5 Thoughts I Had While Reading 'Real Americans' By Rachel Khong
A 'stop everything you're doing and run to get it' book
5 Thoughts While Reading…. is an ongoing series I’m doing, where I jot down of 5 random thoughts that crossed my mind while reading a book. Today’s book is Real Americans by Rachel Khong.
It tells the story of a young scientist, May, who must make the heart wrenching choice between fleeing Mao’s Cultural Revolution with a teaching assistant at her University on the relative safety of a boat, or swimming across Deep Bay with the love of her life.
The book spans three generations, and features May’s story only in Part Three— the last one, so naturally it’s about more than just her journey. In fact the book starts off with her daughter, Lily, a broke, unpaid intern at an online travel magazine in New York.
I found it interesting from a story construction point of view, the order in which Rachel Khong decided to tell the story. She didn’t start at the beginning. It isn’t told in a linear way. Although it could have been, and why didn’t she tell it that way? But before I ramble on, let me stop myself here and save the thought for # 4.
Let’s start:
1. The writing, the writing, the writing!
To be honest, this was the thought that dominated throughout the book. I fell fast and furiously in love with Rachel Khong’s writing. I could pull quotes from every page. So much stood out for me.
The way she mixed direct dialogue with narrated dialogue.
“I could talk to Jerry, if you want?”
“No,” I said quickly. “Thank you. That’s kind of you.”
He was twenty-seven, five years older than I was. He’d gone to Columbia. He played racquetball, went to Knicks games and the movies, enjoyed mysteries and biographies. He was really good at giving manicures.
“I don’t believe that.”
“That doesn’t make it untrue.”
from pg. 19
Or the way she described events.
The so-called Great Leap Forward was a great leap backward, though we couldn’t declare that aloud. Famine swept China like a punishing storm.
from pg. 277
Or the way she wrote interiority
It was my first time in love, and the intensity of my own emotion felt foreign to me—dangerous, bound to implode. Had I ever felt so happy?
from pg. 302
Or the way she included the tiniest details, entrenching us fully in the book:
The salad was entirely leaves—some jagged and green, others frilled and purple—dressed with whole grains of mustard that popped in my mouth. The lentils came with soft egg and the yolk, punctured, was better than any sauce.
from pg. 24
and leaving us with no doubt as to the character’s make-up.
Much later, he would tell me that he was from a village an hour north of mine. His family had raised poultry. On winter nights he kept baby ducks in his shirt as he slept, their soft, new down warm against his chest.
from pg. 293
If you’re a reader, you won’t want to put the book down, and if you’re a writer, there’s so much you can learn about telling a story from this book.
Can I also state that each part, 1, 2 and 3, had its own love story!
When is that a bad thing? Never!
2. His father’s name is Otto; surely that’s a sign from the heavens.
On pg. 82, I came across a character named Otto, and I smiled to myself. My father’s name was Otto. It’s not a name you commonly find in North America or fiction written in English. In fact I have never come across an Otto in a book (let me know if you have). I waved up to heaven and returned the greeting.
3. Are we born with false beliefs?
You know the little (but often not so little) voice in your head that tells you you’re not enough when really you are a million times more than enough? Or that, for example, you’re a lousy painter and you’ll never amount to anything, when in reality you could take on Van Gogh any time, any day— just bring out the paint brushes and we’ll see? Those are the ones I’m talking about— our core beliefs.
Well— what if, in some cases we were born with them? Meaning they were thrust on us in utero or in early infancy. Too early for us to remember or even identify how and when we picked them up. And if that were the case, would we ever be able see them for what they are, or are we doomed to live our lives in the shadow of their reality? Which seemed like the case with some of the characters in the story.
Here’s the passage that brought on this heavy thought:
“You were so brilliant,” my mother remembered with fondness. She spoke as though to herself. “All the tests you took. You always did better than the other children.”
I held the fruit, not responding.
I remembered those test: the smell of pencil, the sequences of squares and circles—choosing what shape did not go with the others. My mother’s praise when I scored highly. She’d decided, back then, that I was remarkable, and I could not persuade her otherwise. I was nothing special, I wanted to protest. I wouldn’t ever be. But I couldn’t say that now, not while she was so happy, eyes close, savouring the fruit.
from pg. 40
The way Rachel Khong conveyed Lily’s deep seated beliefs was magnificent. One of the book’s central themes is genetics. And before it’s even discussed in depth, she found a way of making me think about the various ways we inherit.
4. Oh no! The story goes back in time.
On pg. 270, the last third of the book, the story goes back in time. The pace was good; I was dying to know what happens to the characters, and then, slam, it stopped and threw me back 60 years. Argh!!!
I’m not a fan of when stories go back in time. I want to know what happens next, not what happened before; it doesn’t matter to me, because I’ve already read the consequences. But, and there’s a big but here: Rachel Khong did this so masterfully, it took me just a page or two to forget that I’d experienced one of my least favourite literary structures— non-linear story-telling. In this case, I didn’t mind it at all.
Once I’d finished the book, in my head, I tried to reconstruct the story in a linear way. I was trying to figure out why Rachel Khong had ordered the three parts the way she did. And came up with the answer—had she done it differently, (without giving out spoilers) it wouldn’t have worked. Had she started the story with May, so much would have been lost.
5. Did Rachel Khong just sneak in her own theory of time?
And if so, I’m jealous! (I’ve been dying to do this in a story but have never figured out the right way)
May, her daughter, and her grandson all have the ability to make time stand still. Rachel Khong wove this trait in so subtly and skillfully that it appears to the reader as just another peculiar trait one has, and not the fantastical element to a story (the book is by no means a fantasy story).
Which got me thinking…
What if time isn’t linear after all. What if everything exists all at once, but because our minds would never be able to comprehend the complexity of it all, it invented time to keep things simple.
On that note, and before I get too woo-woo on you, I will bid you farewell. Please let me know if you end up reading the book, or if you’ve already read it for that matter. Did you love it as much as I did?
Thanks for reading.
Until next time,
XO Ingrid
I’m currently devouring Long Island by Colm Tóibín, so that’s going to be the next 5 Thoughts on book. If you aren’t already subscribed, can I tempt you to do so now, so you won’t miss out?
Also, if you haven’t yet read any of my fiction, here’s a little taste:
