American Born Chinese Versions of Reality Quotes

Have you ever felt that you ought to belong to a group only to find out that you've been excluded from that group? That's basically the Monkey King's situation when he tries to attend the party in the heavens and finds out that he's not wanted because he's considered an inferior being. We feel bad for the Monkey King because he's clearly been living on Fruit-Flower Mountain among his fawning monkey subjects for too long and hasn't had a reality check in a while. At the same time though, why does the party—or any group—have to be closed at all?

Jin retells a parable his mother told him right before they moved into their new home in the suburbs. The parable is a pretty funny because it's so obvious that Jin's mother is trying to spin the move to the suburbs as a positive thing, while at the same time repeating the stereotypical immigrant mom spiel about the importance of studying. The sad thing? Her parable is so disconnected from the actual pain and misery young Jin clearly experiences as they drive to their new home (he's got a tear falling and some serious downcast eyes). The whole parable is an example of how difficult it is for Jin's immigrant parents to relate to his reality.

This part describes Jin's first encounter with the herbalist's wife. He tells her about his wish to become a Transformer when he grows up, even though his mother thinks it's a silly dream. Then the old lady lets him in on a secret: "'It's easy to become anything you wish…so long as you're willing to forfeit your soul.'" While we see the truth to what she's saying, we can't help but wonder if forfeiting your soul is the only way—it sounds so unpleasant, right? Another way to look at this problem: Can forfeiting your soul be understood as transforming?

The title page to Chapter Three—"Everyone Ruvs Chin-Kee"—is all about introducing us to the idea of a TV sitcom, so it kind of prepares us for the premises of Chapter Three: that Chin-Kee is a real character and that Danny (a white boy) is related at all to Chin-Kee. At the same time, it's kind of an in-your-face way of projecting the racism in American pop culture back at the reader. Yang definitely doesn't want you feeling comfortable about yourself or the American culture while you're reading Chin-Kee's chapters (or any of the chapters, for that matter).

After the Monkey King forces all his monkey subjects to wear shoes, he goes deep into his cave and isolates himself for a long period of time. His excuse is that he's mastering all these advanced kung-fu moves to strengthen his position as the monkey deity, but you've got to wonder: after being humiliated at the party in the heavens, is Monkey hiding out in order to nurse his wounded ego too?

Another thought: maybe the Monkey King needs to isolate himself to such extremes because that's the only way he can recreate his reality. If he were constantly out and about in the world, he'd be forced to see how everyone else sees him: as a monkey and not as the Great Sage, Equal of Heaven.

The Monkey King and Tze-Yo-Tzuh go head to head, and Monkey tries to prove that he really can escape Tze-Yo-Tzuh's incredibly long reach—he flies past the galaxy and the universe, and even flies "through the boundaries of reality itself." How that works or what that means, we're not entirely sure, but the point is that Monkey is way out there. And yet, even though he appears to have escaped Tze-Yo-Tzuh's grasp, he actually doesn't because the five pillars of gold he reaches (and pees on) end up being the five fingers of Tze-Yo-Tzuh's hand.

Is the book actually that altering or escaping reality isn't really possible? That at the end we're all still dealing with one reality, the one that binds us to this world?

It's really easy to read the scene in which Jin kisses Suzy as Jin's way of repeating what Greg did to him with Amelia. But we think there's more to the scene than just Jin copying Greg's meanness. You might even be able to argue that Jin kisses Suzy out of a momentary feeling of sympathy, synergy… whatever you want to call it. Suzy says some really revealing things to Jin, things that resonate with Jin because he gets bullied too for being a "c****." So when Jin sees Suzy cry, it is possible that he actually feels close to Suzy. The "ZZZT!" and the lightning bolts in panel 108 kind of confirm that he's at least feeling something.

Jin's problem? His feelings are all in his own head, on his side of the panel, not on Suzy's side. He's too caught up in his own misery to consider Suzy's actual feelings or Wei-Chen's feelings—he's in an incomplete reality, if you will. It's a moment of self-absorption that's actually kind of typical for Jin's character.

This scene is all about shock value: Chin-Kee's head bounces off of his body and out pops Monkey's head. It's pretty clear that we've got a major transformation on our hands, but what kind of transformation is it? Since Monkey is a Chinese mythological icon, he replaces the false stereotypes Chin-Kee represents. The Monkey King is a different kind of fantasy, one that's heroic and tough, and also grounded in actual Chinese culture (unlike Fu Manchu, who was a Hollywood creation). So when he appears, it's a sign that Jin's on the path to a new reality, one that more openly includes his Chinese self.

This scene is all about shock value: Chin-Kee's head bounces off of his body and out pops Monkey's head. It's pretty clear that we've got a major transformation on our hands, but what kind of transformation is it? Since Monkey is a Chinese mythological icon, he replaces the false stereotypes Chin-Kee represents. The Monkey King is a different kind of fantasy, one that's heroic and tough, and also grounded in actual Chinese culture (unlike Fu Manchu, who was a Hollywood creation). So when he appears, it's a sign that Jin's on the path to a new reality, one that more openly includes his Chinese self.

The last scenes in the book—Jin's conversation with Monkey, and Jin's reunion with Wei-Chen—are like a return to the mundane world. Once all the wild fighting stops, the drama becomes really subtle and so do the panels. (Well, except when Wei-Chen rolls up in his detailed car with his bass pounding—but that only lasts a couple of panels.) But don't let all that subdued action make you think that things are back to boring for Jin and Wei-Chen.

We think it's pretty important that they end up at a Chinese bakery/cafe/restaurant, drinking a beverage that's about as whimsical as Taiwanese drinks come: pearl (or boba) milk tea. The boys aren't back at school—the domain of white bullies—nor are they back at home, which is the domain of their parents. They're at a place that's a sign of how inventive and resilient Chinese American culture is. Who would expect a Chinese restaurant like 490 in a supposedly white suburb? The ending reframes the book in a new reality that Chinese Americans have refashioned for their own purposes. And that is pretty cool in our book.