Kim Wong Keltner
Autore di The Dim Sum of All Things
Sull'Autore
The only thing that keeps Kim Wong Keltner from writing is when she's trapped under an avalanche of her daughter's stuffed animals. Keltner is the author of The Dim Sum of All Things, Buddha Baby, and I Want Candy. Tiger Babies Strike Back is her first work of nonfiction.
Opere di Kim Wong Keltner
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Informazioni generali
- Sesso
- female
Utenti
Recensioni
At first I was thinking of saying that this book is Asian Chick-Lit, but it is so much better than that. It is the humorous tale of an American Chinese woman in her early 20's, still trying to find herself. She lives with her grandmother in San Francisco and she has a crush on a white guy at work and she's not sure how that will be received by her family. She is a woman in two worlds, trying to come to grips and embrace her Chinese heritage and also realizing she is totally American. It was interesting with a fast moving, funny plot. Plus, I learned some things about Chinese culture I was previously clueless about. I would definitely be interested in reading more from Kim Wong Keltner.… (altro)
Warning, this review turned into a personal essay, whoops.
Loved it, but the (main) title is incredibly misleading in my opinion- from the bits and pieces I heard on the web, I thought perhaps this was a rebuttal to the 'Tiger parenting' meme floating around. Instead, Keltner gives us essays that collectively make up a memoir, a collage between parts of her childhood and raising her own daughter, and Chinese American identity. I think some of the other reviewers were expecting the former and were therefore disappointed, but to me it was like listening to the older sister I never had, who's been through similar head space. The subtitle's a better guide for what the book actually is.
Disclaimer in case family finds it (because they check on my web presence periodically): I know, Mom isn't a 'Tiger mother'. She's of Keltner's generation, kind of (when I say that, I mean first gen born on American soil, though Mom is definitely a Baby Boomer while I think Keltner falls into the early part of X)... but as far as I know never bickered with her own mom or anything. I don't know. It's largely a black box to me because Pau-Pau and Gong Gong passed away before I was born, and what I do know is that mom followed the quintessential Chinese path of looking after your parents, never leaving home because the other siblings got married. Many times there's things I wonder and want to ask (and maybe will eventually), but likely will miss some answers because they're of a sensitive nature and unlike Keltner's mom, mine expresses feelings instead of indifference and I'd feel super guilty about digging up potential old wounds. (If you do get around to reading this, I love you, Mom, even if we butt heads on a lot of things. I was going to write something more pithy and accurate in this parenthetical, but it'd probably be more exposed than I want to be in a Google cache [ask alex to explain that])
I wrote a paragraph and deleted it because I'm still trying to put my finger on what makes this different from the other books, both fictional and non, about the Chinese American experience. It has what I think we can consider tropes by now found in the genre- San Francisco, Catholic schooling, having Chinese school on weekends instead of girl scouts, music lessons and comparisons to everyone else's child, etc. I can relate to nearly none of these things because I'm a 4th gen who grew up in a predominantly white town where the other Asian people were a) immigrants via the nearby National Lab or service industry, b) adopted by white families, or c) Japanese Americans who I'm going to assume might be a holdover from the internment period but I could be entirely wrong on that because there really weren't too terribly many Asians around when I grew up (though there's enough for a JACL in town). My parents encouraged my brother and I to excel, but they weren't the insane High Expectations Parent that lives on in image macros and memes. Because there aren't many other Chinese American families there, I haven't been pushed at all to date so-and-so's son or nephew or whomever, and likewise there's no push for grandkids (quite the opposite but that's a story for another time).
It wasn't the parenting bits that resonated with me, no. But relevant parts of being a Chinese American (yes, I know there's some who live in this post racial society who wonder at my adjective, but c'mon. It would be disingenuous to assume being American instantly sheds cultural baggage. It's probably the most American thing, actually, cultural baggage*) do. In one essay, Keltner reflects on [a:Iris Chang|17765|Iris Chang|http://d202m5krfqbpi5.cloudfront.net/authors/1209401344p2/17765.jpg]'s suicide because there were so many similarities in their lives (female Chinese American writers about the same age with a young child), writing
Or in another essay towards the end of the book (that spawned my thoughts re: family mentioned in the disclaimer above), visiting relatives in the house her father grew up in, thinking about how pursuing the life she wants is a privilege, built on the backs of family experience. "We Chinese Americans are walking around in our modern lives, but who and what are we carrying around, invisibly, inside us?" I also want to quote the last page but I'd rather encourage people (especially other CAs) to read it for themselves. I also want to write more words on why I thought this was so great, but I realize at this point of the week I'm running on low sleep and have gotten a bit rambly and less articulate, so apologies.
*I realized towards the end of writing this that I'm kind of hypocritical here- gotten peeved at people calling me "Chinese" before insisting that I'm pretty much straight up just American instead of defining me by my race. Then again, Chinese American here is more of a cultural distinction rather than a (false) nationality assumption, so idk.… (altro)
Loved it, but the (main) title is incredibly misleading in my opinion- from the bits and pieces I heard on the web, I thought perhaps this was a rebuttal to the 'Tiger parenting' meme floating around. Instead, Keltner gives us essays that collectively make up a memoir, a collage between parts of her childhood and raising her own daughter, and Chinese American identity. I think some of the other reviewers were expecting the former and were therefore disappointed, but to me it was like listening to the older sister I never had, who's been through similar head space. The subtitle's a better guide for what the book actually is.
