Thinking of Names

Names turn out to be subtheme in The Hundred Secret Senses. In this story, part of the name crisis is the search for the lineage name from a part of one's birth family. When the main character has the chance to choose the family surname that fits her best (after her divorce) it is more difficult than she first imagined.  This excerpt covers some of the thinking process that Olivia experienced over naming.

"As I think more about my name, I realize I've never had any sort of identity that suited me, not since I was five at least, when my mother changed our last name to Laguni...." (p. 174)

Olivia wants to change her name back to Yee (what she thought had been her father's name), but her brother discourages her explaining that for him the name caused teasing and that an "hip ethnic" response to the name will be lost because Asians are not part of that trend. He explains that Laguni was a name from a former step-father that was an appellation given by nuns to orphans in Italy, but that most people mistakenly think the name originated in Mexico. To complicate matters, her older sister Kwan explains that Yee was a "stolen" name not the original family name.

The internal and social conflicts over names and how people "read" names in order categorize and how names provide or do not provide a sense of self is thought-provoking and a theme to look for in other fictional and academic work.

Reference

Tan, A. (1995). The hundred secret senses. NY: Ivy Books.

Passage from The Hundred Secret Senses by Amy Tan

"She wasn't like the ghosts I saw in my childhood. She was a billion sparks containing every thought and emotion she'd ever had.  She was a cyclone of static, dancing around the room, pleading with Simon to hear her. I knew all this with my one hundred secret senses.  With a snake's tongue, I felt the heat of her desire to be seen.  With the wing of a bat, I knew where she fluttered, hovering near Simon, avoiding me. With my tingly skin, I felt every tear she wept as a lightning bolt against my heart. WIth the single hair of a flower, I felt her tremble, as she waited for Simon to hear her.  Except I was the one who heard her--not with my ears but with the tingly spot on top of my brain, where you know something is true but still you don't want to believe it.  And her feelings were not what came out of Kwan's well-meaning mouth.  She was pleading, crying, saying over and over again: "Simon, don't forget me. Wait for me. I'm coming back."

Click to read more ...

Article on poverty and families and life in Arizona

http://www.nytimes.com/2012/04/08/us/welfare-limits-left-poor-adrift-as-recession-hit.html?ref=todayspaper

When the Drum is Beating April on Independent Lens

This will be a good film about community resilience in Haiti. The documentary will be shown starting on April 12 on PBS Independent Lens.

http://www.itvs.org/films/septentrional

Part Two: The Blood of Flowers by Anita Amirrezvani

This particular excerpt from the book well exemplifies Mihaly Csikszentmihalyi’s concept of the psychology of flow. The main character has become well-skilled at the art of rug production (in a deeper analysis in a future blog entry I will explain this skill development through Jean Lave and Etienne Wenger’s idea of “legitimate peripheral participation” that will also tie into learning, generally).  At another point, the character’s dedication to her art is noticed and praised by her uncle who says, “Mash’Allah! Neither earthquakes, nor plagues, nor misery will ever stop you from making carpets that delight the eyes” (p.347).  Later that same day, the rug maker works surrounded by difficult and poor conditions and still reaches productivity.

            After we ate, the others took up household tasks, while I turned my attention to knotting the new feathers carpet.  It was much easier this time, for I knew the pattern well and had chosen colors based on Gostaham’s [her uncle’s] criticisms of my first attempt, in an effort to make the design seem even more delicate.  I took great pleasure in the work.  My fingers seemed to fly over the knots like birds skimming the surface of a river, and the carpet flowed from under my fingers like water.

            It was hot in the courtyard, and I had to wipe away the sweat from my brow.  From time to time, my mother bought me water mixed with the essence of roses to refresh me.  But I was intent on what I was doing and forgot about the children in the courtyard and the sound of braying donkeys bearing their burdens down the street.  It was as if I were living within the surface of the carpet myself, surrounded by its soothing colors and its images of eternal tranquillity [sic]. Lost in its beauties, I forgot the misery around me.  At nightfall, my mother had to pull me away from my work and remind me that I must eat, rest my hands, and stretch my limbs” (p. 347).

In this passage, she loses sense of time and place, finds fulfillment in her work and almost seems to live within what she creates. As in flow, she contentedly remains absorbed in the activity of knotting the rug.

References

Amirrezvani, A. (2007). The blood of flowers. NY: Back Bay Books.