The Hanging on Union Square by H.T. Tsiang and "Japanese Hamlet" by Toshio Mori

How does capitalism influence the careers and lives of Asian Americans? As we finished reading The Hanging on Union Square this week, I found fascinating connections between H.T. Tsiang's self-published novel and previous readings such as the short story "Japanese Hamlet" by Toshio Mori. The concept of money is a central theme in The Hanging on Union Square, as it opens with a description of the power of money and its ability to influence people and their relationships. It appears to be a monologue by Mr. Nut, the main narrator of the novel, who is later shown to be unemployed as we follow him around Depression-era New York City, meeting discontented Communist workers, exploited women, and other characters. The narrator tells us quotes like these:

    "It is the same girl. Today she has money. She is a Honey Darling.

    Tomorrow she has no money. She is the Daughter of a Bitch.

    It is the same fellow. Today he has money. He is a Honey Darling. 

    Tomorrow he has no money. He is a Son of...

    He is radical; he has no money.

    He is conservative; he has money. 

    He is wishy-washy; he has a wishy-washy amount of money."

The absurdist voice continues throughout the novel, and highlights the crazy-making influence of capitalism on the characters in the novel, to a point where money is seen as crucial to a person's worth, later turning Mr. Nut into a radical who goes against this system of capitalistic worth. The pervasive imagery of money throughout the story as a concept with enormous power over people becomes especially dramatic, as when it causes death and destruction: "The eviction on Fourteenth Street, just this morning, killed her. How could a sick woman stand cold and excitement at the same time?" The woman is the mother of Miss Stubborn, an organizer for the Communist party, and her father is also fatally impacted by her death. While The Hanging on Union Square dramatizes capitalism's negative impacts, it also struck a familiar chord as many immigrants and Asian Americans have grown up with the idea of pursuing a stable career, the key notion of "stable" being "profitable," particularly new arrivals without an established support system in the United States. This novel lets us ask the question,  are there any negative effects when the pursuit of wealth is prioritized above everything else when determining careers and, in essence, entire lives? How do these negative symptoms of capitalism manifest today?

Toshio Mori's "Japanese Hamlet" was especially touching as it serves as a staunch reminder of the perils of pursuing unconventional paths while facing various levels of resistance from both those of Asian descent and members of other races. The main character Tom is who we might call a "bum" today, a thirty-one-year-old schoolboy in a Piedmont home, disowned by his parents and fending off relatives who call him a "good-for-nothing loafer" for studying at his age. He is obsessed with reciting Shakespeare, particularly Hamlet, with a dream of becoming a great Shakespearean actor, and seeks out the narrator to practice. However, as time goes on, the narrator becomes increasingly convinced that Tom is wasting his life and that he is helping Tom do so. He gives Tom a variety of suggestions, such as working for someone in the daytime, contacting the stage workers, reciting the sonnets instead of Hamlet, hoping to see him well off in a job or business, but Tom turns down all of these options. Ultimately, their relationship is severed once the narrator desperately suggests that Tom give this up for a while because "that book is destroying you." Years later, they see each other and Tom politely greets him, but he is still reading Shakespeare and continues to be a schoolboy. 

This story allows us to understand the paralysis caused by a racially oppressive society, with Tom choosing to preserve his dream of becoming a Shakespearean actor rather than even attempt to face rejection from an America that printed the story "Japanese Hamlet" next to columns such as "Two-Thirds of the U.S. Citizens Believe False Reports of Espionage by U.S. Japanese" in 1946 in the Pacific Citizen, the leading paper of the Pacific Asian American community. Despite being a grown man, "Tom stayed at the Piedmont home as a schoolboy. He accepted his five dollars a week just as he had done years ago when he was a freshman at Piedmont High. This fact did not bother Tom at all when I mentioned it to him. “What are you worrying for?” he said. “I know I am taking chances. I went into this with my eyes open, so don’t worry.”

