Q) Herby Chin kept calling for his mother, until finally I heard the back door open and a

rush of footsteps and voices from the kitchen; a chair fell over, curtains were whipped back,
blinds whirled and snapped up. Mr. Chin was shouting instructions. Mrs. Chin called my name.
Shadows moved, and bodies, tall and short, shuddered around the room. At the doorway of the
bedroom, when she saw me look up at her, Mrs. Chin only hesitated for a second before she
rushed beside the bed, shoved aside some pillows and clothes, and warily knelt beside me on
the mattress: “Don’t be afraid … don’t be afraid …” I felt Mommy’s head move.
Mrs. Chin, with her strong farming hands, pulled apart the rigid arms and began lifting me
up, up, up, from the dark between my mother’s breasts. Wetness clung to my legs. Sheets of
wetness pulled away from me.
I was carried away at last, carried into the late morning air to the Chins’ heated cabin.
Mrs. Chin told me again not to be afraid, put me down in a large chair in the midst of her own four
children sitting around the table. Their small faces reflected back to me my own vacant stare.
“Now we have some jook,” Mrs. Chin said, as calmly as she could manage, putting a bowl
of morning gruel in front of me.
They told me later that I ate, that I said nothing. I remember hearing the siren of the
police car, Mrs. Chin scrubbing her hands furiously; and when night fell, Mr. Chin sat beside
me and told all his four children and myself a story of Old China. There were many words I
did not understand, phrases whose meanings were riddles. In the kerosene lamplight, he recited
poetry and sang old songs, and slapped his overalls till the dust from his day’s labour settled
over everyone. I remember the joy and excitement of his storytelling, and the quickening of
my heart when he asked me what I would like.
“Tell another story!” I said, and knew suddenly, another’s voice, my mommy’s voice with
its Hoiping tones, would never say again “Long time ago … in Old China …”
Mrs. Chin passed some pie a neighbour had brought by. The pie was freshly baked and
steaming, and smelled of apples and cinnamon. It was made by a white lady named Mrs. Lawrence.
She had white hair and wore glasses and had a kind face. She poked her head in and asked,
“How is the little boy doing?”
“Good,” Mrs. Chin said. “Jung strong boy. Never cry.”
The Jade Peony, by Wayson Choy, copyright ©1995 by Wayson Choy.
Reprinted by permission of the author and publishers. The Jade Peony,
is published in Canada by Douglas & McIntyre
and in Australia & New Zealand by Penguin.
(a) What do you understand of the characters and the situation in this passage?
(b) How does the writer effectively convey the context and the feelings of the narrating voice?

Answer) This excerpt from “The Jade Peony” by Wayson Choi conveys the mystery and insightful
fear of the unknown of a toddler who has just lost his mother. The reader is able to understand the
essentials of the situation: A young boy is lying in a bed with his dying mother and is then taken
into the care of a family friend.The reader confirms the death of the mother with the narrator’s
description of the “rigid arms” (line 8), which implies the limpness of the mother’s lifeless arms,
and the boy’s realization that “my mommy’s voice…would never say again…”
(lines 23-24). Also, from the apparent urgency and, perhaps, panic of the first paragraph, the reader
may infer that something – most likely an emergency – has gone terribly wrong.
The development of the Chin family characters then expands on this confirmation (of the mother’s
death) to help develop the reader’s understanding. Mrs. Chin is shown as a very generous and
maternal woman – a foil to her husband’s practical leadership in giving instructions (line 3) – who
comforts the boy as the mother dies. She pulls the boy “up, up, up, from the dark…” and carries
him away to her family’s cabin, a safe place. These actions indicate the switching of
maternal roles between the boy’s mother and Mrs. Chin as the biological mother passes by.
Also, the other Chin characters help to convey the situation. In line 13, the expressions of the Chin
children reflect back the “vacant stare” of the young boy to indicate his scared yet insightful
awareness of the situation. Once they are in the Chin family’s cabin, Mr. Chin dynamically changes
from practical leader to nurturing father, mirroring the comfort given by Mrs. Chin. His actions to
return to normality – telling old stories, singing songs, etc. (lines 17-21) – further indicate the
absence of the boy’s mother, showing how the Chin family is so kindly taking in the now
motherless boy.
Considering that the reader is left void of a complete description of the situation, the mysteriousness
of this lack of detail also effectively helps to convey the similar mysteriousness felt by the boy, the
narrating voice. It seems that the boy is aware of his mother’s death, at least to some degree. By
taking resort to the phrase, “vacant stare” (line 13) and he does not say anything as he eats his jook
(line 16). Still, he does not fully grasp the concept, or the repercussions rather, of his mother’s
death. For example, he remembers the “joy and excitement” of the storytelling night just before
realizing his “mommy’s voice…would never say again…” (line 24).
Aside from a paralleled mysteriousness experienced by both the reader and the boy, Choi also
cleverly uses tone and sensory descriptions to convey the context and feeling of the narrating voice
(of the boy). Especially in the first paragraph, Choi appeals to the auditory senses; he narrates and
sets the scene by describing what the boy hears. First there is the voice of Herby Chin calling for
help, then the boy hears the back door open and the sound of voices coming from the kitchen. In
lines 1-3, the boy describes the scene by telling everything he hears from the other bedroom. This
conveys the uneasiness of the unknown, since the boy is only hearing what is going on; he cannot
see anything in the other room. Surely the boy is scared, but his observant mind conveys his insight
and awareness of the situation. Choi also uses an appeal to the tactile senses, developing a tone of
urgency, which helps to convey the uneasiness felt by the boy. For example, in line 17, Mrs. Chin
scrubs her hands furiously simultaneously as the boy hears the siren to
indicate her urgent and almost unsatiable desire to clean the blood from her hands. This may also
demonstrate (figuratively) the feelings of the boy and the Chin family to move past the mother’s
death – they hope to get ride of the stains of the pain in an attempt to return to normality.
Aside from his sensory appeal, Choi also uses an effective word choice to convey the sense of
urgency. Most noticably,
he uses the word “rush” twice (line 1 & line 5) as well as other phrases with a connotation of
quickness (which indicates
the level of panic felt in the emergency). For example, a chair falls over (due to the rushing of
people in the kitchen), the
curtains are “whipped” back, the blinds “whirled” and “snapped” up. Mrs. Chin “shoves” aside the
pillows on the bed to
comfort the boy.
As the passage progresses, the sense of urgency slows as Choi picks up another more reflective and
observant tone.
The diction, especially of lines 25-30, is much less urgent and has a sense of calmness to it
(conveyed by the sensory
description of the freshly baked pie, the epitome of comfort). Ultimately this helps to demonstrate
the probable
acceptance and understanding of the boy. This gives the reader a final peace of mind, as the
mysteriousness and
urgency that are conveyed at the beginning finally come to a close, and the reader solidifies his or
her understanding of
the characters and the situation.