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rayliur · 5 years

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Little Fires Everywhere; Everything I Never Told You

“To say that Celeste Ng’s novels have changed my life is an understatement; her works have saved my life.”

by Ray Liu

Follow me on Twitter for more: https://twitter.com/rayliur

No, I’m not being dramatic. They really did.

I first discovered Miss Celeste Ng through Twitter. I believe one of my friends had retweeted her and her tweet made it to my feed. At the time, I wasn’t an avid reader; I barely picked up a book (and this was in 2016). Fast-forward three years, Ng had inspired me--through her two amazing novels--to write my own novel. But my novel isn’t the focus of this blog post.

See, my whole life as an Asian American was atypically strange. I thought it was just me, an individual who didn’t know how to navigate through life. Somewhere inside me longed to see someone--a successful someone--who represented me in this country. I was born in Manhattan, lived in Brooklyn throughout my childhood and early adulthood, and only recently moved to Queens. But I was born here. In America.

But I never read a single book in all my twelve years of school that was written by an Asian American. And as a Chinese-American boy in his teens, I thought that I could never write a book or even be part of the English/literary realm--because no one would want to listen to my stories. Because I am Chinese.

Of course, after high school, and during my journey of self-discovery, I came across works like Joy Luck Club ... that was it. So scratch off that s after “work.” Just work. I was young at the time, so that was not a book I paid attention to or spent time trying to read it or understand it.

There just wasn’t enough authors who looked like me or understood stories like mine.

Over the years, I’ve dealt with issues--personal issues. And they all stemmed from my oddly dysfunctional family. I’ve tried so many ways to express my feelings toward them and about them, but none of them worked. At least not to the extent I thought they would. And I couldn’t just tell them how I felt at the time because, in Chinese households, you just don’t talk about feelings. In fact, therapy is taboo. I screamed inside every day and night--they just didn’t understand what I was going through; that my identity here in this country felt diminished, on the brink of disappearing.

To say that I never thought about death is a lie.

Then I came across Everything I Never Told You by Celeste Ng.

“Ng,” I thought. “Interesting. An Asian-American author. Wow.”

It was at the Amazon Bookstore on 34th that I picked up the book. I was so excited. I had heard of Celeste Ng on Twitter, but never put two and two together until I googled her on my phone that day at the bookstore, and sure enough her bio popped up, including her Twitter page which I had already followed. I read the back cover. “Death!” I was immediately hooked.

The book opens with Lydia, who is dead. It’s not even a spoiler, because the whole story surrounds this incident--how Lydia’s family deals with her death and how her death reveals all the secrets that, in time, consume the family until everything falls apart. The title is elegantly designed. The choice of “I” instead of “She” or “They” had me thinking about the overarching frame of the novel. “I” applies to every character--not just one. Soon, I was swept into the seventies, where Ng takes me through a conservative society that frowned upon interracial couples, marriages, and relationships.

The first scene in this novel that stood out to me--made me rage and cry in joy--is the pool scene where Nathan (the oldest son) is bullied by white kids in a game of Marco Polo. “Chink can’t find China,” says one of the white kids at the pool (Ng 90). Ng unapologetically exposes racism in her novel by using Nathan as a target for these bleach-blond, ignorant white kids. I was Nathan. I had been in his shoes and reading this scene made me cry--not because it triggered horrific memories, but because I’ve finally found an author who gets it--who isn’t afraid to tell the whole truth, raw and with zero sugar coating.

Then there was the theme of death and suicide. Just to be clear, I’ve only thought about death--never did I ever try to harm myself in any way. Just like Lydia. SPOILER ALERT! Skip this paragraph if you haven’t read this book and are planning to read it in the near future. Lydia hates her life; she was always the quiet girl who got good grades (the stereotypical Asian) simply because she was afraid her mother would run away from her family, again. Of course, Lydia had nothing to do with Marilyn leaving. Needless to say, Lydia’s parents really fucked her up, mentally. Relatable? Fuck yes! Reading proses and passages from Lydia’s POV felt so real to me, like I had somehow channeled myself into her head. At the end, when she decides to challenge herself--rowing herself out to the middle of the lake--by swimming back ashore, she gave me hope. That, shit happens but you just have to choose to live and know that things will get better. Lydia dies of course, because she couldn’t swim and thinking you can swim is very different from knowing you can swim.

Not only does Ng break stereotypes in this novel, she bends the old narrative of Chinese Americans in the U.S. and points the fingers back at trashy white folks--all the while doing it with grace and perfection.

