THE FILIPINO DRAMA

I. ELEMENTS OF DRAMA

A.

Six (6) Aristotelean Elements of Drama

1. Plot

• This contains the story that the play narrates.

• The events in the play should be clear to the audience and have a logical connection with each other.

• The action and movement in the play begin from the initial entanglement or conflict, through rising action, climax, and falling action to resolution.

2. Characters

• Characters are interwoven with the plot, and they are the ones that move the action of the play forward.

• Each character should have their own distinct personality, age, appearance, beliefs, socio-economic background, and language.

3. Theme/Thought

• It refers to the central idea of the play.

• The theme also contains the message that the play gives to the audience.

• It may be clearly stated in the title, through dialogue or action, or it may be inferred after watching and analyzing the entire performance.

4. Language/Diction

• It is the word choices maNAde by the playwright and how the actors enunciate the language.

• Language and dialog delivered by the characters move the plot and action along, provide exposition, and define the distinct characters.

5. Music/Rhythm

• Music can encompass the rhythm of dialogue and speeches in a play or can also mean the aspects of the melody and music compositions as with musical theatre.

• Music is not a part of every play. But, music can be included to mean all sounds in a production.

• Music can expand to all sound effects, the actor’s voices, songs, and instrumental music played as underscore in a play.

• Music creates patterns and establishes tempo in theatre. In the aspects of musical, songs are used to push the plot forward and move the story to a higher level of intensity.

• Composers and lyricists work together with playwrights to strengthen the themes and ideas of the play.

• Character’s wants and desires can be strengthened for the audience through lyrics and music.

6. Spectacle

• The spectacle in the theatre can involve all of the aspects of scenery, costumes, and special effects in a production.

• It also refers to the visual elements of the play created for theatrical event and the qualities determined by the playwright that create the world and atmosphere of the

• play for the audience’s eye.

II. ANALZYING A DRAMA

A. APPROACHES TO ANALYZING A DRAMA

• Formalistic

Stresses items like symbols, images, and structure and how one part of the work relates to other parts and to the whole

• Philosophical

Focuses on themes, view of the world, moral statements, and author’s philosophy

• Biographical

Aims to find the connection between the piece and the author's personal experiences Historical Focuses on the connection of work to the historical period in which it was written; literary historians attempt to connect the historical background of the work to specific aspects of the work.

• Psychological

Focuses on the psychology of characters

• Sociological

Focuses on man’s relationship with others in society, politics, religion, and business

• Archetypal

Focuses on connections to other literature, mythological/biblical allusions, archetypal images, symbols, characters, and themes

Feminist

Examines images of women and concepts of the feminine in myth and literature; uses the psychological, archetypal, and sociological approaches; often focuses on female characters who have been neglected in previous criticism. (Feminist critics attempt to correct or supplement what they regard as a predominantly male-dominated critical perspective.)

B. GUIDELINES IN ANALYZING A DRAMA

For nascent critiques

Script analysis often starts with identifying the “given circumstances” or the characteristics of the world of the play explicitly or implicitly found in the script.

• Time

The specific time the scene takes place. Time of day, time of week time of year. For example, how would a scene that takes place in the middle of a winter night compare to a scene that takes place on a hot afternoon minutes before summer vacation?

• Period

The general or historical time period in which the play is set How might the period influence the dialogue? How might the costumes or set pieces reflect the period?

• Place

The specific place on stage where the action occurs. (e.g., a fancy living room, a sterile doctor’s office, or a ravaged battlefield). Is it an interior or exterior location? What sort of set pieces could suggest the place for the audience? How would characters feel or behave in this place compared to other places?

• Locale

The general region where the play is set (e.g., New York City, the rural American South, under the sea.) What makes this locale unique compared to other locales?

• Mood

The atmosphere, or feeling of a scene. (e.g., suspenseful, humorous, chaotic) What about the scene that causes this mood? Caution: Avoid having actors “play the mood,” but instead focus on their objective.

• Theme

What ideas does this play make you think about? Does it have a question that it sets out to answer or explore? How do the events of the play develop these ideas?

For intermediate critiques

What distinguishes drama from other forms of writing is that it is made primarily of dialogue—characters speaking to each other (or to the audience), with some actions indicated through stage directions.

Unlike prose, drama largely does not include narration, unless the playwright has included a narrator character.

Because dialogue is the primary medium of drama, all dialogue should serve two purposes: revealing character and furthering the plot.

• Text

The actual words written by the playwright and spoken by the actors. As you analyze the text, look up any words, expressions, or references that are unfamiliar.

• Context

The situation surrounding the characters, which influences the decisions they make. Where are the characters? Why are they there? Where were they before the beginning of this scene? Where are they going after this scene?

• Subtext

The underlying meaning of what the characters say. For example, suppose a character says, “Everything is fine.” The meaning, or subtext, of this phrase changes depending on their tone and body language. Are they being serious, or sarcastic? To look for the subtext within dialogue, consider what each character wants and what obstacles they face.

For advance critiques

Objective

What the characters want or need within the given moment. It helps actors to frame their objective in statements beginning with “I want” or “I need.” All characters should have objectives, not just the protagonist.

Super Objective

The broad overall objective a character has throughout the play, rather than in specific scenes. For example, Hamlet’s super-objective is to avenge his father’s murder, but his objective changes in scenes throughout the play.

Obstacle

The person, event, or thing that gets in the way of a character achieving his or her objective. Sometimes the obstacle is that two characters have exact opposite objectives. The obstacles create conflict within the story. Once an obstacle is overcome, a character gets a new objective, or the play is over.

