Nick Lancellotti--Blog Post #2

The odd pattern of Tan's writing formula is starting to make some sense--the first part of the novel focuses on the back stories of the four members of the Mah Jong table. The second part of the novel focuses on the children of those four women (or siblings, but they are all related in someway--the last names of the second four correspond with the first four). I found a particular interest in this portion of the book because it was centered on hardships and certain facets that can deteriorate our relationships with others. For example, Waverly Jong, after becoming essentially a globally renowned child prodigy of chess, is embarrassed when her mother is constantly pointing her out to strangers and bragging that Waverly is her daughter. Fed up with the awkward stares, Waverly says under her breath, "'I wish you wouldn't do that, telling everybody I'm your daughter'" (101). "'Embarrass you be my daughter?'" her mother shouts angrily. Unfortunately, this is a scene that is all too common with the average teenager. Whenever we seem to do something right (for a change) our parents feel the need to boast about every little accomplishment we achieve. While this may act as a much needed relief from the normal trials of adolescent life, eventually the heightened emotions wear out and the spotlight becomes unbearably hot for our burning eyes to handle. The light, however, refuses to be extinguished, and the constant praise begins to irritate the desire for a returned normalcy. Thus, we lash out. Unnecessary publicity is exactly the opposite of what a disgruntled teenager wants. Don't give it to them! One of the parts of the novel that I was somewhat confused while reading was when Lena St. Clair was listening to the conversations and arguments of the girl and her mother in the room next door. I could never tell if a murder was taking place or if this was just an exaggeration (still more evidence of Amy Tan's literary mastery). The quote that stuck out in my mind most from this section was perhaps right before Lena meets the girl next door on the landing between their rooms. Just before the cut to a new scene, Lena says, listening to the fighting, "a voice pressing against my wall telling me that this was the worst possible thing that could happen: the terror of not knowing when it would ever stop" (114). This seems to be a reverse case of an abusive childhood, where the person who is scared for the unknown is not even a participant of the violence themselves. Lena stands on the sidelines, imagining what could possibly be going on beyond the white, comfortable walls of her own apartment. I almost feel as though Lena was envisioning herself as the girl, experiencing every circumstantially terrifying event in her mind. Have you ever watched or listened to someone, or something, being mistreated or mishandled so badly that you actually become that thing and run through a blow-by-blow scenario of how you would fight back? Depending on the situation that thing was in, how did it make YOU feel? In reality, did you intervene with the conflict, knowing that there was an opportunity for you to amend the situation, or were you like Lena, separated by some physical or invisible boundary? If this chance existed, why, or why didn't, you take it? How did everything play out in the end?