Author Topic: The Joy Luck Club ~ Amy Tan ~ Book Club Online for July ~ August. Opens July 16  (Read 27564 times)

BooksAdmin

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The Book Club Online is the oldest  book club on the Internet, begun in 1996, open to everyone.  We offer cordial discussions of one book a month,  24/7 and  enjoy the company of readers from all over the world.  Everyone is welcome.



The Joy Luck Club by Amy Tan

 "Powerful as myth." —The Washington Post Book World

"Beautifully written...a jewel of a book." —The New York Times Book Review

The Joy Luck Club won the National Book Award and the L.A. Times Book Award, and was made into a movie in 1993.



"Powerful...full of magic...you won't be doing anything of importance until you have finished this book." —Los Angeles Times


 Comment on Goodreads:  "I know this is really late, but I think this book would be perfect for a book club. I really wish I was buddy reading this with someone so I could..."



"Wonderful...a significant lesson in what storytelling has to do with memory and inheritance." —San Francisco Chronicle



“Reading it really changed the way I thought about Asian-American history. Our heritage has a lot of difficult stuff in it — a lot of misogyny, a lot of fear and rage and death. It showed me a past that reached beyond borders and languages and cultures to bring together these disparate elements of who we are. I hadn’t seen our history like that before. At that time, we hadn’t seen a lot of Asian-American representations anywhere, so it was a big deal that it even existed. It made me feel validated and seen. That’s what’s so important about books like that. You feel like, Oh my god, I exist here. I exist in this landscape of literature and memoir. I’m here, and I have a story to tell, and it’s among the canon of Asian-American stories that are feminist and that are true to our being. It’s a book that has stayed with me and lived in me.” —Margaret Cho





Tentative Discussion Schedule:

Week I: July 16-22  Chapter 1: The Joy Luck Club/ Feathers From a Thousand Li Away

Week II: July 23-29 Chapter 2:    The Twenty-Six Malignant Gates

  Week III: July 30- August 5 Chapter 3: American Translation

  Week IV: August 6-12  Chapter 4: Queen Mother of the Western Skies



Get a leg up this July and August  on the  PBS Great American  Reads voting in October by discussing  one of the candidates: The Joy Luck Club.

Be swept away into a different culture and world,  while at the same time examining how our lives and families are shaped by stories handed down which may or may not be true. 

How well can we  really ever know somebody else, no matter how long we've known them?

Join us July 16 for a wonderful trip to a strange culture...or is it?

 

ginny

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Welcome to  our July- August Book Club Selection, the last of our Summer Book Club/ Seasonal reads for the year: The Joy Luck  Club by Amy  Tan.

If you are new to our book club discussions, you will want to know that this one follows our tradition  of discussing the book chapter by chapter as we come to each, sort of as we read it in private, rather than discussing the book as  a whole on the first day. The authors we've  had participating with us online really appreciated our detailed approach to their writing, and we've continued that, at least in this one.  So  for the first week, July 16-22  we will focus on Chapter 1: Jing-Mei Woo: The Joy Luck Club. Of course you can have read the entire book, many times over. And many of us have.

I've just reread  Remains of the  Day and saw a lot in it I did not see when we first discussed it.  I led that original discussion in 2002, and there aren't that many people here now that were here then.

I'd like to propose something new for the future, in 2019, that we have a "Mini Discussion" of Remains, lasting one day, or maybe two, (however long it takes for folks to have their say),  covering the entire book: sort of like a face to face book club in person.

Just a "One Off,"  perhaps, because I'd like to see if anybody else sees what I see in it. The reviews, particularly in The Guardian, miss the mark and the point, I think. I'd like to see if anybody else sees it, but that's in the future.

For now, since I now see something different in Remains, I can't wait to see what I now see in The Joy Luck Club,  and I look forward to seeing what YOU all bring to the table!

Everyone is welcome!  Grab a seat, and let us know what YOU think. We'll begin Monday July 16.





Jonathan

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Nothing gives me more pleasure than to see my neighbor going for a stroll with her two daughters...one is ten, and the other  barely one. What has life in store for the three of them? I sense the joy. Good luck is sure to follow.

Remains revisited. Splendid idea. The soul-searching butler did have much to discover as we found out in the discussion. You were brilliant as DL, Ginny, and I don't doubt that 15 years along you've discovered more of great interest. Let's have a snap symposium!

I read something interesting the other day. The opinion that Evelyn Waugh's best book is A Handful of Dust. What do you think of that? Have you read it? I've found a copy on my shelf. It says on the cover that A Handful of Dust 'is well flavoured with his shrewd and astringent humour.' Is that the laughable kind? Would the butler read it?

ginny

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Jonathan, I am so glad to see you here!! Snap symposium, I like that. I appreciate the kind words, too,  I reread that old discussion  a bit and think all the insightful and in depth questions needed are right there for anybody to see, that one's done. This time I want to talk about...something else. :)

I hope nobody is expecting that here, because I am expecting our always astute readers to do the hard work, it's summer, and the living is easy:  let's see what we can come up with together as a group.

I have heard SO much about Evelyn Waugh's A Handful of Dust. I also have it somewhere here on my shelf. I have no idea where or why I bought it. Brideshead was a masterpiece so if they think Handful of Dust is better it must be something else. Are you going to dip into it and give us your rating as far as you go?

I don't know why I was put off it initially. Astringent humor, is that like the Sardonic humor Caesar supposedly had? Makes you wonder what it is, huh?

Welcome, Everybody, pull up a chair in the shade and some lemonade and let's talk Monday about this great book.

Everyone is welcome. The "schedule" of reading  is in the heading (with the picture of the bookcover if you are new) but there won't be any questions there, let's just talk amongst ourselves.


Frybabe

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Picked the book up today. Will be reading it this weekend. Will read posts a bit later. Just marking my space.

ginny

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Teriffic! Welcome, Frybabe, so glad you will be joining us!

Frybabe

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In advance of the first Chapter discussion, here are some YouTube sites you might want to spend a little time with:

Kweilin was where General Channault and his Flying Tigers were based until evacuation in 1944 ahead of the Japanese invasion forces. Here is a now and then comparison between today and the 1900s.  https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=p5A7IlZ1vrE

Guilin today: Lovely video of the rock formations, described in the book, and the Li River. This is now a very popular tourist area and a college town, boasting five universities.  https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=V4K1BrYt080



ginny

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Goodness, thank you, Frybabe! Those are really quite nice, and useful for setting the scene of the first story. It's nice to have an illustration.

 I've not been to China, and actually know  very little about it, save for all the Pearl Buck books I've read. The  first link you put in and the second certainly show those teeth like mountains, and I love the before and after: that's quite a find. Also the second one seems to have what appear to be little floating  "pavilion" like structures on the lake, too,  tho not quite what I had pictured, which fit in with the 4th story even though the 4th person's  story  occurred on Tai Lake, in Wuxi, which is here:


I am not sure what those old floating pavilions looked like, but I'm pretty sure  we've really got a BOOK on our hands this time. :)

I loved what one reviewer said of the book: that it was like a Chinese puzzle box,  and I think that's pretty accurate.

I look  forward to each  of our perspectives, because I think it's partly  about perspectives, and everybody's comments as we  unravel the puzzle as we see it. .

 Everyone is welcome!

Frybabe

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North of Guilin, in Hunan Province, is the Wulingyuan Scenic Area. While not likely a part of our story, I think you can see why so many myths and superstitions grew up from these formations and the ones like the Guilin formations. This one is a UNESCO World Heritage Site.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NUlyJT3RxQA

I just love this guy's (group?) work. The photography is superb.

bellamarie

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Okay, I'm all set to begin reading chapter one.  Got my blanket, water bottle, dog, and pillows on my couch where I nestle in to do my reading.  It's way too hot to venture outside today.

