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.

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

 

Grocery Shopping: Assimilation through Juxtaposition in The Namesake

I’m going to be honest. I read Jhumpa Lahiri’s The Namesake for class in high school, and my strongest memory of that unit was everyone complaining about having to read it at all. For context, I went to a fairly white and mostly assimilated high school in the suburbs eastern Massachusetts, so you would think that the parallels between our town and the town the Gangulis occupy would have been a bit more obvious than they actually were. But at the time, no one seemed to notice just how present the novel’s depiction of assimilation was directly around us.

Regardless of my high school’s opinion on The Namesake, the novel outlines clear tensions within the Ganguli family’s assimilation to American culture, particurally within the generational gap. Lahiri juxtaposes these generations while speaking of the adaptations Ashoke andboar bristle shaving brushAshima make through the years. She writes that “Ashoke, accustomed to wearing tailor-made pants and shirts all his life, learns to buy ready-made. He trades in fountain pens for ballpoints, Wilkinson blades and his boar-bristled shaving brush for Bic razors brought six to a pack” (Lahiri 65). Lahiri identifiesBic RazorsAshoke’s material habits to fall into one of two opposing categories: American convention and Indian convention. By setting tailor-made clothing, fountain pens, and a shaving brush against ready-made clothes, ballpoints, and Bic razors, Lahiri juxtaposes the material elements of Ashoke’s life. She emphasizes the replacement of Indian lifestyle conventions with American ones, identifying the swapping out of possessions as a marker of the family’s assimilation and adaptation of American life.

In contrast to Lahiri’s description of Ashoke’s switching from Indian conventions to American conventions, she only refers to the American conventions when speaking of Gogol. She writes that “In the supermarket they let Gogol fill the cart with items that he and Sonia, but not they, consume: individually wrapped slices of cheese, mayonnaise, tuna fish, hot dogs. For Gogol’s lunches they stand at the deli to buy cold cuts, and in the mornings Ashima makes sandwiches with bologna or roast beef. At his insistence, she concedes and makes him and American dinner once a week as a treat, Shake ‘n Bake or Hamburger Helper prepared with"american food aisle" at a british grocery storeground lamb” (Lahiri 65). In the lists of American food that she identifies as staples of Gogol’s diet and tastes, Lahiri never compares them to the Indian alternative which they substitute in for. Instead, she presents without alternative the American conventions which Gogol prefers. Lahiri’s description of Gogol and American food directly juxtaposes with Ashoke and American objects, as for Gogol, the younger generation, she does not note on the alternative, which lingers for Ashoke, the elder generation.

Through juxtaposition, Lahiri reflects on the generational perspective between immigrants and their children as they assimilate. With the descriptions of food and materials in their lives, Lahiri suggests the separate nature of assimilation. For an elder generation, American assimilation comes more with a sense of substitution and replacement. However, for the younger generation, being raised in America, gravitate toward American cultural norms and do not experience that sense of replacing their heritage.

Lahiri, Jhumpa. The Namesake. Houghton Mifflin, 2003.

The Trap of Challenging Expectations of Writing “Ethnic Literature” in “Love and Honor” by Nam Le

“Write what you know / so they say, all I know is I don’t know what to write / or the right way to write it,” is a lyric from the musical, Newsies; but, this mantra could apply just as well to Nam Le’s dilemma in his short story, “Love and Honor.” Daniel Y. Kim and Viet Thanh Nguyen state in their book chapter, “The Literature of the Korean and Vietnam Wars,” that “the Korean War (1950-1953) and the Vietnam War (1960-1975) serve as dominant themes of much Korean American and Vietnamese American writing” (Kim and Nguyen 59). As a Vietnamese Australian, writing about the Vietnam War should be easy for Le, right? However, Le challenges this common theme by presenting the difficulty attached to writing “ethnic literature” (Le 9).

Crumpled paper and a typewriter.