Tactic

An action a character makes in an attempt to achieve his or her objective. Tactics can be actual actions a character takes, or they can be spoken. For example, if a character’s objective is to make another character leave the room, the character’s tactics to achieve this objective can be anything between asking them politely to using physical force.

Beat Change

The moment a character decides to switch tactics, or takes on a new objective. These can be subtle moments or incredibly dramatic moments, depending on the scene. Either way, it is important to make these beat changes clear.

EVOLUTION OF PHILIPPINE THEATER

PRE COLONIAL TIME

• theater in the Philippines was in the form of indigenous rituals, verbal jousts or games, or songs and dances to praise gods.

• prehistoric dramas consisted of three elements – myth, mimesis, and spectacle.

• dramatized primitive rituals and epic poetry about deities and mythical legends, where the spirit of the deities would seemingly possess a catalonan (priest) or babaylan (priestess).

SPANISH REGIME

• they used dramas such as zarzuelas as a pedagogical tool to influence the pagan tribes and teach them about Christianity and religion.

• important form of theater is the comedia, also known as moro-moro, linambay, or arakyo, a play in verse that portrays the lives, loves, and wars of moors and Christians

• Comedia/ moro-moro is a secular comedy that dramatizes the war between Christians and Muslims through the forbidden love between the prince and the princess. The comedy is resolved with the non Christian being converted to Christianity, or through his or her death, immediately followed by his or her resurrection.

• Comedia were normally performed in the pueblos or village centers to attract more people to the foundation of its regime.

• The comedia can last anywhere from 3 to 15 hours through a series of performances.

• The first Filipino comedia was performed in Latin and Spanish by Fr. Vicente Puche in Cebu in 1598.

• a zarzuela is a form of musical theater that combines spoken word and song that celebrates various Catholic liturgical feasts.

• Jugar Con Fuego by Francisco Asenjo Barbieri was the first zarzuela introduced in the country in late 1878 or early 1879.

• By August 17, 1893, Teatro Zorilla, the home of zarzuela, was inaugurated.

• Throughout the 333 years of the Spanish regime, the Philippines was widely influenced by their culture, tradition, and religion.

AMERICAN COLONIZATION

• United States introduced the American way of life through education, media, and language.

• Their influence on Philippine theatre is most apparent through the bodabil (vaudeville) and the plays and dramas staged or translated into English.

• In 1898, the first bodabil was produced by the Manila Dramatic Guild for the sole purpose of entertaining American soldiers and other Americans residing in Manila. It was also the first theatrical performance since the revolution.

• The bodabil is not a straight-up play. The theatrical performance is, in fact, a mix of songs, dances, comedy skits, and even magical performances.

• BODABIL was interjected into comedias and zarzuelas, as intermission numbers known as jamborees.

• 1930s, the country was introduced to Broadway theatre or stage plays through the westernized education that was provided in most private schools for privileged children.

• Shakespearean tragedies and comedies, as well as western classics, were performed in the original English or English adaptation.

The Japanese Occupation

• 1940s, movie actors and actresses could no longer appear in films, as the Japanese confiscated all film equipment.

• the comedia, zarzuela, and bodabil remained in the country as forms of entertainment and expression.

• the bodabil evolved to become stage shows or variety shows with a short melodrama

• Venues such as the Manila Grand Opera House and the Savoy Theatre became homes of bodabil.

• After the war, movies returned to popularity, and the bodabil era slowly lost its luster.

• Stage shows became small, cheap performances held in open-air stages in the provinces.

• the bodabil deteriorated decades later to become burlesque and strip shows held in cheap theatres around American military bases.

II. Notable Theater Groups in the Philippines

Tanghalang Pilipino

• Founded in 1987 as the resident theater company of the Cultural Center of the Philippines (CCP)

• aims to promote Philippine theater that is rooted in centuries-old Filipino culture and history

• Kamalayang Pilipino Workshop in the Arts (KAPWA), a theater workshop framework that focuses on identifying the roots of a community and using theater as a tool for self-discovery and empowerment.

• they maintain a core of actors whose full-time training in acting is subsidized by the company. Known as the Tanghalang Pilipino Actors Company,

• they also the native language as their primary medium for their productions and by bringing their performances to venues outside CCP- to various parts of the country and overseas

• Notable productions of the company are —

  a. Prinsipe Munti, an adaptation of Antoine de Saint-Exupéry's Le Petit Prince,

  b. Sandosenang Sapatos,

  c. Melanie,

  d. Ang Paguusig (The Crucible) by Arthur Miller's,

  e. Nang Dalawin ng Pag-ibig si Juan Tamad,

  f. Walang Aray - a contemporized comic version of Severino Reyes' Walang Sugat.

B. Philippine Educational Theater Association

• Founded by Cecile Guidote-Alvarez on April 7, 1967,

• When its founder was forced to go on political exile because of Martial Law in 1972, PETA’s new breed of artist-teacher-leaders continued to steer the company towards a People’s Theater committed to social change.

• The social conditions and political climate during the Martial Law sharpened the people-based theater aesthetics of PETA.

• It inspired the company to use the power of theater as a means of producing plays for empowerment and development, especially of the most disadvantaged sectors of society/those in the margins.

• PETA began by asserting the then radical view of creating and performing plays in Filipino.

• Most of PETA’s plays were staged at the historic Dulaang Rajah Sulayman, an open-air theater designed by National Artist Leandro V. Locsin.

