An essay I wrote for Asian American Literature where I compare Bulosan’s short story How My Stories Were Written and Phan’s Emancipation. Both short stories discuss storytelling and stories. I examine the idea of story ownership with Bulosan’s ideas about story ownership in mind.
Choose two passages that offer contrasting depictions of a similar subject (for example, familial relationships, storytelling, art and politics, migration, etc.). What is the significance of the differences? Rather than argue that one is somehow a “better” representation than the other, consider how they complicate each other and/or our understanding of the topic.
Separating fact from fiction, reality from fantasy is a job that everyone is tasked with in all aspects of daily life. Even when reading fiction, readers may be asked to question the accounts of unreliable narrators in order to establish the “true” fictional reality. After all, viewing a story as real or fake affects one’s interpretation of the story. Thus, effectively managing a reader’s skepticism, attention, and feelings is critical to successful storytelling, but it is not often outright discussed by writers. Interestingly, Bulosan, in “How My Stories Were Written”, manages to discuss this aspect of storytelling by telling a story about the blending of reality and imagination in his own stories. The issues of fact and fiction that Bulosan discusses emerge in Phan’s “Emancipation,” in which Mai, a bookish high student, struggles with her misleading admissions essay. While it is possible to address the works in conjunction on these terms, doing so would ignore Bulosan’s ultimate point in his essay. In “How My Stories Were Written,” Bulosan introduces a third dimension to the discussion—collective ownership. Though the possibility of a story’s shared ownership is not actively addressed in “Emancipation,” Mai’s essay may be used to demonstrate Bulosan’s portrayal of collectively owned stories. To do so, this essay first analyzes “Emancipation” in terms of this dimension of ownership, demonstrating that Mai’s essay may be characterized as a shared stored between Mai and Kim. This perspective introduces a new reading of the events in “Emancipation”. Furthermore, treating Mai’s essay in “Emancipation” as a shared work offers a warning to readers that Bulosan’s “shared” narratives may not be an accurate portrayal of these stories.
Before addressing “Emancipiation,” it is necessary to understand Bulosan’s idea of shared ownership, which he introduces in “How My Stories Were Written,” in relation to the ideas that stories may be true or false. This understanding may be gained from a structural analysis of Bulosan’s essay. In “How My Stories Were Written,” before Bulosan dives into his story about the old man in his childhood, he notes that many of his writings are based on his friends, his family, and his own experiences as well as Filipino folktales, writing, “I humanized my legendary and folktale characters, so that reading them, it would be impossible to determine which is fact and which is the flight of imagination” (11). It is particularly interesting that Bulosan describes his “humanizing” as blurring the line between fact and imagination because it implies that either the folktales are the imaginative aspect or that the folktales are the fact. This distinction is left to be ambiguous to the reader, which causes this description to have its own described blending together of two opposing concepts. As such, Bulosan raises the issue of legitimacy and then presents his embedded story, causing the reader to be wary of his story’s authenticity. In addition to priming the reader to be wary of this mixing of fact and fiction, Bulosan begins his story in a manner that increases the skepticism of the reader through the repetitive use of the phrase, “It is true.” This constant reassurance does little to placate the reader’s doubt given its almost comedic level of reuse. But the use of the personal pronoun “I” seeks to create this combination of fact and fiction; after all, readers are inclined to believe the same person who previously had been revealing his writing techniques. As such, this embedded story becomes perceived as a mix a folktale and Bulosan’s reality in the reader’s mind, exactly as Bulosan describes. However, this entire perspective is then shattered by the conclusion of the story, forcing the reader to reconsider it.
Bulosan makes the following conclusion, “I do not exactly know which were the words of the old man of the mountains and which are mine. But they are his tales as well as mine, so I hope we have written stories that really belong to everyone in that valley beautiful beyond any telling of it” (13). Bulosan presents the idea that the stories that he writes may not actually fit in the typical gray area of fact or fiction but rather as a third category of shared story that is not true, as it might not be Bulosan’s own story, nor is it necessarily false, given that it might have occurred to someone else. Introducing the concept of ownership into the picture introduces a new potential perspective on the meaning of the story. This is because, regardless of whether one views a story as fact or fiction, one still views the message as the author’s own. However, viewing a story as a shared work, not necessary owned by the author, potentially alters the story’s message. After all, if a story is shared, it is unclear whose message is being communicated and it would be difficult to understand the story based on knowledge about its storyteller.