As our Unit III title suggests, “Writing [about] War,” is a prominent topic in Asian American literature. Because of this topic’s prevalence, there is often an expectation that Asian American authors write about this theme. As a result, Asian American authors often feel pressured or obligated “to write about the war or at least find it difficult to get published if they do not write about the war” (Kim and Nguyen 67). This conflict brings up questions of identity and worth, which also connect to Le’s work. The question arises: Are Asian American authors only worthy of praise and notice if they write about war? Le’s narrator in “Love and Honor” challenges this notion by attempting to write other genres. Nam “choose[s] to write about lesbian vampires and Colombian assassins, and Hiroshima orphans—and New York painters with hemorrhoids” instead of the typical war narrative (Le 10). However, it is important to look at the beginning of this sentence and conversation. Coming out of a party, the narrator is talking with his friend about writer’s block. Due to the commonality of writing about the Vietnam War, as Kim and Nguyen mention, his friend suggests an “easy” solution:

You could totally exploit the Vietnamese thing. But instead, you choose to write about lesbian vampires and Colombian assassins, and Hiroshima orphans—and New York painters with hemorrhoids (Le 10).

The use of italics emphasizes the friend’s critique of Le’s choice to stray away from the subject matter expected of Asian American writers. Through “totally,” the friend is suggesting that “exploiting” the trope of writing about the Vietnamese War is an easy task. The italics add a nonchalance to the word. “Totally” becomes a phrase that anyone can use, insinuating a task that anyone can accomplish. The use of italics suggest that writing about war is an easy task for Asian American authors. Because they are Vietnamese, there is an expectation that Vietnamese writers automatically know about this event in depth and have a personal story to share about it. However, this is not always the case. Le looks to avoid this stereotyping by writing about different genres. Because he is looking to get as far away from the expected as possible, Le chooses rather obscure topics, including, “lesbian vampires and Colombian assassins” (Le 10). Yet, Le’s attempt to challenge expectations creates greater ridicule from his friend. Rather than following the norm and writing about war, his friend points out that “instead” Le picks peculiar topics that result in writer’s block and do not have a specific audience. Once again, italics emphasize the friend’s scorn towards Le’s choice. This ridicule, combined with writer’s block and approaching deadlines, causes the narrator to fall into the trap of writing about war. Therefore, even when Le attempts to challenge the norm and reframe the expected narrative, he realizes the reality of his situation. This revelation is not that “ethnic writing” is easy, but rather that it can become a default for producing work under tight pressures and popular opinions. Le tries something new; but, he is not immune to the pressures Asian American writers, and writers in general, are subjected to.

Trap

Le has good intentions when he “rebel[s] against this expectation of telling the ethnic story” (Kim and Nguyen 67). His narrator attempts to broader what is expected of Asian American writers, by selecting topics that are unique and daring for writers in general, not just Asian American ones. Yet, this risk does not reap the expected rewards. Ultimately, thanks to writer’s block, the narrator realizes that “ethnic writing” is not the easy route but an effective route for Asian American writers to take when pressures arise. This encapsulates the difficulty of being an Asian American writer who simultaneously wants to break down stereotypes, and advance the expectations of their capabilities; but, also wants to keep and secure their job. 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 – 67.

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

 

 

Generational Understanding Versus Exploitation When Writing About the Vietnam War

My grandparents do not talk about their past. Despite their fascinating struggles and rich experiences, I am left to my own imagination in order to attempt to understand what they went through. Literature is frequently used as a medium to bridge generational disconnect and tell these lost stories. Vietnamese-American literature in particular continues to tell stories about the Vietnam War by a generation too young to have experienced it. As this new generation of writers grapple with their identities in the United States and beyond, there is a conflict between honoring their ancestors’ struggles and exploiting them for profit. Daniel Kim and Viet Thanh Nguyen articulate this conflict in “The Literature of the Korean War and Vietnam War,” saying “while often being self-conscious of their circumscribed conditions,  [Vietnamese-American writers] find it hard not to write about the war” (Kim and Nguyen 66). Since many Americans’ knowledge of Vietnam is limited to the war, writers sometimes feel trapped to strictly writing about what their ancestors went through.