• Among PETA’s earlier plays have been:

• Bayaning Huwad,

• Larawan,

• May-i

• Hanggang Dito na Lamang at Maraming Salamat,

• Juan Tamban,

• Pilipinas Circa 1907,

• Ang Buhay ni Galileo,

• Macbeth,

• Canuplin,

• Macliing,

• Minsa’y Isang GamuGamo,

• Ang Paglalakbay ni Radya Mangandiri, 1896.

C. Repertory Philippines Foundation, Inc.

• Founded in 1967 by a group of actors on the initiative of the late Zeneida A. Amador who was its President and Artistic Director until her death in 2005,

• Repertory Philippines Foundation, Inc., also known as “REP”, has often been called “the most professional English speaking theater company in the country”.

• It is the only theater company that produces western plays – both modern and the classics – non-stop throughout the year except for the summer months when attention turns to Performing Arts workshops and their corresponding showcase productions.

• The roster of its productions include such titles as Les Miserables, The King and I, Passion, Evita, Annie, My Fair Lady, La Cage Aux Folles, Ain’t Misbehavin, Kiss of the Spider Woman, South Pacific, Jesus Christ Superstar, Joseph and the Amazing Tecnicolor Dreamcoat, Carousel, Pirates of Penzance A Christmas Carol, A Little Night Music, Oliver, The Secret Garden and a host of others.

• One of its recent musical productions, Les Miserables, was called the best musical and perhaps the best musical ever in this country.

• It has also been the best-known training ground for actors having produced the likes of Lea Salonga who first appeared with REP when she was six years old and then played the lead in Annie when she was eight. She went on to play the lead in Cameron Mackintosh’s Miss Saigon, winning awards in both London and New York for her performance and since then has been an international performer.

D. Gantimpala Theater Foundation

• history began at the Cultural Center of the Philippines (CCP) in 1978.

• Founding President and Artistic Director, Tony S. Espejo introduced the concept of Black Box Theater in the country be establishing Bulwagang Gantimpala - a bold move that paved the way for the Filipino literary writers foray into the theater scene.

• 1986, became an independent theater company, made into a foundation and shifted its artistic gears by giving life to plays based on the Philippines' Cultural and Literary Heritage. Its inception of study aides by staging the korido of Ibong Adarna, the beauty of spoken Tagalog poetry in Florante at Laura, Noli Me Tangere and El Filibusterismo, novels of National Hero Dr. Jose Rizal became a major contribution of Gantimpala Theater in the learning and teaching process for students and teachers alike.

The Dust in Your Place

A One-Act Play by Joachim Emilio B. Antonioi

"Buwis" Dulang May Isang Yugto by Charlson Ong

Mga Tauhan

Anita: 75, Chinese-Filipino, bagong biyuda

Jackson Peña: 55, BIR Examiner

Max: 10, Kapitbahay ni Anita

Belinda: 50, pamangkin ni Anita,

insurance broker Jayson: 25, 15 taon nang nawawala ang eroplanong sinakyan, presumed dead.

Anna in the Tropics

By Nilo Cruz

CHARACTERS

SANTIAGO, owner of a cigar factory, late 50’s

CHECHÉ, his half-brother, half-Cuban, half-American, early 40’s

OFELIA, Santiago’s wife, 50’s

MARELA, Ofelia and Santiago’s daughter, 22

CONCHITA, her sister, 32

PALOMO, her husband, 41

JUAN JULIAN, the lector, 38

ELIADES, local gamester, runs cockfights, 40’s

PLACE

An old warehouse. Tampa, Florida. A small town called Ybor City.

TIME

1929

Filipino Fiction in the 21st Century

I. Elements of Fiction

A. Plot

It refers to the series of interconnected events in which every occurrence has a specific purpose. These series of events are used to establish connections, suggest causes, and show relationships.

1. Parts of the plot

The action and movement in fiction begin from the initial entanglement or conflict through rising action, climax, falling action, and resolution or denouement.

2. Types of Plot Structure

• Progressive

This is the typical structure of the plot as it follows a chronological pattern. It first builds the setting, and the conflict then proceeds to the rising action, climax, and concludes with the denouement.

Example: “Troll” (Short Story) by Nick De Guzman,

• Episodic

This structure also follows a chronological structure, but the plot is divided into several chapters. These chapters show a series of loosely related incidents that are tied together by a common theme and/or characters. The episodic plot works best when the writer wishes to explore the personalities of the characters, the nature of their existence, and the flavor of an era.

examples: tv series

• Parallel

It contains two or more dramatic plots that are linked by a typical character and a similar theme. This structure uses a nonlinear plotline (a plotline that jumps around and skips between timelines and protagonists) compared to a progressive and episodic plot that uses a linear plotline

• Flashback

This structure enables the author to begin the story during the action but later fill in the background for a full understanding of the present events.

Example: Miracle in Cell No. 7

B. Setting

refers to the time and place in which the story takes place. It also includes social statuses, weather, historical period, and details about the immediate surroundings.

Setting can be real, fictional, or a combination of the two.

C. Character

Characters are interwoven with the plot, and they are the ones that move the action of the play forward. Each figure should have its own distinct personality, age, appearance, beliefs, socio-economic background, and language.

Types of Characters

 Dynamic - It is a character that changes the story due to the conflicts and lessons he/she had on his/her journey.

 Static - This character does not develop the inner understanding to know how his environment is affecting him, or he does not understand that his actions have positive or negative impacts on others. The personality of this character remains the same at the end of the story as it appeared in the beginning

 Flat - This type of character does not undergo significant growth or changes from the start of the story up until its end. There is only limited knowledge about these characters because the author did not provide detailed information about them.

