Persky could play a vital role in Rosa’s life. Let’s say he has the POTENTIAL to play a vital role, if Rosa allows it. So far, he hasn’t had much success. Persky is actually the perfect companion for Rosa. How coincidental that “two people from Warsaw meet in Miami, Florida.” Almost destined to meet. How fascinating and serendipitous!!!! Unfortunately, Rosa doesn’t see it that way. It shouldn’t take Persky, a seemingly observant fellow, very long to realize that something is up with Rosa, whose immediate response isn’t one filled with awe or joy or amazement but an indignant: “My Warsaw isn’t your Warsaw.” Not only are they both from Poland and relocated to Miami, but they are also close in age. Probably 999 out of 1,000 men would have beaten feet and gotten out of there as fast as possible. Persky is quite persistent, and on a regular basis throughout the course of the novel.

As the reader and a reader who reads with optimism I feel like Persky is the man for the job; the one who is finally able to pacify the demons. He is warm, good-humored, patient, and understanding. Sensing Rosa’s condition, he is completely honest with her about his past, and tries to relate as much as possible. “My son is over thirty, I still support him.” “If there’s one thing I know to understand, it’s mental conditions. I got it my whole life with my wife.” The empathy doesn’t have the desired effect as Persky had probably wished, but it’s as considerate as can be. She flees the scene, but he makes enough of an impression to warrant a second visit.

           

The second visit, Rosa finds Persky waiting in her hotel lobby, she reluctantly brings him up for tea. My optimism as a reader tingles when she actually agrees to bring Persky into her room. Will this lead to a transformation?!?! He starts off strong, trying to tell Rosa that it is a CHOICE, both for him and for her and for everybody. “I work from a different theory. For everything there’s a bad way of describing, also a good way. You pick the good way, you get along better.” Kind of like a favorite saying of mine: Optimists are right. Pessimists are also right. It’s up to you to choose which one you will be. Finding more Tree stuff in the box triggers a bad episode. What I hoped would be a time and place where these two made some kind of profound connection, instead she turns on him. “I’m not your button, Persky!…You took my laundry….you thief Persky!” Despite the extent to which Persky goes, his efforts have been fruitless. The book ends with probably the most senile act by Rosa the reader has seen yet. She really believes that she can see Magda. Not a good sign for this optimistic reader. It had potential too. Persistent ol’ Persky comes back the next day too, and Rosa calls him up, but I don’t believe he ever makes any progress in helping her; she seems too far-gone. Persky is quite persistent though, and perhaps, if he can convince Rosa to see Dr. Tree, maybe she can find a way to recognize that “all this” is a disease.

The tone is one of fear and hysteria, madness and delirium. The Shawl story represents her most vivid memory. Most are unable to comprehend the unfathomable horror suffered by Holocaust survivors but this is what haunts her mind most. Something so ordinary as a shawl, so simple an object so easily taken for granted, ended up prolonging the life of her child, and serving as a symbol of the preservation of life. It wrapped Magda, leaving her unexposed to the unbearable cold and to the mayhem and terror happening around them. It magically kept her safe like a protective shield; because“she should have been dead already, but she had been buried away deep inside the magic shawl”. It arouses feelings of envy and jealousy from Stella, feelings that a fourteen-year-old girl should never feel toward her baby niece keeping warm in a shawl. So much so that she takes away the shawl, killing Magda. Here Rosa becomes aware that Stella will now forever be cold to the world. “Stella wanted to be wrapped in a shawl, hidden away, asleep, rocked by the march.” At times Rosa is raving: imagining her niece with cannibalistic desires (“She was sure that Stella was waiting for Magda to die so she could put her teeth into the little thighs”), contemplating thoughts of giving away her child to some random village female (“Rosa, floating, dreamed of giving Magda away in one of the villages”). These were the particular events leading to Rosa losing her child, the most poignant of the nightmare in its entirety. She’s starving and mad. Like the studies had targeted, patients that had been exposed to “any extended period of stress resulting from incarceration, exposure, and malnutrition,” such exposures that Rosa had suffered from and continues to suffer from, resulting in the inability to escape from the past in order to resume and carry on some form of normal and stable existence.