The narrator worries about Tom because of the pressures of a capitalistic society, and its focus on money as the definition of a human being's worth, but Tom is mired in the same dream he had as a schoolboy and refuses to define his life by the conventional, money-making route. This decision has its benefits and downfalls, but the story "Japanese Hamlet" asks us to understand why a "bum" like Tom Fukunaga might exist in American society. His refusal to contact the stage players or make progress toward becoming a Shakespearean actor beyond the options that would have been available to him as a schoolboy begins to make sense when one considers the racial oppression faced by Japanese Americans during and after World War II, with Mori himself imprisoned in the Topaz internment camp during the war years, and publishing this story in a Pacific Asian American paper. Tsiang was only able to self-publish The Hanging on Union Square after it was rejected multiple times by publishers. One thinks, given the potential impossibility of becoming a renowned, history-making actor for Tom in this time period, is it possible to "self-publish" becoming a Shakespearean actor? Real life overlapped with fiction in this case, with the chronology published at the beginning of The Hanging on Union Square mentioning that Tsiang performed a one-man, one-act performance of Hamlet at the Rainbow Theatre in Hollywood, every Friday night for a dozen years. 

Whether it is internalized oppression or societal oppression, rather than try too hard, and fail due to potentially unavoidable racism, or willingly give up on a dream by working in a different field, Tom continues his life as a high school student studying Shakespeare in "Japanese Hamlet," which may ring familiar to anyone who found a haven during school days that was insulated from the realities of adult life outside classroom doors. Personally, I have many memories of the pleasure of reading literature without the responsibility wrought by capitalism to decide on a profitable career path or making high grades for future success, and how peaceful it felt to spend those days as a young woman in shaded classrooms, nestled in quietude and calm conversation. Additionally, with an uncle who pursued acting and a grandfather who translated Charles Dickens into Chinese, I witnessed the dynamics of these choices to immerse oneself into the humanities through overheard conversations. Though much of them were lost on me as a kid, they were only rarely denigrated but not exactly held up as examples to follow, primarily because of the capitalistic notion of personal worth being money made.

What causes talent to drop out from fields, and what elements of capitalist society makes different types of behavior look like insanity? The racism of American society becomes a huge factor in impeding career paths and motivation, stunting the growth of individuals. It reminded me of the poem "Harlem" by Langston Hughes:

    What happens to a dream deferred?

      Does it dry up

      like a raisin in the sun?

      Or fester like a sore—

      And then run?

      Does it stink like rotten meat?

      Or crust and sugar over—

      like a syrupy sweet?

      Maybe it just sags

      like a heavy load.

      Or does it explode?

Defecting from a capitalistic existence means attracting ire from members of society, but faced with the pain of forsaking a cherished dream, even if that dream is unrealistic or with predicted barriers such as racism, people do have the freedom to live in unusual ways that keep the dream intact. As Tsiang repeats several times at the beginnings of chapters in The Hanging on Union Square, 

    "Heaven is above,

    Hell below.

    Nothing in pocket,

    Where to go?"

With money ceasing to be a motivator, through intentionally living outside of a capitalist society, where exactly can someone go? The result starts to look like insanity, to people who lack the understanding of someone's psyche through lack of exposure to stories and poems like these. "Japanese Hamlet" also reminded me of Margaret Holloway, or the Shakespeare Lady, who the Taiwanese-American writer Esme Weijun Wang wrote about in The Collected Schizophrenias, contrasting their mental breakdowns after leaving highly selective universities. While Wang attempts to keep up the impression of a high-functioning intellectual while suffering from physical and mental maladies, Holloway does not, and becomes known for roaming the streets of New Haven on Yale's campus, reciting Shakespeare for spare change. We don't know why or how the Shakespeare Lady or Esme Weijun Wang contracted these odd behaviors and beliefs that make up mental illness, but we can harbor a guess by looking at narratives like "Japanese Hamlet" and The Hanging on Union Square, where a racially oppressive society, the tight constraints of capitalism on individual destiny, or simply a series of strange events can lead to a person forever changed. 

