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challenging
dark
emotional
reflective
sad
medium-paced
emotional
funny
lighthearted
reflective
medium-paced
emotional
slow-paced
reflective
medium-paced
ABCs, you'll laugh and cry and realise that you have never seen yourself this way before. This was my Turning Red and Everything Everywhere All at Once before those films came out, and with Australian flavour.
emotional
funny
medium-paced
emotional
inspiring
slow-paced
challenging
dark
emotional
hopeful
reflective
sad
medium-paced
I enjoyed this book after initial resistance. I think the use of first person for stages the narrator was not present for, having been already present earlier in the book, confused me a little.
I found it well written, interesting, complex and moving. That said, I doubt I’ll revisit Alice Pung for a while, after three in a brief time.
What follows contains spoilers so read on at your peril.
Certainly there is plenty of cultural interest. As I write this, I am hearing tales of a young girl called “Little Brother.” This cross-gender nomenclature is unrelated to gender dysphoria and entirely to a frustration by parents unable to give birth to a son. (Until they eventually do.)
There is a considerable section of the book dealing with Alice’s mother’s struggles with depression and trying to find a new way of being useful after she can no longer work making jewellery because she now lacks the fine motor skills for the work, and her frustrations with her inadequate English and computer skills.
She is also caught up within cultural constraints and keeping up appearances.
I found this very moving, and thought with greater admiration than perhaps ever before, of my mother’s similar struggles with mental health (PTSD - not that the term existed then) and language and role. And 35 years of widowed life.
Then, the author turns to herself and her own depression. Having backgrounded her life so well, it is not quite a shock when the book takes this turn. Raw. Sensitive. Honest. Her praise for a friend who stuck by her persistently through this time was also moving. I’ve had friends like this for me, and hope I have been like that for at least some of mine.
And then, after a highly successful Year 12, she returns to work in the family business, dealing among other tasks, with the desire of a Filipino woman seeking a mobile phone because her husband is violent and brings his friends around to “do her over,” but she does not qualify at the phone company for a connection. Telstra must love that product placement, I think, as I feel tears welling.
And the parade of sad and lonely people who frequent the store.
I’ve previously heard of “coconut” and “watermelon” as fruits to designate a type of person. Now came “banana children” - those born yellow who think they can grow up white. Interesting.
And to the final section - first date and developing relationship within the complexities of differing cultures and social and sexual inexperience on both sides. A lot of internalised conversation - talking to herself for both sides of the conversation, before articulating what is actually said. And then, it all ends.
Apart from the parable of the Easter chocolate goodies.
I found it well written, interesting, complex and moving. That said, I doubt I’ll revisit Alice Pung for a while, after three in a brief time.
What follows contains spoilers so read on at your peril.
Certainly there is plenty of cultural interest. As I write this, I am hearing tales of a young girl called “Little Brother.” This cross-gender nomenclature is unrelated to gender dysphoria and entirely to a frustration by parents unable to give birth to a son. (Until they eventually do.)
There is a considerable section of the book dealing with Alice’s mother’s struggles with depression and trying to find a new way of being useful after she can no longer work making jewellery because she now lacks the fine motor skills for the work, and her frustrations with her inadequate English and computer skills.
She is also caught up within cultural constraints and keeping up appearances.
I found this very moving, and thought with greater admiration than perhaps ever before, of my mother’s similar struggles with mental health (PTSD - not that the term existed then) and language and role. And 35 years of widowed life.
Then, the author turns to herself and her own depression. Having backgrounded her life so well, it is not quite a shock when the book takes this turn. Raw. Sensitive. Honest. Her praise for a friend who stuck by her persistently through this time was also moving. I’ve had friends like this for me, and hope I have been like that for at least some of mine.
And then, after a highly successful Year 12, she returns to work in the family business, dealing among other tasks, with the desire of a Filipino woman seeking a mobile phone because her husband is violent and brings his friends around to “do her over,” but she does not qualify at the phone company for a connection. Telstra must love that product placement, I think, as I feel tears welling.
And the parade of sad and lonely people who frequent the store.
I’ve previously heard of “coconut” and “watermelon” as fruits to designate a type of person. Now came “banana children” - those born yellow who think they can grow up white. Interesting.
And to the final section - first date and developing relationship within the complexities of differing cultures and social and sexual inexperience on both sides. A lot of internalised conversation - talking to herself for both sides of the conversation, before articulating what is actually said. And then, it all ends.
Apart from the parable of the Easter chocolate goodies.
reflective
fast-paced
I was hooked by the time I had read the prologue.
I loved the way this explored what it means to be an immigrant in Australia and the way offspring of immigrants have to try to exist in the cultural realities of where they live and where they come from.
Although this occasionally read as a not quite truthful account of past events, it also had a real honesty and poignancy, as the emotion attached to the events and memories always felt genuine.
There was a lot of humour in the book, I laughed a lot and then stopped to examine what had actually just been said, to discover that it was really quite sad; I found this to be very effective – it made the material accessible instead of confronting, which I like as it enables me to ponder as much or as little as I like.
It was a testament to how much I was involved in Alice’s life and her story-telling, that when the book was finished I wondered if there were more – I would definitely have picked up a sequel if there had been one available.
I loved the way this explored what it means to be an immigrant in Australia and the way offspring of immigrants have to try to exist in the cultural realities of where they live and where they come from.
Although this occasionally read as a not quite truthful account of past events, it also had a real honesty and poignancy, as the emotion attached to the events and memories always felt genuine.
There was a lot of humour in the book, I laughed a lot and then stopped to examine what had actually just been said, to discover that it was really quite sad; I found this to be very effective – it made the material accessible instead of confronting, which I like as it enables me to ponder as much or as little as I like.
It was a testament to how much I was involved in Alice’s life and her story-telling, that when the book was finished I wondered if there were more – I would definitely have picked up a sequel if there had been one available.