9 Writing a Narrative

Fish Cheeks

I fell in love with the minister’s son the winter I turned fourteen. He was not Chinese, but as white as Mary in the manger. For Christmas I prayed for this blond-haired boy, Robert, and a slim new American nose.

When I found out that my parents had invited the minister’s family over for Christmas Eve dinner, I cried. What would Robert think of our shabby Chinese Christmas? What would he think of our noisy Chinese relatives who lacked proper American manners? What terrible disappointment would he feel upon seeing not a roasted turkey and sweet potatoes but Chinese food?

On Christmas Eve I saw that my mother had outdone herself in creating a strange menu. She was pulling black veins out of the backs of fleshy prawns. The kitchen was littered with appalling mounds of raw food: A slimy rock cod with bulging eyes that pleaded not to be thrown into a pan of hot oil. Tofu, which looked like stacked wedges of rubbery white sponges. A bowl soaking dried fungus back to life. A plate of squid, their backs crisscrossed with knife markings so they resembled bicycle tires.

And then they arrived – the minister’s family and all my relatives in a clamor of doorbells and rumpled Christmas packages. Robert grunted hello, and I pretended he was not worthy of existence.

Dinner threw me deeper into despair. My relatives licked the ends of their chopsticks and reached across the table, dipping them into the dozen or so plates of food. Robert and his family waited patiently for platters to be passed to them. My relatives murmured with pleasure when my mother brought out the whole steamed fish. Robert grimaced. Then my father poked his chopsticks just below the fish eye and plucked out the soft meat. “Amy, your favorite,” he said, offering me the tender fish cheek. I wanted to disappear.

At the end of the meal my father leaned back and belched loudly, thanking my mother for her fine cooking. “It’s a polite Chinese custom to show you are satisfied,” explained my father to our astonished guests. Robert was looking down at his plate with a reddened face. The minister managed to muster up a quiet burp. I was stunned into silence for the rest of the night.

After everyone had gone, my mother said to me, “You want to be the same as American girls on the outside.” She handed me an early gift. It was a miniskirt in beige tweed. “But inside you must always be Chinese. You must be proud you are different. Your only shame is to have shame.”

And even though I didn’t agree with her then, I knew that she understood how much I had suffered during the evening’s dinner. It wasn’t until many years later – long after I had gotten over my crush on Robert – that I was able to fully appreciate her lesson and the true purpose behind our particular menu. For Christmas Eve that year, she had chosen all my favorite foods.

Questions for Discussion

1. What point of view does Amy Tan use in “Fish Cheeks”?
2. Who are the characters in the narrative?
3. Where does Amy Tan use transitions?
4. What is the main conflict in the narrative? How is it resolved?
5. What is the theme of “Fish Cheeks”?
6. What are three examples of description from this narrative?

Bayou Monster

It was a scorcher that day. The wind and trees were no help. The shade was only being supplied so far off the bank. Baseball caps can only do so much to protect the head from the sun’s powerful rays. The mosquitoes were rampant, their feeble attempt at survival. There was a lack of warm-blooded animals for them to prey on. We were the likely targets, the only ones that would dare venture that far out into a swamp. In addition to the nagging pests, the feebleness of the body takes its toll on the mind. Doubts began to swirl in my head of when we would ever stop to rest. Thoughts of unrest, discomfort, and selfishness shot from my bones up to my brain, causing a disinterested taste on my part for this “lovely day out.”

Just as my thoughts became increasingly negative and the downward swirl of discomfort was reaching the highest degree, I heard, “Get ready; it’s our first one!” Suddenly a slight rush of energy came out of nowhere, pushing me forward onto my toes, ready for what came next. As the boat slowed for the approach, I snapped a quick glance around. I noticed the others received the same kind of rejuvenation that I had experienced. Their heads moved forward toward the front of the boat, their bodies posturing upward to get the best look. Suddenly, I found myself hanging halfway off the front bow reaching down for a rope that had spent most of its existence submerged in nature. After I grabbed the rope, the next hardest thing to get a handle on was my fear, which manifested itself in the form of unsteady hands. As I pulled the rope further into the boat, I thought, “This stuff only happens in movies.” The partner boat was only a few feet away, readied with cameras, and smiles behind the lenses.

What I saw next was unutterable. Coming up behind the rope was a massive net. The net wasn’t the problem, though; rather, what the net contained had my mind tangled a bit. At first glance, anyone would say, “It’s a fish.” It looked like a fish, moved like a fish, and it certainly smelled like a fish. Drawing closer to this mysterious creature, I tried to get a better look at it. Suddenly there was an eerie sound. Caused by a mix of fluid and air being pushed through a small hole at a high rate of speed. I told myself, “This beast has lungs.” As the rest of its body surfaced, it became clear that the creature I had helped pull from the water was not just any old fish. It was a prehistoric monster that made its way through the waters of history until now. It had teeth the size of my fingers, eyes that had seen little sunlight, and a head the size of my torso. It suddenly became difficult to breathe normally. I was in shock.

Thanks be to God and all that is good for our fearless boat captain. He had seen this sort of thing before. This became clear when I glanced up to find a smile bigger than the sun on his face. Though a few teeth were missing, it did not seem to stifle his cheer. Oh, the laughter that came from this large man. His amusement caused my discomfort. Sheepishly, I managed to ask, “What are we going to do with that thing?” His answer was clear, striking, and firm. Looking over the specimen wrapped in the net behind me, he said, “We’re going to kill it and eat it.” Indeed, we did. Carefully and with much fear, we pulled this living hunk of marsh onto the deck of the boat. Watching its every move as he untied what was left of the mangled nets. He then calmly requested his “special tool” from behind the steering wheel. With a crooked smile and a strange sense of confidence, he said smoothly, “Just a little amnesia.” Then the inevitable happened. Thud! Thud! Thud! He raised the hatchet high in the air and delivered several deadly strikes to the uppermost part of the beast’s head. After the third swing, the beast ceased to move about on the deck of the bayou cruiser. It let out its final breath, almost a sigh of relief. We all stood there in silence for a moment, trying to process the most eventful and mysterious five minutes of our lives.

Before we knew it, we had the monster back at the camp to be cleaned and packaged. Several grown men had to grab its slimy body to fashion a hoist over its snout to get it onto the deck of the cleaning station. As we grabbed it, our eyes were fixed on its massive teeth. We wondered if the beast would awake from its seeming lethargy seeking revenge. Once a few pictures were snapped of us with our accidental catch, we began to clean the alligator garfish with much frustration. Fish that large have skin like armor, making it difficult even for the experienced veterans. Research showed that although it is an exceptionally large fish, it wouldn’t have topped the world record holders. I like to share this fishing story from time to time with friends and men who tend to boast of their “biggest catches.” It is a fond memory to share with many, especially those who call my life “boring.” If they only knew.

Questions for Discussion

1. What point of view does the author use in his essay? How does it differ from Amy Tan’s essay?
2. Who are the characters in this narrative? Which ones are major? Which are minor?
3. Where does the author use transitions? Why do you think he placed them there?
4. What is the main conflict in the narrative? How is it resolved?
5. What is the theme of “Bayou Monster”? What is one sentence that reveals the narrative’s theme?
6. What are three examples of description in this narrative?