While researching potential connections between Asian Americans and Shakespeare a while ago as part of a self-determined attempt to bridge any gap between my identity and academic interests, I discovered the National Asian American Theatre Company, based in New York City, a nonprofit organization founded in 1991 that presents Shakespeare as well as other European and American classics with all Asian American casts, along with providing a space for new plays and the development of Asian American playwrights.  

The image is from the 2018 adaption of Henry VI, Parts 1-3. The company describes its intentions:

The superimposition of our Asian faces on a non-Asian repertory, interpreted by artists using diverse and truly universal references to serve the text very faithfully, reflects and emphasizes the kinship among disparate cultures. We do not say we are all the same, we say that we have quite large areas of understanding. We also say that affirmations of timeless values and new insights about old works can come from unexpected faces.

If an organization like this had existed during the time of Mori and Tsiang's writings, their characters might have been less enigmatic, once the pressures of racism and capitalism impeding creative paths were lessened with an example of an Asian American nonprofit (or outside of capitalism) community succeeding at performing the Shakespeare they enjoy. Characters like Tom and Mr. Nut may have found a supportive community instead of becoming accustomed to withdrawing from and rejecting conventional society - Tsiang could have gone beyond a one-man, one-act Hamlet, and Mori could have found a greater audience for "Japanese Hamlet." But these stories are about what it takes to save a dream during hard times, and if that means creating an insular haven within oneself, how can any of us judge what someone is willing to do to survive the life bestowed upon them?

Links to this week's readings:

"Japanese Hamlet," Toshio Mori

America is in the Heart selection, Carlos Bulosan

"The Woman Who Makes Swell Doughnuts," Toshio Mori

Sources:

https://loa-shared.s3.amazonaws.com/static/pdf/Mori_Japanese_Hamlet.pdf

https://thesewaneereview.com/articles/yale-will-not-save-you

https://www.nytimes.com/2020/06/11/nyregion/margaret-holloway-the-shakespeare-lady-of-new-haven-dies-at-68.html

http://www.naatco.org/about/

"Leaves From the Mental Portfolio of an Eurasian" by Sui Sin Far and Assorted Writings

"So I roam backward and forward across the continent. When I am East, my heart is West. When I am West, my heart is East. Before long I hope to be in China. As my life began in my father’s country it may end in my mother’s.

After all I have no nationality and am not anxious to claim any. Individuality is more than nationality. “You are you and I am I,” says Confucius. I give my right hand to the Occidentals and my left to the Orientals, hoping that between them they will not utterly destroy the insignificant “connecting link.” And that’s all."

Excerpt from "Leaves From the Mental Portfolio of an Eurasian" by Sui Sin Far, Independent, 21 January 1890

What are the limitations we construct while defining identity, both in ourselves and others? This week's readings help to clarify the chasm that can occur with lack of exposure to texts like these and reassure us that we are not alone in our struggles and discoveries. The writer Sui Sin Far, a half-Chinese, half-British immigrant, wrote widely during the era of the Chinese Exclusion Act, during a time where prejudice and racial violence against the Chinese was socially, legally, and racially condoned, as portrayed in her journalism and fiction. Sui Sin Far enters the United States at the age of seven in Hudson City, New York, and as she comes of age and traverses across America, we follow her through extensive trials and tribulations living within an American society and canvassing the continent, in a time and place where overt racism is somewhat less disguised than it is today. Sui Sin Far absorbs countless remarks and injuries both physical and emotional, as when she witnesses a conversation between her employer and others that includes the statements, "A Chinaman is, in my eyes, more repulsive than a nigger," and “They always give me such a creepy feeling," unaware that Sui Sin Far herself is Chinese before she reveals her identity. The following passage was especially moving and it will be relatable to many people who reluctantly find themselves inside moments of subtle prejudice today, in the present-day forms of microaggressions, body language, vocal tone, and facial expressions. Sui Sin Far describes her emotional turmoil before revealing her identity:

A miserable, cowardly feeling keeps me silent. I am in a Middle West town. If I declare what I am, every person in the place will hear about it the next day. The population is in the main made up of  working folks with strong prejudices against my mother’s countrymen. The prospect before me is not an enviable one—if I speak. I have no longer an ambition to die at the stake for the sake of demonstrating the greatness and nobleness of the Chinese people.

