Jean Dao - R6 Excerpts and Response

Alexa Ebert

Despite all that Jewel’s boyfriend does to her, she still bails him out of jail, because if she doesn’t help him, no one would. She gets so upset when Teddy is with another girl even though it means she won’t get beaten up anymore. Love is so powerful that people would willingly take pain to have love. This instance relates to the title of the novel because it depicts the idea of a valley of love. When you have nothing left, you can still have love deep inside of you to cause irrationality and pain.

Marian Stacey
The only thing that I could think of was that Francie was terrified of losing yet another person in her life and she superstitiously believed that if she and Mark had some form of similarity to bind them together they could not be separated. I think her superstitious nature also helped her decide what image she wanted to permanently place underneath her skin. Francie chose a “flower vine from an ancient Japanese panel,” which speaks to her ancestry on her mother’s side and her love of plant life. It’s also interesting to point out that although she initially asked if the flower could be red, she changed her mind after Carl told her that “red will fade. In about ten years all you’ll have left are the outlines and the other colors,” so Francie definitely wants to keep the tattoo as a symbol of permanence.

Angie Woodmansee
Though not overtly political, Yamamoto’s work nevertheless deals with social issues that were and continue to be relevant in the lives of her American readers. The difference is that she doesn’t beat the reader over the head, so to speak, with her politics. Yamamoto’s subtlety may trick the first-time reader into assuming that it reflects a lack of drive to provide thorough criticism, just as I was tricked in the beginning of Kadohata’s novel.
What makes these works so remarkable is that both authors allow their politics to speak through the narrative, as opposed to using their narrative solely as a tool for commentary. These texts are multifaceted, and they are all the more effective because they cannot be easily simplified and read as some sort of manifesto.

Mary Martin
America’s pockets of wealth are often inhabited by whites and by those fulfilling the “model minority” stereotype in examples like Typical American, A Gesture Life, and Better Luck Tomorrow. Yet Kadohata’s Richtowns of 2052 are explicitly white. Furthermore, the long exclusion of non-whites has yielded a veritable dichotomous racial demographic of “other.” Today’s pervasiveness of the term “model minority” and its suburban embodiment provides a stark contrast to race dynamics in Kadohata’s grim society. More noticeable than the Richtowns’ whiteness is the absence of the Asian American, or any minority, community. However, America’s reclaiming of this title and its social benefits from the Asian American community is not inconceivable since white acceptance of the model is repeatedly proved as a dichotomous construct to be freely given and taken from the literary and cinematic protagonists. The attempt to inhabit any grey space serves as a slow catalyst for Kadohata’s world.

Marlene McManus
Francie does not witness nor engage in personal racial/ethnic identity struggles due to the unique position race holds in the political and socioeconomic realities of Kadohata’s 2052 dystopian Los Angeles. Kadohata clearly states in her interview with Hsiu-chuan Lee for the MELUS journal that she chose to set her novel in that particular year so that she might literarily fulfill the predictions of “an article that said by the year 2052 white people would become a minority in the United States.” Francie, a half Japanese, half Chinese-black mixed-race character, is, in the year 2052, not a racial or ethnic minority, a fact that is no doubt difficult for present day American readers to process. The lines of difference that are drawn throughout the novel are primarily those between classes, not skin colors.

Response to Excerpts
What I found fascinating about the reading responses from this week was that there was such a wide range of topics discussed. Kadohata’s In the Heart of the Valley of Love was clearly different from the other novels we have read for this class, and so it comes as no surprise that we have lots to say about it. Angie’s observation that Kadohata’s novel is “multifaceted” cannot be contested: the novel critiques and brings up all manner of social constructs, from love and loss to permanence and class struggles. The brilliant manner in which Kadohata weaves the very basic and human emotions of love and the desire for constancy in with the “dystopian Los Angeles” that Marlene brought up really makes this novel unique. After I finished reading it – as lame as this will sound – my heart ached because of the overall sense of impending doom that looms over Francie and her community.

Angie’s comments on the subtlety of Kadohata’s politics, combined with Mary and Marlene’s points about how In the Heart of the Valley of Love focuses more on class than on race, resonated with me, but I also wanted to note that while race no longer seems to be a huge issue, it is still the white people who hold all the wealth and power, and so the “race card” still exists. Of course, such is the case in 2009, with socioeconomic status frequently correlating to race. I do like, however, that Kadohata included that small detail, as if to say that, yes, things have changed, but not that much, and certainly not for the best. On the other hand, as we noted in class on Friday, Francie and her friends do seem to operate outside of that awareness of socioeconomic imbalance. They focus on getting by rather than moving up the ladder, possibly because they know that the ladder is about to fall. This is where the more prominent themes of love, loss, and permanence come into play; they are important for the immediate survival of the soul and the person in a completely different way than wealth and status are.

Happy Thanksgiving, everyone! I for one am thankful for this class and everyone involved in it. Thanks for making my Friday afternoons fun AND edumacatin'! =)

R6 Response

Rebecca Meekins

“The relationship that exist within In the Heart of the Valley of Love are extremely relevant as they provide refuge for the characters from this authoritarian state within which they now exist. Their lives are exactly the lives we fear: massive water shortages, extreme poverty, and an eroding culture. Yet somehow, In the Heart of the Valley of Love proves that even in those situations, anybody can find light.”

Anna Malefatto

“One of the major reflections of reality is the isolation of the wealthy and the white people form the rest of the poorer, racially diverse population. In this future, white is the minority, and that is not a difficult demographic to imagine, especially fro LA…Francie mentions the lack of white faces in crowds, or the diverse ethnic makeup of the people she sees on the street. However, this is not a point she ever dwells on too deeply.

Andrew Anderson

“From small details like Francie’s passing mention of a time “before nonwhites became the majority in the country” (Kadohata 76), we learn that the balance of race in America has shifted. Contrary to the emergence of an increased acceptance of nonwhites that we might naturally assume would take place in this situation, we instead see a world in which a decreasing minority is exercising an increasing amount of control over the majority of the population.

Sarah Feldberg

“Supposedly lung cancer is expected to afflict a startlingly high percentage of children born and raised in LA post-1990. Additionally, cancer is a political disease – I believe that ethnic minorities and impoverished populations have higher incidences of cancer due to environmental racism, jobs in manufacturing or industrial sectors, access to poorer-quality food and personal products, etc. Additionally cancer is often ruinously expensive to treat-as narratives in various magazines note – people often go into massive debt trying to obtain cutting edge treatments, and minorities and the poor also have higher death rates from cancer due to lack of access to quality health-care options.”

Veronica Bruscini

“Her everyday experiences – a mere forty three years distant from today’s realities – present a bleak future for the United States. “Just about everybody broke laws all the time.” Francie reports, matter-of-fact about this necessary mode of daily survival. “Occasionally.” She adds just as candidly, “the police arrested a randomly chosen person, and if you went searching for him or her, they might arrest you too” (Valley 13) Kadohata never names the extraordinary event which precipitates such dynamic changes to everyday life – economic and social upheaval, drastic shortages of natural resources

“The bus was full of poor people, old people, women, kids, and pickpockets. There was not a white face on the bus” (Kadohata, 88).

