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3.64 AVERAGE
3.64 AVERAGE
This book took me a bit to get into, and it definitely had its highs and lows for me. I really enjoyed the two essays about the Great Grandfathers (Great Grandfather of the Sandalwood Mountains & Great Grandfather of the Sierra Nevada Mountains). I also got a good laugh at a few passages here and there, and I liked the bluntness of the writing. I did think I was going to be more into it than I was, but there were some great parts. Overall, I'm glad that I powered through!
A multi-genre investigation of what emigration does to cultural identity and masculinity. It's not an easy read; there's violence, mental illness, verbal & physical abuse of women, and feelings of emptiness. I tracked a lot of the sections on suicides and ghosts and guns. I was also interested in the section that mirrored Robinson Crusoe and the mention of other Caucasian classics amidst the Chinese cultural elements - myths, traditions and sayings. I will definitely have to pick up the earlier, more feminist companion work.
challenging
emotional
hopeful
reflective
medium-paced
Strong character development:
Complicated
Loveable characters:
Yes
Diverse cast of characters:
Yes
Flaws of characters a main focus:
Yes
“The hero's home has its own magic” (81)
Maxine Hong Kingston’s most famous work, The Woman Warrior, is only half of the story.
I loved her original memoir for its combination of myth and history, and for its beautiful, savage and vulnerable prose. But its glittering stories (essays?) are defined by their femininity. Kingston dredges up women buried by history and marginalized by Chinese and American culture, and they’re what gives The Woman Warrior its power.
A different tack is required for China Men, a memoir about Kingston’s male relatives. How would Kingston handle the depiction of masculinity? Would she keep the mythical elements that animated her first memoir? Would China Men rise to its example, or fall short?
In my opinion, they’re two sides of the same coin. I plan to purchase both from Everyman’s Library, which has complied the two books into one volume. That’s the way they ought to be read: their stories are equally beautiful, and both weave personal and cultural history into a rough, stunning origin story. Like The Woman Warrior, the title characters of China Men are flawed and sympathetic, marginalized by a xenophobic American society and often at war with themselves. It’s a joy—if examining an oppressive system can inspire joy—to observe the contrast between Kingston’s expectations for heroes and relatives, men and women. While it’s irresponsible to toast her as the sole authority on the Chinese-American experience, The Woman Warrior and China Men paint an epic portrait of a family and society that is, if not complete, then devastatingly specific.
“It’s not the Great Wall I want to see but my ancestral village. I want to talk to Cantonese, who have always been revolutionaries, nonconformists, people with fabulous imaginations, people who invented the Gold Mountain. I want to discern what it is that makes people go West and turn into Americans. I want to compare China, a country I made up, with what country is really out there” (87)
Kingston’s works (alongside Alex Haley’s Roots, which is also semi-fictional) provide a prototype for modern sagas like Homegoing that examine history through the lives of ordinary people. China Men assembles a wild bouquet of sources, from the austere chronicle of “The Laws” to the playful, heartbreaking legends retold in “On Mortality.” Every account is necessary, although their quality is slightly uneven. The strongest stories are “The Father from China” and “The Brother in Vietnam,” the first and last of Kingston’s portrait miniatures. The first is dazzling and mythical, while the second is sad and intimate. Both are gorgeous.
The astonishing clarity of Kingston’s writing is evident in China Men, just as it was in The Woman Warrior. I’m not sure if one is better or worse than the other. Maybe China Men doesn’t stand on its own, but it shouldn’t. The two books are inextricable. And now that I’ve read them both, I can’t imagine a better way for the story to be told.