5 Best Books on the Vietnam War | Quintessential ...

In Love and Honor and Pity and Pride and Compassion and Sacrifice by Nam Le, he explores the tendency/pressure for Vietnamese-American- or, in his case, Vietnamese-Australian- authors to write about their parents’ experiences with the war. The short story centers on a Vietnamese-Australian writer who struggles with writer’s block. When a friend hears about this, she says to him, “You could totally exploit the Vietnamese thing,” to which he reacts by feeling like his leg was “gory, blood splattered (Le 10). The physical pain he feels, or imagines to feel, is a metaphor for his emotional pain he feels over writing about the Vietnam War. The description of his leg as gory and blood splattered is an illusion to a bullet wound, linking his present experience to his father’s past. Despite the generational disconnect, he still feels tremendous emotional pain when he is told that writing about his father is exploitation.

This is a shift from the experience that Kim and Nguyen describe, as Love and Pity is a self-aware and critical story about those who continue to write about the Vietnam War. The narrator struggles with thoughts of exploitation throughout the story, as by writing about his father’s past, he is doing what is expected of him. He is illuminating his father’s past, but he feels wounded and cheapened by doing so. However, by writing about a narrator with these thoughts regarding writing about his father, Nam creates a unique reflection on what it is like for contemporary Vietnamese-American writers to simultaneously attempt to honor the past and also feel minimized to one topic. 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 – 67.

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

Colors and Haze: Liminal Space in The Gangster We Are All Looking For

There is something inherently disorienting to travel, regardless of the reason. Even within driving the eight hours from my hometown to school, everything seems to exist in a hazy, liminal space, time marked only by occasional stops at a gas station for snacks. For the narrator of lê thi diem thúy’s novel The Gangster We Are All Looking For, this disorientation is only compounded by the reason for her movement: her status as a refugee from the Vietnam War.

liminal space: a silhouette of a figure swinging on a trapeze in the clouds

The Gangster We Are All Looking For opens with the description of physical locations. lê writes “Linda Vista, with its rows of yellow houses, is where we eventually washed to shore. Before Linda Vista, we lived in the Green Apartment on Thirtieth and Adams, in Normal Heights. Before the Green Apartment, we lived in the Red Apartment on Forty-ninth and Orange” (lê 3). lê charts the movement between homes, each represented by a color. a variety of houses, brightly coloredBy passing rapidly through colors, lê creates a flickering, unstable effect, charting themovement between yellow to green to red and orange. The selection of specifically yellow, green, and red evokes the image of a stoplight, a marker relating to a physical travel on the road. By passing quickly between colors relating to transit, lê connects the imagery of the houses to the idea of movement. The inconstancy of color establishes an inconstancy of location, and the quick shifts between these descriptions creates an immediate effect of disorientation in displacement.

The novel’s initial feel of displacement is exacerbated by the narrator’s description of flying on an airplane, leaving a refugee camp and traveling to America. She describes the flight, stating “Holding onto one another, we moved through clouds, ghost vapors, time zones” (lê 4). lê once again charts movement and transit. This time, she notes the passage not between colors, but through hazier constructs: “clouds, ghost vapors, time zones.” The movement through clouds signals a physical haze and a spatial movement, while moving through ghost vapors suggests a more metaphysical movement.view out an airplane windowThe word “ghost” has a context of an echo or remainder of the past; Merriam-Webster defines it to mean “a disembodied soul” (“ghost”). In moving through “ghost vapors,” the narrator moves through a disembodied past. In addition to moving through physical and metaphysical markers, the narrator also passes through “time zones,” creating a sense of disorientation by dismantling the linear construct of time. lê’s imagery of the airplane associates the narrator’s movement with the passage through space, memory, and time, a disorienting and hazy experience.

lê’s imagery of movement situates the narrator in both a physical and metaphorical liminal space. She exists in a state of physical threshold, shifting between houses and countries. However, she also exists in a state of metaphorical threshold, her senses affected by the feeling of disorientation that comes from these movements. lê’s depiction of movement as disorienting and liminal suggests that the narrator’s experience as a Vietnamese refugee, as a person with transit forced upon her, reflects both this physical inconstancy and the feeling of unreality.