Frybabe the videos sure do set the scene for me, not to mention the music along with it.  Thank you so much.

Ginny"I loved what one reviewer said of the book: that it was like a Chinese puzzle box,  and I think that's pretty accurate."

Oh how I love puzzles!!  Let's see how well we do in solving this one.

“What on earth could be more luxurious than a sofa, a book, and a cup of coffee?...Was ever anything so civil?”
__Anthony Trollope, The Warden

Jonathan

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Puzzles!! It's just as I feared. I'll never get anywhere with these intimacies between mothers and daughters. It could be interesting if y'all could explain them to me. And yet, a chapter or two had me convinced that it's a 'tell all' book of secrets. It comes highly recommended by our local library staff. They included it in a little booklet several years ago: One Hundred  Memorable Books.

'Four Chinese women leave China in 1949 and settle in San Fransisco, where they meet weekly to play mah-jong and tell secret stories of their lives. The story alternates back and forth between the lives of the four women and their American-born daughters, exploring the cultural divide and the deep relationship between mothers and daughters.'

I hope that doesn't spoil it for anyone. I'll say no more.

ginny

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Welcome, Bellamarie, how good to see  you here! I am sure with your insights THIS group can suss out the puzzle and, more.

Frybabe, I would have said that it seems all ancient cultures have deep superstitious beliefs, but then I looked at that last link and if I had to ride that gondola thing I would develop 100 superstitions instantly I think. :)

Jonathan, you can never say too much!! I'm looking forward to your sayings, all of you.

And I think I'll start tonight so you all can have something to see in the morning.

ginny

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 I'm struck by so many things in this opening chapter. Here we have 4 divisions in the book or chapters, with 4 different speakers taking a subchapter in each, it's confusing at first if you're not paying attention, to realize that the speaker has changed.

But the thing that strikes ME the most at the outset was admirably voiced by Jeremy Irons today in the lead up to the World Cup match between France and Croatia. Movies of the players crossed the screen and Irons intoned:

"To be remembered. It’s a simple wish. A magnificent objective."

To be remembered. And I thought there it is. THAT, to me,  is what this is about, initially: the desire to be remembered or understood  as they are by the four women telling their stories in the beginning.  Who does not have that wish, secretly or otherwise?

  My Daughter in Law for Christmas gave me a big handsome  book titled The Story of a Lifetime, in which she thought I'd like to write things about my life for my grandchild or posterity. My son had said oh she won't want that, but I find myself staring at it.  And sometimes thinking of the things of my life that my children don't know anything about that I would like them to know. And I did look in it and it asks questions to prompt memories but I don't need a prompt.
 

At any rate I think I can relate to somebody who wants to be remembered/ understood, as the 4 women here in the first chapter do, as they tell their stories, and what stories they ARE! I can't begin to be that interesting.  And I wonder why you think they chose these particular stories, what about THESE stories would be important to them that their daughters know? What does each say about each woman and what are those prefatory sort of....tales....allegories? symbolism?  at the beginning of each chapter? The feather thing?  But why can't they just tell their daughters outright? Who ARE they telling in the book?


What  struck YOU in this opening chapter? What do you think it's about so far? We ought to make a list because I think it would be long, this is a real Pandora's Chinese Puzzle Box with no end of stuff flying out.

I've got lots of questions, but no answers, unfortunately.  What do YOU think?.

bellamarie

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Oh dear, or shall I quote a famous pessimistic Winnie the Pooh character, Eyore and say, "Oh bother."

First off, Jonathan, just let me say, you may not understand a mother/daughter relationship, but you do have granddaughters who are very close to you, so I am sure you can see the dynamics going on with them and their mother, so don't count yourself out here.  You also always intrigue me when we read books with primarily female characters, because your insight as a male, husband, father, and grandfather brings much to be desired, and always thought provoking.

Ginny, I have one of those type of tell me what it was like Grandma books, for each of my grandchildren.  I am afraid to admit, the oldest one will have the most written in hers, as like photo albums I created for each one is the same, less as I was blessed with more.  I hope to remedy that one day.  Anyway, there are so many things I have shared throughout the years while day caring all of my six grandchildren, and I often wonder how much they even remember years later.  For some reason my grandson Zakary, or as we call him Zak, who is ten years old, seems the most interested in my stories.  He will initiate my husband and I to tell him things about our past.  He is my one and only biological grandson, and I love that he cares to ask.  He's never satisfied with just one story, he always says, "Tell me another one."

Okay, so it would be remiss of me if I did not mention the first thing that caught my attention in beginning to read this book, which is this:

To my  mother
and the memory of her mother

You asked me once
what I would remember.

This, and much more.


Reading this, for some reason made me feel very melancholy.  Why?  I really am not so sure.  I thought about my mother, and all that she did NOT share with us seven children.  I so long to know more about her and my father now that I am at the age I am.  When Zak asks about them, I do feel sad I don't have much to tell.  I have seen a few pictures of my mother when she was possibly in her early twenties, and I marvel at how she appears to be very confident, sassy, friendly, not to mention very beautiful.  There are no pictures to my knowledge, of her as a child or teen. 

Ginny you mention how the speaker changed.  Yes, I did notice this, and so now I am assuming Jing-Mei Woo is the storyteller, although it seems it continues to change back and forth, but then I have not completed the entire four parts, I am only up to pg. 42 Scar.

Another thing I want to point out before I get into the meat and potatoes of the parts I have read is this:

But when she arrived in the new country, the immigration officials pulled her swan away from her, leaving the woman fluttering her arms and with only one swan feather for a memory. 

Without getting politically charged here, this did indeed make me think of the topic being discussed in today's news, about how illegal immigrants coming over our borders, are having  children separated from them.  I won't go into how I feel about it, but it made me realize we have been dealing with immigration processes, since the beginning of time.  And PLEASE do not think for one second I am comparing a child, being as important, as a swan.  Just that the swan meant so much to Suyuan Woo, and she was left with just that feather. 

Now the woman was old. And she had a daughter who grew up speaking only English a swallowing more Coca-Cola than sorrow.  For a long time now the woman had wanted to give her daughter the single swan feather and tell her. "This feather may look worthless, but it comes from afar and carries with it all my good intentions.  And she waited, year after year, for the day she could tell her daughter this in perfect American English.

How often do we find ourselves doing this very thing, procrastinating, thinking there will be a more perfect time to say or do something we find important, and want to share with a loved one or friend?  I have a few series collections of Ashton Drake dolls, which has meaning to me, which is why I decided to collect them.  I think about if my granddaughters will even care if I chose to give them to them.  They have seen them behind glass in the cabinet we never open all these years, but like Suyuan Woo's feather, will it/they have the same meaning, once passed down?  I say, no.  This new generation, who as Suyuan points out, "swallows more Coca-Cola than sorrow." doesn't seem to attach themselves to things, except for their cell phones.