 Round - They have depth in feelings and passions. In contrast with flat characters, they are more realistic as they contain many layers of personality. It is the character with whom the audience/readers can sympathize, associate with, or relate to, as he/she seems the character they might have seen in their real lives.

D. Conflict

Conflict refers to the struggle between opposing forces in the story. It can be internal or external.

Types of Conflict

 Individual versus Individual

It is a situation where two (2) characters, the protagonist and antagonist, have opposing desires or interests.

 Individual versus Nature

In this type of conflict, the protagonist is experiencing an external struggle against a force of nature or an animal.

 Individual versus Society

The main character is either in conflict with the laws of his/her society, an oppressive government, or an unfair community mindset.

 Individual versus Technology

The antagonist in this type of conflict is humanmade.

 Individual versus Self

This is an example of internal conflict. The protagonist’s opponent could be two competing desires (e.g., needs vs. wants) or his/her inner being or principle (e.g., selfishness vs. selflessness).

E. Symbolism

It refers to the use of an object, figure, event, situation, or other ideas in a written work to represent something else.

“symbolism takes something that is usually concrete and associates or affixes it to something else to give it a new and more significant meaning.”

Examples:

• “Light” as a symbol of knowledge or hope

• “Fire” as a symbol of desire

F. Point of View

The point of view determines the angle and perception in which the story is narrated or depicted. The first and third-person points of view are the most common types that are used by writers.

Examples:

• First person

It’s midnight, and the moon shined so brightly when I came to see my love. I was contemplating the thought that I am so bad for killing my mother just to give her heart to the maiden I love. I’m on my way to my maiden, my legs were shaking, and my heart kept on pounding. The rain fell, and I was so wet, and I fell to the ground, crying, thinking of my mother, who loved me so much.

• Third person (unreliable) It’s dark, and the moon shined so brightly when the boy came out holding a heart. He left the dead body of a woman with a breast cut open. He was teary eyed, staring at the dead body but smiled when he opened his wallet and stared at the picture of a beautiful young lady. He glanced at the heart and said, “this is for the beautiful maiden.” He ran out, holding the heart when it rained, and he fell and started to cry. He remembered the old woman he left at the house.

• Third person (omniscient) It’s midnight, and the moon shined so brightly when the boy came to see the maiden he loves. He was contemplating the thought that he is so bad for killing his mother just to give her heart to the maiden. On his way, his legs were shaking, and his heart didn’t stop pounding. The rain fell, and he was so wet when he fell to the ground, crying, thinking of his mother who loved him so much.

G. Theme

It refers to the central idea of the story. The theme also contains the message that is given to the audience. It may be clearly stated in the title, through dialogue or action.

