timing of this read felt serendipitous. lately i've been been witnessing my parents from a new vantage point as i ponder where to build my life in my 30s and deal with financial problems that unveiled a lot about my family. first chinese new years in taipei in 8 years
reading wanting felt like staring at a petri dish view of the webs between the past two generations of chinese trying in america. traces of countless dreams dissolving like foam in the ocean, dry marks of yearning and regret, wet ideals and desperate mistakes shriveled into some pattern that represents the dignity we each maintain as human beings, the people we want to stay connected to to remind ourselves of what's left, the staleness life exudes when we fear the truth... i could see it all from a birds-eye view by the novel's completion. and yesterday at a temple in tainan i witnessed exactly this
"On a clear day, they could see the little curlicues of incense floating upward from the temple, hordes of people crowding into its halls and lighting up a ten-kuai wish, wishing for just this: a home in the sky with someone they loved"
—
"He was trying, and that was the most anyone could ever hope for from another person"
"Greatness is elusive, it is not meant to last long; even when you attain it you spend the rest of your life trying to keep it ... Greatness always end, with time, with distance, with death. But ordinary is ever lasting. Ordinary is the morning light. Ordinary is a wave to your neighbor, ordinary is the fact that Robert got to hold his granddaughter two months before he died. Ordinary is our son, our wonderful son. My mother wanted me to be proud of who I was already, someone ordinary. She did not want me to wager the worth of my life on what I could achieve, on who I could become. I was already her beloved daughter, her ordinary daughter, and now i finally understand this"
"Why was it so hard to leave a mark on that country? Despite every struggle, every victory, every concession you made, in the end America was always unchanged by you, and yet you held the years inside like a cancer, just like a cancer, until it spread over your entire body and in the end took you for its own. America didn't swallow you whole, no— it chipped away at you, tiny nibbles at a time, until you were gone."
"Perhaps love was but a frivolous addition to the hefty work of staying alive"
"We all think about what we want with our lives. But I chose this a long time ago. And I want to stick with it"