Gee, I think I am just finding myself feeling a bit too emotional, thinking about these things.  What about the rest of you?  Is this part of the puzzle pieces in the story, and in life?  Is it to be solved, or is it to be used as a learning curve?  We shall see.   
“What on earth could be more luxurious than a sofa, a book, and a cup of coffee?...Was ever anything so civil?”
__Anthony Trollope, The Warden

Mkaren557

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Good Morning Everyone,
     This book is a favorite of mine for many reasons.  For several years I taught a course to seniors called Current World Problems.  The theme for several weeks was immigration. I wanted my students to understand the problems faced by immigrants:  How to fit in in this in America and yet maintain the culture they brought with them from the "old country."  My grandmother was the child of Irish immigrants.  It was very hard to get her to talk about that because her goal was to leave the past behind and look American.  So the closest she came to tapping into her roots was to make corned beef and cabbage on St. Patrick's Day.  But because they were northern European and white, and in spite of their Catholicism, they were able to assimilate quite quickly.  But the thing I remember most about grandmom was her insistance on "looking good". "Appearances are everything, Karen." over and over, not just from Grandmother but also from my father.  It has taken me a lifetime to not place appearance as the first measure of others and of myself.
     So to bring that point home after we looked at immigration in general. I had them read The Joy Luck Club and we discussed the mothers and the daughters the issues they faced and at the same time considered the issues that today's immigrants face and well as the expectations that our society places on those who enter the US.  At the end I asked each student to evaluate their experiences as they read this book. 
     A senior boy wrote that he finally understood what was going on with his mother and his sister. As a class they loved this unit.  They are in their 40s now and I wonder if they ever think of this book in light of what we are facing today.
We start with the tale of the lady and the swan, which introduces the idea of mothers' expectation that her daughter will speak perfect American English yet will still carry on the Mothers dreams.  "And she had a daughter who grew up speaking only English and swallowing more Coca-Cola than sorrow."  Never was the woman able to give her daughter the single swan feather because she could never tell her daughter of the feather in perfect English.

PatH

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Hi,everyone.  I'm in, but it'll be a day or so before I'll be free enough to start posting.

ginny

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 Welcome, Karen and Pat! How good to see you both! I'm looking forward to  your thoughts when you are free, Pat.

 Bellamarie, I do enjoy how prescient the sections you choose to quote are.

I think the book is affecting me, too, and possibly not for the best, I've been on a roller coaster ever since I started it, and this is not my first time around with it. But it's my first time at this age with it and boy is it resonating.

That's lovely what you've done for your grandchildren!!

And you've concentrated on the...is it a parable that begins Chapter 1,  which is titled: Feathers From a Thousand Li  Away?

Now the woman was old. And she had a daughter who grew up speaking only English a swallowing more Coca-Cola than sorrow.  For a long time now the woman had wanted to give her daughter the single swan feather and tell her. "This feather may look worthless, but it comes from afar and carries with it all my good intentions.  And she waited, year after year, for the day she could tell her daughter this in perfect American English.

And you and Karen both quote this one, for different reasons.

I am so excited that Karen has taught this book!!  So to bring that point home after we looked at immigration in general. I had them read The Joy Luck Club and we discussed the mothers and the daughters the issues they faced and at the same time considered the issues that today's immigrants face and well as the expectations that our society places on those who enter the US.  At the end I asked each student to evaluate their experiences as they read this book.

That is certainly another MAJOR theme to go with the idea of being remembered.

The point you make about your grandmother, Karen, "appearances are everything," is something I would never have thought of in a million years. I thought that "keeping up appearances"  was part of everybody's  upbringing in the 40's and 50's, but now that I look back on it, we were surrounded by immigrants to America in Philadelphia where I lived.  What a point to make.

The swallowing more Coca Cola than sorrow was quite powerful, I thought, and it seems the  the mother would be proud of this, but is she?

In the story which is the preface of the chapter that mother also says, "And over there she will always be too full to swallow any sorrow! She will know my meaning because I will give her this swan-- a creature that became more than was hoped for." Who IS this woman?

Too full to swallow any sorrow. The promise of a new and perfect life. More than was hoped for: the immigrant experience.

ginny

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I would not have necessarily admitted it, tho I have in the past, but the immigrant experience to  America has always  fascinated me. It used to be my preferred fictional subject, remember Louis Orde? I've read all of his.

And now that we have refugees and an immigrant crisis in parts of the world, I find I can't get it out of my mind. I keep wondering how I would fare? Right now, at my age? Want to bet I wouldn't? How DO they manage certain things, anyway?  I can't help wondering. The strength it must take. I can't imagine.

I know a person  who also expected streets of gold and a place where everything would be perfect. She told me two years ago of her actual experience upon sailing to America, and finally  landing at NYC. She said she took one look at that dock and the surroundings and wanted to go home. She was 10 and alone, and then she laughed. Imagine.

In the World Cup they started with old movies about the immigrants and refugees on the Croatian National Team, which has many, due to Croatia's history,  starting with Luka Modric and the The Croatian War of Independence was fought from 1991 to 1995 between Croat forces loyal to the government of Croatia—which had declared independence from the Socialist Federal Republic of Yugoslavia (SFRY)—and the Serb-controlled Yugoslav People's Army (JNA) and local Serb forces, with the JNA ending its combat operations in Croatia by 1992.

They showed movies of scenes we unfortunately have been witness to today.  The child was a refugee and  lived in a hotel somewhere for 5 years and learned to play soccer in a hotel parking lot. What a sweet little face he had. I teared right up.  And I remembered the Hungarian  Revolution when our neighbors in NJ took in a young Hungarian man who had commandeered a train and drove it to safety with his countrymen aboard.  We may think we have eventful lives, but we have known nothing like some of these people have.  It's sobering. We don't realize how lucky we are.

So many dreams of coming to  America and what it meant. And then the reality and the divisions between mothers and daughters.   But is the mother here in the story  Jing Mei Woo's mother or is the story truly a parable and applies to all 4 of the women speaking?   And if so what does it say?

ginny

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I keep saying "allegory" or "parable" for the swan story because I don't think there is any way on earth they would allow her to take a swan on board. But am I wrong?


What ARE the feathers in each story? I realize not everybody has had time to read the first chapter, it's a surprise, isn't  it?

And golly moses all the other things! The 5 Elements, the East, the Mahjong games, the superstitions, it seems that every page has something else tumbling out, it's unreal.

At least we've got the title of the book: "What was worse, we asked ourselves,  to sit and wait for our own deaths with proper somber faces? Or to choose our own happiness?

So we decide to hold parties and pretend each week had become the new year.. .And each week we would  hope to be lucky. That hope was our only joy. Ant that's how we came to call our little parties Joy Luck."

But the mother's stories are  seen by her daughter as a "Chinese Fairy Tale." How frustrating for both of them!  Jing Mei says  "I never thought  my mother's Kwelin story was anything but  a Chinese fairy tale. The endings always changed."

And THERE  you have a truth, too, from both perspectives. How much TO say and how? And how will it be received? Like Bellamarie and her Ashton  Drake dolls, will anybody revere them or cherish them?  We all have things we want prized, stories which made us who we are, will they be respected 20 years from now?  Will our own stories be prized in the future and what do we hope to gain from telling them at all?

I once read the reason  people write books is to attain a kind of immortality for themselves, do you think that's true?

 And then one night Jing- Mei's  mother told her a different ending, the ending of the two babies, in response to her sulking  about not getting a transistor radio and she said, "Why do you think you are missing something you never had?"

THAT is just stunning.

There's almost a miasma of magic about the way she writes here, and to me it's very skillful as we're getting Jing-Mei Woo's story from  her point of view,  and it's so effectively done, it's the way a child perceives things or maybe the way any of us perceive things, but why has her mother kept  changing the story all this time? Is she telling it in English this time?

What is different about THIS time?

Nothing but questions, that's all I've got. Hope you have some answers. :)


hats

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Ginny, here I am peeking in on the discussion. Without a book, but I have a piece of brain left. The ideas especially about the swan and feathers is very interesting. Yes, "remembered" too. I read very slowly. If you don't hear from me, know I'm thinking or getting in trouble somewhere else. Amy Tan is a wonderful author, isn't she? I could get the book. Might try this new experience, thinking without the book. Well, have fun with the discussionall. I think this is appearing all bold. I don't know why. I'm sorry.

Frybabe

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Quote
I know a person  who also expected streets of gold and a place where everything would be perfect.

