Joy Luck Club - Works by Amy Tan

Author: Tan Twain Hwei (USA)
Publisher:
Publish Date: 2006-05-01
Features: The Joy Luck Club is a renowned novel by the famous Chinese-American female writer Tan Twain Hwei. It was her debut work and achieved immense success upon publication, staying on the New York Times Best Seller List for eight consecutive months. It was subsequently adapted into a film with the same title, leaving a profound impact. The book was one of the top four bestsellers in the United States in 1989 and has won numerous awards and been adapted into movies. The novel depicts the life struggles of four Chinese women who immigrated to the United States before the liberation, as well as the psychological barriers, emotional clashes, and love-hate dynamics between them and their American-born daughters, stirring deep emotions. The entire book is structured around two perspectives—the mothers and the daughters—both of which are harmoniously interwoven, capable of standing alone yet also forming a cohesive whole. At the same time, the translation preserves the original wit and American-style humor, making it more aligned with readers' habits. Reading this book allows us not only to understand the mindset and values of Chinese Americans but also to experience the deep familial bonds of blood and kinship! The novel portrays the lives of four Chinese women with diverse personalities and destinies who abandoned national and family grievances to immigrate to the United States, as well as the life experiences of their daughters born and raised in America. As mothers of the first generation of immigrants, though living abroad, they remain thoroughly Chinese women. They can leave their national and family grievances behind, but they cannot sever their blood ties with their homeland. Meanwhile, their daughters, though outwardly resembling their mothers, were raised in values and environments vastly different from their Chinese homeland and had to personally endure the clash of two cultures and values. Between mother and daughter, there is both profound and familial love and an irreparable barrier of resentment, where they care for each other yet also harm one another. Beyond all else, they remain bound by the shared Chinese motherhood, a deep bond of blood and familial affection.
A father asked me to take my mother's place at the Mahjong table of the Joy Luck Club. Ever since she passed away two months ago, the table has been short three players—my mother's seat has remained empty. Dad always believed Mom died because of her own "selfishness." "A new idea popped into her head," Dad said, "but before she could make sense of it, the idea grew wildly out of control, eventually leading to an explosion. It must have been a bad idea." The doctor diagnosed Mom as having died from an aneurysm in her brain artery. Her Joy Luck Club friends said she "passed away" quickly, like a rabbit zipping away. Originally, she had planned to host the next round of the Joy Luck Club gathering. Just a week before her death, Mom proudly told me, "Last time at Aunt Linda's, she made a red bean soup. This time, I'll show them a treat—making a sesame paste for them to try." "What's so special about that?" I said. "It's nothing special," she replied, "They're almost the same." In fact, what she really meant was "They are completely different." This is a Chinese-style word game, a playful display of verbal skill. It actually confuses two fundamentally opposite concepts. In China, great attention is paid to wording and phrasing—even when expressing disagreement, one must strive to be tactful and indirect, avoiding abruptness. I will never master this art.
As early as two years before my birth in 1949, my mother had the idea of starting a Joy Luck Club in San Francisco. That same year, my parents left China with only an old suitcase filled with qipaos. It wasn't until they were on the ship that my mother explained to Dad that there was simply no more room to pack anything else. Despite this, Dad futilely rummaged through the stack of cool, smooth silk and satin, hoping to find his cotton shirt and woolen pants. Yet as soon as they arrived in San Francisco, Dad ordered Mom to hide those shiny clothes. From then on, she always wore that brown plaid qipao until later, when a refugee relief group gave her two old dresses. However, these dresses were all American sizes and hung loosely on her, completely ill-fitting. The refugee relief group was organized by a group of elderly Chinese-American women from the local Chinese Baptist Church. Since they had shown them kindness, my parents had no choice but to follow their advice and start attending church. Of course, their guidance was also beneficial to my parents. For example, the Bible study class on Wednesday evenings and the choir practice on Saturday mornings helped them improve their English. It was through these interactions that my parents met the Xu, Gong, and St. Clair families. In their dealings, my mother felt that the women in these families also had their own hidden pains—the hopes and dreams left behind in China! However, their English was too poor to express these feelings fully, so they could only keep them locked inside. At least my mother could sense this from their indifferent and melancholic faces. That's why, when she proposed starting a Joy Luck Club, they readily agreed. The name "Joy Luck Club" also traces back to my mother.