“Once in a while an adult said, ‘Your grandfather built the railroad.’ (or ‘Your grandfathers built the railroad. Plural and singular are by context.) We children believed that it was that very railroad, those trains, those tracks running past our house; our own giant grandfather had set those very logs into the ground, poured the iron for those very spikes with the big heads and pounded them until the heads spread like that, mere nails to him. He had built the railroad so that trains would thunder over us, on a street that inclined toward us” (126)
Content Warnings
Graphic: Racial slurs, Xenophobia
Moderate: Drug use, Hate crime, Infidelity, Physical abuse, Racism, Violence, Trafficking
Minor: Child death, Drug abuse, Sexism, Slavery, Torture, Religious bigotry
Let me just begin with the following statement: I don’t like immigration stories. I really, really don’t. If it were not for a class, I wouldn’t really have cared enough to pick up this book for myself. No offense really, it’s just that…well, all immigration stories revolve around one thing and it’s rather boring to have to read about something you’re already aware of.
But I don’t think I was wholly lost once I actually begin reading China Men. While it by no means became a favorite book or any such thing, China Men ended up being a rather unique and adventurous experience. There is a lot of exploration of the Chinese immigration history to the United States in the novel and even though I realize it is fiction, some of it echoes reality closely. As a dual English and History student myself, I observed that China Men is an excellent blend of myth, fiction, and fact—often all emerging as one. After reading an interview MHK (the author) gave, I assume that she does this on purpose. It’s sort of similar to when one participates in one of those study abroad programs, the three basic classes they usually offer are: language, history, and literature—each representing the bases of all civilizations and that is precisely the elements that MHK is commingling together in China Men. While I did not care for the major stories that much, the sprinkles of short stories in between each of the major stories were quite haunting. Some were factual, some retellings of Chinese myths, and some were introductions into the other major stories. But there were usually my favorite parts, particularly “The Ghostmate”—absolutely stunning.
MHK’s writing is hard to enjoy and yet it’s easy to appreciate. Let me explain. While she writes stunning prose, drawing simplistic words into beautiful sentences, the topics which she tackles are very hard to deal with. Her words are enchanting but they can also be a bit difficult to handle at times. If I knew a bit more about Chinese culture then I would be better equipped to deal with the subject matter but even though I wanted to read more of her writing, the things which chooses to get descriptive with were thoroughly disturbing. Here’s an example, a passage that comes right after a man attempts to sell his son in exchange for a daughter and his wife berates him for it,
And another, as a Chinese immigrant worker plays around with the idea of freedom in a labor camp,
As it shows, while I can appreciate the symbolism of these actions, the imagery is a bit disturbing.
But as I mentioned earlier, this is still overall an immigration narrative and because I have little taste for those, I cannot rate it any less than an “OK” book. Because at the end of it all, I expected to learn nothing except that white America is blatantly racist but immigrants often still prefer America to their own countries because “open corruption” is not as common in this side of the world (at least, not completely yet). It’s often awful, having to deal with racist white Americans who consider themselves above “immigrants” (even though they are, of course, themselves immigrants), but I myself still prefer this country to many, many others—including the one I was born in.
So while I liked Maxine Hong Kinston’s writing style and liked learning a bit about Chinese and Chinese-American culture, I did not care so much for the major stories themselves. I would highly recommend it if you are interested in this topic but if not, I am not going to attempt to convince you otherwise.
But I don’t think I was wholly lost once I actually begin reading China Men. While it by no means became a favorite book or any such thing, China Men ended up being a rather unique and adventurous experience. There is a lot of exploration of the Chinese immigration history to the United States in the novel and even though I realize it is fiction, some of it echoes reality closely. As a dual English and History student myself, I observed that China Men is an excellent blend of myth, fiction, and fact—often all emerging as one. After reading an interview MHK (the author) gave, I assume that she does this on purpose. It’s sort of similar to when one participates in one of those study abroad programs, the three basic classes they usually offer are: language, history, and literature—each representing the bases of all civilizations and that is precisely the elements that MHK is commingling together in China Men. While I did not care for the major stories that much, the sprinkles of short stories in between each of the major stories were quite haunting. Some were factual, some retellings of Chinese myths, and some were introductions into the other major stories. But there were usually my favorite parts, particularly “The Ghostmate”—absolutely stunning.