Ginny, your acquaintance is not the only one who thought that; even some of us who were born here expected, at visiting NYC, to see glitter and gold. But then, I was also young, and we didn't go out at night to see all the Broadway lights. We were there to pick up Grandma from the Queen Mary when she docked. My Grandma came steerage (is that what they called it?), at the lowest section of the ship, where the narrow walkways were only boards laid down.

Quote
I once read the reason  people write books is to attain a kind of immortality for themselves, do you think that's true?

No, not necessarily, maybe for auto-biographies. I think a lot of writers just like to tell stories and/or like to write. I don't know about the immortality bit, they may find that people actually like their writing which encourages them to continue. They like that others enjoy their work and like the praise. It is a more immediate thing than of immortality.

Jonathan

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Samuel Johnson, speaking from experience, was convinced that most writing is done for money. Authors may deny it, once they get caught up in their creations. And of course if the writing takes on the status of scripture....the author is being chanelled.

Karen, your grandmother would have loved this book. Appearances are everything. It would seem to be the recurring theme in the story. The refugees fleeing danger gradually lose their precious belongings along the way. Even her two babies. 'By the time I arrived in Chungking I had lost everything except for three fancy silk dresses which I wore one on top of the other.' She arrives well dressed.

And she soon has herself and friends dressed in joy and luck. All for appearnaces. Not like the alternative...dressed in sorrow.

The missing babies!! What a plot!

Frybabe

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Yes, Jonathan, I forgot to mention the money. I think, though, that a lot of writers expect to make more than they actually do with their writing. Many have other jobs and long for the day they can quit their day jobs to write. It could be interesting to find out how they manage to hold down a day job, write on there time off, and handle family obligations at the same time.

These days, it seems the money is in writing something that catches the attention of the film industry. They will buy the rights to make a movie from a book, but don't always follow through. They even have their eyes on the Ebooks not yet in hard print. I highly suspect The Martian by Andy Weir is such a case.

bellamarie

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I consider myself a novice writer.  I have been writing poems, filled at least six journals, and have begun an autobiography, along with a few short stories.  I have never considered money to be my motivation for writing.  I personally do not think most writers beginning out, think of the monetary value in their works.  Writing is a personal experience, it is a talent you find you are gifted with or for some, they refine or learn writing skills through taking classes.  I suppose, once a writer decides to write to sell their work, they do hope it will bring them in some reasonable amount of income, but on the average, I just don't think that is what keeps them writing.  Writing is like art and music, it is something you have inside, that you feel you want to share when you are ready, or it's kept to yourself, because you are not certain others will be kind, in their critiquing of it.

Ginny, that's interesting how you do not feel Suyuan would have been allowed to bring the swan with her, so you see her story as an allegory or parable.  She did have a habit of changing the ending of her story when telling it to her daughter June, so it is very possible there was no feather to give to her, when she could speak to her in perfect English.  But if that is the case, what are we to learn from this?  Don't put off tomorrow, what you can do today.  Or, to set goals, and have something to motivate you to reach them, in this case giving the feather, when she is finally able to speak in English.  It certainly is food for thought.

For my sake, and those who have a difficult time remembering all the names, I would like to provide this:

The Joy Luck Club

The Mothers                                 The Daughters
Suyuan Woo                                               Jing-mei "June" Woo
An-mei Hsu                                                Rose Hsu Jordan
Lindo Jong                                                  Waverly Jong
Ying-ying St. Clair                                       Lena St. Clair

I found this to be so interesting:
pg. 22  "We were a city of leftovers mixed together.  If it hadn't been for the Japanese, there would have been plenty of reason for fighting to break out among these different people.  Can you see it?  Shanghai people with north-water peasants, bankers with barbers, rickshaw pullers with Burma refugees.  Everybody looked down on someone else.  It didn't matter that everybody shared the same sidewalk to spit on an suffered the same fast-moving diarrhea.  We all had the same stink, but everybody complained some else smelled the worst. 

Don't you think this is always the case?  It seems some group, class, race, religion, etc., always needs to put someone down, in order to think it builds their selves up.  I see it as just the opposite, if you feel the need to look down on someone, then you are lacking something inside yourself.  But this is a part of life, whether we like it or not.

"So you can see how quickly Kweilin lost its beauty for me."

"I thought up Joy Luck on a summer night that was so hot even the moths fainted to the ground, their wings were so heavy with the damp heat."

"My idea was to have a gathering of four women, one for each corner of my mah jong table."

"Each week one of us would host a party to raise money and to raise our spirits."


This reminds me of my "Bunco group" I attended when raising my children.  My neighbor invited me to be in her Bunco group, where there were eight of us women, all about the same age, raising our children.  We would meet once a month, roll the dice, keep score and see who would win the prizes at the end of the evening.  Dessert and drinks were served, and we would talk and laugh throughout the evening.  It surely was something I looked forward to, we would begin it in September, and go eight months, so each one would be able to host it in their home.  I think we managed to discuss every topic we young mothers could imagine from sharing recipes, child rearing, pediatricians, schools, places to shop, books to read, etc., etc.  As our kids grew up into teens, we were all moving in different neighborhoods and circles, to where it was not possible to find a date that worked for all of us to get together, so we discontinued our Bunco group.  Gosh, but it was fun while it lasted.

pg. 24  "We weren't allowed to think a bad thought."

I don't ever recall my Bunco group talking negative, or badly ever.  We, like the Joy Luck Club, came together to have fun and be joyful.

“What on earth could be more luxurious than a sofa, a book, and a cup of coffee?...Was ever anything so civil?”
__Anthony Trollope, The Warden

bellamarie

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Jonathan
Quote
The missing babies!! What a plot!

As soon as I read, she had lost her babies, I thought of Winter Garden, and how the sister who was thought to be dead from a bombing, was found years later.  Anya, like Suyuan, assumed their baby/babies were dead, and both women/mothers, felt a longing and lost feeling, even though they remarried, and had other children/child.  Like Meredith and Nina, is June going to find her siblings? 
“What on earth could be more luxurious than a sofa, a book, and a cup of coffee?...Was ever anything so civil?”
__Anthony Trollope, The Warden

ginny

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Yes, I think perhaps the Winter Garden is a little derivative, do you? It was written after this book and this actually is a very famous incident as we will see.

Bellamarie, yes, I don't think (but of course was not there and so really do not know) but I can't imagine being able to take a swan on a ship to the US.  Swans are huge and they can be very mean, I was chased by one in Bruges once and it was not a pleasant experience.

To find out (I didn't, so maybe some of you know) I went to The National Yale Initiative:

http://teachers.yale.edu/curriculum/viewer/initiative_06.02.06_uYale Initiative 

to find out more about this Chinese immigration and what a site this is. The woman has taught the same type of thing that Karen did, and it's really something, take a look:


Chinese Immigration, Exclusion and the Chinese-American Experience

Causes of Chinese Immigration
A series of event that ran almost concurrently in China and the United States prompted large-scale Chinese immigration to our shores. The conditions on the Chinese coastal regions were far from ideal. There was such overcrowding that population "averaged more than a thousand people per square mile" (Olsen 69). Food was often not able to meet demand given inferior farming methods, flooding and crop failures. The Chinese were still under British rule at this time, and conditions were difficult. The Taiping Rebellion of the 1850s "devastated southern China…It was a social catastrophe; the rebellion and its suppression completely destroyed the rural economy and killed more than twenty million people." (Olsen 69-70). Meanwhile, gold was discovered in California in 1848. Plans were hatched among Chinese communities and extended families: the males would go to the "Golden Mountain," as they named California, work "until they were fifty or sixty years old. Then they would return home bringing wealth and respect"(Olsen 70). The immigrants arrived in America from a society in which the needs of the one were sublimated for the needs of the many, where pride was paramount, where ancestors were respected, and where loyalty to the family was all-important. They were not there to get rich quick, but to sacrifice, visit as often as possible, and provide for those back home.