After reading the preceding responses and through my prior understanding of race and ethnic relations, I can see the reality in Kadohata’s novel set in the future. As Veronica mentions, the dynamic changes illustrated in the novel include social upheaval. Minorities become the majority and the majority becomes the minority and yet, the white race still obtains the wealth and power. In Kadohata’s novel, she shows that there is still a racial disconnect between the two groups. In today’s society, there is a growing number of immigrants and mixing among the races. There are a growing number of people of color in America. Anna mentions that the racially diverse population in the future is not hard to imagine. As I learned in my Cities and Suburbs class, almost half of today’s population is made up of racially diverse people. This percentage will only continue to grow in the future. In LA, there are more non-whites than whites by a small by growing percentage. Andrew writes that with the diminished white population comes a increase amount of control over the non-whites. This aspect in Valley is interesting because in today’s society, with the growing non-white population comes a growing number non-whites represented in local and national government.

There is a lot of economic turmoil in 2052 including disease shortages on food and water. It is not hard to understand the depravity and economic turmoil in LA at this time since it also reflects how LA is in today’s society. As Sarah mentions in her writing, there is a high percentage of children born and raised in LA post 1990s that will have lung cancer. There are parts of LA that are racially diverse are extremely poor and that reflects in the health of the residents. Since LA is growing in non-white population, does that mean that levels of poverty will increase as well? Kadohata presents a very plausible outlook on what the future might look like if we continue down our path of growth and consumption. Many futuristic novels and films focus on how man’s creation of technology will bring down mankind but Kadohata’s Valley focuses on how consumption will affect everyday lives and how race relations will always be a problem in society.

R5 Excerpts and Responses - Marian Stacey

Since we were using quotes this week I'll post one of mine as well.

"'God, I've never seen anything like this[," said Pauline.] Propping her head on the window frame, gazing; but Jenny knew Pauline had been here before. She'd been one of those girls in a calico dress, lace-up shoes, sun-straing pinching her eyes, thin long hair always tangled and wild and not in proper braids. One day, the Crow Indians come along and attack her parents' farmstead, scalp her parents, burn the house to the ground, abduct her thrown over their shoulders, her lace-up boots kicking. And the next thing you know, she's tearing around on a horse, wearing paint, giving the Crows who've adopted her hell... Jenny could see it in Pauline's deep eyes, if not her time-refined features." (Choi 285)
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Mary Martin
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"(Surrender wasn't an option. Radicalism, Jenny thought sometimes, was like Catholocism, with its extreme self-referntiality, its strict liturgy, its all-explaining view of the world, its absolute Satan, and its deadly sins, of which surrender was one- the very worst.)" (Choi 328)

Choi draws an intriguing comparison in defining social and politcal radicalism using religious vocabulary. The ultimate form of social resistance becomes comparable to what can be deemed the ultimate act of social compliance. The same comparison suggests a societal binary dependent on one's belief of "the Truth." For the members of the SLA, "Truth" was the sinful injustice of the masses at the hands of the foverning body. Surrender at the hans of such evil was deemed intolerable. The same group equally embodies the remaining traits of Radicalism/Catholicism as chose by Choi. Even as the movement lost direction, their own "self-referntiality" allowed the remains of the movement to continually express the truth of the people.
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Jean Dao
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Throughout the entire book, Doc Hata comes off as rather socially compliant, never really speaking up for anyone - not even himself - except for the scene in which he defends K and claims that he will marry her once the war is over. Doc Hata allows life to watch over him and decides to simply take a perch off to the side, particularly after the war. As Sunny says (or rather, accuses) "... you're made it so everyone owes something to you. You give these gifts out, just like to that policewoman, Como. She can't stand to cross you because you're this nice sweet man who's given when he didn't have to or want to but did anyway. You burden with your generosity (Lee 95)." By setting himself up [as a model citizen,] Doc Hata never has to face serious confrontations and can live a peaceful - albeit complacent - life.
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Keen Hahn
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Jenny, the fugitive radical, takes a completely abnormal position working for a rich, white woman in order to hide herself:

"She's usually deeply ensconced in the house by now, after having boiled the water and spilled the box of cookies onto the dish and decanted the milk into the creamer and dropped the cubes of sugar into the sugar bowl with tongs - Miss Dolly is scrupulous about the use of tongs, to prevent spread of germs - and carried the rattling tray onto the porch with old woman bringing up the rear in her fragile, methodical way. And then politely ducking off to some project-in-progress, before any visitors come up the path. By that time she'll be lying well out of reach and nearly out of sight beneath the library ceiling, on her jerry-rigged scaffold [...] hiding from the ritual of teatime but anxiously listening. How's that lovely Oriental girl working out?" (Choi 56)

Jenny, someone characterized as a political dissident, willingly subjects herself to a position of servitude. Through her action of separation from "teatime" can be seen as definitively resistant gesture, a refusal to participate in the discourses of old money and cultural myopia, she fulfills the role of the invisible servant by doing so. She is at once complacent and resistant as she condemns and flouts one stereotype while she fully embodies another. Jenny cannot, in this situation, cleanly resist or submit. The cultural climate is such that, regardless or her action she will be perceived in the way that the majority wishes to see her, which calls into question any form of resistance, ... .
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Angie Woodmansee
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... neither complicity nor radical activism seems to be represented as a sustainable mode of social existence. Although I was initially pulled toward Jenny's activism and was disturbed by Hata's complicity, after finishing American Woman I was equally unsettled by the problems that Jenny's political environment poses. In consideration of the complexities that each character faces (including those to be found within themselves), I do not feel that either approach is completely condemned or approved by the authors. The characters and situations seem to indicate that social, political, and national identities are dynamic, and that to tie oneself to one with the intent of using it to structure the rest of one's life is, in essence, an act that contains its own inevitable disintegration. Time moves forward, history is reshaped it is progression, and the circumstances are never quite the same; if one acknowledges this, it is impossible to believe that a static identity will suffice for the rest of one's life.
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Dan Parker
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Doc Hata's adopted daughter Sunny, despite her promiscuous actions and dangerous decisions, neither grapples with [the] existential crisis of the suppressed self, nor acquiesces to the oppression of either the literal of the figurative patriarchy - her father or the town - by severing all connections with her reality the moment it becomes unsatisfactory, and venturing forth of a quest to embrace her Identity. Jenny Shimada willingly protests against the government to express her dissatisfaction with the Vietnam War and furthers the motivational endeavor of her cause by bombing unoccupied buildings, and then becoming an accessory to kidnapping and a felon for housing fugitives:

"While each of Pauline's pretrial hearings, and the results of her numerous psychiatric exams, and the fluctuations in her family's optimism about her case's outcome, continued to be news everywhere, Jenny was mentioned just a handful of times over all, and always fleetingly (Choi 353)"

Despite their valiant efforts to be heard, the feminine voices become silenced through the oppression of the governing patriarchy: Sunny returns to her severed home through a wordless card; KKutaeh, who faces the military by killing Captain Ono, is raped and hacked to death; and Jenny amount to a minor detail, drowned by the media.
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Response
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The line between radicalism and complicity is surprisingly easy to blur, and I think that's part of what was so fascinating about the Patty Hearst case. Think about it. The whole question about whether or not she was guilty or an example of Stockholm syndrome was a way of asking, "Was Patty Hearst a truly radical or was she merely complying to the will of a radical group?"