MHK’s writing is hard to enjoy and yet it’s easy to appreciate. Let me explain. While she writes stunning prose, drawing simplistic words into beautiful sentences, the topics which she tackles are very hard to deal with. Her words are enchanting but they can also be a bit difficult to handle at times. If I knew a bit more about Chinese culture then I would be better equipped to deal with the subject matter but even though I wanted to read more of her writing, the things which chooses to get descriptive with were thoroughly disturbing. Here’s an example, a passage that comes right after a man attempts to sell his son in exchange for a daughter and his wife berates him for it,
“Perhaps it was that very evening and not after the Japanese bayoneted him that he began taking his penis out at the dinner table, worrying it, wondering at it, asking why it had given him four sons and no daughter, chastising it, asking it whether it were yet capable of producing the daughter of his dreams. He shook his head and clucked his tongue at it. When he saw what a disturbance it caused, he laughed, laughed in Ah Po’s irritated face, whacked his naked penis on the table, and joked, ‘Take a look at this sausage’” (21).
And another, as a Chinese immigrant worker plays around with the idea of freedom in a labor camp,
“One beautiful day, dangling in the sun above a new valley,…sexual desire clutched him so far he been over in the basket…Suddenly he stood up tall and squirted out into space. ‘I am fucking the world,’ he said. The world’s vagina was big, big as the sky, big as a valley” (133).
As it shows, while I can appreciate the symbolism of these actions, the imagery is a bit disturbing.
But as I mentioned earlier, this is still overall an immigration narrative and because I have little taste for those, I cannot rate it any less than an “OK” book. Because at the end of it all, I expected to learn nothing except that white America is blatantly racist but immigrants often still prefer America to their own countries because “open corruption” is not as common in this side of the world (at least, not completely yet). It’s often awful, having to deal with racist white Americans who consider themselves above “immigrants” (even though they are, of course, themselves immigrants), but I myself still prefer this country to many, many others—including the one I was born in.
So while I liked Maxine Hong Kinston’s writing style and liked learning a bit about Chinese and Chinese-American culture, I did not care so much for the major stories themselves. I would highly recommend it if you are interested in this topic but if not, I am not going to attempt to convince you otherwise.
One Chinese-American tells the story of her family, and how they came to live in America. Each of her ancestors or relatives is the protagonist of a section of the book. One labored in Hawaii, one built railroads, one worked in Alaska, one fought in Vietnam. She also writes of her own experiences growing up in America.
Because of the wide range of experiences and huge time span it covers, this one is a little more disjointed and than any other set of memoirs I've read. However, it's an entirely different perspective than a lot of Chinese memoirs, most of which are set in China during Mao.
So if you're interested in Chinese history, American history, and reading about a real family's struggles, then you're likely to really enjoy this one.
Because of the wide range of experiences and huge time span it covers, this one is a little more disjointed and than any other set of memoirs I've read. However, it's an entirely different perspective than a lot of Chinese memoirs, most of which are set in China during Mao.
So if you're interested in Chinese history, American history, and reading about a real family's struggles, then you're likely to really enjoy this one.
Chinese-American immigrant experience as understood and imagined by a young person. From clearing fields for sugar cane in Hawaii (1860s) to building the railroad through the Sierra Nevada to running a laundry in New York City (1920s)to fighting in the Vietnam War with myths and interesting characters thrown in.
Other books that look at the Chinese-American and Chinese-Canadian experiences. Concubine's Children by Denise Chong (non-fiction Canada and US), Midnight at the Dragon Cafe by Judy Fong Bates (fiction Canada), and Amy Tan's books such at the Joy Luck Club, and the Kitchen God's Wife (fiction US)
Other books that look at the Chinese-American and Chinese-Canadian experiences. Concubine's Children by Denise Chong (non-fiction Canada and US), Midnight at the Dragon Cafe by Judy Fong Bates (fiction Canada), and Amy Tan's books such at the Joy Luck Club, and the Kitchen God's Wife (fiction US)