She so romanticizes about her childhood in Warsaw, one that was “stolen” away from her by “thieves,” that she is unable to solider on. The difference was created because the actual story is about how she has been affected, how those human injustices had such a derailing effect on her life and it has spiraled out of control into an all-consuming and uncontrollable bitter form of cynicism, leaving no room for any kind of enjoyment. I am about halfway through the book. Perhaps she uses both of these different stories to concoct a way in which Rosa finally comes to terms with her existence and is able to move on with her life. Already she has been introduced to Mr. Persky who makes an honest attempt to reach out and infect her with a more positive outlook on life, letting her know that she isn’t alone with the hurt and the regret (She can go see Michael J. Fox, distinguished lecturer at SCSU and allow his “incurable optimism” to inspire her). Miami isn’t so bad he says, “Nazis we ain’t got, even Ku Kluxers we ain’t got.” Putting things into perspective, he makes a good point that evil is everywhere. He relays his own hardships: “I unloaded on you, now you got to unload on me.” She ends up retreating from Persky's company, but in introducing this relationship, along with this letter from Dr. Tree, the author opens up many possible directions for the novel.

Beneath the monotone surface of writing lurk powerful emotions, suppressed and bound to explode at any minute. I think Otsuka has great success using this writing technique because I can really connect her writing style – which is personified in personality of the family members - in its composed, calm, cool, collected, and almost unaffected nature to the nature of the Japanese people in general. This ‘suffer in silence’ type of being, in which a person is almost in complete control of his/her emotions, is very representative of the Japanese people. Although it appears that the family members become inured to it all, that they will be released from their ‘prison,’ and life will go back to normal. “We would join their clubs…We would listen to their music…We would never be mistaken for the enemy again!” But was just far too impossible; the magnitude of the entire situation and its side effects inevitably go on to affect each member in profound ways.

The repressed and bottled up emotion finally erupts in the final ‘Confession’ chapter of the book. We get our first exposure to the father from the 1^st person vantage point when he cries out that he has finally given up his futile defense and his resistances to admitting guilt to something he didn’t necessary do. Why does he admit guilt?…Because the truth didn’t even matter. Based on his nationality and appearance he would always be guilty until proven innocent. “I’m your worse fear – you saw what we did in Manchuria, you remember Nanking, you can’t get Pearl Harbor out of your mind.” In fact, every Japanese person was guilty by mere association, and this wasn’t short term, these were lingering effects that were to haunt all Japanese people living in America. The father would certainly never be the same and it’s accurate to say the second half of his life was ruined.

In the mother’s many fruitless attempts to get a job she was offered work in a dark and isolated room to keep her hidden from the population. She declines and remarks “I was afraid I might accidentally remember who I was and…. offend myself.” The son, originally wanting to identify with Americans, has no choice but to realize his true nature. “I’m a Jap, I’m a Jap,” he declares. If he didn’t fall back on his Japanese heritage then who could he be? He will now probably carry a strong anger and resentment toward Americans for the rest of his life. The Japanese people left their country, put all their stock in Americanism, were shunned, and now they really had nothing and nobody but themselves. The fact that none of their names are ever mentioned is because they represent the many thousands of other nameless individuals and families that are in the exact same situation. Any attempt to get any kind of closure from the injustices committed to the Japanese wouldn’t happen for a very long time, or maybe never at all.

With regard to emotions, Otsuka’s style is most definitely minimalist. It is minimalist-styled because it needs to be. It needs to be because of the subject content of the real-life events that the story follows. If emotion is included in the family’s perspective, then suddenly, what the United States government is doing becomes unquestionably wrong and abhorrent. Since what the Government is doing is for ‘their own good’ and for ‘their safety,’ there is no need for emotion to be thrown into the story because there is nothing upsetting happening in this novel. This is the technique Otsuka uses to convey the insidious nature of the Government and how they took something inherently wrong, put a spin on it, dressed it up a little bit, and CONVINCED/REASSURED everyone (including themselves) that what they were doing was beneficial for everyone. When reality sets in for the family: the fact that they have been unjustly uprooted from their homes, had their father taken away from them, had just about all their possessions taken away from them and brought into captivity like common criminals; once the emotions took hold of them like it MUST have when it actually happened in the 1940s, when the tears begin to flow, accompanied with sorrow and pain and loss and distress and misery, that’s when it becomes transparently obvious that what the indignant and always good-intentioned Government is doing IS WRONG; BUT! what the Government is doing is just fine and for the Japanese people’s own good, so there’s no room and no need for emotion in this novel.