This week was all about questioning complicity and radicalism, and perhaps Mary's excerpt is the place to start. Mary found a quote which brings to light how demanding it can be to subscribe to a way of thinking, no matter how radical the intentions of the group are radicalism is still not wholly different from a two thousand year old construct. Add in the fact that catholicism in similie or metaphor is heavily weighted by connotations of a powerful force because catholicism is run by the Papacy, or humans which speak for God. However, the papacy is lead by the most noble, saintly, (male) catholics on earth, so they can't be all bad, right?

Jean's quote about Doc Hata brings up the point that doing good and complicity have allowed Doc Hata to passively control the people of Bedley Run. Sunny accuses Hata of playing so well into the model citizen that he has somehow morphed into a being who is beyond reproach, but because Doc Hata is so unwilling to speak against that idea he has no choice but to be what other people think he is. Keen points out that Jenny is just as much a victim of how people percieve her. After all, Jenny as "The Oriental" seamlessly blends into the role of invisible servant fixing up a mansion which represents the very power structure she is rebelling against. However, her greater loyalty to Radicalism will not allow her to surrender, but without William she has no way to combat the power structure. Ultimately, in order to fight another day she must hide in the construct she and her group have condemned.

Angie is right in saying that there is no way that one can forever cling to one set of ideals. In fact, many of the characters end up changing before the reader's eyes. However, Dan brings up the excellent point that it is difficult to understand the intricacies of each individual story because the media is intent on presenting us with what is the most radical.

R5 Excerpts and Response - Anna Malefatto

Sarah Feldberg
"Doc Hata's fascination with real-estate in A Gesture Life seemed to me to echo and expand on (and further problematize) the fetishization of certain distinctly American commodities....it becomes evident that the house Hata struggles to maintain never becomes a home - instead it's sterile, like a 'museum.' Additionally, the breakfast that he sets out for Sunny becomes one more empty, or purely aesthetic, gesture - a minimal, unobtrusive, and ultimately failed, attempt at communication with his errant daughter....I thought Jenny's tentative embrace of bourgeois/aesthetic pleasure also articulates a central thematic in Choi's novel - Choi and Jenny wonder how to appreciate beauty without celebrating conservative myths at the same time; how to save some modicum of pleasure without guilt."

Anushka Zafar
"By pointing out his Japanese heritage in defense of his behavior, Hata is giving into the stereotypical notion that Asian Americans are seen as 'model citizens.' In a way, it seems that he is giving into social complicity. Hata fails at resisting social complicity and it is clear...that he is in complete denial; he complies to the expectations of society be being 'number-one citizen,' and thinks it is aiding his attempt to assimilate into American society..."

Chang Liu
"In discussion about social complicity, it reveals that no matter how far they drive or how deep they hide, they cannot escape their compromised morality, their Americanness....[Hata's] appearance and reputation prevail over almost any other priority....It is this life of gestures that 'Doc' Franklin Hata lives that serves to eradicate his past and true emotions..."

Rebecca Meekins
"These novels exemplify the different effects one's history and race have on their actions within society. Doc's history binds him from coming within a certain emotional distance with his society, and Jenny's history suggests she is much more compliant than she actually is."

Veronica Bruscini
"These novels blur the question of agency even further in specific episodes for Hata and Jenny. Hata, in his recollections of youth and old age, goes through great lengths to demonstrate his 'gesture life,' on one based on observation and inaction; his narrative is so skillfully wrought that when he does act - physically taking advantage of K - it almost blends into the rest of his story. These encounters with K solidify Hata's inability to form deep, interpersonal connections, even within the circle of his closest friends and associates, and he remains a solitary figure through the rest of his life. Jenny's meticulously planned and crafted bombings are designed to spare lives and still make a statement, destroying buildings that house the government agencies she opposes. Yet reflecting on these events during a time of inaction...Jenny senses and emptiness, a lack of person connections in her life..."


This collection of responses brings up an issue raised in these novels that we had not considered in class discussions, and which I had not considered at all before reading them. Both Doc Hata and Jenny seem to be victims of their circumstances. Hata is a closed off person, unable to make any deep interpersonal connections, like Veronica notes. This comes from his childhood, when his parents sent him away to live a "better life" with foster parents in Japan, and continued throughout his entire life; he always valued his appearance to others more than his relationship with them. Similarly, Jenny is all about her actions as a revolutionary. She values the bombings she did with William and the "revolutionary" actions she is taking by helping Juan, Yvonne and Pauline, but in reflecting on her relationship with William, she realizes that she doesn't really love him for him, rather for what they did together.

Both of these characters value possessions and actions and values themselves, more than the relationships they develop in their lives. This makes them kind of empty characters. Rebecca simplifies this point well in my excerpt from her response. Doc Hata likes to emphasize his Japaneseness, but his high value of material possessions is a very American one, one that Jenny and her cohorts were very against. Sarah points out the struggle that Jenny has with her essential values when they conflict with her enjoyment of material and aesthetic pleasures.

In the end, I think neither character can really help that they are so confused and alone throughout the novels. Doc Hata knows no other way of behaving, and Jenny is trying so hard to be a revolutionary and live up to impossible ideals, that they both miss out on important aspects of life: strong relationships with other people.

R4 Excerpts and Response (Anna Moran)

Micah Martin:
“In setting Jenny apart as uniquely suited to leadership in a revolutionary environment for the color of her skin, and by alluding to a supposed ‘Third World Perspective’ afforded by her Japanese heritage, Juan betrays leanings just as racist and as ignorant as the townspeople who refer to Mr. Hata as a ‘good Charlie.’ … Both authors show clearly the idea of social complicity, though from opposite angles.  Where Lee presents Mr. Hata as a man working hard for legitimization in the eyes of his neighbors and fellow citizens and thus (possibly) complicit in his own marginalization, Choi gives us Juan and his blind insistence that brown skin confers legitimacy automatically and makes its possessor part of a kind of suffering elite.  While Mr. Hata is himself complicit, Jenny is a victim of (unwilling) complicity via Juan’s racist attitudes.  Both are, in some fashion, reduced to an exemplar of their race by this complicity.”

