One of three essays written for the final for Asian American Literature where I write about how the editor’s of Aiiieeeee might view the comments a characters makes in Le’s short story Love and Honor and Pity and Pride and Compassion and Sacrifice.
Out of the short stories we read for the class, I think Nam Le’s might have been some of my favorite because of how different I felt they were. This essay also discusses some of the other topics we talked about in class besides the actual content of the literature themselves. Asian American literature is a poorly defined category of literature and there is a consistent discussion about what qualifies as Asian American literature and why it matters in social, cultural contexts. This essays touches a little about how and why that matters.
Final essay prompt lost
In Nam Le’s short story, “Love and Honor and Pity and Pride and Compassion and Sacrifice,” the main character, named Nam, struggles with writing his final work for the Iowa Writers Workshop. He ultimately decides to write about his father. The short story also features, in a bit of meta-irony, a friend character who bemoans the very ‘ethnic literature’ that Nam ends up writing. Nam’s friend’s angry characterization of ethnic literature as boring, exploitive, and formulaic might be considered sacrilegious to those who view ethnic literature as an important mechanism for allowing traditionally marginalized members of society to express themselves—for instance, the editors of Aiiieeee! An Anthology of Asian-American Writers and The Big Aiieeeee! But rather than be completely offended by Nam’s friend’s comments, the Aiiieeeee! editors may sympathize with some of his sentiments. After all, it was their anger about the state of Asian American literature that drove them to publish two anthologies of Asian American literature. The anger that both Nam’s friend and the Aiiieeeee! editors express may be said to be directed at market forces, those that determine what sells and what does not. Unfortunately, anger by itself is not capable of changing systems, a fact that the Aiiieeeee! editors recognize. Thus, while they may agree with some ideas expressed in Nam’s friend’s drunken ramblings, they are likely to respond by demanding that Nam’s friend do his part by seeing ethnic literature in its various shades and qualities, rather than characterizing ethnic literature as a monolithic category.
In the prefaces to both Aiiieeeee! and The Big Aiiieeeee!, the editors’ complain about the types of literature that are used to characterize Asian American writing and the Asian American experience. In 1974, the targets of their tirade included literature that perpetuated the stereotypes associated with characters like Charlie Chan and Dr. Fu Manchu. The editors sought to make a clear distinction between Asian-American writers and Americanized Chinese writers, who they saw as betraying the Asian American identity by consciously choosing to become American. They wrote that “Becoming white supremacist was part of their consciously and voluntarily becoming ‘American’” (“Aiiieeeee” x). After all, being born and raised in America offered a certain Asian American sensibility. The situation in 1991, from the viewpoint of the editors, was not much better. The editors found that “The American-born, exclusively English-speaking Asian Americans were dominated by the Christian vision of China as a country without a history and philosophy without substance” (“Big Aiiieeee” xi). The American sensibility seemed to have been corrupted by an inaccurate, culture-wide portrayal of China. Furthermore, the editors lodged complaints about the state of the publishing industry, stating that “the Chinese and Japanese American writers who write from the real, instead of ventriloquizing the stereotype, are pariahs and their writings are virtually underground, writings that are under siege by literary Gunga Dins and their white Park Rangers” (“Big Aiiieeeee” xv). Nam’s friend is also angry about the state of the market.
In his complaints, Nam’s friend complains about the looser standards set for ethnic literature, implying that ethnic literature is easier to publish. If the grievances that Nam’s friend and the Aiiieeeee! editors express are only considered in a market setting, they are one and the same. After all, Nam’s friend protests ethnic literature presumably because of the attention it garners from agents. Nam Le frames Nam’s friend’s complaints with a series of comments by literary agents about the popularity of ethnic literature. “Ethnic literature’s hot. And important too” (Le 10). One may imagine that Nam’s friend would not raise the issue if ethnic literature were not as successful. Indeed, this puts Nam’s friend, seemingly, on the same side as the Aiiieeeee! editors who feel that the successful Asian American writing does not contain artistic content that merits their publishing success. In fact, it is likely the Aiiieeeee! editors would much prefer writing about Faulkner’s “old verities” rather than the “Christian social Darwinist” (“Big Aiiieeeee!”) Asian American literature than they have been reading. But whereas Nam’s friend’s comments are directed solely at market behavior, the editors of Aiiieeeee! are angry about much more.
The Aiiieeee! Editors would take issue with Nam’s friend indiscriminately condemning all ethnic literature. Indeed, market forces may be at fault for the publishing of stereotypical, flat novels, but not all ethnic literature is stereotypical, flat novels. This distinction is at the heart of the Aiiieeeee! editors complaints, but is lost on Nam’s friend who comments, “but that’s why I don’t mind your work, Nam. Because you could just write about Vietnamese boat people all the time. Like in your third story… You could totally exploit the Vietnamese thing” (Le 10). Nam’s friend casts all ethnic literature into the same dry, boring bucket and decries its success. The Aiiieeeee! editors group some Asian American literature into a dry, boring bucket and decry its success. But whereas the editors seek to actively promote real Asian American literature, Nam’s friend does not separate the good from the bad.
Though Nam’s friend is merely a character in a story, real anger like his is very much anger for its own sake, regardless of how accurate the claims may be. The anger that the Aiiieeeee! editors would much rather put on display is anger that is channeled towards a greater cause—in their case, good literature. Perhaps rather than simply bemoaning the state of affairs in an economic system that is, ultimately, a created system, it would be more productive to take a note from Aiiieeeee! by creating rather than simply complaining.