Push was a novel in which the author wrote with a certain desired effect: to shock and appall the reader, probably hoping to raise awareness and to shed some light on certain aspects of life. Emotion NEEDED to be in that novel and leak out of each character to make it work.

Along with precisely how awful it was to be sent into internment camps, the Government actually was able to make things worse and poured salt on wounds by trying to sell something to the Japanese that told them ‘all of this’ was ‘for your own good.’ Otsuka is trying to do two separate things: tell a story that is unjust in and of itself and show the angle the Government took in justifying its actions. By writing with the ‘muted’ and ‘concealed’ emotion Otsuka accomplishes her goal in conveying how the Government took the insult a few steps further. 

I immediately took a liking to this book because it meshes two of my favorite subjects: English and History. A few years back I read a book titled ‘Snow Falling on Cedars,” which addresses many of the same themes attributed to “When the Emperor.” Reading “Cedars” on its own really introduced things like the strong sentiments of racism in the U.S toward Jap-Americans during and after WWII and the Japanese internment camps. The fact that I hadn’t already been aware of it bothered me a little because I am a huge history buff, and in a sense to where I have a strong desire to need a comprehensive knowledge of all of it in its entirety. They hadn’t covered it in high school, nor had they covered it in any of my few college history courses. It’s pretty scary to think of the government’s censoring abilities. It’s a good thing for literature and journalism to really call to attention and raise awareness to certain things/events that otherwise may just be swept under the rug. A little bit of irony exists too because the U.S. fought in WWII to eliminate oppressive dictators along with their oppressive governments, and tyranny, and despotism etc etc. Then we go about and commit some serious acts of civil rights violations to our own citizens. It was also committed by the administration of one of the United State’s most beloved presidents: FDR.

However, I don’t want to pretend that I intimately know the situation. The rounding up of tens of thousands of innocent Jap-Americans was extremely wrong and in violation of human rights, no doubt about it. December 7^th,  1941- “a day that will forever live in infamy.” On this day, an unprovoked attack by the Japanese killed 2,402 American citizens and wounded another 1,282; this obviously left Americans weary and suspicious of the Japanese living among us. So they assess the threat and their solution becomes these internment camps; a solution decided most likely out of hysteria and paranoia; not the best solution. I see a lot of this stuff just mentioned in the hardware store encounter. It is a very awkward encounter. For two people who have known eachother for so long, the encounter is far from personal, even considering the fact that her family is soon-to-be evicted to an internment camp. Joe Lundy offers what little sympathy he can muster up, which isn’t much; no ‘sorry,’ no ‘this is wrong,’ no nothing. I think this says a lot about precisely how American citizens felt at the time. The mere fact that she was Japanese meant that she was guilty by association. The Joe Lundys would certainly not protest against Japanese relocation because deep down he was upset and betrayed by what happened at Pearl Harbor; he wanted them to pay for it. The woman responds with a “Thank you, Joe.” I think what she is saying here is: “Joe, you know me. You know my family. This has nothing to do with us.” This is her last will and testament.

Is this an American Dream story or the opposite? Is it a story of hope or a story of despair? Or is it not that simple - and why?