Disclaimer in case family finds it (because they check on my web presence periodically): I know, Mom isn't a 'Tiger mother'. She's of Keltner's generation, kind of (when I say that, I mean first gen born on American soil, though Mom is definitely a Baby Boomer while I think Keltner falls into the early part of X)... but as far as I know never bickered with her own mom or anything. I don't know. It's largely a black box to me because Pau-Pau and Gong Gong passed away before I was born, and what I do know is that mom followed the quintessential Chinese path of looking after your parents, never leaving home because the other siblings got married. Many times there's things I wonder and want to ask (and maybe will eventually), but likely will miss some answers because they're of a sensitive nature and unlike Keltner's mom, mine expresses feelings instead of indifference and I'd feel super guilty about digging up potential old wounds. (If you do get around to reading this, I love you, Mom, even if we butt heads on a lot of things. I was going to write something more pithy and accurate in this parenthetical, but it'd probably be more exposed than I want to be in a Google cache [ask alex to explain that])
I wrote a paragraph and deleted it because I'm still trying to put my finger on what makes this different from the other books, both fictional and non, about the Chinese American experience. It has what I think we can consider tropes by now found in the genre- San Francisco, Catholic schooling, having Chinese school on weekends instead of girl scouts, music lessons and comparisons to everyone else's child, etc. I can relate to nearly none of these things because I'm a 4th gen who grew up in a predominantly white town where the other Asian people were a) immigrants via the nearby National Lab or service industry, b) adopted by white families, or c) Japanese Americans who I'm going to assume might be a holdover from the internment period but I could be entirely wrong on that because there really weren't too terribly many Asians around when I grew up (though there's enough for a JACL in town). My parents encouraged my brother and I to excel, but they weren't the insane High Expectations Parent that lives on in image macros and memes. Because there aren't many other Chinese American families there, I haven't been pushed at all to date so-and-so's son or nephew or whomever, and likewise there's no push for grandkids (quite the opposite but that's a story for another time).
It wasn't the parenting bits that resonated with me, no. But relevant parts of being a Chinese American (yes, I know there's some who live in this post racial society who wonder at my adjective, but c'mon. It would be disingenuous to assume being American instantly sheds cultural baggage. It's probably the most American thing, actually, cultural baggage*) do. In one essay, Keltner reflects on [a:Iris Chang|17765|Iris Chang|http://d202m5krfqbpi5.cloudfront.net/authors/1209401344p2/17765.jpg]'s suicide because there were so many similarities in their lives (female Chinese American writers about the same age with a young child), writing
I'm not sure how to feel about Iris Chang, her accomplishments, and her death. There's the sickness I feel over her tragic end, and then there are the details we had in common that add a macabre quality. Mostly, though, what pained me and troubles me still about her death is that she was someone I looked up to, who gave me hope and a little bit more courage. I had considered her a better, more respectable version of myself. When someone whom you've admired can't stand the heat in the kitchen and decides to off herself, what are you supposed to do?
[...]
Sometimes when I want to give up everything and not get out of bed, I think of Iris. Not because she would've definitely gotten out of bed, but because I can. I have the chance to write about all these things that happen to me, and somewhere there's someone whom I may never meet and she is reading my books. Maybe my words can make her feel better, or inspire her to be the next writer who makes a difference. We all keep passing the baton to the next person who can tell the truth, and that humble continuity is what we'll need to break apart the abstract wall of Chinese silence that keeps us separate, each alone within ourselves.
Or in another essay towards the end of the book (that spawned my thoughts re: family mentioned in the disclaimer above), visiting relatives in the house her father grew up in, thinking about how pursuing the life she wants is a privilege, built on the backs of family experience. "We Chinese Americans are walking around in our modern lives, but who and what are we carrying around, invisibly, inside us?" I also want to quote the last page but I'd rather encourage people (especially other CAs) to read it for themselves. I also want to write more words on why I thought this was so great, but I realize at this point of the week I'm running on low sleep and have gotten a bit rambly and less articulate, so apologies.
*I realized towards the end of writing this that I'm kind of hypocritical here- gotten peeved at people calling me "Chinese" before insisting that I'm pretty much straight up just American instead of defining me by my race. Then again, Chinese American here is more of a cultural distinction rather than a (false) nationality assumption, so idk.… (altro)
I've never been much for chicklit, but this one wasn't too bad. At the beginning I found the character to be annoying with her preconceived ideas about everyone, including the people closest to her, and notions about "collectors". She doesn't seem to want to be Asian, but has a superior than thee attitude toward everyone who is not. During the course of the book you can see the main character's attitude changing, particularly with respect to her grandmother and other family. It was this aspect of the book I found to be most interesting. I particularly liked the trip she makes with her grandmother near the end which also turns out to be almost a journey of self discovery. There was also the obligatory love interest included, however, if I were him I would not have put in all that effort as her affections constantly waivered. Honestly, if I had been shoved into a closet as he had been, I would have marched right then and there!
Overall an enjoyable book, not high on the emotional heart spectrum, but entertaining and interesting. I would recommend it.… (altro)
Overall an enjoyable book, not high on the emotional heart spectrum, but entertaining and interesting. I would recommend it.… (altro)
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Statistiche
- Opere
- 4
- Utenti
- 406
- Popolarità
- #59,889
- Voto
- 3.3
- Recensioni
- 27
- ISBN
- 14
From the cover, I expected a breezy coming of age story of a girl I would grow to love. Ugh.
The book began nicely enough about an ugly duckling who had a pet duck, a pet duck which her mom made as a surprise dinner one day. Candace worked in her family's restaurants mainly as the "egg roll girl". It was a coming of age story filled with all kinds of stomach clenching scenes.
I rushed through the story not really enjoying the journey. If it were much longer, it could have really depressed me. But I did get through the book so it must have grabbed my attention enough.… (altro)