 Rachael Furman:
“Self-imposed assimilation and self-denial of one’s race, background, and past holds one boon over socially imposed racial othering.  Social compliance implies one’s choice to comply, with the key concept pushing towards this decisions being ‘choice.’  One’s personal decision to comply fosters an internal sense of power and control, even if this sense of balance is constructed in such a way as to marginalize and force self-denial upon Asian Americans regardless of terminology.  Susan Choi’s American Woman and Chang-rae Lee’s A Gesture Life both evaluate the differing effects that the ‘choice’ of social compliance has upon the character and narratives of each novel’s respective main characters.  As we examine the ways in which Jenny and Doc Hata both blend into society, we understand that this self-imposed denial of nation and self acts as a psychological mechanism of preservation, a means by which to hide from the greater and more damaging forces of forced assimilation or worse, ethnic marginalization.”

Alexa Ebert:
“It seems like both Sunny and Pauline had very complicated relationships with their parents, and their actions and mannerisms definitely took a substantial toll on them.  Pauline gave in so much to the PLA that she was lost and her hand is described as to have rolled off.  It is ironic that when she did not resist to the PLA, she says that she was released of old shame and nothing would be her fault.  Although Pauline did not necessarily choose to be a part of the PLA, her compliance made her become a part of this, and through it she began to further resist other things.  In a way, she resisted against her parents because they did not withhold the PLA’s beliefs whatsoever.”

Andrew Anderson:
“Jenny and Hata each find comfort in the extremes.  For Jenny, it is in the form of political resistance and radical activism, while for Hata it is expressed through his social complicity as he strives for complete assimilation and acceptance into American society.  Both approaches are shortsighted and destined to fail from the very beginning.  Hata’s attempts to make himself as unthreatening and amenable as possible may have afforded him to a certain amount of comfort, but it never earned him the kind of respect among the community that he so desperately yearned for.  In contrast, Jenny’s political radicalism gave her a level of power that she couldn’t have attained otherwise, but the very means of her resistance prevented her from ever being seen as anything but a radical outlier.”

Marlene McManus:
“Though one’s life is defined by social complicity and the other’s by political resistance, the protagonists of the novels A Gesture Life and American Woman share a conclusive realization of the futility of their actions at the novels’ endings.  Though Franklin Hata works tirelessly to adopt and maintain all the physical and social signifiers of the average American citizen, and Jenny Shimada endeavors to raise political and social awareness to improve the nation through radial activism, neither can escape the consequences and realities imposed upon them by history and their own selves… He [Doc Hata] realizes at the conclusion of the novel that such a life cannot be achieved through quiet complicity, for complicity engenders inaction, the consequence of which is a weighty cloud of guilt that cannot be escaped… Jenny Shimada’s actions are the antithesis of complicity, bombing buildings in her youth to protest government actions.  As opposed to Hata who wishes to recede into anonymity, Jenny’s ultimate desire is that her voice be heard.”

Response:

                For two stories that are based on completely different settings and deal with completely different political issues, the response papers for this week do a great job in discussing many comparable themes of both novels.  Although it seems as though the issues of social complicity and political resistance are obvious motives for some of the main characters (Jenny the anti-government radical seems to be the symbol of political resistance while Doc Hata, the model minority “good Charlie” is socially compliant), these excerpts show more in-depth analyses of these topics and bring new perspectives that were not even mentioned in our class discussions.  For instance, Rachael points out an interesting point that even though both Jenny and Doc Hata are socially compliant and falsely empowered by their “choices” to act the way they do, it is inevitably internally destructive for these characters and those they affect.  Marlene and Andrew both write about the failures and futility of both Doc Hata and Jenny’s actions.  Marlene says that both characters’ complicity fail to eradicate the history and guilt that encumbers them due to their political standings, actions, or even the widespread scrutinization they face as an Asian American.  Andrew, on the other hand, talks about the failures of these two characters to find short-term comfort in their attempts to prove themselves through social compliance (Doc Hata) and political resistance (Jenny).  They all agree that the tragedies of these two main characters are the repeated failures that define their developments as characters throughout the books.

                Excerpts from the response papers also introduce marginal characters who help emphasize the impacts of political resistance and social compliance.  Micah mentions Juan, whose ignorance and false claims further delegitimize the missions of the PLA; however, his dominance (and perhaps masculinity?) forces Jenny to be socially compliant to Juan’s racism and other factors that she initially fought to resist.  Alexa also mentions Pauline in a similar light, as she says while Pauline was a product of social compliance due to her wealth and socioeconomic standing, her submissiveness to the PLA compelled her to be politically resistant against all the perspectives that she was raised with.  Alexa also points out that Sunny’s resistance to Doc Hata lets him become aware of the hypocrisies of his actions.  While these novels depict two completely different but altogether beautiful stories, the themes that were highlighted in this week’s responses continue to exist in our society that still often deals with minority-based politics and controversies.

R4 Excerpts/Response- Rebecca Meekins

Anushka Zafar

In terms of touching upon the idea of Asian American masculinity, in David Richards’ article, he writes that “there is only one true god [of action films] and his name is Jackie Chan.” In relation to what we learnt from The Slanted Screen, Asian actors interviewed expressed that their domination in American action films is undermining because they are only chosen to play the villain or “the other”. Shu even refers to Frank Chin, who stated, “Good or bad, the stereotypical Asian is nothing as a man. At worst, the Asian-American is contemptible because he is womanly, effeminate, devoid of all the traditionally masculine qualities of originality, daring, physical courage, and creativity.”



Samantha McFadden

Similar to Lee, Chan’s body and what he does with it throughout the film represent Asian masculinity that is not usually depicted. Rather than displaying his body itself, the focus is put on the things that he is able to do with it – Chan leaps from tall buildings, uses common household objects as weapons, gets hit by cars, and still is able to get up and catch the bad guys. Yuan Shu argues that this allows audiences to view him as more manly. In doing all of his own stunts, he is showing that the Asian male is capable of great bodily feats. However, as with Lee, he must prove that he is masculine by being extremely adept at martial arts. Without this, he would appear to be the same bumbling, asexual character as any other Asian male in film.



Anna Malefatto

Furthermore, Chan “…humanizes the hero of the Kung Fu tragedy, whose rigidity might…be construed as stubborn, inhuman…confirming another aspect of Orientalist representation of Asians and Asian Americans” (5). This point fascinates me; I had never really thought of Jackie Chan as particularly masculine. However, he clearly is, as he does all his own stunt work and risks his life to make his films.
It seems that Bruce Lee certainly did what he intended, proving the masculinity and power of Chinese men and promoting national pride for his country. I think that Jackie Chan has taken this one step further and humanized the martial arts master in film, and I agree with Shu that Chan has done a good job of “…reconstructing masculinity” (6).


Alexa Ebert

As a whole, Chan tries to avoid confrontation and trouble, where as Lee likes to address and confront immediately. Chan merely gives in at time for example when he gives into the gangsters, and he also has the best fighting ability when he runs away from trouble. I interpret this as being less masculine and more cautious and cowardly. “Lee glorifies violence” where as Chan avoids it, shows two very different depictions of Asian American masculinity. Violence can be seen as a positive because you are fighting back, but avoiding it can be more peaceful. I think if there could be a happy medium of both, the Asian American masculine image would appeal to more people.


