Book Club Blogcheck out this page for thoughtful opinions, reflections, and analyses from book club participants
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Book Club Blogcheck out this page for thoughtful opinions, reflections, and analyses from book club participants
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by Angela Jia and Brian Xu “We start with stars in our eyes We start believing that we belong” — Dear Evan Hansen What is the American dream? Our wildest hopes and greatest goals achieved? Equal opportunity no matter the background nor past experiences? A clean slate to start anew with infinite possibilities? It sounds too good to be true, and for countless immigrants who come to America in hopes of a better life, in hopes of the American dream, maybe it is only just a dream. “But every sun doesn’t rise And no one tells you where you went wrong” — Dear Evan Hansen The immigrants from The Book of Unknown Americans have come to America in hopes of a better life for themselves or their loved ones: Arturo and Alma to provide a better education for their daughter, Rafael and Celia to escape their war-torn home country, Benny to escape poverty, Gustavo to provide for his children, Fito to become a pro boxer, and Nelia to become a theater superstar. In doing so, they were forced to abandon all they knew and build up a life in a foreign place among foreign people. But I keep wondering, was it worth it? Alma doesn’t dare let herself think whether coming to America was worth it because her family has sacrificed so much to be here, and Celia yearns to return to her homeland. Fito gave up on his pro boxer dreams, becoming an apartment manager instead. Nelia couldn’t seize any opportunities to become a superstar; instead, she started her own theater in Delaware. Although Fito and Nelia are satisfied with their life now, I somehow feel that they are only settling, rather than living the elevated life they dreamed for themselves. They are happy, but are they truly more happy than they would have been without coming to America? “When you’re falling in a forest and there’s nobody around. Do you ever really crash, or even make a sound?” — Dear Evan Hansen None of these immigrants had planned to settle down in Delaware, trying to make the most of what life has thrown at them. But no matter how strong their resolve to find some semblance of success in America, factors outside their control continue to beat them down. Arturo lost his job after switching his shift to see his daughter off on her first day of school, losing his visa and his family’s legal status along with it. Rafael lost his job at the restaurant after fifteen years due to the declining American economy. Alma found no support or help from the police when she tried to report Garrett’s assault on Maribel. In fact, the police asked if she was “a pretty girl,” insinuating that such offenses were normal, and stated that it was Alma’s job to protect her, not blame the police. None of these immigrants received any external help when they needed it, as if America turned its back on them when it couldn’t get anything in exchange. The gears of this country keep grinding on, neglecting the immigrants who have chosen this place to be their home. “Have you ever felt like you could disappear? Like you could fall, and no one would hear? Well, let that lonely feeling wash away Maybe there’s a reason to believe you’ll be okay.” — Dear Evan Hansen Like Evan Hansen from Dear Evan Hansen, the characters from The Book of Unknown Americans yearn to be seen, to be heard, and accepted as part of a community. But the pre-existing communities choose to ignore them and fence them out. As a result, although individually, every character suffers from personal hardships and disillusionment, they have created their own community of misfits, finding each other when all others have turned their backs against them. Fito’s apartment building is “an island for all of us washed-ashore refugees. A safe harbor.” When Alma attempts to reach across the sea outside her harbor, she is met with unresponsive waves, and she feels “simultaneously conspicuous and invisible, like an oddity whom everyone notices but chooses to ignore.” But within her community, their shared language is the common thread that binds them together. Although we never really see them exchange stories about their hometowns and pasts, their shared understanding of what it’s like in the present, living as a Latin American immigrant in Delaware, allows them to connect. As Alma puts it, “there was a certain comfort that came with hearing someone speak Spanish, to understand and to be understood, to not have to wonder what I was missing.” These immigrants may have left behind their various home countries, and they may not have yet achieved their American dreams, but they’ve found a home amongst each other in America. about the writer & editor:
Angela (writer) is an avid reader of mostly fantasy, dystopia, and sci-fi, but she is branching out to more non-fiction/realistic fiction novels to learn more about current issues and stories of different life experiences. Outside of reading, she enjoys coding, piano, and watercoloring. Brian (editor) loves to read realistic and historical fiction to gain more awareness of other lifestyles and perspectives. He finds it rewarding to read the viewpoints of those he doesn't get to interact with from day to day. When not reading, Brian enjoys journalism, programming and playing the piano.
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by Asolia Zharmenova & Katie SimpsonIn her TED talk “The Danger of a Single Story”, Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie made a powerful statement about the power of stories She said: “I've always felt that it is impossible to engage properly with a place or a person without engaging with all of the stories of that place and that person. The consequence of the single story is this: It robs people of dignity. It makes our recognition of our equal humanity difficult. It emphasizes how we are different rather than how we are similar. “ Adichie’s speech emphasized the power and necessity to elevate stories of individuals and communities in writing and rhetoric. Personally, I was moved by her words to consider ways in which I often fail to provide space and listen to the stories of those around me; because more often than not, I fill in the gaps in my knowledge with stereotypes so as to avoid facing a simple reality of being human. As we began reading The Book of Unknown Americans last week, many of us expressed the difficulty of keeping up with the multiple perspectives of different characters that are introduced with each chapter. Perhaps, the author Cristina Henriquez chose to place the tone of each perspective in the first person, so as readers we only collect a portion of each character’s story that they have chosen to disclose and recognize the individuality within each story as well as the commonality between stories. It seems that the characters are united by their setting, circumstances, and new cultural identity as they retell stories of their immigration or navigate a new way of life as newly resettled individuals. Though many of the narrators share the experience of immigration, each person's perspective in narrative is filled with individuality. For example, the generational divide between the two main narrators, Alma and Mayor, shapes their experience of migration and of life in America. Where Mayor experiences the “in-between” identity of a young immigrant, Alma experiences the profound displacement of leaving the only home you’ve ever known. Yet both know what it is to be seen as an outsider by the majority culture. Within every apartment is a different collection of intergenerational stories, combined to form a larger community. Now, returning to Adichie’s talk (which I encourage everyone to listen to if you haven't already), what are ways in which we might begin to respect the stories (specifically immigrants), so as not to “deprive them of their dignity”? I think one of the best ways is listening to the voices of those immigrants who came in the former generations. The history of immigration in the United States is far more complex than the “melting pot” narrative. Nevertheless, it is a history worth our study. Policies such as family separation and the attendant news coverage degrades the dignity and right of the migrants themselves as they are reduced to the status of either a parasite or a helpless victim rather than the complex human beings they are. Although it feels as though we can’t do much to help those who are suffering because of their national identity, by keeping ourselves informed we begin to do justice to their full humanity NPR’s This American Life received a Pulitzer Prize for their coverage on the lives of people at the Mexican/US border. Thanks to the efforts of these reporters, we hear first-person accounts of the unique experiences of individual migrants rather than reducing them to anonymous figures. As listeners, although we do not see them, we hear their voices. We hear their stories. And perhaps, we begin to realize not just how our stories are different from those of the migrants, but how they are the same in the human desire for well-being and flourishing. That is the simple reality. With that foundation in mind, and thanks to the work of novelists like Henriquez and journalists like Molly O’Toole and Emily Green, we might become less prone to assuming a single story for all. As we read the first-person accounts of Alma and Mayor as well as other residents in that little community somewhere in rural Delaware, might we consider the interplay of their stories as uniquely individual and fundamentally human. about the contributors:Asolia studied piano performance at a small liberal arts college on the outskirts of Boston, MA. She teaches piano and tutors English and writing on the side. In the future, she hopes to travel more and learn French. |
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