A Wife's Story and American Dreamer (with sprinkles of Brenda's own thoughts).

In-class poem from a while back:

People strive for one of three things in life: Jesus, jobs, or justice.
But the bitterness and despair obliterates the light at the end of the tunnel that encompasses the three leaving an endless pit of darkness. But, I am happy.

So my demise lies in the skies, not within the anger I have for my boss--who lacks a job. My life is fairer than the skin of the one you left me for--how's yours? I was just wondering, because my perception of you is still confused by your devilish smile. And though I would have loved the situation to turn out differently, it didn't. Now I'm faced with the job of loving someone I have no respect for. Are you sad? I hope not. I hope you find Jesus. I did. I mean, I hope you get that job. I did. Sorry, I mean, I hope life treats you fairly. Because, I am happy.

I don't judge...maybe I do. To each his own, right?

(now that I re-read, it wasn't that great. oh well.)

Few comments on the ending of The Stone Reader:

As we passed the book around, I wanted to open two random pages and just start reading. I ended up opening the same page twice. One phrase stood out: "perfect nightmares". I have been thinking about this oxymoron since I left class. Is it even an oxymoron? I don't know. Just not the way I have ever heard a nightmare described. Anyway, about the movie. I love how Mossman stated that to the reader the book might be finished, but to him the story could continue on which leaves me thinking, why not just write a part two? I think people with his sort of "autistic" mindset are incredible thinkers and to hear them explain different scenarios is mind-boggling. It reminds me of the movie "A Beautiful Mind" about John Nash Jr. but on a different level, seeing as Mossman wasn't a schizophrenic.

as for the real assignment:

(I hope nobody takes offense, I feel strongly about the semi-controversial topic of hyphenations.)

So, which came first "American Dreamer" or "A Wife's Story"? I don't know, but I'll examine "American Dreamer" first because it gives the reader a sort of look into Mukherjee's life. Before the actual text even begins, the italicized text makes me realize something I had never thought of. "I am an American, not an Asian-American." Wow! Before I let the author explain herself, I am going to target this from so many different angles. First, being a Nigerian-American to me always makes me proud. It's like finding a buy one, get one free sale on your favorite cookies at BI-LO! But, maybe my situation is different because I was born here. Now, if you asked my father, who was born in Nigeria and had to "prove to the US government" like Mukherjee that he would be a law-abiding citizen, on any given day I believe he would claim his Nigerian identity. It makes him different. But in the presence of government forms, he is definitely an American (don't try and tell him he has an accent after living here 21+ years!). Secondly, being a Nigerian-American would classify me as an African-American, which in America is the friendlier version of black. But when I feel the need to be specially categorized, I prefer black over African-American, and I can't say that I have never chosen other and written in black while African-American was a choice. More on this later.

Who knew so much was going on in Iowa?

This "hierarchical, classification-obsessed society" is what I hear about all the time. From my parents, to my Asian friends back home. "A Hindu Indian's last name announced his or her forefathers' caste and place of origin." In most of the world, the last name tells it all. Watching basketball games with my parents and hearing names like Andre Iguodala would start a huge conversation. They start yelling what tribe his parents must be from and how much money they know his father has. It gets crazy. One's name and reputation are extremely valued. It must have been discouraging for the author knowing that "to remove oneself from Bengal was to dilute true culture". In Nigeria, everyone wants to escape to the US, but maybe this was not the case because they lived an "upper-middle-class life in Bengal". She was trying to "negotiate the no man's land between the country of [her] past and the continent of [her] present". Great symbolism! The paragraph stating "I am a naturalized U.S. citizen...not by simple accident of birth" rubs me the wrong way. I guess because my parents were "economic refugees" as she would call it. But, it's good that she loves America so much that she just happily left a good life in India to pursue a lifestyle here. But, part of me doesn't believe this paragraph. I do agree with the statements that come afterword.

Her opinions on the "phantom "us" against a demonized "them"' reminds me of one of the men that Chris Offutt caught a ride with. I think it's funny how globalization works. To me, America lacks culture. As for past decades, there was a tad bit of our own "sense of style", but now I think we are just made up of a little bit of everyone else's culture. While everyone wants to be like us, we are trying to be like them. I've had many discussions like this in my political science class. It's simply because the world comes to America and happens to leave its mark. I agree with her cautiousness of the "us" vs. "them" mentality. It has caused a lot of problems in not only American history, but world history.

