Maxine Hong Kingston and The Woman Warrior,Amy Tan and The Joy Luck Club

I.Maxine Hong Kingston’s Life and Works

Maxine Hong Kingston(汤亭亭) is a highly acclaimed writer of both fiction and nonfiction .She was one of the first Asian Americans to make it to the top of the literary world in America. Her first book, a memoir published in 1976 called The Woman Warrior: Memoirs of a Girlhood Among Ghosts（《女勇士》）, won the National Book Critic's Circle Award and made her a literary celebrity at the age of 36. Kingston has since written two other critically hailed books. China Men（《中国佬》）, was published in 1980 and also received the National Book Critic's Circle Award. These two books were published as nonfiction. In 1989 Kingston published her first novel, Tripmaster Monkey: His Fake Book（《孙行者》）.

Kingston's father, Tom Hong, and her mother, Chew Ling Yan, were both Chinese immigrants. They operated a gambling house in Stockton, California, when Maxine was born in 1940. Shortly after her birth, the family opened a laundry where she and her five brothers and sisters joined their parents in working long, arduous hours. Kingston attended public schools, where she was an excellent student. After graduation, with the help of scholarships, she enrolled in the University of California at Berkeley, one of the finest public colleges in the country. She at first intended to study engineering, but changed her major to English literature.

Kingston graduated with a bachelor's degree in 1962. In November of that year, she married Earl Kingston, whom she had met in an English course. She earned a teaching certificate from the state of California and in 1965 taught high school for a year in Hayward. In 1967, the Kingstons moved to Hawaii, where Kingston took various teaching posts. From 1970 to 1977, she taught at the Mid-Pacific Institute, a private boarding school. Since 1991, she teaches English Writing in the University of California.

In 1976, her first book The Woman Warrior was published and became an immediate success. In the memoir, Kingston writes of the conflicting cultural messages she received as the daughter of Chinese immigrants growing up in the America of the 1950s. The book also tells the story of the generations of Chinese women that preceded her. The subtitle of the book, Memoirs of a Girlhood Among Ghosts, suggests to the ghosts of Kingston's female relatives and the tragedy of many of their lives, lives lived in the extremely male-dominated society of China.

The Woman Warrior received excellent reviews. Newsweek called it "thrilling" and "a book of fierce clarity and originality." The New York Times termed it "a brilliant memoir." It became a bestseller, was awarded the National Book Critic's Circle Award. It is taught in high schools and colleges all over the country.

Kingston's next book, China Men, was published in 1980. In many ways, it is a companion to her first. In it she describes the Chinese American experience as it was felt by the men in her family. This book, too, received glowing reviews. The New York Times deemed the volume "a triumph of the highest order, of imagination, of language, of moral perception," Kingston was awarded the National Book Critic's Circle Award again.

In 1989, Kingston published her third book, Tripmaster Monkey: His Fake Book.This is her first novel. The story is set in San Francisco in the 1960s and tells of Wittman Ah Sing, a manic, playful, highly verbal young man who is one year out of college. After being fired from his job at a toy store, the irreverent Wittman turns his enormous energies to writing a contemporary epic based on an old Chinese novel. The book was a startling departure for Kingston and confused many readers. Still, critics praised it. The Nation called Tripmaster "less charming [than her memoirs] but more exuberant. Instead of falling into pattern or turning on wheel — there's something inevitable about everything in [her memoirs], something fated — this language bounces, caroms and collides; abrades and inflames. Instead of Mozart, Wittman's rock and roll." Other reviewers compared the main character to Holden Caulfield of J. D. Salinger's landmark Catcher in the Rye and Mark Twain's Huck Finn.

II. The Woman Warrior

1. Plot Overview

The Woman Warrior focuses on the stories of five women—Kingston’s long-dead aunt, "No-Name Woman”; a mythical female warrior, Fa Mu Lan; Kingston's mother, Brave Orchid; Kingston's aunt, Moon Orchid; and finally Kingston herself—told in five chapters. The chapters integrate Kingston's lived experience with a series of talk-stories—spoken stories that combine Chinese history, myths, and beliefs—her mother tells her.

The first chapter, "No-Name Woman," begins with one such talk-story, about an aunt Kingston never knew she had. Because this aunt had brought disgrace upon her family by having an illegitimate child, she killed herself and her baby by jumping into the family well in China.