"A Sheltered Woman" (2015) by Yiyun Li

The new mother, groggy from a nap, sat at the table as though she did not grasp why she had been summoned. Perhaps she never would, Auntie Mei thought. On the placemat sat a bowl of soybeanand-pig’s-foot soup that Auntie Mei had cooked, as she had for many new mothers before this one. Many, however, was not exact. In her interviews with potential employers, Auntie Mei always gave the precise number of families she had worked for: a hundred and twenty-six when she interviewed with her current employer, a hundred and thirty-one babies altogether. The families’ contact information, the dates she had worked for them, their babies’ names and birthdays—these she had recorded in a palm-size notebook, which had twice fallen apart and been taped back together. Years ago, Auntie Mei had bought it at a garage sale in Moline, Illinois. She had liked the picture of flowers on the cover, purple and yellow, unmelted snow surrounding the chaste petals. She had liked the price of the notebook, too: five cents. When she handed a dime to the child with the cash box on his lap, she asked if there was another notebook she could buy, so that he would not have to give her any change; the boy looked perplexed and said no. It was greed that had made her ask, but when the memory came back—it often did when she took the notebook out of her suitcase for another interview—Auntie Mei would laugh at herself: why on earth had she wanted two notebooks, when there’s not enough life to fill one? The mother sat still, not touching the spoon, until teardrops fell into the steaming soup. “Now, now,” Auntie Mei said. She was pushing herself and the baby in a new rocking chair—back and forth, back and forth, the squeaking less noticeable than yesterday. I wonder who’s enjoying the rocking more, she said to herself: the chair, whose job is to rock until it breaks apart, or you, whose life is being rocked away? And which one of you will meet your demise first? Auntie Mei had long ago accepted that she had, despite her best intentions, become one of those people who talk to themselves when the world is not listening. At least she took care not to let the words slip out. “I don’t like this soup,” said the mother, who surely had a Chinese name but had asked Auntie Mei to call her Chanel. Auntie Mei, however, called every mother Baby’s Ma, and every infant Baby. It was simple that way, one set of clients easily replaced by the next. “It’s not for you to like,” Auntie Mei said. The soup had simmered all morning and had thickened to a milky white. She would never have touched it herself, but it was the best recipe for breastfeeding mothers. “You eat it for Baby.” “Why do I have to eat for him?” Chanel said. She was skinny, though it had been only five days since the delivery. “Why, indeed,” Auntie Mei said, laughing. “Where else do you think your milk comes from?” “I’m not a cow.” I would rather you were a cow, Auntie Mei thought. But she merely threatened gently that there was always the option of formula. Auntie Mei wouldn’t mind that, but most people hired her for her expertise in taking care of newborns and breast-feeding mothers. The young woman started to sob. Really, Auntie Mei thought, she had never seen anyone so unfit to be a mother as this little creature. “I think I have postpartum depression,” Chanel said when her tears had stopped. Some fancy term the young woman had picked up. “My great-grandmother hanged herself when my grandfather was three days old. People said she’d fallen under the spell of some passing ghost, but this is what I think.” Using her iPhone as a mirror, SH1903 07 Teaching Materials 2 Property of STI Page 34 of 91 Chanel checked her face and pressed her puffy eyelids with a finger. “She had postpartum depression.” Auntie Mei stopped rocking and snuggled the infant closer. At once his head started bumping against her bosom. “Don’t speak nonsense,” she said sternly. “I’m only explaining what postpartum depression is.” “Your problem is that you’re not eating. Nobody would be happy if they were in your shoes.” “Nobody,” Chanel said glumly, “could possibly be in my shoes. Do you know what I dreamed last night?” “No.” “Take a guess.” “In our village, we say it’s bad luck to guess someone else’s dreams,” Auntie Mei said. Only ghosts entered and left people’s minds freely. “I dreamed that I flushed Baby down the toilet.” “Oh. I wouldn’t have guessed that even if I’d tried.” “That’s the problem. Nobody knows how I feel,” Chanel said, and started to weep again. Auntie Mei sniffed under the child’s blanket, paying no heed to the fresh tears. “Baby needs a diaper change,” she announced, knowing that, given some time, Chanel would acquiesce: a mother is a mother, even if she speaks of flushing her child down the drain. Auntie Mei had worked as a live-in nanny for newborns and their mothers for eleven years. As a rule, she moved out of the family’s house the day a baby turned a month old, unless—though this rarely happened—she was between jobs, which was never more than a few days. Many families would have been glad to pay her extra for another week, or another month; some even offered a longer term, but Auntie Mei always declined: she worked as a first-month nanny, whose duties, toward both the mother and the infant, were different from those of a regular nanny. Once in a while, she was approached by previous employers to care for their second child. The thought of facing a child who had once been an infant in her arms led to lost sleep; she agreed only when there was no other option, and she treated the older children as though they were empty air. Between bouts of sobbing, Chanel said she did not understand why her husband couldn’t take a few days off. The previous day he had left for Shenzhen on a business trip. “What right does he have to leave me alone with his son?” Alone? Auntie Mei squinted at Baby’s eyebrows, knitted so tight that the skin in between took on a tinge of yellow. Your pa is working hard so your ma can stay home and call me nobody. The Year of the Snake, an inauspicious one to give birth in, had been slow for Auntie Mei; otherwise, she would’ve had better options. She had not liked the couple when she met them; unlike most expectant parents, they had both looked distracted, and asked few questions before offering her the position. They were about to entrust their baby to a stranger, Auntie Mei had wanted to remind them, but neither seemed worried. Perhaps they had gathered enough references? Auntie Mei did have a reputation as a gold-medal nanny. Her employers were the lucky ones, to have had a good education in China and, later, America, and to have become professionals in the Bay Area: lawyers, doctors, V.C.s, engineers—no matter, they still needed an experienced Chinese nanny for their American-born babies. Many families lined her up months before their babies were born. Baby, cleaned and swaddled, seemed satisfied, so Auntie Mei left him on the changing table and looked out the window, enjoying, as she always did, a view that did not belong to her. Between an azalea