Little Fires Everywhere, however, had little takes on the Asian narrative. But that doesn’t mean she didn’t make a powerful statement through the lens of Asian Americans and racism toward Asian Americans. I’ll get to that very soon. This novel opens up with the Richardsons’ house burning down. And yes, this story focuses on a (presumably) white family--very privileged and very perfect in white standards. It takes place in Shaker Heights, Ohio, a town that was built on order and strict city-community planning. The streets are always clean and the color of houses all share one Home Depot swatch palette. Then comes the wild card character Mia Warren with her young daughter Pearl. Ng doesn’t specify Mia and Pearl’s race or ethnicity--but photos of the cast had been released by Hulu (due to the novel being picked up as an original series on the platform--congrats, Celeste!)--and I believe Kerry Washington is going to play Mia. With that little tidbit in my head, I read through the novel picturing Mia Warren as a black woman with a mixed-race daughter. It’s a great dynamic, actually. Mia inadvertently becomes the mirror that reflects all of Mrs. Richardson’s (and her family’s) pretentiousness and overly saturated life. That’s the synopsis.

SPOILER ALERT (again)! Skip this paragraph if you wish to read this book in the near future. Like I said earlier, there’s an Asian-American component to this novel. While drama ensues between the Richardsons and the Warrens, a subplot underlines the novel. Bebe Chow, a Chinese woman from Hong Kong (I believe it was HK), abandons her few-month-old child May Ling in front of a fire station. The city claims the orphan and hands her over to the McCulloughs, who could not have children because of infertility. Bebe puts her life back together again and decides she wants May Ling back--who now goes by Mirabelle, a white name given to her by a white family. Toward the end of the novel, a large chunk of it is dedicated to the court case that decided May Ling’s fate: to go with the McCulloughs or be returned to her biological mother. During that legal battle, Ed Lim comes in (Bebe’s attorney). Ed Lim is my favorite character, so my review here is clearly a little biased. Ng creates Ed Lim to be someone who breaks the stereotype of Asian men. Ed Lim is “six feet” tall, “lean and rangy” (Ng 258). Wow. Ng is a literary god. As Bebe’s attorney, Ed’s job is to win the case of course. He questions Mrs. McCullough regarding how she plans to raise a Chinese baby girl. McCullough replies that she would learn Chinese herself: but she doesn’t even know the difference between the variety of Chinese dialects (Shanghainese, Toisan, Mandarin, just to name a few). Then, McCullough shoots herself in the foot by telling him that she buys Mirabelle a lot of toys--namely a teddy bear. Oh, no--not just any bear. Because Mirabelle is Chinese, McCullough got her Chinese baby a fucking panda bear. I laughed so hard at this point. Ng is a genius. But what’s most important and to be taken seriously in this scene is when Ed Lim asks if Mirabelle has any dolls, you know, because most girls in the nineties had wanted to play with Barbie dolls. McCullough, confident and chest-puffed, answers him. “We buy her dolls ... one of them closes her eyes when you lay her down...” (Ng 261). This was when I knew exactly where Ng is going with this: the eyes. Ed Lim asks McCullough what the color of that doll’s eyes is and she says, “Blue” (Ng 261). He proceeds to lecture her, telling her that the Barbie company does not manufacture Chinese or Asian dolls. There is no doll that represents May Ling. Ah, America. Fucking up children of color since 1776. And Mirabelle would lose touch with her heritage as she grows older. A young impressionable girl without any understanding (real understanding) of her identity is dangerous. Just when I thought Ng was planning on drilling through her novel with the focus on a white and black family, she crashes through the fabric of her story with THIS! Only a true legend and storytelling extraordinaire can do things like this.

In conclusion, Celeste Ng is my hero. Her powerful proses articulate the issues of racism and cultural stereotypes in America, and the [inner] human psyche--all through the telling of interpersonal and small-scale stories--that majorly impacts the world we live in.

I hope you all get a chance to read both of her books. I would definitely recommend starting with Everything I Never Told You. I love her writing style in both novels. The debut novel interchanges between past- and present-tenses, which is refreshing. And Little Fires Everywhere is written in all past-tense, which helps the reader focus more on the story.

So like I said. These books saved my life. Ng gave me relatable characters that I absolutely cannot find elsewhere and plots that had me white-knuckle through both books. I truly hope that schools across the country add at least one of her works into their curriculum because it is THAT IMPORTANT.

Below is an excerpt from Little Fires that I tweeted earlier. It’s pretty self-explanatory. It entirely captured my current situation with my familial issues. And thank you Penguin Books for retweeting it!

(p. 294, 2019 ed.)

(From Twitter)

Thank you, Celeste! Thank you, Penguin, for picking up her works to publish.

Thank you for reading my thoughts on these two works.

Now, off I go, back to writing my own novel.

Ray

#celeste ng #little fires everywhere #everything i never told you #penguin books #asian american #chinese american

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