Chinese immigration exploded as news of the discovery of gold spread worldwide. Nor was California gold the only call to come here. American industry actively solicited workers from China. Chinese "worked gold mines in Oregon, Idaho, and Montana; silver mines in Nevada and Arizona; and coal mines in Utah and Wyoming" (Olsen 72). The Railroad industry was crying out for workers. Others were employed as domestic servants, laundry workers, and restaurant owners as well as the wool, shoe, and metal industries. They did agricultural work and worked in fishing villages on the Pacific Coast. As a result, "between the Gold Rush of 1849 and the Chinese Exclusion Act of 1882, nearly 300,000, most from ...southeastern China, arrived in the United States" (Olsen 69).
 
Methods of Immigration

In a system similar to indentured servitude of an earlier era, Californian businessmen used the "Credit Ticket System" in which an employer paid a worker's travel expenses in exchange for future work. The worker then needed to repay his debt, including the cost of his food, making it very difficult for the worker to ever be free of his contract. The first Chinese Contract Laborers, also known as coolies, left China in 1854. Recruiters used unscrupulous methods including force to make men sign the contracts, or when these did not work, they resorted to kidnapping. The latter was frequent enough that to be "shanghaied" has entered our lexicon.

The conditions on theill have an understanding of ships used to transport these workers were very reminiscent of the horrific slave ships. The ships were unsanitary, overcrowded, and workers were beaten, starved, and generally treated so poorly that often one fourth of the men did not survive the trip. Those conditions were reported in the San Francisco Examiner on August 28th, 1888 as follows:

The space assigned to each Chinaman is about as much as is usually occupied by one of the flat boxes in a milliner's store. It would be a strange sight to one not accustomed to it to see a framework of shelves, not eighteen inches apart, filled with Chinese. If a few barrels of oil were poured into the steerage hold, its occupants would enjoy the distinction so often objected to, of being literally 'packed like sardines.' (McCunn 22)
 
And it goes on. Now whether this is only for the men and only for California I don't know. I've been to Ellis Island and to the Statue of Liberty's celebration of the Immigrants and I can't remember. Does anybody have any knowledge of any kind of pet at all brought on board one of the ships?

I think the story is meant to somehow convey something for all 4 women telling their stories, but what it might BE I have no clue. How are they similar and what could the feather BE?

Speaking of the 4 women, thank you Bellamarie for that cast list,  we need it. I am wondering now which of the four women's stories struck each of YOU the most?  Which one made the most impact on  you? And why?




ginny

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Speaking of Immigrants and their need to keep up appearances, all of a sudden, HATS, welcome, how good to see you here, I'm about to talk about Philly again,  but I remember that the big thing in our neighborhood of row houses in the 40's was the washing of the stoop, or the front step. This was started by the Germans, who felt very strongly that a house whose stoop was not washed with water every morning had a slovenly housekeeper and was beneath contempt. I remember that and all the women washing the steps.

I bet nobody washes the steps today, or do they? Do you remember that in your neighborhood, Hats?

 Bellamarie, that's a good question: She did have a habit of changing the ending of her story when telling it to her daughter June, so it is very possible there was no feather to give to her, when she could speak to her in perfect English.  But if that is the case, what are we to learn from this?

This "Perfect English" really gives me pause. The entire issue of translation is rearing its head, too. I wonder if  Chinese is a language (I know nothing about it) which depends on a lot of background knowledge  and so is difficult to understand and translate or interpret, is that true? Translation almost always reflects the person translating too, it's hard to understand another time or culture, so I wonder if that Perfect English is also a dream, like the not streets but door of gold mentioned on the Statue of Liberty ("I lift my lamp beside the golden door").

 Bellamarie: Don't you think this is always the case?  It seems some group, class, race, religion, etc., always needs to put someone down, in order to think it builds their selves up.

Apparently.  People remind me of chickens, and one thing you can count on with a chicken is there is a always a  definite pecking order. And it's not a joke. And we can see it in these stories, the woman who married the rich young man who made her sleep on the couch, she a servant,  how  SMART she was, tho? Like Anne of Cleves.

So if you get to peck somebody down, in animal life you are the dominant one, I imagine that's why people do it in the human world, too.

I love your Bunco group, Bellamarie, what is Bunco?

Any of you play Mahjongg? I play it online but it's not like they are playing it.

I think those are good points, Frybabe, and I think everybody who writes has a different reason.

ginny

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Jonathan, "The author is being chanelled"  Yes!  When you read a book the author lives again. It's one of the best reasons for reading Latin, when you read, he lives again and is not forgotten. Your contribution to the field, so to speak. Because it's your interpretation of what he said, your translation.

I agree with you, this is some kind of plot and I have a feeling we're just getting started with it. Didn't you love them giving Jing-Mei  Woo  the money they had saved so she could go find the babies?

Frybabe, what a memory of NYC and were conditions really that bad in steerage on the Queen Mary? The planks?  Do you recall any other details you learned from her on the trip?

 Funny on the NYC lights. When we took my grandson to NYC a few years ago, he had only one request: he wanted to see lights of the city.  (Traveler's tip:  if you want city lights, get a corner room at the Hilton Millennium (not the one at Times Square of the same name)  at Ground Zero and you will have more lights than you can ever see) , he was mesmerized.  I have photos of him just awe struck, sitting in the windows looking out, on the left Ground Zero  the Freedom  Tower, and the new station which looks like a bird, and the  Memorial, and the water,  on the right the Brookyn Bridge and everything, Chrysler Bullding, Empire State Building,  in between.  Stunning, just breathtaking, and right after the 4th of July,   affordable.

So we have 4 women, I think the Lost and Found one touched me the most, the Moon Lady. I liked  her story the least. I actually don't think it can be true and  I found it frightening.

She says,  "I did not lose myself all at once." She says "All these years I have kept my true nature hidden, running along like a small shadow so nobody could  catch me. And because I moved so secretly now my daughter does not see me. And I want to tell her this: We are lost, she and I, unseen and not seeing, unheard and not  hearing, unknown by others."

That's powerful stuff.

And then another almost fairy tale, the Moon Lady, full of symbolism, and at the end she says, "And even though I was found, later that night...after the others shouted for me, I never believed my family found the same girl."

And she ends the first chapter, she's the last story, by saying "And now that I am old, moving every year closer to the end of my life, I also feel closer to the beginning. And I remember everything that happened that day because it has happened many times in my life. The same innocence, trust and restlessness, the wonder, fear, and loneliness. How I lost myself. I remember all these things. And tonight, on the fifteenth day of the eighth  moon, I also  remember what I asked the Moon Lady so long ago.  I wished to be found."

The child had attended a Moon Festival and was told that the Moon Lady would answer wishes but only if they were not said out loud.  Through an accident she was lost in the water, found by a fisherman and left lost  on the bank of a river alone, and watching the actor playing the beautiful Moon Lady in a play. She darted forward with her wish and as she said it out loud,  was horrified to find the beautiful Moon Lady up close had a sunken face, glaring teeth and red eyes and when the Moon Lady  approached she pulled off her hair and she was a man.

Honestly I've read a lot of books, but have never met a character presented  like this one. For years she repressed this memory, she could not remember how she was found by her family, "these things seemed an illusion to me- a wish that could not be trusted..." And so she was lost.

What a pitiful story. Of all the 4 women's stories, this one, Ying Ying St. Clair's story,  has moved me the most. You want to give her a hug. I need to compare all the stories of each mother, there are  only 4 and see how they are similar if they are and why.

I love that we're having so many perspectives from one shared experience.

I wonder how the feather theme applies to her.  I want to find out what happened to somebody so silent that she lost herself and I want her to win. I will read the rest of the book to find her.