 

“ghost.” Merriam-Webster.com. Merriam-Webster, 2018, https://www.merriam-webster.com/dictionary/ghost. Accessed 10 Oct 2018.
lê thi diem thúy. The Gangster We Are All Looking For. Anchor Books, 2004.

When Things Are Clearer in the Dark: Contrasts and Displacement in “The Gangster We Are All Looking For”

I have always loved the nighttime. During the day, people are so inhibited, but under the cover of darkness, people are often compelled to act more genuine. lê thị diễm thúy’s novel The Gangster We Are All Looking For explores this elucidating effect of darkness. Gangster tells the story of a young girl’s experience as a Vietnamese refugee with her father, Ba, and four ‘uncles’ following the Vietnam war. The first chapter of the book, “Suh-top,” features a series of vignettes from the narrator’s first couple months in America. Lê utilizes imagery of lightness and darkness to convey the narrator’s emotions of displacement during her first couple moments in an unfamiliar country.

While the narrator and her family drive over to their new home in America, she describes her new surroundings as “unfamiliar brightly lit streets” (lê 4).The lamps on the streets create artificial light. Although light usually has connotations of happiness and rebirth, in this context, has a fake effect. This reflects that while the narrator may be grateful for the opportunity America has given her, she cannot experience true lightness, or happiness, in a non-artificial way due to her displacement from her home and family. The fact that these streets are unfamiliar creates a feeling of alienation and dejection, which is juxtaposed with this intrusively ‘positive’ light, creating an uncomfortable contrast. This also reflects the characters’ feelings of discomfort, as they are out of place in America in the way light stands out in the dark.

After driving through the streets, they are “delivered to a sidewalk in front of a darkened house” (le 4). The fact that the house is not described as dark, but “darkened,” insinuates that the nighttime is darkening the house. However, the “darkening” also reflects the narrator’s state of mind. The artificial light from the lamps is gone, and she is forced to face the reality of the situation that is presented to her. It is also foreshadowing to her experiences in the home, which are mostly negative. This inauspicious start to her experiences in the house immediately paint the it as a place of suffering and darkness.

It is ironic that although earlier the streets were lit up, they were obscuring the reality of their situation as dark and dismal. In this sense, darkness allowed the characters to see their condition as it actually is. By contrasting images of lightness and darkness, lê foreshadows the characters’ situations throughout the rest of the chapter. B3.

An Interview with lê thi diem thúy

Works Cited

le thi diem thuy. The Gangster We Are All Looking For. Anchor Books, 2004.

“Are We There Yet?”: Exploring Dislocation and Movement in The Gangster We Are All Looking For

The color of the walls in my hometown bedroom are light purple. That’s clear to anyone who enters. But did you notice, or remember, the ticket stub from 2008 sitting on my dresser? I bet not, and that’s okay. You were in my room for two hours, I have been living there my whole life. In The Gangster We Are All Looking For by lê thi diem thúy, the narrator, a nameless girl, struggles with dislocation. lê’s novel follows this girl, her father, and four “uncles” as they become refugees in San Diego after fleeing Vietnam following the war. Their journey is not easy, with no particular final destination. In the opening paragraphs, lê depicts the constant movement this family faces, as seen through “eventually” and “after” (lê 3-4). These particular words and images work together to show the extensive and constant journey this family endures. They struggle to make lasting memories along the way, as seen through the girl’s inability to characterize locations beyond generalizations.