It is NOT that simple. The story does have elements of a ‘story of hope,’ the American Dream so to speak, but also it contains elements that liken it to a ‘story of despair.’ The beginning of the book left me paralyzed with feelings of shock and horror. I am very grateful for everything I have and I understand that not everyone is lucky enough to have the same opportunities. With that being said, there is much compassion in my heart, and I make it a point never to judge anyone. But the beginning of this story was so bad that my own personal empathy could not seem to reach that far. The very first line “I was left back when I was twelve because I had a baby with my fahver” reveals horrifically that her father had an incestuous relationship with her, and she is uneducated to boot. Added to the horror is utter disgust when Precious describes some of those particular encounters: “I’m gonna marry you, he be saying…But I keep my mouf shut so’s the fucking don’t turn into a beating.” In addition to all this, we learn that her mother is actually MUCH WORSE than worthless, in her own way of ‘aiding and abetting’ her Carl’s behavior. She also makes Precious wait on her hand and foot because she hasn’t left the apartment in years (wow), nor does she even get off the couch. If this isn’t despair, then I don’t know what is. At this point she makes a decision that really affects the outcome of her future. Despite the hopelessness of her situation, despite the atrocities she has both seen and experienced, she decides to follow up on the alternative school and check it out for herself; and this is where the story morphs into a ‘story of hope.’ Sapphire leaves a quote before the novel begins: “Every blade of grass has its Angel that bends over it and whispers, “Grow, grow.”- The Talmud. Perhaps this describes an innate trait we possess as human beings, a trait that enables us to ‘push’ through adversity to turn something from nothing.

A glimmer of hope presents itself when she meets Miss Rain and begins attending the alternative school. She slowly begins to learn to read and write, and conversely, slowly begins to break free from the constraints that confined her to an assured abysmal future. Most importantly, her attitude begins to change. She reveals, “I’m alive inside. A bird is my heart. Mama and Daddy is not win. I’m winning.” Also, “I think how alive I am, every part of me that is cells, proteens, neutrons, hairs, pussy, eyeballs, nervus system, brain. I got poems, a son, friends. I want to live so bad.” The optimism is a great testimony to how much she has really begun to turn her life around. She has also successfully broken free from her mother’s chains, made new friends who genuinely care for her, and met people who can and want to help her. The future certainly looks bright for Precious. As a reader of this fictional story, I really WANT to believe that Precious will get educated, get some independence, get custody of her kids, and live happily ever after. I’d like to believe that this is, indeed, a ‘story of hope,’ the ‘American Dream.’ However, realistically, let me assess the situation. She needs a place to stay. Exactly how long is she going to be able to stay in the halfway house? How will she support herself and her kid, especially since she is uneducated? How is the fact that she carries HIV going to affect her? She must rely on so much support from government agencies that it almost seems impossible. She needs to give up her son for adoption, and try her best to balance going to school and getting a job; in other words, she needs to focus on herself, like Miss Rain said. This is precisely why it is hard to argue against this story being one of despair, because it seems like Precious is already so far in the hole that she no longer has much of a chance (she never really did to begin with). There is a glimmer of hope, however, and it certainly can be done, but it is going to take ALOT of help (is that help going to be a constant?) and ALOT of perseverance on Precious’ behalf. 

          The voice of Precious definitely changes the way she is seen by the audience. In the beginning, at a point in time where she is the least educated she is going to get, we get a very harsh, in-your-face type of exposure from her character. She is an exact product of her environment at the time. Her thoughts are very restricted only to what she knows; which is what she picks up at home. Her tone of voice suggests she is very alone and confused, confrontational, and angry. She cannot even begin to fathom anything outside of her small little world because she is in such isolation; there is nowhere to go and no means in which to learn and grow. It changes the way others in the community see her and it’s picked up immediately, within the first 2 pages, in her confrontation with the math teacher. But the confrontation stems from her ignorance: “But I couldn’t let him, or anybody, know, page 122 look like 152, 22, 3…all the pages look alike to me. ‘N I really do want to learn.” Because she can’t communicate with teachers in an ideal sense, she puts up a defensive wall, and ends up lashing out in anger. The teacher either doesn’t know the root cause of Precious’s problem, or, more likely, he doesn’t care, maybe because the reputation she already has for being hostile. Her voice also has affected how she is seen by Ms. Weiss, the social worker. Precious has much difficulty opening up and effectively communicating with Ms. Weiss, for obvious reasons. Weiss remarks, “My rapport with Precious is minimal.” Because of this, she is unable to understand that Precious actually has ambition and personal goals in mind (this is speaking in an ideal sense because there is also a huge possibility that Weiss just doesn’t care). Precious is furious when she learns that Weiss just wants to place her in a job taking care of elders.

