Overview
Frances has one job in life: to get into Berkeley and become a doctor so that her mother's ambitions will be realized. And Frances doesn't think there's anything wrong with that, until the day she accidentally steps into a speech class and begins to discover a talent her mother wouldn't approve of.
Frances turns out to be a natural at debate and public speaking. But to win in competition, she needs to say things she really believes—and to hide what she's doing from her mother. And once Frances steps out beyond her narrowly prescribed life, she begins to question many things about the way she is raised. Why can't she go to a dance with a boy who likes her? Why can't she get a job, or have any money of her own? And most of all, why is her mother never happy with her?
Frances knows she should be obedient, and that her mother has sacrificed everything so she can succeed. But when it's time to take the biggest step of her life, will Frances have the courage to defy her mother?
First-time novelist Cara Chow creates an unforgettable story of a young woman finding her voice against a background of strong cultural tradition and a mother whose ambition for her shows two very different sides to maternal love.
Editorials
Publishers Weekly
Frances lives to please her mother, pushing herself for top grades so that she can get into Berkeley and become a doctor. But at the start of her senior year, she is mistakenly scheduled for speech class, where she learns she is a natural at public speaking, and she begins to question the path her mother has outlined for her. "If you eat bitterness all the time, you will get used to it. Then you will like it," Frances's mother tells her, referring to the eponymous dish, a blatant metaphor for the tight confines of their life together. Frances begins to make choices for herself, first hiding them from her mother, but ultimately confronting her. Though the viciousness her mother displays at times strains credulity (as when she beats Frances with a speech trophy, telling Frances she wants her to die), teens will be able to identify with the intense pressure Frances is under to succeed. The story follows a foreseeable course, but debut novelist Chow's descriptions, dialogue, and details of Chinese-American life in 1980s San Francisco shine, and Frances's growth is rewarding. Ages 12–up. (Dec.)VOYA -
Frances's mother, a Chinese immigrant, works long hours to enable Frances to attend an all-girl Catholic high school. Frances knows what is expected in return: top grades, Berkeley, medical school, and then a lifetime supporting her mother. There is no time for dating, extracurricular activities, or a part-time job. Frances does not question these expectations—good Chinese daughters obey. Then a schedule mix-up sends Frances not to calculus class but to speech, and she discovers a whole new world. A gifted speaker, she gains recognition, self-confidence, and the attention of an attractive Caucasian boy. But the dark side is that Frances must conceal her participation from her mother at all costs. What should she do, develop her own talents or blindly follow her mother's wishes? How should the reader regard Frances? By most standards she is definitely abused by her mother, who maligns and mistreats her, takes her money, and confiscates her mail. It is not clear to what extent her mother's actions are acceptable in the narrow world of the San Francisco Chinese community in the 1990s. In response Frances manipulates her best friend, lies, and sneaks around. Naive and inexperienced, she makes many questionable choices. The author, herself a Chinese immigrant, may intend to shed light on the stereotype of the compliant Asian superstudent, but without more cultural context, Frances's situation seems extreme, and she is not an entirely sympathetic character. The resulting ambivalence leaves an astringent aftertaste, not unlike the bitter melon Frances so dislikes. Reviewer: Kathleen BeckSchool Library Journal
Gr 8 Up—Cara Chow's debut novel (Egmont, 2010) is set in 1980s San Francisco where high school senior Frances struggles to please her Chinese-immigrant mother. There's plenty of tension because rigorous maternal expectations are sometimes punctuated with verbal and physical abuse. Will Frances fulfill her mother's plan by attending U.C. Berkeley and becoming a doctor, or will this top student turn to her newly discovered talent for public speaking? To avoid confrontation with her mother, Frances lies to hide her speech competition schedule, but seeks support from her Chinese-American friend, Teresa, an insightful teacher, and Derek, a boy who's a top-notch public speaking competitor. Frances's desire for self-determination grows until she must face her mother's anger to make her own way. Narrator Nancy Wu communicates the protagonist's emotional turmoil. Her skilled Chinese-accented English is authentic but easily understood. With high school dances and college application decisions, this first-person narrative has the passionate personality of a memoir. It will open frank discussion for students who seesaw between parental expectations and individual dreams. An excellent choice for middle and high school collections, and with Amy Chua's Battle Hymn of the Tiger Mother (Penguin, 2011) drawing attention to parenting the Chinese way, it should also garner adult interest in public libraries.—Barbara Wysocki, Cora J. Belden Library, Rocky Hill, CTKirkus Reviews
Frances, Fei Ting to her China-born mother, starts her last year of high school with the pressure on—get perfect grades in hard classes, improve her SATs by at least 200 points and get accepted to Berkeley, where she must study medicine to become wealthy enough to support her bitter, abusive mother. She's inadvertently enrolled in a speech class with a gifted teacher who gently guides her to take control of her own life. Frances begins lying to her mother about small steps she falteringly takes toward independence. A minor romance with a hunky student from another school, Derek, leads to further deceit, but he provides her with a bit of emotional support, something she's never received at home. Her maturing understanding of the poisonous relationship she has with her mother is nicely portrayed in the text of speeches she gives at competitions. While the first-person narration remains narrowly self-focused, with other, rather stereotypical characters only broadly sketched, it does illuminate the demanding expectations of "stage parents" and the frustrations of their driven offspring.(Fiction. 11 & up)