Quotes from Lan Samantha Chang

There are only certain times in life when emergence is possible. The life strategy for children of immigrants, starting with nothing, is to use that time to build social, educational, and financial capital on which to ride out the rest of their lives. Dagou has blown it. He's now interested in salvaging his middle age by becoming a member of the petite bourgeoisie. But he doesn't have the capital to be a member of the petite bourgeoisie.

An indictment of the asphyxiating myth of the model minority, The Family Chao is a compelling murder mystery, a love story, a legal drama, a meditation on internalized racism… a must-read

In dark times, when you're feeling homesick or defeated, there is really nothing like a good, steaming soup, and dumplings made from scratch.

Heaping praise upon the three boys who grew up all bright and ambitious, who earned scholarships to good colleges. Commending them for leaving the Midwest. Yet everyone was thankful when the oldest, Dagou Chao, returned to Haven.

I'm sorry," James says. "I don't speak Mandarin." Here's a liability of his: he always wants to help, but his ignorance makes him useless to his own kind. Not just to this man, but to every lost Mandarin-speaking traveler fumbling in mid-transfer who mistakes him for a helpful guide.

Four months later, their mother was living with Buddhist nuns and Dagou had bulked up by thirty pounds.

Ming can't figure out how Dagou has attracted the devotion of a woman like Katherine Corcoran. Too smart for him, too attractive, too accomplished, and too good. Too much of a good thing, and Dagou unable to avoid fucking it up.

Your worthless brother's making out with his new girlfriend. Or getting ready for his big showdown at the nunnery tomorrow.

Maybe not worthless," he says, "but he has an inferiority complex. You American-born Chinese so timid and brainwashed, will do anything for a woman who'll give you a good lay.

We came to America to colonize the place for ourselves. That means spreading seed. Equal opportunity for fucking. You know what's the biggest disappointment of my life? Seeing my oldest son pussy-whipped by one white woman.

An ordinary life." Leo smiles in the half dark. "Blood sacrifice!" he yells, startling James. "I came over in nineteen seventy-two; a pioneer, breaking land. I sacrificed myself—all so my sons could be magnificent! I did all this—only to be dog father. Is anyone grateful?

I, Leo Chao, would rather be dead than stop eating pig. I will be ash and bone chunks in a little urn before I don't eat juicy pig.

The half-dozen temple dogs circle him and Alf in a delirium of barking, clicking paws, and waving tails. They're mixed breeds, smooth-haired, ears neither floppy nor exactly pointed, and a few with the long legs, fleet feet, of racing hounds. Two are from the Humane Society. Two are rescue dogs from a meat restaurant in South Korea.

Our inner selves exist. They're unique, and they're meaningful and mysterious, even if they are secret sometimes even from ourselves.

How can you say what depths of hatred people keep to themselves? The Skaers, for example. Do we know what the Skaers feel about your family's restaurant, what they think your parents' workaholism has done to drain their family businesses over the years? And there are others.

Exactly! Fang would say. Your father was the consummate American id, an insatiable narcissist, a shameless capitalist who wanted to screw everyone.

Ming is the only person besides Brenda who sees Katherine for what she is—a vengeful martyr in a Kabuki mask of dedication. Ming is also the only person besides Brenda who knows how infrequently Dagou actually talks to Katherine—knows

She's as bad as the most racially deprived white person fetishizing Asian culture. Her interest in Dagou, in the Chao family, is entirely due to her sense of deprivation after having been raised as racially Chinese in a well-meaning but white American family. Can't she get over it?

Just because your brother is not allowed to live his life, it doesn't mean you don't live yours," she says, with an uncharacteristically sage expression. "You get on with your own life." She puts a hand on his shoulder. "You're getting strong," she says. "Well, you need some time. Time to get over everything, and time to get used to the fact that Winnie is no longer on this earth.

am also thinking about the woman with the ponytail who slammed the door in my face. This dog-eating story is a lightning rod. It has nothing to do with the Chao

wet cap and lets it drip on the table. "Bag of cash!" he scoffs. "She's still buying into Strycker's case. Strycker's all about appealing to clichés: The bag of cash. The American Dream. The inhuman laborer. The ambitious and ungrateful son who can't appreciate what's been done for him.

the gallery takes this in, Katherine briefly imagines the article in the pages of the Sioux City Journal: How is it possible their former high school debate champion, who has succeeded in the world and achieved so much, could allow herself to be bamboozled by a dog eater? How is it possible she could be the unquestioning fiancée of a murderer for twelve years? What kind of a character witness will she make? Obviously, she lost perspective on Dagou's character long ago.

For God's sake, no." Brenda's voice is sharp. "I told you, he never told me about any fifty thousand. What are you implying here? You want to make me out as some kind of slut? A whore? You want the jury to think that Dagou tried to pay me to move in with him?

Following the darkened, hushed corridor toward his mother's room, Dagou imagines a future menu for the night nurses. Winnie always said, A little food never hurts. These nurses might like the basics: chicken and broccoli, shrimp with pea pods, garlic eggplant, and house special lo mein. (But for his mother he will concoct a special bone soup with a beaten egg white, seaweed for iron, and black wood ears for lowering the blood pressure.)