bush and a slate path, there was a man-made pond, which hosted an assortment of goldfish and lily pads. Before he left, the husband had asked Auntie Mei to feed the fish and refill the pond. Eighteen hundred gallons a year, he had informed her, calculating the expense. She would have SH1903 07 Teaching Materials 2 Property of STI Page 35 of 91 refused the additional responsibilities if not for his readiness to pay her an extra twenty dollars each day. A statue of an egret, balanced on one leg, stood in the water, its neck curved into a question mark. Auntie Mei thought about the man who had made the sculpture. Of course, it could have been a woman, but Auntie Mei refused to accept that possibility. She liked to believe that it was men who made beautiful and useless things like the egret. Let him be a lonely man, beyond the reach of any fiendish woman. Baby started to wiggle. Don’t you stir before your ma finishes her soup, Auntie Mei warned in a whisper, though in vain. The egret, startled, took off with an unhurried elegance, its single squawk stunning Auntie Mei and then making her laugh. For sure, you’re getting old and forgetful: there was no such statue yesterday. Auntie Mei picked up Baby and went into the yard. There were fewer goldfish now, but at least some had escaped the egret’s raid. All the same, she would have to tell Chanel about the loss. You think you have a problem with postpartum depression? Think of the goldfish, living one day in a paradise pond and the next day going to Heaven in the stomach of a passing egret. Auntie Mei believed in strict routines for every baby and mother in her charge. For the first week, she fed the mother six meals a day, with three snacks in between; from the second week on, it was four meals and two snacks. The baby was to be nursed every two hours during the day, and every three or four hours at night. She let the parents decide whether the crib was kept in their bedroom or in the nursery, but she would not allow it in her bedroom. No, this was not for her convenience, she explained to them; there was simply no reason for a baby to be close to someone who was there for only a month. “But it’s impossible to eat so much. People are different,” Chanel said the next day. Less weepy at the moment, she was curled up on the sofa, a pair of heating pads on her chest: Auntie Mei had not been impressed with the young woman’s milk production. You can be as different as you want after I leave, Auntie Mei thought as she bathed Baby; your son can grow into a lopsided squash and I won’t care a bit. But no mother or baby could deviate just yet. The reason people hired a first-month nanny, Auntie Mei told Chanel, was to make sure that things went correctly, not differently. “But did you follow this schedule when you had your children? I bet you didn’t.” “As a matter of fact, I didn’t, only because I didn’t have children.” “Not even one?” “You didn’t specify a nanny who had her own children.” “But why would you . . . why did you choose this line of work?” Why indeed. “Sometimes a job chooses you,” Auntie Mei said. Ha, who knew she could be so profound? “But you must love children, then?” Oh, no, no, not this one or that one; not any of them. “Does a bricklayer love his bricks?” Auntie Mei asked. “Does the dishwasher repairman love the dishwashers?” That morning, a man had come to look at Chanel’s malfunctioning dishwasher. It had taken him only twenty minutes of poking, but the bill was a hundred dollars, as much as a whole day’s wages for Auntie Mei. “Auntie, that’s not a good argument.” “My job doesn’t require me to argue well. If I could argue, I’d have become a lawyer, like your husband, no?” SH1903 07 Teaching Materials 2 Property of STI Page 36 of 91 Chanel made a mirthless laughing sound. Despite her self-diagnosed depression, she seemed to enjoy talking with Auntie Mei more than most mothers, who talked to her about their babies and their breast-feeding but otherwise had little interest in her. Auntie Mei put Baby on the sofa next to Chanel, who was unwilling to make room. “Now, let’s look into this milk situation,” Auntie Mei said, rubbing her hands until they were warm before removing the heating pads. Chanel cried out in pain. “I haven’t even touched you.” Look at your eyes, Auntie Mei wanted to say. Not even a good plumber could fix such a leak. “I don’t want to nurse this thing anymore,” Chanel said. This thing? “He’s your son.” “His father’s, too. Why can’t he be here to help?” “Men don’t make milk.” Chanel laughed, despite her tears. “No. The only thing they make is money.” “You’re lucky to have found one who makes money. Not all of them do, you know.” Chanel dried her eyes carefully with the inside of her pajama sleeve. “Auntie, are you married?” “Once,” Auntie Mei said. “What happened? Did you divorce him?” “He died,” Auntie Mei said. She had, every day of her marriage, wished that her husband would stop being part of her life, though not in so absolute a manner. Now, years later, she still felt responsible for his death, as though it were she, and not a group of teen-agers, who had accosted him that night. Why didn’t you just let them take the money? Sometimes Auntie Mei scolded him when she tired of talking to herself. Thirty-five dollars for a life, three months short of fifty-two. “Was he much older than you?” “Older, yes, but not too old.” “My husband is twenty-eight years older than I am,” Chanel said. “I bet you didn’t guess that.” “No, I didn’t.” “Is it that I look old or that he looks young?” “You look like a good match.” “Still, he’ll probably die before me, right? Women live longer than men, and he’s had a head start.” So you, too, are eager to be freed. Let me tell you, it’s bad enough when a wish like that doesn’t come true, but, if it ever does, that’s when you know that living is a most disappointing business: the world is not a bright place to start with, but a senseless wish granted senselessly makes it much dimmer. “Don’t speak nonsense,” Auntie Mei said. “I’m only stating the truth. How did your husband die? Was it a heart attack?” “You could say that,” Auntie Mei said, and before Chanel could ask more questions Auntie Mei grabbed one of her erring breasts. Chanel gasped and then screamed. Auntie Mei did not let go until she’d given the breast a forceful massage. When she reached for the other breast, Chanel screamed louder but did not change her position, for fear of crushing Baby, perhaps. Afterward, Auntie Mei brought a warm towel. “Go,” Chanel said. “I don’t want you here anymore.” “But who’ll take care of you?” “I don’t need anyone to take care of me.” Chanel stood up and belted her robe. “And Baby?” “Bad luck for him.” Chanel walked to the staircase, her back defiantly rigid. Auntie Mei picked up Baby, his weight as insignificant as the emotions—sadness, anger, or dismay—that she should feel on his behalf. SH1903 07 Teaching Materials 2 Property of STI Page 37 of 91 Rather, Auntie Mei was in awe of the young woman. That is how, Auntie Mei said to herself, a mother orphans a child. *** Baby, six days old that day, was weaned from