Thursday, May 19, 2016

His Mother's Hands

Much like the front and back covers of the book symbolize a passage of time, I believe the description of Khuon's hands are an analogy of the hardships experienced by Kien and his family. After ten years of trying to survive after the fall of Saigon, Khuon's once beautiful hands, her most treasured feature, are now "deformed," "wrinkled," and "covered with calluses and leatherly from the sun" (338). In the beginning of the memoir her hands were a symbol of her affluent lifestyle, polished and well-tended; but in the end, the sacrifices and hard labor she endured for the survival of her family took its toll on her mind and body. I believe Nguyen saves the descriptions of his mother's sacrifices for the ending because it is only when he is older that he finally understands the many difficult decisions she made in order to protect her family. Describing her hands puts the family's struggle in a microcosm that parallels the physical and emotional abuse that was inflicted on them as a result of the new system of government. Everything was taken from Khuon, including the blood in her veins (318). It is only with the filter of maturity, and a chance at a new life, that Kien can come to terms with understanding his mother's perspective on survival.

By Candice V.

4 comments:

  1. Her survival skills are represented in Khuon's transformation. Early in the novel she is remembered for having sharp claws and slapping loan. However, throughout the memoir, her hands are what allow the family to survive. She cooks soup and sells soup, attempts to sell at a market and is arrested. She prostitutes herself for Kien. She buys him books, paper, pens and these items are expensive for his family. The government's effect on the family does highlight her hand's transformation.

    -Ivan R.

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  2. Candice, I was thrilled to see that another person chose to focus on the symbolic evolution of Khuon's hands. I personally found it interesting that Kien chose to begin the memoir with a description of his mother's hands and then include a memory of them at the close. What is particularly fascinating is the image of her hands having once been her sense of pride and beauty, had transpired into a mark of sacrifice. Ultimately, exhibiting the hardship in having survived the recourse of the Communist Regime.

    Cassandra V.

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  3. Khuon's hands are her most prized possession. She spends hours painting her nails and making sure they are shaped just right. She powders them with makeup and talks with them near her face so that people can admire them. When Saigon collapses to Communism, Khuon takes with her her nail polish collection to her sister's house. It seems ridiculous that she would do such a seemingly selfish thing. As the world is collapsing around her, her thoughts still go to her hands. I initially thought she was being petty and selfish until I realized that to her the nail polish is her last remaining connection to her former life. Though she no longer lives the life of affluence and glamour, her nail polish collection reminds her of what once was. It acts as a security blanket.

    By Christina B.

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  4. Initially, I thought the same thing about Khuon's hands. Based off your interpretation, I find it ironic that Khuon's hands were delicate and beautiful when she was a rich and affluent character versus when she actually labored hard and was not able to make enough for her three children and herself. There's a moment where the focus is no longer on her hands and assets but instead, her survival and the well being of the rest of her family. Losing her best quality (though disappointing) may actually have been a good thing for how humble she has become in her persona. Although mentioned very briefly at the end, it was comforting reading the descriptions of her fingernails being painted again. She hasn't wholly lost herself or who she once was. It was almost like a queen being reunited with her crown. Once she has nail polish on again, it's as though she had regained her own sense of empowerment.
    By Shirley T.

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