The second chapter "White Tigers" is based on another talk-story, one about the mythical female warrior Fa Mu Lan. She pretends to be a man herself and leads an army of men against the forces of a corrupt baron and emperor.

The third chapter "Shaman" focuses on Kingston's mother, Brave Orchid, and her old life back in China. To a young Kingston, Brave Orchid's past is as astounding. Many of the images from her mother's talk-story—Chinese babies left to die, slave girls being bought and sold, a woman stoned to death by her villagers—haunt Kingston's dreams for years to come. At the end of the chapter, Maxine visits her mother after being away for many years. The two arrive at some kind of understanding after many years of disagreement and conflict.

The title of the forth chapter "At the Western Palace" refers to another of Brave Orchid's talk-stories, about an emperor who had four wives.  Kingston’s aunt Moon Orchid’s story is told in this part. Deserted by her husband, she can’t live on her own in Los Angeles. She proves wholly unable to adjust to American life and slowly goes insane.

The final chapter of the memoir, "A Song for a Barbarian Reed Pipe," is about Kingston herself. This section focuses mainly on her childhood and teenage years, depicting her anger and frustration in trying to express herself and attempting to please an unappreciative mother. Later in her life, however, Kingston comes to appreciate her mother's talk-stories. It is a fitting conclusion to a text in which Kingston combines very different worlds and cultures and creates a harmony of her own.

2. Themes

The Woman Warrior’s themes are the role of women in Chinese society and growing up Chinese- America.  

2.1 The Role of Women in Chinese Society

Men are conspicuously, intentionally absent from The Woman Warrior. Each chapter focuses on a woman that affects Kingston’s life, and in most cases depicts how that woman relates to the male-dominated society around her. However, it is often not the men themselves who are most oppressive in the memoir, but rather the power of tradition as carried through women. It is women who utter phrases like "better to have geese than girls" to Kingston, women who are pictured destroying the house of No-name Woman, girls who torment each other on the playground in the final chapter. The subtext of Kingston's relationship with her mother and her mother's talk-stories in particular is both empowerment and disempowerment. Her mother tells her stories of female swordswomen and shamans, and is herself an accomplished, intelligent doctor, but she also reinforces the notion that girls are disappointments to their parents, despite what they may accomplish. As a little girl, Kingston feels haunted by the images or ghosts of little Chinese girls whose parents left them to die because they wanted sons instead. Given such conflicting messages, it is no surprise that in Kingston's fantasy retelling of the story of Fa Mu Lan the warrior manages to be everything to everyone, able to satisfy the role of wife and mother while still leading her people to victory in battle. It is the only way—besides leaving home—that Kingston is able to reconcile what she has been taught.

2.2 Growing Up Chinese-American

Though Kinston claims elsewhere that she does not want her memoir to be "representative," it is clear that she is also reaching out to other Chinese-Americans who share her feelings of displacement and frustration. For the first generation born in America, it is especially difficult to reconcile the heavy-handed and often restrictive traditions of the emigrants with the relative freedom of life in America. Being Chinese-American often means that one is torn between both worlds without really being part of either. Indeed, Kingston feels as different from her American classmates as she does from her own relatives. For a woman, this frustration is heightened because many of the typical traits of Chinese women, such as a loud speaking voice, are not considered "American-feminine." Another difficulty in being Chinese-American is that one's cultural heritage is always second-hand, filtered through the lens—or talk-story—of someone else. At the time Kingston wrote her memoir she had never even been to China. Much of the memoir is about the attempt to sort out the difference between what is Chinese and what is peculiar to her family, what is real and what is just "the movies."

3. Select Reading from The Woman Warrior(from Chapter I. No Name Woman)

“You must not tell anyone,” my mother said, “what I am about to tell you. In China your father had a sister who killed herself. She jumped into the family well. We say that your father has all brothers because it is as if she had never been born.

“In 1924 just a few days after our village celebrated seventeen hurry-up weddings ─ to make sure that every young man who went ‘out on the road’ would responsibly come home—your father and his brothers and your grandfather and his brothers and your aunt’s new husband sailed for America, the Gold Mountain. It was your grandfather’s last trip. Those lucky enough to get contracts waved goodbye from the decks. They fed and guarded the stowaways and helped them off in Cuba, New York, Bali, Hawaii. ‘We’ll meet in California next year,’ they said. All of them sent money home.