his mother’s breast. Auntie Mei was now the sole person to provide him with food and care and—this she did not want to admit even to herself— love. Chanel stayed in her bedroom and watched Chinese television dramas all afternoon. Once in a while, she came downstairs for water, and spoke to Auntie Mei as though the old woman and the infant were poor relations: there was the inconvenience of having them to stay, and yet there was relief that they did not have to be entertained. The dishwasher repairman returned in the evening. He reminded Auntie Mei that his name was Paul. As though she were so old that she could forget it in a day, she thought. Earlier, she had told him about the thieving egret, and he had promised to come back and fix the problem. “You’re sure the bird won’t be killed,” Auntie Mei said as she watched Paul rig some wires above the pond. “Try it yourself,” Paul said, flipping the battery switch. Auntie Mei placed her palm on the crisscrossed wires. “I feel nothing.” “Good. If you felt something, I’d be putting your life at risk. Then you could sue me.” “But how does it work?” “Let’s hope the egret is more sensitive than you are,” Paul said. “Call me if it doesn’t work. I won’t charge you again.” Auntie Mei felt doubtful, but her questioning silence did not stop him from admiring his own invention. Nothing, he said, is too difficult for a thinking man. When he put away his tools he lingered on, and she could see that there was no reason for him to hurry home. He had grown up in Vietnam, he told Auntie Mei, and had come to America thirty-seven years ago. He was widowed, with three grown children, and none of them had given him a grandchild, or the hope of one. His two sisters, both living in New York and both younger, had beaten him at becoming grandparents. The same old story: they all had to come from somewhere, and they all accumulated people along the way. Auntie Mei could see the unfolding of Paul’s life: he’d work his days away till he was too old to be useful, then his children would deposit him in a facility and visit on his birthday and on holidays. Auntie Mei, herself an untethered woman, felt superior to him. She raised Baby’s tiny fist as Paul was leaving. “Say bye-bye to Grandpa Paul.” Auntie Mei turned and looked up at the house. Chanel was leaning on the windowsill of her secondfloor bedroom. “Is he going to electrocute the egret?” she called down. “He said it would only zap the bird. To teach it a lesson.” “You know what I hate about people? They like to say, ‘That will teach you a lesson.’ But what’s the point of a lesson? There’s no makeup exam when you fail something in life.” It was October, and the evening air from the Bay had a chill to it. Auntie Mei had nothing to say except to warn Chanel not to catch a cold. “Who cares?” “Maybe your parents do.” Chanel made a dismissive noise. “Or your husband.” SH1903 07 Teaching Materials 2 Property of STI Page 38 of 91 “Ha. He just e-mailed and told me he had to stay for another ten days,” Chanel said. “You know what I think he’s doing right now? Sleeping with a woman, or more than one.” Auntie Mei did not reply. It was her policy not to disparage an employer behind his back. But when she entered the house Chanel was already in the living room. “I think you should know he’s not the kind of person you thought he was.” “I don’t think he’s any kind of person at all,” Auntie Mei said. “You never say a bad word about him,” Chanel said. Not a good word, either. “He had a wife and two children before.” You think a man, any man, would remain a bachelor until he meets you? Auntie Mei put the slip of paper with Paul’s number in her pocket. “Did that man leave you his number?” Chanel said. “Is he courting you?” “Him? Half of him, if not more, is already in the coffin.” “Men chase after women until the last moment,” Chanel said. “Auntie, don’t fall for him. No man is to be trusted.” Auntie Mei sighed. “If Baby’s Pa is not coming home, who’s going to shop for groceries?” The man of the house postponed his return; Chanel refused to have anything to do with Baby. Against her rules, Auntie Mei moved his crib into her bedroom; against her rules, too, she took on the responsibility of grocery shopping. “Do you suppose people will think we’re the grandparents of this baby?” Paul asked after inching the car into a tight spot between two S.U.V.s. Could it be that he had agreed to drive and help with shopping for a reason other than the money Auntie Mei had promised him? “Nobody,” she said, handing a list to Paul, “will think anything. Baby and I will wait here in the car.” “You’re not coming in?” “He’s a brand-new baby. You think I would bring him into a store with a bunch of refrigerators?” “You should’ve left him home, then.” With whom? Auntie Mei worried that, had she left Baby home, he would be gone from the world when she returned, though this fear she would not share with Paul. She explained that Baby’s Ma suffered from postpartum depression and was in no shape to take care of him. “You should’ve just given me the shopping list,” Paul said. What if you ran off with the money without delivering the groceries? she thought, though it was unfair of her. There were men she knew she could trust, including, even, her dead husband. On the drive back, Paul asked if the egret had returned. She hadn’t noticed, Auntie Mei replied. She wondered if she would have an opportunity to see the bird be taught its lesson: she had only twenty-two days left. Twenty-two days, and then the next family would pluck her out of here, egret or no egret. Auntie Mei turned to look at Baby, who was asleep in the car seat. “What will become of you then?” she said. “Me?” Paul asked. “Not you. Baby.” “Why do you worry? He’ll have a good life. Better than mine. Better than yours, for sure.” “You don’t know my life to say that,” Auntie Mei said. “I can imagine. You should find someone. This is not a good life for you, going from one house to another and never settling down.” “What’s wrong with that? I don’t pay rent. I don’t have to buy my own food.” SH1903 07 Teaching Materials 2 Property of STI Page 39 of 91 “What’s the point of making money if you don’t spend it?” Paul said. “I’m at least saving money for my future grandchildren.” “What I do with my money,” Auntie Mei said, “is none of your business. Now, please pay attention to the road.” Paul, chastened into a rare silence, drove on, the slowest car on the freeway. Perhaps he’d meant well, but there were plenty of well-meaning men, and she was one of those women who made such men suffer. If Paul wanted to hear stories, she could tell him one or two, and spare him any hope of winning her affection. But where would she start? With the man she had married without any intention of loving and had wished into an early grave, or with the father she had not met because her mother had made his absolute absence a condition of her birth? Or perhaps she should start with her grandmother, who vanished from her own daughter’s crib side one day, only to show up twenty-five years later when her husband was dying from a wasting illness. The