 This not talking thing, not being able to communicate with your own children, for whatever reason,  is so impossibly sad.

Whose story of the 4 resonates the most with YOU  and why?

OR what strikes  you the most so far? Do you also  feel closer now to the beginning of your own life? Do you find yourself remembering things you thought you forgot?


BarbStAubrey

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well finally - I think all the allergy meds soaked my brain - I could not find a way into the discussion and until this morning was not even seeing the site title in the index - I thought I was having serious dementia - really - scared me - but last night did not down all the allergy meds I've been taking -

For just about 2 weeks now the air is heavy and the sun hazy with all this sand and dust that blew in here from of all places the Sahara desert. Breathing was a trick - last night I fell asleep in my chair and woke enough to crawl into bed without taking the med combo - up only once not being able to breath but so tired I pulled the covers over my head and that is probably what allowed me to sleep and breath and of course today clearheaded it was like waking to a new world - tra la - now to read all the posts and catch up...
“A man should hear a little music, read a little poetry, and see a fine picture every day of his life, in order that worldly cares may not obliterate the sense of the beautiful which God has implanted in the human soul.” ~ Goethe

bellamarie

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Phew.....  Ginny, your posts have left me a bit overwhelmed, and the need to give some of your questions a lot to think about.  I have tried to compartmentalize these four women and their daughters.  I finally finished the sections of Ch. 1, and now am trying to remember the points that resonated most with me. I have used a highlighter throughout my reading because I know I could never go back and find what I wanted to comment on later.  Needless to say, my book will not be in a resale condition when I have finished it.  I do best when I make lists, so let me try this:

The Four Stories told:

Suyuan and Jing-mei "June"

Suyuan's husband, an officer with the Kuomintang, brought her and their two babies to Kweilin because he thought they would be safe.  They knew the Japanese were winning, "An army officer came to my house early one morning," she said, "and told me to go quickly to my husband in Chungking.  I knew he was telling me to run away from Kweilin."  I packed my things and my two babies into a wheelbarrow and began pushing to Chungking.  By the time I arrived in Chungking I had lost everything except for three fancy silk dresses which I wore one on top of the other."  "What do you mean by 'everything'?"  I gasped at the end.  I was stunned to realize the story had been true all along.  "What happened to the babies?"

June, "I never thought my mother's Kweili story was anything but a Chinese fairy tale.  pg. 25
 
The aunts have given June money to find her sisters in Hong Kong, so she can get to know them and tell them all about their mother.

_______________________

An-mei and Rose "Scar"

An-mei is raised without her mother.  "To say her name is to spit on your father's grave." pg. 43 Auntie shouted that our mother had married a man named Wu Tsing who already had a wife, two concubines, and other bad children." Her mother has become ni, a traitor to our ancestors.  She is beneath other that even the devil must look down to see her."
pg. 46 I was four years old.  And then with one shout this dark boiling soup spilled forward and fell all over my neck.  It was as though everyone's anger were pouring all over me.  pg. 47  In two years time, my scar became pale ans shiny and I had no memory of my mother.  pg. 48 I worshipped this mother from my dream.  But the woman standing by Popo's bed was not the mother of my memory.  Yet I came to love this mother as well.  Not because she came to me and begged me to forgive her.  She did not.  She did not need to explain Popo chased her out of the house when I was dying.  This I knew.  Here is how I came to love my mother.  How I saw in her my own true nature.  What was beneath my skin.  Inside my bones.  My mother took her flesh and put it in the soup.  She cooked magic in the ancient tradition to try to cure her mother this one last time.  She opened Popo's mouth, already too tight from trying to keep her spirit in.  She fed her this soup, but that night Popo flew away with her illness.

Rose,pg. 48  This is how a daughter honors her mother,  It is shou so deep it is in your bones. The pain of the flesh is nothing.  The pain you must forget.  Because sometimes that is the only way to remember what is in your bones.  You must peel off your skin, and that of your mother, and her mother before her.  Until there is nothing.  No scar, no skin, no flesh.

I so agree with Rose, you must peel back all the scars and let go of the pain in order to allow yourself to feel and know the true nature of yourself and your mother and her mother.  When I witnessed my mother standing at the bedside of her mother dying my heart hurt so deeply for knowing the love between the two of them, and how the loss would effect my mother.  I do believe that is the very day I became the woman I am today, knowing I would always honor my mother and grandmother, and hope to see this in my daughter and grand daughters.

__________________________________

Lindo and Waverly

Lindo  pg. 49  I once sacrificed my life to keep my parent's promise.  This means nothing to you, because to you promises mean nothing.  A daughter can promise to come to dinner, but if she has a headache, if she has a traffic jam, if she wants to watch a favorite movie on TV, she no longer has a promise.  To Chinese people, fourteen carats isn't real gold.  Feel my bracelets.  They must be twenty-four carats, pure inside and out.  It's too late to change you, but I'm telling you this because I worry about your baby.  I worry that someday she will say, "Thank you, Grandmother, for the gold bracelet.  I'll never forget you."  But later, she will forget her promise.  She will forget she had a grandmother.  pg. 50 the village matchmaker came to my family when I was just two years old.  No, it's not true what some Chinese say about girl babies being worthless.  It depends on what kind of girl you are.  In my case, people could see my value.  I looked and smelled like a precious buncake, sweet with a good clean color.  This is how I became betrothed to Huang Taitai's son, who I later discovered was just a baby, one year younger than I.  His name was Tyan-yu.  In other cities already, a man could choose his own wife, with his parent's permission of course.  But we were cut off from this type of new thought.  My life changed completely when I was twelve, the summer of the heavy rains came.  My father said we had no choice but to move the family to Wushi, to the south near Shanghai, where my mother's brother owned a small flour mill.  My father explained that the whole family, except for me, would leave immediately.  I was twelve years old, old enough to separate from my family and live with the Huangs.  When I was sixteen on the lunar new year, Huang Taitai told me she was ready to welcome a grandson by next spring.  I wiped my eyes and looked in the mirror.  I was surprised at what I saw.  I had on a beautiful red dress, but what I saw was even more valuable.  I was strong.  I was pure.  I had genuine thoughts inside that no one could see, that no one could ever take away from me.  I was like the wind.  He had no desire for me, but it was his fear that made me think he had no desire for any woman.  He was like a little boy who had never grown up.  I made the Huangs think it was their idea to get rid of me, that they would be the ones to say the marriage contract was not valid. 

Lindo was brilliant to come up with the idea of blowing out the end of the red candle, and then tell Huang Taitai the wind blew it out on their wedding night, so she would see it was a bad omen, and Tyan-you would die, if he stayed in the marriage.  She was able to keep her family's honor and promise, yet free herself from a loveless marriage.
____________________________________

Ying-ying and Lena

pg. 67  All these years I kept my true nature hidden, running along like a small shadow so nobody could catch me.  And because I moved so secretly now my daughter does not see me.  She sees a list of things to buy, her checkbook out of balance, her ashtray sitting crooked on a straight table.  And I want to tell her this:  We are lost, she and I, unseen and not seeing, unheard and not hearing, unknown by others.  I did not lose myself all at once.  I rubbed out my face over the years washing away my pain, the same way carvings on stone are worn down by water.
pg. 68 In 1918, the year that I was four, the Moon Festival arrived during an autumn in Wushi that was unusually hot, terribly hot.  When I awoke that morning, the fifteenth day of the eighth moon... pg. 69 "What is a ceremony?"  I asked as Amah slipped the jacket over my cotton undergarments.  "It is a proper way to behave.  You do this and that, so the gods do not punish you," said Amah as she fastened my frog clasps.  "What kind of punishment?"  I asked boldly.  "Too many questions!" cried Amah.  "You do not need to understand.  Just behave, follow your mother's example.  Do not shame me Ying-ying."
pg. 72  Suddenly I saw a dragonfly with a large crimson body and transparent wings.  I leapt off the bench and rand to chase it..