Jean Dao

Also of note is the fact that, although Kung Fu heroes have so-called universal appeal, this appeal really only applies to the men in minority groups. As shown in both Rumble in the Bronx and Enter the Dragon (and Rush Hour, as mentioned in Shu’s article), women – particularly Asian women – continue to be objectified: in Rumble in the Bronx, the women in the gang are viewed as playthings, and in Enter the Dragon, every woman on the island (excepting Han’s wife and daughters) serves only to provide pleasure for the men. In Shu’s words, there still exists a certain objectification of “young Asian women as passive, obedient, and eager to pamper any man, white or black, yellow or brown” (Shu, 8).


Both Rumble in the Bronx and Enter the Dragon are about changing the stereotype of Asian masculinity, or lack thereof. The differences in the two styles are clear, as pointed out by Alexa and Samantha. Where Jackie Chan takes more of a humanistic approach, “Lee glorifies violence”. Which method is more effective is debated. It seemed that the consensus with the class was that Jackie Chan’s character was much more relatable and more realistic. Also, the fact that Chan does all of his own stunts, and risks his life so often for the sake of his films says something about his character, as Anna and Sam point out. However, I think Jean has a good point about the effect and appeal of the Kung Fu films in society and that men and women will approach these films differently. Especially in regards to the objectification of many women in Kung Fu films as a means for men to feel more masculine. Kung Fu films speak much more to Asian men who struggle with issues of masculinity rather than women who do not have the same problem. However, in Jean’s response, she speaks of the role of women in the role, yet in Rush Hour and the excerpt from Hero that we watched, the women were shown as extremely powerful, and also had mastered the art of Kung Fu. It would be interesting to unpack those characters more as well.
In response to Anushka, I think it is very interesting the reference made to The Slanted Screen. Many men expressed anger due to the constant typecasting as villains. Not only this, but the assumption that all Asians can do Kung Fu is a result of the popularity of films like Enter the Dragon, which is ironic in itself because these films were made to counter another sort of stereotype/typecast; a lack of masculinity. Kung Fu films will remain popular due to the showcase of the magnificent art of martial arts, which Asian culture has seemed to master in order to overcome other “weaknesses”.

R4 Excerpts/Response - Andrew Anderson

Anna Sophia Moran:

As an Asian who grew up in a majorly Oriental environment, I realized that I have never had to think about the topic of Asian American masculinity until recently. Comparing my experiences from back home and in college has really exposed me to the level of emasculation Asian American men experience and the racialization that accompanies it. Based on the readings this week, it seems that Asian American men are often in a complex bind of maintaining the role of the "model minority" while handling the rough issues that accompany being an ethnic minority.

Sarah Feldberg:

I thought it was interesting that Bruce Lee was abstinent in the film - this makes him seem slightly more honorable, and certainly more ascetic, than Williams and Roper, but it also made me think to a comment I read in the Kung Fu book we passed around class the other day criticizing Romeo Must Die because it failed to write in any kind of sexual relationship between Jet Li and Aaliyah. To whomever penned this commentary, Jet Li's character's lack of sexuality was regressive and invoked derogatory stereotypes about Asian American men's lack of virility. And so, even though Bruce Lee's footwork - and his bravery and integrity - are awe-inspiring in the earlier Enter the Dragon, it did seem interesting (and again politically fraught) that Lee's sexuality was "occluded."

Marian Stacey:

[In Enter the Dragon] there are a few clichés that I did find troubling. In particular, the idea that Asian men are sexless (i.e. Charlie Chan), but Lee's character has his choice of women, and the audience can see that he obviously makes a conscious choice to abstain from sex...It would have been truly amazing if Lee had been able to elevate Asian women as well, but I understand the feeling of great pride that Lee managed to challenge the stereotype of feminized Asian men, not because he changed himself, but because he was true to his culture.

Veronica Bruscini:

Lee's fight sequences portray all the mastery of his art combined with the magnetic grace and agility associated with Fred Astaire, and he centers Asian nationalism within the onscreen image of his powerful body. Like Lee, Chan employs the Kung Fu genre to solidify the film presence of the strong Asian male; however, Chan's more approachable characters add a further dimension through comedy, evoking Buster Keaton alongside Gene Kelly (Shu 7). Lee's invincible "super man" protagonists come off as remote and austere, and for some, this undermines his intent, reproducing rather than dispelling the "orientalist" stereotype.

Marlene McManus:

Where is the Asian American male role model for Asian Americans? Does one exist at all? How could we define him? Perhaps someone with an American birthplace and unaccented English, who lives a life as culturally 'American' as anyone else. Someone whom Danny Kim, the protagonist of Don Lee's short story "Yellow," could look up to...Where is the "unquestionably American" Asian American role model for Danny, a person who desires complete disassociation with the nation and culture of his ethnicity? Surely Danny would protest to Bruce Lee's focus on China's political woes with the Japanese and the British, as well as Jackie Chan's broken English.

Response:

It was interesting that both Sarah and Marian interpreted Lee's abstinence as reinforcing the stereotype of Asian men as sexless. Although I can certainly understand their reasoning, I read the situation differently. The way I saw it, Lee's abstinence was a display of his complete mastery over his urges. Western culture traditionally equates sex with power, but I saw Lee's abstinence as a display of the ultimate power and control that he had over his body and basic desires. Another angle to consider is the possibility that Lee refused sex out of pride and honor. He knew that the women on Han's island were drugged into submission, and it’s conceivable that his own conscience wouldn't allow him to take advantage of someone in such a position.

Marlene's examination of the lack of Asian American male role models was also intriguing. In reading Don Lee's Yellow, I got the sense that Danny Kim would never be able to look up to an Asian male, not because they don't exist, but because Danny doesn't think that there is anything about being an Asian male to be proud of.

Anna's response reminded me that the idea of the emasculated Asian male is an entirely Western perception. As she said, it was a topic that she never considered much growing up in a "majorly Oriental environment." This is a line of thinking that I hadn't even considered, and it was fascinating to see a non-American perspective on the issue.

Veronica makes some good observations about the differences between Lee and Chan and how some might find Lee's depiction to be problematic, due to the unrealistic "Super Man" persona that he takes on, while Chan's willingness to poke fun at himself makes his characters more approachable. Chan often plays the lovable, naive, goofy type of character. It seems that it's Chan's ability to play these types of characters while still showing off his martial arts expertise that makes him such an appealing performer.

R4 Editor Response : Depictions of Asian American Masculinity

Angie Woodmansee

“If Chan is considered solely as a Hollywood success story, the perpetuation of such stereotypes is not really a problem, as Hollywood films tend (though not exclusively) to avoid such social criticism in favor of more easily digested entertainment. This aspect is a part of Shu’s praise of Chan, but it seems incompatible with his simultaneous praise of Chan as a pioneer in the re-presentation of masculinity. My problem with this assessment as a whole is not based on a feeling that Chan is responsible for the deconstruction or destabilization of such cultural stereotypes and ideals; it is not to say that dealing with masculinity is not enough; it is not to ignore the complexity of a situation in which the assertion of one identity is done through the further marginalization of others. The issue is that Shu presents Chan as an individual who “embraces the multicultural rhetoric of the United States,” while his context provides an unclear explanation of what such a comment means in the overall assessment of Chan’s work (6).”