It is this third perspective that may be applied to Phan’s “Emancipation,” a text that already presents the first two perspectives of fact and fiction very clearly. Mai and Huan have a conversation in which Mai admits that she made up her college admissions essay, implying that she is taking advantage of her situation. Huan provides Mai with an easy, unsatisfying explanation for her actions, which Mai rejects. Despite this sound rejection, readers are wary, just as they were wary of Bulosan’s story, of readily accepting Mai’s account. After all, readers know that Mai’s statement that she never thinks about her mother is not literally true—Mai and Kim used to have a nightly ritual in which Mai attempts to recall details about her mother for Kim. Additionally, the passage that follows the description of their nightly ritual offers compelling evidence that the essay is not simply born of Mai’s imagination.
The structural final paragraph of “Emancipation” suggests that it has two potential functions. If readers reasonably interpret the first paragraph as part of Mai’s essay, the final paragraph’s placement and style suggests that this paragraph functions as the conclusion of Mai’s essay. On the other hand, its direct placement after the description of Mai recalling details of her mother for Kim suggests that this paragraph could have been Mai’s description of her mother to Kim. This ambiguous, perhaps dual purpose, nature of the last paragraph reinforces the disjunction previously highlighted. Mai has thought about her mother because she needed to when telling Kim her memories. Thus, Mai’s essay occupies a place between fact and fiction for the readers. One may then consider how Mai’s essay being true and false affects her ultimate message. However, given these similarities between Mai’s essay and Bulosan’s descriptions of his own writing, it is worthwhile consider whether it is valid to apply to Bulosan’s third perspective to the essay.
In order to consider Mai’s essay a shared creation, collectively owned by others, it is necessary to identify signs that Mai borrows and incorporates others into her essay as Bulosan does. First, consider the ambiguity of the last paragraph. It is implied that Mai’s essay claims that Mai frequently thinks about her mother. This claim can be considered to echo Kim’s experience, a comparison that is created by the placement of the last paragraph. The description of Mai and Kim’s nightly ritual suggests that Mai wrote about thinking about her mother in the same way that Kim thinks about hers. Next, consider the content of the last paragraph. Assuming that the last paragraph is part of Mai’s essay, which is reasonable given its italics and placement, it suggests that Mai incorporates Kim’s qualities into her essay. Consider Mai’s description of her mother with the descriptions of Kim. Mai writes, in the last paragraph, “I believe she was beautiful. She looked like what I hope to look like when I grow up. Long, shiny black hair, small shoulders, golden skin, thin, elegant hands. She could have been more than what became of her” (171). Here, Mai compares herself to her mother in terms of appearance. This may be a product of Mai’s personality quirk of critiquing her own appearance, as vocalized by the narrator, who comments, “Mai didn’t like people looking at her. She excelled in academics, not appearance. When people stared, she assumed she didn’t measure up, and Mai hated feeling inadequate, especially for things that were out of her control. She’d given up long ago trying to appear pretty” (146). However, it seems that Mai does not compare her appearance to just anybody. Despite having dinner with Tiffany and Huan, presumably in relatively respectable attire, there is no mention of Mai comparing herself to Tiffany. However, Mai constantly compares herself to Kim. The first occurrence happens after the speech, when Mai talks with Kim in the parking lot. “Though sweaty and tired, Kim still looked beautiful. Mai caught her own inadequate reflection in the car window and looked away” (150). Similarly, at Kim’s party, this interaction occurs. “Hey, Kim said, emerging from the crowd. She wore a glittering dark blue halter, slim black pants, and an unusually big smile on her face… Mai tugged at her lavender dress self-consciously. What seemed appropriate for dinner felt silly and childish now” (160). The similarity in description between Kim and Mai’s mother does not simply stop at appearance. Mai characterizes her relationship between herself and Kim and her mother similarly. Consider the following line in Mai’s essay, “She could have been more than what became of her” (171). Mai’s sentiment about her mother is mirrored by her sentiment about Kim. They have a fight revolving around that sentiment at Kim’s party, “Honey, it’s not that great, Kim said, leaning on Luan, barely able to stand anymore. Mai took a breath, suddenly aware of everyone’s eyes upon her, waiting for her to crumble. She focused her gaze on Kim. And how would you know?” (164). Steeped in language about expectations and performance, this passage reveals Mai’s feelings about Kim’s life trajectory. Mai’s belief that Kim’s life should have been better and that Kim should have been the lucky one manifests itself in Mai’s belief that Kim is perpetually stuck in life, never advancing. Thus, replacing Mai’s mother in the final paragraph with Kim makes the essay’s message even more vivid. Mai writes, “Because she never had any of these things, I will take them for her. I will live the way she should have” (171). To borrow Bulosan’s language, Mai has taken the folk tale of her mother and humanized it with her experience of Kim, making her essay a story belonging to both herself and Kim.