Standing perfectly still like that, I discovered my shadow.  I ran to the shade under tree, watching my shadow chase me.  It disappeared.  I loved my shadow, this dark side of me that had my same restless nature.

pg. 82 For many years, I could not remember what I wanted that night from the Moon Lady, or how it was that I was found again by my family.  I never believed my family found the same girl.pg. 83  But now that I am old, moving every year closer to the end of my life, I also feel closer to the beginning.  And I remember everything that happened that day because it has happened many time in my life.  The same innocence, trust, and restlessness, the wonder, fear, an loneliness.  How I lost myself.  I remember all these things.  And tonight, on the fifteenth day of the eighth moon, I also remember what I asked the Moon Lady so ling ago.  I wished to be found.

This made me feel very sad, because if I am understanding this correctly, Ying-ying will die feeling she was never heard, seen or found.  A life with so little meaning, that she feels she needs to make her daughter understand, before she dies, to not be so wrapped up in material things, and so busy she has lost sight of herself.

After reading and learning each woman's story, I have to say I don't have one that resonants more than the other.  With each woman I found a strength and a weakness that I find in myself.  Suyuan touches me more than the others as being the closest to who I see myself, and who I am as a mother and grandmother.  They are all survivors in their own rights.  I feel sad that none of the daughters seem to understand and appreciate their mother's history, and who they really are.  I loved how Lindo refuses to wear nothing but twenty-four carat gold, to show she is worthy of more than fourteen carat. She is determined to hold herself in high regard, and wants to remind her daughter and grand daughters to do the same.  I see sadness surrounding each of these women.  As I grow older, I am finding, I do feel as if my daughter and grand daughters are losing sight of who I am.  We are not as active in each others lives, and I see how their lives move on, and they have so little time to squeeze me in.  The same little girls, who made me feel like I hung the moon, and set the stars in their sky.   

Sorry the post is so long. 








“What on earth could be more luxurious than a sofa, a book, and a cup of coffee?...Was ever anything so civil?”
__Anthony Trollope, The Warden

bellamarie

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Barb, we were posting at the same time.  I am so sorry to hear your allergies have had you down. I have been taking a Claritin every morning to ward off a runny nose and infected eyes.  I have also been dealing with a tooth extraction, that got a dry socket in it.  It's been a week now, and I am hoping the dentist has finally gotten it taken care of.  It's been so long since I have gone without some sort of mouth pain, due to dental work done since the beginning of the year.  Frustrated, doesn't even begin to describe my angst.  I do hope you feel better soon, we sure do miss you, and I think you would  be a great contributor to this discussion. 
“What on earth could be more luxurious than a sofa, a book, and a cup of coffee?...Was ever anything so civil?”
__Anthony Trollope, The Warden

Jonathan

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What an absorbing book. And I'm astonished by all your heart-felt posts. And finding some strange sentiments moving mine. Where is this book taking us? It has to be more than coincidence. I found an inexpensive, used, airport edition for a buck. What an extraordinary bargain. What has me wondering are the two boarding passes in the book, going and coming. With date, seat, and flight numbers. but no destination. Are they chapter headings or short story titles in the table of contents? Just look at that last one:A Pair of Tickets!!

We're well underway.

bellamarie

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Oh Jonathan, what a great find, and those boarding passes with no destination inside the book, not to mention the very last section in the last chapter of The Joy Luck Club's title being "A Pair of Tickets."  Coincidence, probably, but none the less, eerie indeed!  I see each section in the chapters, as short story titles.  If you notice, there are no numbers for the chapters or sections.  Why is that?  So where is your destination, if you tell me Hong Kong, I just may faint!  We do know that June is going to Hong Kong in search for her siblings. 
“What on earth could be more luxurious than a sofa, a book, and a cup of coffee?...Was ever anything so civil?”
__Anthony Trollope, The Warden

hats

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Good morning all. I love the posts. Barb, I suffer with allergies badly in the spring. Not so badly this year as in past years. I hope you continue to improve. So glad to see you're able to post here now. I really love the book by Amy Tan. Ginny, I do remember porches and stoops. Since yesterday was my mother's birthday, memories played a big part of my day. You asked what strikes us the most in the chapter. I would have to say war memories and thoughts of the past. I think we are amazing as people. After much trauma, we have the ability to forgive. I wrote the page number down of a quote I felt special.
Quote
Can you imagine how it is, to be neither inside nor outside, to want to be nowhere and disappear?
  I think that must describe what it feels like to hear many bombings, see death and injuries and eat whatever or nothing that is available. Since someone brought up immigrants, I think those parents and children have felt this way during their separation for the past couple of weeks or so.

What is it about? I think it's about bonding, caring and loving, learning ways to cope with the hard times and appreciating one another while there is still time. I think Frybabe gave the links. Thank you for those and others that might come along later. This is such a special way to spend summer days. Jonathan, I'm glad you're here to keep us ladies mellow. bellamarie, thanks for breaking it all down. That must have taken quite a bit of time. I'm disappearing to catch up on my reading and reread some of the posts again.

Jonathan

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You have all been such congenial company for me for such a long time. So full of ideas. I'm not going anywhere, Bellamarie. My book had done the travelling when I got it. Now it's my grandaughter who is out there somewhere in Africa. She sent me an email yesterday telling me of the thrill of having a baby gorilla reach out to take her hand, while it's mother looked on with a smile.

Is Suyuan pronounced swan? In that case  the swan did get into the country. And how thrilling that was for her. Having already told us: 'In America I will have a daughter just like me. But over there nobody will say her worth is measured by the loudness of her husband's belch.' And it wasn't just the wives. The hostess judged the worth of her dinner by the belching approval. We laughed about that years ago. It's such fun to learn about the other guy's cultural norms, isn't it?

bellamarie

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Jonathan, I looked up the pronunciation of Suyuan and it is not even close to sounding like "swan," but I like the way you think.  It sounds like:
Su U an

https://www.howtopronounce.com/suyuan/

It's meaning is: 
1. sùyuàn
long-cherished wish
                                           
NOUN
long-standing dream
http://dictionary.pinpinchinese.com/definitions/s/%E5%A4%99%E6%84%BF-suyuan

How exciting for your granddaughter to be in Africa!  I took my two grandchildren to our Toledo Zoo, which is ranked amongst the top zoos in the country, this summer, and we were amazed to watch the gorillas.  I video taped the mother and baby interactions.  There were a few others with them we determined to possibly be the father and uncles.  lol  When the biggest one, we think was the father, moved over to the shady spot, they all followed him.  The baby was so cute hanging off the mother's back, and one of the uncles came by and gave him a little nudge to make sure he did not fall off.  They are such interesting creatures and so human like.  I bet your granddaughter cherished her handshake.

In today's world a guy burping or passing gas in public is so normal, it's as if they compete to see who's is the loudest.  Ughhhh....  I still find it rude!  My seven year old granddaughter Zoey, seems to find it hilarious, and tries her best to make her Daddy proud, by imitating him, and cracking up laughing like a hyena.  Nothing ladylike about her.  lol
“What on earth could be more luxurious than a sofa, a book, and a cup of coffee?...Was ever anything so civil?”
__Anthony Trollope, The Warden

PatH

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Good afternoon all.  A series of unexpected events has made me a real latecomer, only through the first two narratives of this section.

What a powerful, moving book!  Yes, it's about bonding and loving, caring and loving.  It's also about communication or lack of, and  understanding, or lack of, especially between the generations.

It's full of moving bits.  Here's one, at the end of Jing Mei's section.  The three older women urge her to come up with reminisces of her mother and she's a blank:

"Imagine, a daughter not knowing her own mother!"