One last point to hit: "Why is it that hyphenation is imposed only on nonwhite Americans?" Believe it or not this statement rocked Clemson's campus nearly two weeks ago. On Facebook, where most students get invited to any on-campus event, an open-ended invitation was sent out to everyone inviting them to the first Clemson Black Student Union mixer. The CBSU was not created to spite any non-black person and non-blacks were invited to the event. But, a student took it upon himself to create an event that stated "for every all black event, [he] would create an all white event". This started an uproar with threats and everything. I was shocked. He even mentioned things like retribution for slavery, and all the creators of the original event wanted to do was help students have a chance to come together at a predominately white university. Futhermore, he mentioned that there were no "true" African-Americans on campus, and that's when I had to express my feelings. He claims that African-Americans should drop the African hyphenation in order to fully embrace their American pride. So the question is: is it imposed on nonwhites or do nonwhites choose it? I think everyone has the ability to choose what they prefer. I like the fact that she stands up for what she believes she has "earned". And in America, she has the right to define herself in any way.

In "A Wife's Story", I cannot say I was not a fan of the immediate dislike of "Glengarry Glen Ross". Maybe her reaction was a little more exaggerated as far as writing the author, but I would take offense as well, especially if I was of the ethnicities mentioned in the play. I would not pay "eighteen dollars to be insulted" (26). I completely understand the ideas portrayed by the character and her pure malice towards "the tyranny of the American dream that scares [her]" (26). As an insider, it is easy to say "insult...is a kind of acceptance", but from the outsiders point of view, it makes them stick out more. On page 27 she describes herself: "My manners are exquisite, my feelings are delicate, my gestures refined, my moods undectable". Maybe that's why her and her husband's relationship seemed so distant. It's as if he is just wanting to see everything like an American tourist and not even caring how she lives or what it has taken to get so acquainted with the country. It seems at times as if he does not appreciate her or what she has accomplished when he simply asks her to come back to India.

I feel her pain, knowing "how both sides feel" (27). She simply just wants to hate one side in order to give all of her love to the other. The main character mentions generational limits that she has progressed through, her grandmother being illiterate. She addresses the American naiive mind that thinks "Indians eat monkey brains" and states how her oriental roommate had her eyes fixed--more globalization? Then on top of that, she states how in America she is "a model with high ambitions. In India, she'd be a flat-chested old maid" (30). Another example of the American dream and how it could change someone's life. An ironic juxtaposition is hidden in the story. Her husband sends her into the office to buy the tickets because "he has come to feel Americans don't understand his accent" (35) then later on when he picks up the phone he says "I am not understanding these Negro people's accents" (40). This just goes to show that anywhere, people will make fun of those that are different from themselves.

The wife is in a odd predicament. She is living in a world so different from the one she used to know, and a husband she barely knows wants her to come back to a world that she is no longer used to. I do not understand the ending of the story. I think she was unfaithful in the relationship, but I'm not positive. I can't wait until the class discussion on this one!

Here's another random poem, I threw it together a week ago and it almost relates to the story and the lack of real relationship but not from the same reasoning (read like a slam):

The hospital is might close to the club.

The club where a booty shakes like the ground in Haiti, where alcohol consumption consumes the minds of many.
The hospital where fighting in the ring against the red with the blood of Him is the only option. Unless you believe in luck. That’s where the ladybugs come in. They say they came in with the flowers, yet they never left. Don’t kill, just vacuum. Flowers die, ladybugs don't. The beeping is constant, always. Some machine or some body failing. Giving up, giving in to the darkness.
Struggle.
Fight.
Lose. But I hope you win.
If not, he’ll go back to that club. Where gin mixed with rum makes a bastard of Carolina. And that bastard keeps the door open until 7 in the morning to sit around with the addicts that don’t have families like his own. The next day he returns without a dollar to his name, yet he complains.
And she is still in the hospital fighting.