Discovering that the daily motions and emotions of life were not so different, even over a hundred years ago, is highly refreshing - examining patterns in literature can help us project our own identities into the future and imagine new paths and decisions, because we have seen that it has been done before by someone very similar to us. In particular, the quote "Individuality is more than nationality. You are you and I am I" was highly transformative and affirmative of my personal beliefs, especially coming from  cultural figures like Sui Sin Far and Confucius. Growing up Chinese American, the concept of collectivism as an essential part of the culture I was born into was frequently enforced by people of all races - those who expected certain behavior based on subjective standards of fitting in with an ethnic group, and those outside the race who either expected compliance with harmonious and submissive stereotypes stemming from collectivism and became angered upon any deviation, or attempted to "help" me by painting any signs of quietude or passivity as a fatal character flaw. I was either rewarded by positive attention or ignored and denigrated.  Most, if not all behavior, was solely based on my appearance, without knowing who I really was on the inside. Like Sui Sin Far says, there were exceptional individuals as well who looked beyond everything and supported me. This passage gave me hope that there are many ways to define and redefine Asian American identity.

As a child Sui Sin Far loves poetry and fairy tales, and as the pressures of a racist society begin to burden her with conflicts and ostracization at a young age, she rejects narratives of Chinese inferiority along with her family and has dreams of dying at the stake as a great genie proclaims to the world the greatness of the Chinese people. However, she describes herself as weaker than her sisters despite being the eldest girl with greater expectations from her family, and she has "no organic disease, but the strength of [her] feelings seems to take from me the strength of my body. I am prostrated at times with attacks of nervous sickness. The doctor says that my heart is unusually large; but in the light of the present I know that the cross of the Eurasian bore too heavily upon my childish shoulders. I usually hide my weakness from the family until I cannot stand. I do not understand myself, and I have an idea that the others will despise me for not being as strong as they." The idea of unifying a personal as well as racial identity while facing societal expectations is extraordinarily moving, and Sui Sin Far's sensitivity allows her to transcend the boundaries and restrictive physicality of her body and emotions through writing balanced opinions of both her races as well as calling out the hatred she faces: "Fundamentally, I muse, people are all the same. My mother’s race is as prejudiced as my father’s. Only when the whole world becomes as one family with human beings be able to see clearly and hear distinctly. I believe that some day a great part of the world will be Eurasian. I cheer myself with the thought that I am but a pioneer. A pioneer should glory in suffering." 

However, the extensive prejudice and racism of American society is far greater than any slights Sui Sin Far faces in the Chinese American communities, because American racism extends to multiple realms, ranging from the legal racism of the Chinese Exclusion Act to the inability to escape her many encounters of social racism and violence that are shown to permeate American society in the late 1800s and early 1900s. This means that Sui Sin Far allies with her Chinese identity, choosing a Cantonese name to write under and narrating the kindnesses and cruelties she encounters from individuals from all races. Having changed my own legal name in order to include my Chinese one as a middle name upon reaching adulthood, this decision was especially intriguing as it opens up a whole world of investigation into the environmental influences behind name changes, and how Asian Americans can decide which is the right name for them to write under.

