actual weight of a child, Ashoke feels an emotional weight of the responsibility of parenthood. “Heaviness” has negative connotations, making the birth of his son sound like a burden.

The nouns of “dust,” “twisted train,” and “giant overturned wheels” create a feeling of entrapment. The alliteration of “twisted train” emphasizes the impending doom, as it creates a rushed, uneasy sound.This arrival of new life is complicated by his trauma, as he has experienced what it is like to be on the verge of death. The imagery of dust on one’s tongue evokes not being able to breathe. “Giant overturned wheels” creates a feeling of smallness and imminent doom.FATHERS & FATHERHOOD: Greatest Quotes About Fathers and ...

These disturbing images of death are juxtaposed with the arrival of his newborn son. Although the birth of his son should fill Ashoke with joy, the unresolved trauma complicates this experience. The imagery of the final sensory experiences before his ‘death’ articulate how raw the experience is in Ashoke’s head. These intrusive thoughts suggest an impending conflict between Ashoke’s ideal role as a father and the trauma he needs to resolve before fully embracing those responsibilities. B5.

Works Cited

Lahiri, Jhumpa. The Namesake. Houghton Mifflin, 2003