Quotes from Lan Samantha Chang

Like ginseng roots, our buried pasts have different shapes.

In Alf's close-up, he's less than a year old, almost unrecognizably puppyish. He gazes directly at James, head slightly cocked, bat ears unfolded in typical, unceasing alertness. His small black nose is shaped like a heart, the fur on his jowls shimmers, and the blaze on his chest is bright white and fluffy.

Ming assumes Brenda has taken Katherine's point, but it turns out she's only pausing for dramatic effect. She lowers her voice. "You don't believe he's innocent," she says. "That's why you think he shouldn't speak on his own behalf." For a moment, Katherine looks startled. She reddens, as if caught. She recovers herself. "This is about how to win. This isn't about who can stand by her man .

Has she grown up keenly observing, scrutinizing the children around her as if she were researching the most intricate sociology report: their clothes, their games, their television shows, their preferred methods of cruelty, their figures of speech? Has she sought invisibility among them, hoped they would not notice her, because the least bit of attention could transform into physical cruelty?

This is undoubtedly true. Yet there remains one central question about Katherine, separate from the ring and even from the money. "Why won't she let you go?

What Chinese identity?" Ming shouts. To his horror, she looks, again, like a little girl. He sees her at six years old, standing on the playground, watching the sun shine on the blond hair of her classmates. He can't stand it. Even though he's been there, is familiar with the origins of self-hatred, knows he can't bear it because it reminds him of himself, he can't speak to her any more. He puts his headphones on and turns up the sound.

The project is so Dagou, talking into the reeds: indiscreet, self-absorbed, self-destructive, and a waste of personal resources. Not to mention under the table; Ming is sure the equipment is contraband.

The point is, we're investing our labor on a product that is consumed immediately and brings in small change." "Big Shot!" their father said. "You rather spend your precious time jacking off? Then shoot your wad about your own business and not mine.

One of these days," Ming mutters, "Jerry's going to take a trip to China. He'll get a whiff of the real breadth and depth of Chinese cooking, legendary dishes. That chicken wrapped in lotus leaves he's read about. Authentic peppers from Sichuan, fresh as hell. Then he'll leave the U.S. for good, retire to Asia, and Dad's going to have to cough up real money for a lawyer.