          Language and emotion are directly connected in the book. Earlier in the book, Precious is just simply unable to convey certain emotions because she doesn’t possess the language skills to articulate certain emotion. As her language skills develop, the more in tune with her emotion she becomes. All these changes begin when she starts her at Each One Teach One. A trifecta of events occur (learning from Each One Teach One, Abdul, and her support group outside her Mama’s house i.e. the other students and Ms. Rain) that finally provide Precious with the means to grow and escape the confines of her past. When she returns home after childbirth she takes the first step in the right direction. She yells “Nigger rape me. I not steal shit fat bitch you husband RAPE me RAPE ME!” She is now able to understand and articulate the fact that none of that stuff was her fault and even mustered the courage to leave her Mama behind. All sorts of new possibilities and doors open up for Precious at her halfway house. Things begin to turn around for her, especially from within, as she finally begins to find some sort of happiness in life. She says toward the end, “I’m alive inside. A bird is my heart. Mama and Daddy is not win. I’m winning. I’m drinking hot chocolate in the Village wif girls- all kind who love. How that is so I don’t know. How Mama and Daddy know me sixteen years and hate me, how a stranger meet me and love.” Certain things she surely still cannot understand due to many years of being broken emotionally/physically/sexually broken down, but through language development and the comfort of friends and more exposure to the world, she is blessed with the ability to gather some form of self-worth and a sense of meaning and purpose, providing a 'foot-in-the-door' for a better future.

I’d like to speak about some things going on in the final chapter. At this point in the story, she speculates by beginning: “maybe I’m trying to render my senseless personal loss meaningful by linking it, however posthumously, to a more coherent narrative.” Here she suggests and tries to open the reader up to the possibility that her father was actually “a tragic victim of homophobia.” In fact, his life was actually a “narrative of injustice”, of repressed “sexual shame and fear.” She suggests that perhaps things would have been different if the times had permitted her father’s homosexuality; instead of condemning it. Maybe if her father had came out in his youth, and hadn’t kept everything bottled up inside, living two completely different lifestyles (externally/internally), than he’d have been spared and would have never had to result to pedophilia. This is really the first time I have seen Bechdel attempt to defend her father’s actions. She then sort of juxtaposes to different pictures of scenes in the 80s (freely hanging up gay-pride posters in NYC and a gay-pride parade revealing slogans like 'baster baby'/chelsea gym/GMHC) where homosexuality has become more of a social/cultural norm; these represent the time period in which she first comes out of the closet, a time where LOTS of people had come out, flaunting their gayness without shame or fear, for the first time in history, really. So, in fact, it was much easier for someone like her. Since her father wasn’t allowed this same luxury, he never came out, he dealt with it his own way, and the rest is history. Maybe here Bechdel is trying to emphasize with her father’s situation and ask “What If?” What if he felt it acceptable to be ‘true to his nature?’

Bravo Bechdel, Bravo. I must say. It’s an admirable attempt toward a defense of your father. Personally, I feel it’s unacceptable to excuse/exempt her father from personal responsibility like she may be suggesting. It’s her father, I understand, and for me to ‘emphasize’ I would need to imagine having to defend my own father under similar circumstances…perhaps I too would look in all conceivable directions and/or build up some kind of crafty rhetoric in defense of something so heinous.

          After this modest attempt, is really when the two begin to connect in some meaningful way, and it happens through ‘their currency’: literature. She writes: “Dad didn’t have much use for children, but as I got older, he began to sense my potential as an intellectual companion.” They use this ‘medium’ to fuel a relationship and here is when it reaches its most normal point between father-daughter. In the end, she takes what little she can out of the meager relationship, by comparing its consistency to the theme of Ulysses; that spiritual paternity can carry its own importance, and that particular importance is just barely enough to show some appreciation and gratification to her father the pedophile; because after all, “he was there to catch me when I leapt.”