Chang Liu

“I could feel that those words from Danny and [Don] Lee were desperate, helpless and hopeless. Rachel said to Danny ‘But the thought of it’s taken over your life, it’s poisoned you, and that’s sadder than anything anyone could ever say or do to you. Don’t you see? Racism’s not the problem. It’s you. You’ve got no heart, Daniel. You’ve got no soul.’ (Lee 234). Danny had a heart and a soul that was once innocent and full of hope, but later on his heart and soul were deprived by the cruelty of the reality, people and the society. ‘He realized he was doomed. No matter what he did, no matter how much he tried to deny it, he would never get past his ethnicity. It was untenable, and the knowledge broke him’ (Lee 234).”

Dan Parker

“to redeem the essence of the Identity that had been shattered by the emasculation and alienation of the Asian American male, Bruce Lee and Danny resort to perfecting their bodies as weapons to be used as both preemptive means of attaching those biased accusations before any more ethnic damage is wrought, and the keys that will release their fettered Identities into the realm of a culturally universal acceptance that is free of levels, assumptions, and societal seclusion. The paradoxical effect of this preventative act, however, is the further alienation of the Self that sparks the birth of new prejudices and ignorant remarks that shape a new – though equally restricted – Asian American reality.”

Keen Hahn

“For Lee, the Asian American male must be an unassailable, rock-hard monument of discipline, cutting down opponents with precision and grace. While this does not sound like such a bad position to be in, it raises a very simple problem: not everyone is capable of achieving Lee’s level of expertise in his chosen field. His expectation is so demanding that it becomes inaccessible to the everyday male. As such, Lee can only stand as an idealization, a perfected image of Asian American masculinity that can resonate with others, but is ultimately not relatable. Further, Lee’s portrayal reinforces the idea of the Asian American male as mystical and stoic, showing no emotion and speaking, at least in Enter the Dragon, in cryptic Shaolin parables.

Rachael Furman

“The unfortunate fact is that the terms in use to accomplish [Asian American emasculation], as well as to try to correct, are ones that are gendered in nature, calling into question a whole new battle against an equally pervasive binary. However, this fact and its unfortunate ramifications fail to be addressed because the shadow of racism and the battle of superstars such as Lee and Chan smother it with their successes. In seeing the reworking of Asian American males in the cinema to allow for more breadth and depth of character, more characteristically (and stereotypically) “strong,” “male” characters allows us to applaud Chan and Lee’s work at battling racism, but at least for me it beings up questions as to if binaries of power can ever end, if humans can ever be gauged as equal without calling into play race or gender to help one or the other group proverbially get ahead.”

Tin-Yan Chan

“There will always be images of emasculated Asian American men in media but Bruce Lee and Jackie Chan have created unforgettable characters. Not only have Bruce Lee and Jackie Chan sculpted their bodies and personas to match that of a superhero, they have also changed the stigma of an Asian American male identity. They are superheroes in the sense that they have combated the views Americans have of Asian American men. Their purpose is to fight for what they believe is right whether it be on screen, or what they try to show through the characters they play. Lee possesses the characteristics of a true fighter while Chan used kung-fu and comedy as a more humanistic approach to combat today’s stereotypes against Asian American men. Even though they differ in this sense, they have both created unforgettable personalities that have a lasting impressing of the Asian American male in society.”

While the aforementioned responses note that Lee and Chan deeply impact the culture of Asian American masculine imagery, such an impact is deeply qualified and questioned ultimately demanding observations of such depiction’s role off camera and, specifically, in the life of men like Danny. Tin-Yan’s classification of the two actors as “superheroes” lays a basis for questions provoked by the hyper-masculinity of the characters and the men who play them: how does one integrate the “unassailable, rock-hard monuments of discipline” (to borrow Keen’s words) into the real world? Rachel states that social ramifications of Chan and Lee’s virtually inhuman masculine constructions are overshadowed by their enormous successes and, therefore, a true incorporation of Chan and Lee’s depictions into the lives of real Asian American men is not easy. Danny embodies what Chang describes as the “desperate, helpless and hopeless” nature instilled in Asian American males as a result.

The incompatibility of the cinematic depictions and reality of Asian American men arise from opposing approaches of the East (as characterized in the films) and West to masculinity and contrasting daily lives and the necessities to lead such. While Chan and Lee admittedly redefine masculinity, it is naïve to say that desires to socially attain the Western ideals of masculinity fuel their art. If superior brute force (with a touch of infrequent stoic or goofy dialogue) were the sole standard of masculinity, a significant majority of men of any origin would be lucky to equate themselves with Chan or Lee. Unfortunately for Danny, neither physical combat nor apparent passiveness benefits the social or occupational ascension of an American man. Dan’s response recounts Danny’s boxing as a means to create his body as a weapon but, unsurprisingly, even his peak physical performance is significantly lower than either Lee or Chan.

The rigid image of masculine achievement, as discussed by both Angie and Rachel, marginalizes much of society who finds their identities belittled and given outsider status. The rigidity equally hinders a potentially broad and empowering metaphor that would allow real men to benefit from Lee and Chan’s powerful imagery. A deeper interpretation would equate “normal” men with Chan and Lee who, as Keen states, achieve a superior level of expertise in a given field and “cut down opponents with precision and grace.” Danny metaphorically combats (and arguably defeats) his own negative relationship with his race by taking a cue from Chan and Lee and strengthening his body. Perhaps more importantly, though, he broadens his combat and, while he does not eliminate opponents with physical expertise, his prestigious circle of friends and hard won work promotion prove superiority over the (Western, white male) competition. This application of mastery and expertise to boring, everyday life, however, does not seem to invoke the same air of glory.

Editor: Mary Martin

R3 Excerpts/Response - Chang Liu

Micah E.F. Martin

Both of Le thi diem thuy’s parents function as effective countermemory against the idea of the immigrant victim. Their ties to Vietnamese culture and their memories of a lost homeland and families not seen in decades form a part of their mosaic personalities, but neither parent is “simply” an immigrant. The layered, sometimes reserved and sometimes blatant portrayal of Anh and his wife serves to emphatically define the Vietnamese family not in their traditional victims’ roles but as three-dimensional and complex individuals. Le thi diem thuy says quite clearly through the understated recounting of her own experience with childhood and adolescence in America that the immigrant experience is not solely one of flight from oppression or fearful attempts at adaptation. Mundane concerns, as anywhere, remain a powerful factor in the lives of any family and in Gangster they are brought to the forefront and wielded skillfully to paint a picture of a family’s domestic life that incorporates immigrant roots but is not defined solely by them.