“I remember looking at your aunt one day when she and I were dressing; I had not noticed before that she had such a protruding melon of a stomach. But I did not think, ‘She’s pregnant,’ until she began to look like other pregnant women, her shirt pulling and the white tops of her black pants showing. She could not have been pregnant, you see, because her husband had been gone for years. No one said anything. We did not discuss it. In early summer she was ready to have a child, long after the time when it could have been possible.

“The village had also been counting. On the night the baby was to be born the villagers raided out house. Some were crying. Like a great saw, teeth strung with lights, files of people walked zigzag across our land, tearing the rice. Their lanterns doubled in the disturbed black water, which drained away through the broken bunds. As the villagers closed in, we could see that some of them, probably men and women we knew well, wore white masks. The people with long hung hair hung it over their faces. Women with short hair made it stand up on end. Some had tied white bands around their foreheads, arms, and legs.

,p>“At first they threw mud and rocks at the house. Then they threw eggs and began slaughtering our stock. We could hear the animals scream their deaths—the roosters, the pigs, a last great roar from the ox. Familiar wild heads flared in our night windows, the villagers encircled us. Some of the faces stopped to peer at us, their eyes rushing like searchlights. The hands flattened against the panes, framed heads, and left red prints.

“The villagers broke in the front and the back doors at the same time, even though we had not locked the doors against them. Their knives dripped with the blood of our animals. They smeared blood on the doors and walls. One woman swung a chicken, whose throat she had slit, splattering blood in red arcs about her. We stood together in the middle of our house, in the family hall with the pictures and tables of the ancestors around us, and looked straight ahead.

“At that time the house had only two wings. When the men came back, we would build two more to enclose our courtyard and a third one to begin a second courtyard. The villagers pushed through both wings, even your grandparents’ rooms, to find your aunt’s, which was also mine until the men returned. From this room a new wing for one of the younger families would grow. They ripped up her clothes and shoes and broke her combs, grinding them underfoot. They tore her work from the loom. They scattered the cooking fire and rolled the new weaving in it. We could hear them in the kitchen breaking our bowls and banging the pots. They overturned the great waist-high earthenware jugs; duck eggs, pickled fruits. Vegetables burst out and mixed in acrid torrents. The old woman from the next field swept a broom through the air and loosed the spirits-of-the-broom over our heard. ‘Pig,’ ‘Ghost,’ ‘Pig,’ they sobbed and scolded while they ruined our house.

“When they left, they took sugar and oranges to bless themselves. They cut pieces form the dead animals. Some of them took bowls that were not broken and clothes that were not torn. Afterward we swept up the rice and sewed it back up into sacks. But the smells from the spilled preserves lasted. Your aunt gave birth in the pigsty that night. The next morning when I went for the water, I found her and the baby plugging up the family well.

“Don’t let your father know that I told you. He denies her. Now that you have started tomenstruate, what happened to her could happen to you. Don’t humiliate us. You wouldn’t like to be forgotten as if you had never been born. The villagers are watchful.”

Whenever she had to warn us about life, my mother told stories that ran like this one, a story to grow up on. She tested our strength to establish realities. Those in the emigrant generations who could not reassert brute survival died young and far from home. Those of us in the first American generations have had to figure out how the invisible world the emigrants built around our childhoods fits insolid America.

The emigrants confused the gods by diverting their curses, misleading them with crooked streets and false names. They must try to confuse their offspring as well, who, I suppose, threaten them in similar ways---always trying to get things straight, always trying to name the unspeakable. The Chinese I know hide their names;sojourners take new names when their lives change and guard their real names with silence.

Chinese-Americans, when you try to understand what things in you are Chinese, how do you separate what is peculiar to childhood, to poverty,insanities, one family, your mother who marked your growing with stories, from what is Chinese? What is Chinese tradition and what is the movie?

Questions for Discussion:
1.. Kingston is frequently frustrated by the ambiguity of her mother's talk-stories. In what ways, however, might she be said to use talk-story to her advantage?
                          

II. Amy Tan’s Life and Works

Amy Tan(谭恩美) is the author of The Joy Luck Club(《喜福会》), an internationally bestselling novel which explores the relationships between Chinese women and their Chinese-American daughters. She is also author of The Kitchen God’s Wife（《灶神娘娘》）, The Hundred Secret Senses（《通灵女孩》）, and two children’s books. Recent works include the novel The Bonesetter’s Daughter（《正骨师的女儿》）.