Characterizing Mai’s essay as a collectively owned story between Mai and Kim changes the understanding of Mai’s actions in “Emancipation.” Little, seemingly innocuous actions that once escaped scrutiny need reevaluating. Twice, Kim asks to see Mai’s essay and is unable to. Kim being unable to read a work that may be said to be partially hers suggests a few conclusions. It may be viewed as Mai’s choice to actively prevent Kim from reading her essay because she is too embarrassed or too afraid of Kim’s judgment. This conclusion would be reading warranted by the text given that Mai does not enjoy scrutiny and Kim claims that she can tell when Mai is lying. Mai may be too afraid that Kim may see her essay as borrowed and feel betrayed. Kim being unable to read the essay may also suggest that shared stories are not really collectively owned. Kim has no say in her portrayal in Mai’s essay. Kim has no say is how her story is told, for what the purpose telling the story is trying to achieve, or even whether the story should be told. These contradictions may dissuade a reading of Mai’s essay as a shared story. But this conclusion is actually a comment about Bulosan’s characterization of shared stories.
Despite Bulosan’s claim that his stories really belong to those people that he draws inspiration from or features in his stories, readers should be wary of this claim. As Mai’s essay in “Emancipation” demonstrates, shared stories are not equally shared. The storyteller controls every aspect of a story, from its form to its purpose. While Bulosan’s sentiment embodies a unifying, wonderfully appealing message, Bulosan finds himself in a position of power and is able to be generous with his words of ownership. After all, Bulosan is the storyteller. Bulosan’s idea of a shared story is vastly differently from a truly shared good or resource. Rather, Bulosan’s shared story is shared only in the sense that everyone who contributed to it may claim some responsibility for its creation. Ultimately, however, they must trust the storyteller’s judgment because their input ultimately does not matter.
As demonstrated, Bulosan’s conceptualization of a collectively owned story may be applied to Phan’s “Emancipation.” Characterizing Mai’s essay as a shared story, belonging to both Mai and Kim, offers a different perspective of Mai’s character. Furthermore, this characterization exemplifies some limitations of an ideal shared story. Though Bulosan may conceive of his stories as shared creations that he uses to open the hearts of his fellow man, this will not always be the case. Rather, a story caters to the whims of its author. Understanding the author may be one crucial component to fully understanding a story’s implications.
You use a (possibly coy) claim from Bulosan to think about the relationship between two Asian American authors and the “shared” or collective stories they present to the world. I don’t really have a “thing to fix” problem with this paper (sometimes I think in your methodical approach to writing, you include some unnecessary “groundwork-laying” sentences, and you could be just a little more economical at times, but that’s not a big deal). I do think there are angles to the subject you could have addressed, which would be interesting to think about: 1. Bulosan writes as himself, but with that destabilizing turn that makes you wonder if he IS being direct with the audience, while Phan is writing a third person narrative about Mai’s essay, which she uses to make a rather subtle and, again, uncertain critique. The techniques they use to ask questions about the author’s position re: collective ownership of stories is really different, and I’d like to see you think through those choices. What do you make of the distance between Phan and Mai? 2. Bulosan may be casting doubt on the “sharing” relationship of collective stories, but he does still write from a left-wingy perspective, and with clear collectivist political aims; Mai (who is, again, a character and not a person) is writing a collective story for direct personal gain. How do these differences inform the reading you’re making? 3. These authors write about similar themes, but at very different historical moments; what do you make of the gap between Bulosan writing in the 1930s and 40s and Phan writing in the 90s?