||A Review of: All that Matters
by Nancy Wigston
Wayson Choy adds a strong new presence to his Chinese-Canadian
mosaic with this novel, shortlisted for this year's Giller Prize.
A journey that begins in "Old China" and continues
throughout the depression and war years in Canada's "Gold
Mountain", is narrated with clear-eyed honesty by Kiam-Kim,
eldest or "First Son" in the immigrant Chen family. The
three youngest Chen children were heard from in Choy's 1995 debut,
The Jade Peony; once more Choy breathes a whole vanished world of
family and political history into life.
Born in China to a lovely mother, now dead, Kiam-Kim remembers
arriving, age three, with his father and his grandmother on a ship
that deposited them in 1927 amid the bustle and grime of Vancouver
Harbour. From the first, Choy plays with the threads of love and
tension that bind Kiam-Kim's accountant father and Poh-Poh, his
grandmother, formerly a household slave. Poh-Poh's folk wisdom comes
fully stocked with ghosts, herbal cures, damning curses, ruses
designed to both bribe the gods and to deflect bad luck. She cooks
intricate meals, nurtures the children, plays mahjong with her
friends. As the years pass, her intermittent refrain, "I die
soon," becomes something of a family joke. Although her rational,
hardworking son labours at many jobs and writes for the Chinese
newspaper, it is Poh-Poh who dominates the family and the book-a
larger-than-life character that we may not love, but cannot forget.
Throughout his childhood, Kiam-Kim perches on the border between
two differing worldviews. To prove that the screeching monsters
that emerge from False Creek are indeed trains and are not the
dragons that his grandmother assures him they are, father takes son
to the CPR Roundhouse, where the little boy is shown the machinery
up close. Yet images of "steel-plated, steam-hissing"
dragons pop up before sleep-oddly evocative of his fiercely protective
grandmother. One of the great strengths of the novel is the way
that Choy implies, without ever stating, that the events that occur
throughout the Thirties and Forties-war, disease, famine-are as
satisfactorily explained by Poh-Poh's mythic images as by his
father's rational mind.
Although clever and mathematical like his father, Kiam-Kim cannot
deny the role that luck has played in his family's fortunes. In
response to a request from a "Third Uncle", the three
were sent to Canada from their village in China. Not a blood relation,
Third Uncle lacks heirs; friends' recent deaths have brought his
own mortality home to him. The resulting fake, or "paper"
family, soon forms a cohesive unit, eventually adding new members,
starting with Stepmother. Before moving to their own small house,
the threesome from China live a hardscrabble life in a Chinatown
rife with lonely men marooned by the infamous Exclusion Act of 1925.
Much later we learn the human truth behind the "luck"
that has brought them to Canada.
When the Chens appeared in The Jade Peony, successive episodes
featured Kiam-Kim's younger siblings. Narrating the family history
from the eldest child's viewpoint is a bold move for Choy. Just as
in real families, events and people pack a different emotional
punch, depending on birth order. In Kiam-Kim, Choy portrays the
evolution of a child who is firmly eased into the burdens and
responsibilities of his family role both as First Son and as dai-goh
(big brother). During his high school years, Kiam-Kim casually
utters one of the book's truly breathtaking lines. Sitting under
the stars on his back steps with his almost-girlfriend, Jenny Chong,
as the talk turns to the consensus among mutual friends that getting
away from their difficult parents is a major priority, Jenny assumes
that Kiam-Kim agrees. "Don't you?" she asks. "Not
really," he responds. "No reason to." Excuse me? A
teenager who sees no need to escape?
Indeed, Kiam-Kim's childhood seems like a case study in raising a
successful immigrant child. "Knuckled" aptly describes a
not-infrequent parental punishment, but greater force is absent.
Praised, prodded, encouraged to develop a "Chinese brain"-kept
busy in the house (some of the kitchen scenes seem to go on forever)
and out of it, First Son is the opposite of neglected. Once, when
the thoughtful boy falls into a depression pondering the existence
of Catholic Hell, Third Uncle takes him to Christian English classes
to learn more about the subject from a Mrs. Simpson, who assures
him he is at little risk. Although the Hell question is not neatly
resolved, the teenager-whose mood is not brushed away but taken
seriously-eventually regains his equilibrium.
The Chen family is literally close-knit; indeed, one of the enduring
images at the end is of Stepmother knitting a sweater for the ailing
Poh-Poh, her needles clicking away. This is not to discount family
problems. The fact that Stepmother' is called that even by her own
children-so as not to offend Kiam-Kim's mother's ghost-becomes a
source of great pain; and there are spectacular bumps in the road,
like the day that Kiam-Kim gets disgracefully drunk, to the horror
of his father.
Although not consciously rebellious, Kiam-Kim becomes best friends
with Jack O'Connor, who lives next door. Poh-Poh does not allow
this pale ("soon die") Irish child-who mugs at her
cuisine-into the Chen house, although the two fathers speak politely
on the street. In Kiam-Kim's words, "Jack and I took for granted
that both our families were too familiar and too strange too
explain." The bond between the friends endures. Yet the very
existence of the O'Connor family next door to the Chens says much
about racial fluidity in Gold Mountain. At times this instability
becomes tragic, as when a neighbourhood beauty falls in love with
a Japanese boy, a tale told with greater drama in The Jade Peony.
This time, the main love story occurs between Kiam-Kim and Jenny,
the grocer's daughter, a marvellously tough cookie who softens
somewhat in adolescence. Kiam-Kim, dazzled by her sexuality, remains
at a constant disadvantage in her presence; moreover, his courtship
is stage-managed by Poh-Poh and Jenny's mother. The question of
Jenny, who clearly feels true passion not for First Son, but for
his blonde friend Jack O'Connor, raises issues about free will-or
lack thereof-that will surely fuel discussions among students and
book club members for years to come.
Although there is much that Kiam-Kim, like the rest of us, does not
fully grasp, he is not dull. The alert three-year-old who arrived
in Gold Mountain to join a paper family never loses his sense of
wonder at the world around him. Moving with degrees of ease between
his family's spoken dialect, formal Cantonese, street slang and
school English, Kiam-Kim's day starts with the Lord's Prayer with
its inimitable, "Harold be his name." Kiam-Kim is both
Old China and new Vancouver. When Jack O'Connor departs for the
war, he asks to be invited inside the Chen home at last to share a
family meal. His wish is granted. We witness one last time the
selection of the best pieces of food for the guest, the effort made
to make him feel at home (Stepmother makes hotdogs, his favourite
dish). We see daily life transformed into something magical. In
this often-wondrous novel, Wayson Choy invites us too into the Chen
home, redolent with its smells, its beliefs, its characters and its
history, setting a special place for us at the table.