Rebecca Meekins

In Le Thi Diem Thuy’s “The Gangster We Are All Looking For”, I feel this concept of countermemory is best expressed in the narrator’s father’s character. His rage, anger, and description of “gangster”, paint the portrait of a man who feels victimized. His memories of being in Viet Nam and his life there haunts him, as he takes the role of a victim, just as Nguyen talks about in her description of countermemory. He is unaware of the harm that he inflicts on his family, and it is a fact that is forgotten in the memories of the war. “In this theatre of collective memory, the harm Asian Americans inflict upon each other, or upon others becomes secondary, even forgotten” (Nguyen, 15). Spending all his time playing the victim, her father is never able to face the consequences of his actions and see outside of the “imagined community” that he has created for himself about his history and his culture’s history. This anger and role is then passed on to his daughter, as she desires to be a gangster, more specifically “the gangster we are all looking for”, just as her father is.

Tin-Yan Chan

The narrator’s mother counters the image of war when she says, “war is a bird with a broken wing flying over the country side, trailing blood and burying crops in sorrow. If something grows in spite of this, it is both a curse and miracle…war has no beginning and no end. It crosses oceans like a splintered boat filled with people singing a sad song” (Le, 87). This is her interpretation of the war. She says it as a metaphor. She does not mention people killing each other or the political climate in Vietnam, rather she takes a poetic approach in telling her daughter about the war.

Mary Martin

The memories of these three refugees are countered as they integrate themselves into their American life. Gangster’s cases of countermemory exemplify both the positive and negative results. The nation of Ma’s identity becomes only “over there” (151) and the “hard life” (151) is simplified in both her mind and her daughter’s. The narrator arguably benefits from countermemory of which the ocean imagery still serves also as the crux. However, it is now driven by her brother’s death, the acceptance of which brings her closer to him (148). Countermemory proves its range of purpose and serves as a detriment or tool of reconciliation of those affected.

Alexa Ebert

I think that the gangster we are looking for is a reference to somebody who is strong, sticks to their morals, doesn’t let other people push them around, and speaks out against society no mater what the consequences are. When the narrator looks at her father’s photograph at age sixteen, she notes “what reveals him most is the will to give nothing away.” Despite his friends dying, he “managed to crawl here, on his hands and knees to this life.”(103) No matter what happened or what he went through, he kept persisting through life, but he also “crumbled into his own shadow” because he felt like he couldn’t change his life, which is what the narrator describes she won’t do. “He made himself so small, so that in the world there was very little of him left.” (122) The narrator exclaims she isn’t going to do that, and says she will be “the gangster we are all looking for.”

My Response

After carefully reading other people’s reflection papers, I have grasped a better understanding of the concept of “countermemory” in relation to Le’s narrative story of her immigrant life. Countermemory is a way of choosing specific memories of nations or groups and taking those memories and piecing together an “imagined community”. After suffering and struggling, Le’s family finally made it through the pacific ocean arriving the land of “freedom” and immigrants from all over the world. In Le’s tone of narration, her family seems to live a stereotypical immigrant life, moving homes around and adapting to new American life. Things always seem more colorful, richer, and different in young Le’s eyes since she simply reports what she observes, not making nay comments on her thinking. Even so, in the description of her mom and dad, words are charged with urgent and unsettling emotion. It is Viet Nam that haunts or tangles with Le’s parents (maybe Le too because of her brother). The memories of Viet Nam and the memories in Viet Nam always bring Le’s parents back to sorrow, which they cannot cope with. Instead, especially Le’s dad Anh chose to avoid the encounter and left what happened in Vietnam in Vietnam.
Besides the interesting concept “countermemory”, there are some pieces of memory that invoke discussions about Americans’ ambivalent attitudes towards new immigrants, especially the minority immigrants. The story Le told about the “glass butterfly” reveals this relationship. I also agree with Rebecca’s point that the concept of countermemory is best expressed in Le’s father’s character. “He is unaware of the harm that he inflicts on his family, and it is a fact that is forgotten in the memories of the war” (Meekins).

R3 Excerpts/Response - Anushka Zafar

Anna Malefatto:

“[Viet Nguyen] claims that Asian Americans today must have a collective memory of the long history of all the pat treatment of Asians immigrants and their children in America. However, he also rebukes Asian Americans today for creating a counter-memory that does not accurately recall the real history of their treatment… claiming that minorities should not solely remember the damage that has been done to them, but the damage they have done… Like the larger group of Asian Americans, as accused by Nguyen, the family in Gangster is smoothing over their past lives and living in the present with a counter-memory of a simpler past. Like many immigrant stories, Gangster shows how immigrants attempt to Americanize their lives and start fresh here, but can never really escape the events of their past.”

Veronica Bruscini:

“Griswold says scariness is indispensable to Children’s Literature; it speaks honestly to life situations and provides examples of problem solving in the most frightening conditions. The child’s position is vulnerable, yet when monsters and fears are faced through literature, they lose the power to intimidate. lê’s narrator relates concrete, real-world terrors both met and assimilated: refugee life, separation from her mother, the eviction from and demolition of her family’s home, the death of her brother. Initially expressed only through the child’s viewpoint, these events shape her character and early perspectives of everyday life even as their suppressed realities surface when girls mature.”


Keen Hahn:

“This structure represents well the issues of identity and identification that spring out of a combination of past trauma and a present struggle toward a hybrid space somewhere between the realms of Vietnam and America… [The narrator of Gangster] reveals the amorphous nature of memory, and shows how seemingly arbitrary connections can become significant through this retrospective lens. For instance, the narrator’s deep connection with the glass butterfly in the beginning reveals her yearning for companionship from someone who inhabits the same state of betweenness as she. She imagines the butterfly is alive within its glass casing, imagining that it too is stuck in a hybrid state between the binaries of life and death. She wishes to free it, setting it apart from the tug-of-war of the opposing influences so that it may fly free and establish its own identity, comfortable in its individuality…This to me, was one of the most intriguing notions that the text exposed: the disconnect between the theory of hybridity and the practice.”


Rachael Furman:

“The purpose of these memories, rather than conveying hard facts and stark data, is to bring to mind the emotions and turmoil that function as the lynchpins of recollection. The retelling of history and reshaping memory is not possible through the mere uncovering or expression of new and exciting memories but by unpacking existing memories to reveal the layers of complicated and commingled happiness and pain, mistreatment and hope that lie within the narratives of Asian immigrants… For me, the ‘memory” that Nguyen refers and alludes to in his piece is a compilation of the various ways in which memory can function, sometimes with more than purpose at hand. They dynamic nature that memory holds in lê’s text cannot be described in one sitting, let alone one paper. Rather, it must suffice to say that the concept of separation, of picking and choosing for display specific narrative moments for use to see… allows us to clearly see that memory, while fluid and dynamic, can to some small extent be ordered and arranged so that we can not only examine the memories themselves by the way in which we choose to artificially arrange them.”

Marian Stacey:

“lê’s choice to leave her protagonist without a name is a tactic with she knowingly enforces. Every now and then le’s writing emphasizes the lack of a name… Whenever there are obvious similarities between the author and protagonist using the pronoun of ‘I’ it can be difficult to separate the ‘I’ from the author. I wouldn’t doubt that the overspill of personal memories made it difficult and/or emotional for le to write Gangster, but because ‘I’ is never confirmed to be lê there is enough distance to suggest that ‘I’ is someone else… lê’s use of counter-memory shapes the novel as she tries to figure out what to reveal and what to hide, but her strength is the ability to provide enough small, realistic childhood memories.”




R3 RESPONSE:

All the response papers I was responsible for editing this week featured thoughts on the trauma associated with immigration and the effect it can have on a person’s identity and mentality. I have arranged the quotations in the most coherent order starting with Anna Malefatto who clarifies Nguyen’s argument. She points out that Nguyen seems to be claiming that the trauma imposed on Asian Americans is not only through their history with immigration, but also through the counter-memory they create, potentially ignoring their pasts, causing further damage on to themselves. Veronica Bruscini’s point is very interesting because she make a connection between Griswold’s five major themes in Children’s Literature; the concept of scariness combines will with lê’s novel about the immigrant experience. The fear and hardship associated with the immigrant experience, not only highlights the vulnerability of an immigrant but of an immigrant child, who is especially prone to being shaped by traumatic experience. In case of lê’s protagonist, her story clearly outlines this concept. This leads to Keen Hahn’s response where he approaches the concept of a hybrid state – the immigrant identity. Rachael Furman also points out the shifting quality of memories and just as Nguyen states, the way one chooses to arrange their memories can form one’s identity. Lastly, like Marian Stacey, felt this novel was more a memoir rather than a fictional piece. It made more sense after reading the author’s note and I feel that lê is exercising her responsibility as an Asian American who must embrace their memories and be more aware of the counter-memory.

R3 Excerpts/Response - Marlene McManus

Angie Woodmansee
"Le's characters depict the suffering of individuals whose experiences do not fit into the ideal American narrative because they are tied to a history that "a nation tried to forget," yet with her narrative structure she simultaneously combats the notion that the American narrative is necessarily linear (Barroga, as cited in Lowe 1)...While the girl is bringing light to some of the least acceptable or intelligible histories of immigrants in the United States, Le structures the narrative in such a way that the American narrative ideal is questioned as the only means of representation in the nation's historical consciousness."

Samantha McFadden
"For many people, the Vietnam War had a beginning and an end. The Gangster We Are All Looking For shows us that for others, it is a place in time whose repercussion will resonate for the remainder of their lives. The idea of 'countermemory' is prominent in both works. While Le's narrator and her family struggle to fit into American society and move forward after the war, Nguyen argues that this is nearly impossible to do so. He points out that Asian Americans "belong in America neither in memory or in the past," which shows that they will constantly have conflicting feelings about both of their cultures."

Jean Dao

“Le allows this traumatic family history to seep in and out of the story, dropping a line here and there and then quickly countering it with the mention of a current issue that faces the family. In doing so, she mocks up the behavior and attitudes of those wishing to oppress the histories of Asian Americans. This memory and countermemory, I believe, are the strongest in the story; they blanket the vignettes in a certain obscurity and darkness that draw from other historical and national memories. Le slightly glosses over the fact that the narrator and her family flee from the Viet Cong, bringing in only key pieces of information that remind readers of the circumstances in which the girl, her father and the ‘uncles’ arrived in the United States.”

Andrew Anderson

“America likes to pride itself on being accepting and open to all. When parts of its history don’t jive with this ideal, there is a tendency to navigate around them and exclude them from the national narrative. It then falls upon people like Le to stand up and tell the real stories. This can often be a difficult task due to pressures from within the Asian community itself…Kingston and Le both choose to “speak of things others would rather not speak of, or hear about, or pass on into memory (Nguyen, 9).” Through their writing, they are bringing the countermemory closer to the light and making it just a little more visible to the rest of the world.”

Dan Parker

“This very concept, portrayed in Viet Nguyen’s Speak of the Dead, Speak of Viet Nam as the countermemory, states that to transcend the equally confining national and minority memories to achieve a unified history of the national imagination, the minorities must envision the totality of their realities by invoking the dualistic notion of themselves as both victims and victimizers…The national memory, exploiting the horrifying pasts of a particular people in various mediums such as film, serves only as a catalyst in the nation’s metamorphosis into a single moment of historical cruelty, while the minority memory, conversely attempting to escape these restraints by forgetting these tragic images, paradoxically succeeds only in limiting its own reality by disregarding a necessary portion of its cultural identity.”

R3 Response

Each of the responses I edited this week meditate upon Nguyen’s description of ‘countermemory’ and its significance as a necessary alternative history, juxtaposed with both the propagated national and minority memories. Providing specific examples from the novel, including the narrator’s smashing of the glass animals with the butterfly, the father’s violent episodes, and the mother’s repeated refusal to acknowledge her drowned son, and even the narrative style of the novel itself, the response authors pose the minority-generated countermemory as a powerful rejection and reformation of the national consciousness. They also speak of how the generation of a countermemory can help immigrants and nations alike cope with traumatic periods of history, such as the Vietnam War. Both the Vietnamese refugees and the nation of America actively engage in the production of a countermemory concerning the war, though these ultimately prove to be ‘countermemories’ of each other, with riddled contradictions and targeted deletions between them. Each of the authors recognizes the circular route and seeming irreconcilability of such opposed histories (particularly outlined in a quote from Angie Woodmansee’s response), yet stresses that the presence and dynamics of such memories cannot be ignored, for it plays a vital and vivid role within the lives of those whom it concerns, including the family in Le’s novel.

I personally found Le’s novel to be incredibly dense in its symbolism, and had difficulty navigating through it until our class discussion. Becoming enlightened to the Foucauldian concept of countermemory through Nguyen’s critical piece, Speak of the Dead, Speak of Viet Nam, I was able to perceive the delicately entwined dual layers of the novel: the surface layer, colorful images and blurry recollections of a refugee childhood related through the eyes of an innocent, and then beneath, the weight of the historical circumstances the child relates and how they contribute to the formation of self and the reformation of family and memory. The minority construction of a countermemory proves itself necessary, not only to reconcile the past, but also to negotiate the minority’s future in a new homeland. This, Nguyen states, is the challenge and fate facing every Asian American.

I believe, however, that Nguyen is somewhat hypocritical in his essay, for he begins by saying that Asian Americans need to stop playing the victim in the national discourse, but then in his second section, writes in a self-pitying tone of the distressing treatment of Asian Americans in this country:

“Our forgettability defines us as an American minority, a trait we share at present only with Native Americans. But whereas Native Americans are seen as belonging to the land, when they are recalled at all, Asian Americans are seen as foreigners or aliens who have not been here for long, and who do not speak the language well. Asian Americans belong to America neither in memory nor in the past (Nguyen, 13).”

Regardless of the hypocrisy in the second half of his essay, Nguyen makes clear the importance and process of the creation of a countermemory not only for minorities, but for entire nations. Both his essay and our discussion in class has caused me, personally, to reevaluate my perceptions of, and participation in the American national memory.