Mona in the Promised Land [Hardcover]

In Mona Chang, Jen creates a funny, wise-cracking Asian-American woman confused by the dizzying cultural contradictions that surround her. Bad enough that her own country - the US, folks - stereotypes and denigrates her; the real problem is her parents, Chinese immigrants who want their daughter to be Chinese without being *too* Chinese - independent and obedient in the same heartbeat. Mona proceeds to find herself by experiencing the entire spectrum of the so-called "melting pot," and in doing so unearths discrimination - spiritual, financial and racial - under every rock, including those in her parents' own yard.

Reviewers have remarked that this book sheds new light on race relations in America. Jen's primary achievement, however, is in demonstrating the equivalence between the battles for financial, racial and spiritual liberation. She puts inclusionism - or "cafeteria racism" - to a scathing acid test: most of her characters are so bitterly wrapped up in their own quest for social liberation that they don't notice the common cause they share with the people they profess to despise. MONA is also illuminating for whites who have never experienced racism, who wonder how asking an Asian-American "Where are you *really* from?" could possibly be insulting, or why a group of militant African-American men would revolt when a young white girl accuses them en masse of thievery.

Unfortunately, the book bogs down in several places, most notably near the middle where Mona, Barbara and Seth futz around in the "Underground Railroad". Worst of all, the ending is completely botched. Everything said by any of the characters in the last 30 pages has the stilted air of moral finality; characters seem to reappear out of thin air, under flimsy pretexts. And, of course, there's the infamous epilogue, which substitutes the complexity and bitterness experienced throughout the book with a well-telegraphed, made-for-Hollywood five-hankie affair that makes you blink and scream, "What the hell was that??"

Despite its flaws, this is still an important book. Any time you find a voice this crisp and witty, it should be held on high as a standard for aspiring writers. Read it, and take the last thirty pages with a grain of salt.

I picked up this book in a traditional bookstore and opened to a chapter following a frightening event Mona decides to hide from her parents. Mona's fright after and decision to hide her near-rape as a teenager is compared lyrically to a time when, as a small girl, Mona tried to dry a doll's dress over a gas burner and it caught on fire. The description of the doll dress shrivelling and flaming in the kitchen sink was enough to make me buy the book; the juxtaposition of these scenes when reading the book through quite impressed me. Jen's flawless transition and subtle use of metaphor throughout the novel make this a classic American novel.

The book taken from an objective standpoint does seem a little unbelievable from time to time. However, Jen has depicted Mona so sympathetically that we are drawn in and follow her willingly through her romps, and her friends' romps, that we will believe anything as long as it follows with her character.

Finally, Jen capably follows Mona over several years, even foreshadowing ten and fifteen years in the future, without destroying the suspense of the book. By the time we're done reading, we believe that Mona has managed to grow up with herself, holding true to her family, her Chinese heritage, and her Jewish affiliation, after all.

I liked the character Mona. She seemed both clever and funny and was a very complex character. In fact the only real criticism I would have of the book had to do with "Camp Gugelstein" - the establishment of a psuedo-hippie commune in one of the character's houses. It seemed a little "Combaya"ish if you know what I mean. A bunch of cool adult guys in the seventies willingly doing yoga? That's a bit much. Alfred and the "brothers" - as an African American (even though I know Jen was strongly trying to avoid this) I felt as if she seemed to lean more towards black stereotypes - the embittered brother who constantly argues about injustice but shuffles his feet when it comes to making any change. In fact the only time that Alfred seems to be empowered is when he meets his white girlfriend which some would say could imply the age old theme that a black person can only achieve greatness with the help of Caucasians. But don't get me wrong. I'm not trashing her characterization entirely because I applaud her effort to at least introduce the topic of Chinese American and African American relations in a fictional literary work. I've never seen it done before. For a pioneering effort, it was a relatively good try.

My final evaluation: I'd read Who's Irish? over again before I'd check this one back out the library...