Eventually

lê begins her novel, “Linda Vista, with its rows of yellow houses, is where we eventually washed to shore” (lê 3). The word “eventually” emphasizes the ongoingness of the narrator’s journey (lê 3). “[E]ventually” suggests that the family has been traveling for an extended period of time before disembarking from their ship. It was only a matter of time before she “eventually washed to shore” (lê 3). The end of this sentence, “washed to shore,” continues the effects of “eventually” (lê 3). Here, lê  suggests that there was no intended destination, Linda Vista just happened to be where their boat arrived. This diction conveys uncertainty; thus, creating a sense of dislocation. The family has been moving for an extended period of time; however, they have no clear idea of where they are going or will “eventually” end up (lê 3). An uncertain fate is a common feeling among Vietnamese refugees. These Vietnamese were forced to suddenly flee their homeland without knowing where they might end up, or how long it will take to get to their new location.

Additionally, the narrator describes leaving the refugee camp in Singapore and going to the airport. Here, she states, “We entered the revolving doors of airports and boarded plane after plane” (lê 4). Once again, lê creates a sense of displacement and movement, considering planes are vehicles which carry someone from place to place. The phrase, “boarded plane after plane” reveals that this was not the family’s first time moving (lê 4). “[A]fter” particularly emphasizes the reoccurrence of movement. This alludes to the fact that there must be more than one plane which the family is getting onto. The narrator must have just been in one place and is now flying on another. As well, the mention of a “revolving door” creates an image of going in circles (lê 4). This family is constantly moving from one place to the next, repeating the same simple actions but in different places. “Revolving” denotes rotating around an axis (lê 4). In this case, the family is physically traveling around the world from Asia to North America.

Revolving Door

Together, these two images display the long, uncertain fate of a Vietnamese refugee. “Eventually” and “after” reveal that the family’s voyage took a long time (lê 3-4). The family “eventually” landed in California, but it was only after several modes of transportation and numerous stops along the way. Directly after the first line, the narrator describes several of these stops. She states, “Before the Green Apartment, we lived in the Red Apartment… and Orange, in East San Diego” (lê 3). This follows her description of Linda Vista’s “yellow houses” mentioned above (lê 3). The narrator characterizes these places simply by color, mentioning “Green.. Red.. and Orange” (lê 3). This is a very basic, general description. Due to her long and constant journeys as a Vietnamese refugee, she has no time to settle down or make memories. Therefore, she describes each place in a way that is easily identifiable but lacks specificity.

What good is a story if it has no substance? While this family has traveled to a lot of places, each place might as well be interchangeable as no lasting memories were formed during their stays. Dislocation creates long-term effects on the narrator. She is forced to relocate somewhere new before fully living in the last place. This sense of constant uncertainty becomes the fate of the Vietnamese refugee. It takes a long time to get to one destination, but soon enough, they will be on to the next. B3.

Works Cited

lê, thi diem thúy. The Gangster We Are All Looking For. First Anchor Books, 2004.

House after House, Plane after Plane: Displacement & Movement

When one is forced to constantly move around, the sense of belonging and meaning of home can become difficult to understand and painful to think about. The little girl, her father, and four “uncles” in lê thi diem thúy’s novel, The Gangster We Are All Looking For are a group of people who carry this weight. The girl, a nameless narrator, shares her experiences as a Vietnamese refugee through intense observations of her surroundings, such as the apartments/houses her family has lived in and the multiple planes she boarded to reach America.