Sadly, near the end of her life, after a lifetime of the types of events that she narrates, Sui Sin Far's writing style appears to have been corrupted by the racist thinking of her enemies, where her arguments are described as shallow, focusing on the "college-graduate and influential" former laundrymen and Chinese children who wear American clothes, a far cry from her earlier, more incendiary works such as "Leaves From the Mental Profile of an Eurasian." Worn down by the assimilatory pressures of America and her lack of success - by her death the newspapers were favoring keeping Asian children out of public schools and the Chinese Exclusion Act had been extended indefinitely - Sui Sin Far's life and career becomes a reminder of the price of being oneself and the power of American racism to warp anyone's force of will over a long enough period of time. We are faced with the image of a strong young woman, one who is forced in her later life to grasp at straws and grovel in her writing after her previous attempts have failed to spur institutional change - what is assimilation, and some buffing up of the image of Chinese Americans as successful instead of emotionally fraught underneath the scourge of racism as in her previous depictions, to the threats of deportation, abuse, and school inaccessibility that the American government at the time had enacted, and which its people carried out through smiles, smirks, taunts, and violence? 

Today, the narratives Sui Sin Far depicted appear to occur again in methods transformed - in coronavirus taunts and school bullying, microaggressions that prematurely age victims and contribute to mental illness and suicide, and the struggles for happiness, belonging, and fulfilling work among members of marginalized populations. By following the decisions that Sui Sin Far makes in her writing and literary life, we can come to places of safety and crossroads of familiarity as she tussles with these issues well over a century ago, and predict events and patterns in our own lives if we make choices or happen to live in environments that echo hers. We don't know what trauma and prejudices the COVID-19 pandemic will leave behind for many years into the future, but through the eyes of Siu Sin Far I saw a realistic version of an America I have experienced at moments, for the first time. She helps us come to terms with life long before it comes to us.

Links to this week's readings:

"Leaves from the Mental Portfolio of an Eurasian," Sui Sin Far

"Sui Sin Far, the Half Chinese Writer, Tells of Her Career," Sui Sin Far

"In the Land of the Free," Sui Sin Far

Sources: 

https://wams.nyhistory.org/modernizing-america/xenophobia-and-racism/edith-maude-eaton/

https://faculty.georgetown.edu/bassr/heath/syllabuild/iguide/eaton.html

https://www.pbssocal.org/shows/asian-americans/micro-aggressions-large-lasting-effects

https://www.nationalgeographic.com/history/2020/09/asian-american-racism-covid/

https://www.cpr.org/2019/07/01/golden-artist-charlotte-bassin-is-obsessed-with-turning-the-world-map-into-a-work-of-art/

What? Why? How?

In the course AAS 232: Introduction to Asian American Fiction and Film, I aspire to learn more about Asian American narratives and their historical and political contexts, so that I can negotiate my own identity as an aspiring Chinese American writer. I hope to get a greater understanding of Asian American literature and media and relate racial and intraracial dynamics portrayed in these works of art to present-day events and personal experiences. Gaining skills in analyzing Asian American literature would be invaluable for me as an English major as this is the first course I have taken in my life that elevates wide-ranging works by people of my racial background to a full syllabus that is worthy of serious study. As such, this course will likely give me examples and role models if I do decide to continue in a career in creative writing, academia, or teaching, and confidence to keep studying and working in a field where Asian Americans may experience invisibility or marginalization.

This semester, I hope to gain a knowledge of the diversity of Asian American narratives, encounter works I would otherwise never experience, and engage with a community of scholars sharing the same goals. I will pursue these goals by studying each text and film with focus and depth, while taking notes on fascinating ideas and multicultural concepts as well as learning from my peers' contributions in order to participate in a regenerative community of Asian American knowledge.

These goals are also especially relevant to me outside of this course as an Asian American woman studying the humanities, as I hope to learn more about what has been previously done by people of my background and take away literary techniques and historical knowledge that I will put toward future personal projects. I am sure the knowledge gained in this course could turn up in the future in my work e.g. in the form of poems, short stories, journalism, essays, comparative literature, geospatial narrative mapping, and potentially a full-length book or thesis. As this is my first exposure to college-level study of Asian American narratives, this course will likely influence how I act and think about real life and my own experiences far into the future as I will be spending these months in the Spring 2021 semester studying ideas that may potentially be windows and mirrors into the lives of my forebears and into my own. As such I know I will come away with an enriched understanding of the significance of Asian American lives and use this to come to my full potential at Stony Brook University.