Amy Tan was born in 1952 in Oakland, California. Both of her parents were Chinese immigrants.Her father, John Tan, was an electrical engineer and Baptist minister who came to America to escape the turmoil of the Chinese Civil War. The harrowing early life of her mother, Daisy, inspired Amy Tan's novel The Kitchen God's Wife. In China, Daisy had divorced an abusive husband but lost custody of her three daughters.

Tragedy struck the Tan family when Amy's father and oldest brother both died of brain tumors within a year of each other when Amy was fifteen. Mrs. Tan moved her surviving children to Switzerland, where Amy finished high school, but by this time mother and daughter were in constant conflict.

Mother and daughter did not speak for six months after Amy Tan left the Baptist College her mother had selected for her to follow her boyfriend to San Jose City College. Tan studied English and linguistics. She received her bachelor's and master's degrees in these fields at San Jose State University. In 1974, she and her boyfriend, Louis DeMattei were married. Later they settle in San Francisco.

Tan studied for a doctorate in linguistics, first at the University of California at Santa Cruz, later at Berkeley. By this time, she had developed an interest in the problems of the developmentally disabled. She left the doctoral program in 1976 and took a job as a language development consultant to the Alameda County Association for Retarded Citizens and later directed a training project for developmentally disabled children.

With a partner, she started a business writing firm, providing speeches for salesmen and executives for large corporations. Amy Tan prospered as a business writer. The work had become a compulsive habit and she sought relief in creative efforts. She studied jazz piano. She also began to write fiction.

Her first story "Endgame," won her admission to the Squaw Valley writer's workshop taught by novelist Oakley Hall. The story appeared in FM, a literary magazine, and was reprinted in Seventeen. A literary agent, Sandra Dijkstra, was impressed enough with Tan's second story "Waiting Between the Trees," to take her on as a client. Dijkstra encouraged Tan to complete an entire volume of stories.

Just as she was working on this new career, Tan's mother fell ill. Amy Tan promised herself that if her mother recovered, she would take her to China, to see the daughter who had been left behind almost forty years before. Mrs. Tan regained her health and mother and daughter departed for China in 1987. The trip was a revelation for Tan. It gave her a new perspective on her often-difficult relationship with her mother, and inspired her to complete the book of stories she had promised her agent.

On the basis of the completed chapters and a synopsis of the others, Dijkstra found a publisher for the book, now called The Joy Luck Club. With a $50,000 advance from G.P. Putnam's Sons, Tan quit business writing and finished her book in a little more than four months. Upon its publication in 1989, Tan's book won enthusiastic reviews and spent eight months on the New York Times best-seller list, paperback rights sold for $1.23 million. The book has been translated in 17 languages, including Chinese. The novel was selected as a finalist for the National Book Award and the National Book Critics Circle Award. It received the Bay Area Book Reviewers Award for Fiction and the Commonwealth Club Gold Award. The book has been made into a major motion picture.

Her subsequent novel,The Kitchen God's Wife (1991) confirmed her reputation and enjoyed excellent sales. Since then Amy Tan has published two books for children, The Moon Lady and The Chinese Siamese Cat and two novels The Hundred Secret Senses (1998) and her latest, The Bonesetter's Daughter (2001).Tan wrote beautifully, being incredibly sensitive with her descriptions of the contrast between two very different cultures. Those who are open-minded to the diverse world would thrive inside these stories. Those with mixed backgrounds would be filled with complete understanding.

IV. The Joy Luck Club(电影片段)

1. Plot Review

The plot of The Joy Luck Club is both loose and complex. It is really a group of separate stories woven around the members of a ladies’ club, located in San Francisco Chinatown. The book begins and ends with Jing-Mei telling the story of her mother, Suyuan; she also narrates two additional chapters within the novel. Jing-Mei’s story becomes related to all the others in the novel, for she takes the place of Suyuan in the Joy Luck Club and learns about the past of An-Mei, Ying-ying, and Lindo. Jing-Mei also knows the other daughters.

After her mother Suyuan's death, thirty-six year old Jing-mei (June) Woo joins The Joy Luck Club. The club, which Suyuan founded in China during the war, consists of four women playing mahjong, eating good dinners, and gambling. She restarted the club with three other women her age: An-mei Hsu, Lindo Jong, and Ying-ying St. Clair in San Francisco Chinatown. The four women and their daughters, who are about the same age, grow older together, and each mother and daughter relationship is full of sadness, anger and joy.