In the opening paragraph of the novel, the girl lists out all of the places she has lived: “Linda Vista, with its row of yellow houses, is where we eventually washed to shore. Before Linda Vista, we lived in the Green Apartment on Thirteenth and Adams, in Normal Heights. Before the Green Apartment, we lived in the Red Apartment on Forty-ninth and Orange, in East San Diego” (lê 3). The amount of details given about these places (color of apartment, street name, city, neighborhood, etc.) not only exemplifies the narrator’s keen observation skills but also shows how much she has moved around since arriving in America. This is thus an example of displacement within the novel because the girl and her family have been forced out of their war torn country (“washed to shore”) and have struggled to find a place to settle down as demonstrated through their jumping around from house to house.

https://goo.gl/images/nKuvz7

Furthermore, the journey to reach these places in America has not been easy for the girl and her family. The constant movement from one destination to another has been marked by multiple stages in various forms of transportation: “we floated across the sea, first in the hold of a fishing boat, and then in the hold of a U.S. Navy ship…we entered the revolving doors of airports and boarded plane after plane. We were lifted high over the Pacific Ocean. Holding on to one another, we moved through clouds, ghost vapors, time zones” (lê 4). The movement that is showcased in this passage (floating in boats, boarding planes, moving through time zones, etc.) marks not only the physical aspect of the long journey from Vietnam but also hints at how difficult it must have been emotionally: leaving behind a home because of war though less than ideal methods and having to traverse “through clouds, ghost vapors, time zones” is not a simple task for a little girl.

https://goo.gl/images/ZEC22c

The imagery of the apartment buildings and the modes of transportation (boats and planes) thus highlight the challenges for the Vietnamese refugees of the novel. The list of places the narrator has lived in represents displacement because the amount of addresses listed shows how much the family has had to move around. Meanwhile, the boat and plane journeys represent the movement that the characters have endured. By examining these two images closely, the reader is able to reach a better understanding of the Vietnamese refugee experience and how things that non-refugees take for granted, such as a physical home, can serve as powerful symbols of motivation.

B3

Works Cited

Lê, Thi Diem Thúy. The Gangster We Are All Looking For. Anchor Books, 2004.

Introspection and Alienation in “No-No Boy”

Do you remember the feeling of returning to your hometown after just a semester of college? The sense of both everything and nothing being different was eerie to me. In No No Boy, John Okada conveys this feeling of detachment from the world and coming back to find everything transformed in subtle ways. The first couple chapters consist of Ichiro wandering around his hometown, feeling neither Japanese nor American, but 100% an outsider to his hometown, family, and country. The narrative style is mostly introspective, as much more is said through Ichiro’s thoughts than his actions. Okada writes Ichiro’s thoughts from a dejected and heartbroken perspective. These emotions are especially prominent when Ichiro visits his former professor.

The professor greets Ichiro saying “You’re Su…Suzu…no…Tsuji…,” immediately indicating to Ichiro that he is not as important to the professor as the professor is to him, and that he homogenizes all of his Japanese students (Okada 51). Following an impersonal and generic conversation where the professor urges him to go back to school because Ichiro hasn’t changed as much as he believes, Ichiro muses that “It was all wrong… It was seeing without meeting, talking without hearing, smiling without feeling” (Okada 52).

This quote articulates Ichiro’s emotions toward all of his interactions in the first couple chapters of No-No Boy; they permeate with feelings of not only loneliness, but also complete emptiness. When the professor greets Ichiro with a list of Japanese names while lying about remembering him, another connection from a former life completely fades away, revealing his insignificance. While it is never stated in the text, depression and alienation radiate from all of his thoughts.

Following the conversation, Ichiro agonizes over whose fault the failed conversation was, saying that he “reduces conversations to the inconsequential because Brown is of that life which [he has] forfeited and, forfeiting it, [has] lost the right to see and hear and become excited over things which are of that wonderful past” (Okada 52). Ichiro’s thoughts reflect a deep guilt and self- deprecation, shattering the model minority myth following World War II. Japanese men did not only feel alienated from American society, but also had real depression and mental health issues due to the trauma inflicted upon them simply due to their race. Okada’s point of view honors this perspective and brings it to life, creating an unflinchingly realistic point of view.

Van Gogh - Trauernder alter Mann.jpeg

Works Cited

Okada, John. No-No Boy. University of Washington Press, 2014.