And then it occurs to me.  They are frightened.  In me, they see their own daughters, just as ignorant, just as unmindful of all the truths and hopes they have brought to America.  They see daughters who grow impatient when their mothers talk in Chinese, who think they are stupid when they explain things in fractured English.  They see that joy and luck do not mean the same to their daughters, that to these closed American- born minds "joy luck" is not a word, it does not exist.  They are daughters who will bear grandchildren born without any connecting hope passed from generation to generation.

 

bellamarie

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Welcome Pat, it’s so good to hear from you.  I see, and agree with all your points.  These are women/mothers who hope to give to their daughters their stories, their heritage to pass down to the next generations to come.  They want their lives to matter after they are no longer here.  They lived through desperate times, war, poverty, robbed of their own identities by people or situations beyond their control, and yet they survived.  Their daughters can not relate, comprehend or see them.  June did not even know what to tell her siblings once she was told to go see them.  Sadly, there are daughters just like these four daughters, who do not know their own mothers.  I share things with my older sister about our mother, and she is shocked.  She grew up in the same house as the rest of us siblings, she always was at odds with our mother, and judged her every action.  When our mother died she honestly could not find anything good to remember, so when I tell her my memories, she almost refuses to accept I have these beautiful memories of what our mother did for me and others. 

Not all daughters have close relationships with their mothers, let alone their grandmothers.  I cherish the fact I did, and that my daughter and I do also, along with my four granddaughters.  But ultimately, it is their choice as to whether they will keep our memory and story going, once we are no longer here to do it. 

Do these daughters even know what joy feels like? 
“What on earth could be more luxurious than a sofa, a book, and a cup of coffee?...Was ever anything so civil?”
__Anthony Trollope, The Warden

BarbStAubrey

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Ningbo is among the busiest ports in the world. Its hinterland, particularly nearby Putuoshan, are popular tourist destinations in Eastern China.

Ningbo's "old town" and urban core is centered on the confluence of the Yong and Yuyao Rivers.

The area was anciently known as Yǒng (甬) from nearby Yong Hill; Yong is still used as Ningbo's abbreviation in modern Chinese. The Yong empties on Hangzhou Bay and the East China Sea and the Ningbonese have had a deep affinity for the ocean throughout their history.

The voyages of Xu Fu, sent by the First Emperor in search of the islands of immortality and sometimes credited with initiating the sinicization of Japan, departed from here. Its temples later served as an important staging point in the introduction of Buddhism to Japan.

During the Middle Ages, Ningbo was sometimes the sole approved port for foreign trade. During this period, Ningbo included ghettoes for Muslim and Jewish merchants. The Portuguese reached "Liampo" around 1522. They received permission for a settlement in 1542 but their piratical behavior provoked an officially-sanctioned massacre within three years.

The British captured "Ningpo" during the First Opium War and—along with Canton (Guangzhou), Amoy (Xiamen), Fuchow (Fuzhou), and Shanghai—it was one of the five Treaty Ports opened to unrestricted foreign trade by the Treaty of Nanjing in 1842. (The spellings changed after the gradual adoption of the Mandarin-based pinyin system since the 1950s.) The Old Bund and the foreign buildings erected around it prior lie in Jiangbei District. Fenghua was the hometown of Chiang Kai-shek.
“A man should hear a little music, read a little poetry, and see a fine picture every day of his life, in order that worldly cares may not obliterate the sense of the beautiful which God has implanted in the human soul.” ~ Goethe

BarbStAubrey

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A few thoughts that reading this brings up

First I have worked with many many probably about 50 Chinese families helping them buy or a few sell their house - well over 30, probably about 36 families or singles who are Chinese from Indonesia - less then 10 from Hong Cong, some from Taiwan, Singapore and some from mainland China -

All have their stories - a few include, with her mother hiding in the forests from the Japanese during WWII living off berries and such - another being brought to America as the 14 year old bride of a Viet Nam service man, lying about her age, arranged by her mother, who was made a concubine and did not want that for her daughter, who had already been raped by soldiers - their house that I helped her sell, was built with a secret hiding place in the brick fireplace big enough for her to hide in - then another who when they cleaned out to move from another state she found the death certificate for her first daughter whom she was told died during birth - she made calls, found the grave that she was able to visit and finally, she learned the baby lived for several days and "died?" while in the care of her mother-in-law a week after its birth - and yet another, the wife from mainland China who got her mother out and together they escaped but her father died in the camp as a result of the cultural revolution - both her parent had been doctors. In Indonesia the Chinese people are treated as some black folks are treated here in the US and all those from Indonesia that came in the 80s and 90s did so with their money sewn into their clothes because those with Chinese heritage at that time were under siege in their homes.

But to our story - more of my experiences - all, except for a few who were UT students, buying condos or townhouses who were rebelling against their parents and everything Chinese, all others would not buy property with a number 4 in the address - seems the way the number 4 is said in Chinese is exactly the same way that Death is said and therefore number four is a no no. In China no tall building has a number 4 floor. When China did not win their first bid for the Olympics they turned down 2004 and asked for 2008 - 8 is a lucky number -

Here we have 4 women making a club and telling their story hmmm but they each have a daughter - if there are only the one daughter in each family than the 4 and 4 does equal 8.

There are other no nos like, the  front door cannot be in a direct line with the back door or all the luck passes through the house - the stairwell cannot be in the middle of a house or it breaks the marriage in half, it is bad luck to have the front of the house face north or if the house is on even a slight hill lower than the street - and a big no is to have the house at facing a street that Ts in front because all the bad luck comes up the street into your house - not even a piece of the house can be in the path of an oncoming street. There are other things like the stove must be on the same side of the kitchen as the sink and a patio cannot have a tile floor - on and on it goes but not choosing anything with a 4 was a biggie even among those who did not consult their book of luck while previewing for their future home.

Then the whole idea of a feather has significance - here is the story - it has to do with gift giving

"Gift-giving is an important part of Chinese tradition and culture. The custom of bringing something as a house-warming gift when visiting to gifts to mark various celebrations, rites of passage, important events, festivals, etc. Some types of gifts become standard, such as seasonal foods and cakes, or fruits and cakes. Whatever the case may be, there are various forms of gift-rapping, such as boxes, trays, envelopes, etc, each marked for various occasions. However, there is also a traditional custom to attach a feather with or on the gift. This defines the gift as Qian-li-song-e-mao, literally, a swan feather from a thousand miles. meaning a gift which may be small but, carries with it the sincere wishes of the sender.

The literary expression is found in the Lu-shi, a compilation of historical anecdotes by the Ming dynasty, 1368 -1683 A.D., scholar Xu-wei, which records the following.

During the Tang dynasty, 618-906 A.D., there was a local official who gave orders to one of his attendants to take a swan to the Emperor as a gift. The attendant, being conscientious, saw that the swan needed to be cleaned. While en route, he took the swan to the river’s edge and took it out of the cage to give it a bath when the swan escaped and flew away, leaving only a feather, which had broken off behind.

The attendant was at a loss of what to do. However, being a loyal retainer, he needed to accomplish his assigned mission. Not knowing what alternative was at his disposal, he presented the feather with a slip of paper bearing a poem, reading:

qiān lǐ sòng é máo - A swan’s feather from a thousand miles away
lǐ qīng qíng yì zhòng - An insignificant gift, with it the sincere wishes of the sender.

From this literary expression, there became the popular and common phrase, wù qīng qíng zhòng, which gave the same meaning. Therefore, the feather became the symbol for this expression which may be attached to a gift."
“A man should hear a little music, read a little poetry, and see a fine picture every day of his life, in order that worldly cares may not obliterate the sense of the beautiful which God has implanted in the human soul.” ~ Goethe