The mothers remember their childhood in China. An-mei lived with her grandmother and was forbidden to even speak her mother's name. Lindo's marriage was arranged when she was very young. Lindo made up a story about an angry ancestor who would kill her husband if they stayed married. She was given enough money to go to America and told to keep her mouth shut about their curse. Ying-ying remembers going to a moon festival as a young girl and finding out that the magic and ceremony is often just an act.

The daughters remember growing up with Chinese mothers in California. Sometimes they felt like they weren't Chinese at all, and didn't know how to deal with the Chinese culture in their homes. Waverly was a chess champion, but she quit when she and Lindo fought and Lindo told her it was not as easy to play or not play as she believed. Lena remembers her mother Ying-ying as a meek woman who always wondered what bad thing would happen next. Rose Jordan has some of the same problems with lack of confidence. June Woo remembers that her mother was never satisfied with her: she always wanted June to be a genius, so June was determined to waste any talent she had, just to spite her mother.

The mothers think about their pasts. An-mei remembers that her mother killed herself to make a better life for her children, because in a marriage with four other wives, that was the only way for her children to have any of the benefits from her rich husband (who she was forced to marry, contrary to what her family believed). Ying-ying remembers how she gave up her strength, her will, so that she would no longer be hurt when bad things happened to her. She now realizes that in doing this she has made her daughter weak as well, and resolves to teach her daughter to be strong. Lindo remembers how she came to America, and, looking at her adult daughter Waverly, she sees how similar they are－both inside and out. The book ends with June going to China to meet her half-sisters. Her father is happily reunited with his family. June is at first nervous, but when she meets first her father's family and then her sisters, she sees that part of her is Chinese after all: her blood.

2. The major theme

The major theme in the novel is the difficulty of preserving one’s heritage and culture when one immigrates to a foreign country. Although all four of the mothers (Suyuan, Ying-ying, An-Mei, and Lindo) have terrible experiences in China, they love their native land even after they come to America. When they have children, they try to teach them about China and its customs and traditions. The children, however, are not really interested in the past. Born in America, Jing-Mei, Lena, Rose, and Waverly all want to minimize their Chinese appearance and heritage. They all want to look like and be accepted as Americans. During the course of the novel, each of the daughters realizes the strength and dignity of her mother and, to differing degrees, learns to appreciate her Chinese heritage.

The four mothers all want the best for their daughters. They want them to have all the advantages that America has to offer, but they also want them to live their Chinese heritage and exemplify the Chinese values. All four mothers, however, feel that their daughters have become so Americanized that they have lost their ways. The mothers realize that the daughters struggle with who they are because they have never had to fight or suffer. Life has been easy for them; as a result, they have not built the strength or character that Suyuan, An-Mei, Ying-ying, and Lindo were forced to build because of what they endured in China and what they had to endure as first generation immigrants to America.

The mothers finally tell their daughters about their suffering in hopes of inspiring them and giving them strength. When the daughters begin to appreciate the spirits of their mothers and their Chinese heritage, they become stronger and happier women. In accepting their past and blending it with their present identity, Jing-Mei, Waverly, Lena, and Rose all become more whole people.

3. Selected Reading from The Joy Luck Club(from Chapter 2)

My mother believed you could be anything you wanted to be in America. You could open a restaurant. You could work for the government and get good retirement. You could buy a house with almost no money down. You could become rich. You could become instantly famous.

“Of course you can be prodigy，too,” my mother told me when I was nine. “You can be best anything. What does Auntie Lindo know? Her daughter, she is only best tricky.”

America was where all my mother’s hopes lay. She had come here in 1949 after losing everything in China: her mother and father, her family home, her first husband, and two daughters, twin baby girls. But she never looked back with regret. There were so many ways for things to get better.

We didn’t immediately pick the right kind of prodigy. At first , my mother thought I could be a Chinese Shirley Temple. We’d watch Shirley’s old movies on TV as though they were training films. My mother would poke my arm and say, “Ni Kan”－You watch. And I would see Shirley tapping her feet, or singing a sailor song, or pursing her lips into a very round while saying, “Oh my goodness.”

“Ni Kan,” said my mother as Shirley’s eyes flooded with tears. “You already know how. Don’t need talent for crying!”

Soon after my mother got this idea about Shirley Temple, she took me to a beauty training school in the Mission district and put me in the hands of a student who could barely hold the scissors without shaking. Instead of getting big fat curls, I emerged with an uneven mass of crinkly black fuzz  My mother dragged me off to the bathroom and tried to wet sown my hair.

“You look like Negro Chinese,” she lamented ， as if I had done this on purpose.

The instructor of the beauty training school had to lop off these soggy clumps to make my hair even again. “Peter Pan  is very popular these days,” the instructor assured my mother. I now had hair the length of a boy’s, with straight-across bangs that hung at a slant two inches above my eyebrows. I liked the haircut and it made me actually look forward to my future fame.

In fact, in the beginning, I was just as excited as my mother, maybe even more so, I pictured this prodigy part of me as many different images, trying each on for size. I was a dainty ballerina girl standing by the curtains, waiting to hear the right music that would send me floating on my tiptoes. I was like the Chris child lifted out of the straw manger, crying with holy indignity. I was Cinderella stepping from her pumpkin carriage with sparkly cartoon music filling the air.  

In all of my imaginings, I was filled with a sense that I would soon become perfect. My mother and father would adore me. I would be beyond reproach. I would never feel the need to sulk for anything.

But sometimes the prodigy in me became impatient. “If you don’t hurry up and get me out of here, I’m disappearing for good,” it warned. “And then you’ll always be nothing.”

Every night after dinner, my mother and I would sit at the Fornica kitchen table. She would present new tests, taking her examples from stories of amazing children she had read in Ripley’s Beliefe it or Not, or Good Housekeeping, Reader’s Digest, and a dozen other magazines she kept in a pile in our bathroom. My mother got these magazines from people whose houses she cleaned. And since she cleaned many houses each week, we had a great assortment. She would look through them all, searching for stories about remarkable children.

The first night she brought out a story about a three-year-old boy who knew the capitals of all the states and even most of the European countries. A teacher was quoted as saying the little boy could also pronounce the names of the foreign cities correctly.

“What’s the capital of Finland?” my mother asked me, looking, at a magazine story.

All I knew was the capital of California, because Sacramento was the name of the street we lived on in Chinatown. “Nairobi!” I guessed, saying the most foreign world I could think of. She checked to see if that was possibly one way to pronounce “Helsinki” before showing me the answer.

The tests got harder-multiplying numbers in my head, finding the queen of hearts in a deck of cards, trying to stand on my head without using my hands, predicting the daily temperatures in Los Angeles, New York, and London.

One night I had to look at a page from the Bible for three minutes and then report everything I could remember. “Now Jehoshaphat had riches and honor in abundance and … that’s all I remember, Ma,” I said. And after seeing my mother’s disappointed face once again, something inside of me began to die. I hated the tests, the raised hopes and failed expectations. Before going to bed that night, I looked in the mirror above the bathroom sink and when I saw only my face staring back－and that it would always be this ordinary face－I began to cry. Such a sad, ugly girl! I made high-pitched noises like a crazed animal, trying to scratch out the face in this mirror.

And then I saw what seemed to be the prodigy side of me－because I had never seen that face before. I looked at my reflection, blinking so I could see more clearly. The girl staring back at me was angry, Powerful. This girl and I were the same. I had new thoughts, willful thoughts, or rather thought filled with lots of won’ts. I won’t let her change me, I promised myself. I won’t be what I’m not.

So now on nights when my mother presented her tests, I performed listlessly, my head propped on one arm. I pretended to be bored. And I was. I got so bored that I started counting the bellows of the foghorns out on the bay while my mother drilled me in other areas. The sound was comforting and reminded me of the cow jumping over the moon. And the next day, I played a game with myself, seeing if my mother would give up on me before eight bellows. After a while I usually counted only one, maybe two bellows at most. At last she was beginning to give up hope.

Questions for Discussion:
1.The major theme in the novel is the difficulty of preserving one’s heritage and culture when one immigrates to a foreign country. How is this theme expressed in the selected chapter?


Reference book:
1.Shan Qiang He “Chinese-American Literature”, New Immigrant Literatures in the United Sates, Westport: Greenwood Press, 1996
2.Maxine Hong Kingston,The Woman Warrior : Memoirs of a Girlhood Among Ghosts,Random House, Inc., New York, 1989, pp3-6
3.李公昭主编，《20世纪美国文学导论》， 西安：西安交通大学出版社，2000。