disappearance would have made sense had Auntie Mei’s grandfather been a villain, but he had been a kind man, and had raised his daughter alone, clinging to the hope that his wife, having left without a word, would return. Auntie Mei’s grandmother had not gone far: all those years, she had stayed in the same village, living with another man, hiding in his attic during the day, sneaking out of the house in the middle of the night for a change of air. Nobody was able to understand why she had not gone on hiding until after her husband’s death. She explained that it was her wifely duty to see her husband off properlyAuntie Mei’s mother, newly married and with a prospering business as a seamstress, was said to have accepted one parent’s return and the other’s death with equanimity, but the next year, pregnant with her first and only child, she made her husband leave by threatening to drink a bottle of DDT. Auntie Mei had been raised by two mythic women. The villagers had shunned the two women, but they had welcomed the girl as one of them. Behind closed doors, they had told her about her grandfather and her father, and in their eyes she had seen their fearful disapproval of her elders: her pale-skinned grandmother, unused to daylight after years of darkness, had carried on her nocturnal habits, cooking and knitting for her daughter and granddaughter in the middle of the night; her mother, eating barely enough, had slowly starved herself to death, yet she never tired of watching, with an unblinking intensity, her daughter eat. Auntie Mei had not thought of leaving home until the two women died, her mother first, and then her grandmother. They had been sheltered from worldly reproach by their peculiarities when alive; in death, they took with them their habitat, and left nothing to anchor Auntie Mei. A marriage offer, arranged by the distant cousin of a man in Queens, New York, had been accepted without hesitation: in a new country, her grandmother and her mother would cease to be legendary. Auntie Mei had not told her husband about them; he would not have been interested, in any case—silly good man, wanting only a hardworking woman to share a solid life. Auntie Mei turned to look at Paul. Perhaps he was not so different from her husband, her father, her grandfather, or even the man her grandmother had lived with for years but never returned to after the death of Auntie Mei’s grandfather: ordinary happiness, uncomplicated by the women in their lives, was their due. “You think, by any chance, you’ll be free tomorrow afternoon?” Paul asked when he’d parked the car in front of Chanel’s house. “I work all day, as you know.” “You could bring Baby, like you did today.” “To where?” SH1903 07 Teaching Materials 2 Property of STI Page 40 of 91 Paul said that there was this man who played chess every Sunday afternoon at East-West Plaza Park. Paul wanted to take a walk with Auntie Mei and Baby nearby. Auntie Mei laughed. “Why, so he’ll get distracted and lose the game?” “I want him to think I’ve done better than him.” Better how? With a borrowed lady friend pushing a borrowed grandson in a stroller? “Who is he?” “Nobody important. I haven’t talked to him for twenty-seven years.” He couldn’t even lie well. “And you still think he’d fall for your trick?” “I know him.” Auntie Mei wondered if knowing someone—a friend, an enemy—was like never letting that person out of one’s sight. Being known, then, must not be far from being imprisoned by someone else’s thought. In that sense, her grandmother and her mother had been fortunate: no one could claim to have known them, not even Auntie Mei. When she was younger, she had seen no point in understanding them, as she had been told they were beyond apprehension. After their deaths, they had become abstract. Not knowing them, Auntie Mei, too, had the good fortune of not wanting to know anyone who came after: her husband; her co-workers at various Chinese restaurants during her yearlong migration from New York to San Francisco; the babies and the mothers she took care of, who had become only recorded names in her notebook. “I’d say let it go,” Auntie Mei told Paul. “What kind of grudge is worthy of twenty-seven years?” Paul sighed. “If I tell you the story, you’ll understand.” “Please,” Auntie Mei said. “Don’t tell me any story.” From the second-floor landing, Chanel watched Paul put the groceries in the refrigerator and Auntie Mei warm up a bottle of formula. Only after he’d left did Chanel call down to ask how their date had gone. Auntie Mei held Baby in the rocking chair; the joy of watching him eat was enough of a compensation for his mother’s being a nuisance. Chanel came downstairs and sat on the sofa. “I saw you pull up. You stayed in the car for a long time,” she said. “I didn’t know an old man could be so romantic.” Auntie Mei thought of taking Baby into her bedroom, but this was not her house, and she knew that Chanel, in a mood to talk, would follow her. When Auntie Mei remained quiet, Chanel said that her husband had called earlier, and she had told him that his son had gone out to witness a couple carry on a sunset affair. You should walk out right this minute, Auntie Mei said to herself, but her body settled into the rhythm of the rocking chair, back and forth, back and forth. “Are you angry, Auntie?” “What did your husband say?” “He was upset, of course, and I told him that’s what he gets for not coming home.” What’s stopping you from leaving? Auntie Mei asked herself. You want to believe you’re staying for Baby, don’t you? “You should be happy for me that he’s upset,” Chanel said. “Or at least happy for Baby, no?” I’m happy that, like everyone else, you’ll all become the past soon. “Why are you so quiet, Auntie? I’m sorry I’m such a pain, but I don’t have a friend here, and you’ve been nice to me. Would you please take care of me and Baby?” “You’re paying me,” Auntie Mei said. “So of course I’ll take care of you.” “Will you be able to stay on after this month?” Chanel asked. “I’ll pay double.” “I don’t work as a regular nanny.” “But what would we do without you, Auntie?” SH1903 07 Teaching Materials 2 Property of STI Page 41 of 91 Don’t let this young woman’s sweet voice deceive you, Auntie Mei warned herself: you’re not irreplaceable—not for her, not for Baby, not for anyone. Still, Auntie Mei fancied for a moment that she could watch Baby grow—a few months, a year, two years. “When is Baby’s Pa coming home?” “He’ll come home when he comes.” Auntie Mei cleaned Baby’s face with the corner of a towel. “I know what you’re thinking—that I didn’t choose the right man. Do you want to know how I came to marry someone so old and irresponsible?” “I don’t, as a matter of fact.” All the same, they told Auntie Mei stories, not heeding her protests. The man who played chess every Sunday afternoon came from the same village as Paul’s wife, and had long ago been pointed out to him by her as a potentially better husband. Perhaps she had said it only once, out of an impulse to sting Paul, or perhaps she had tormented him for years with her approval of a former suitor. Paul did not say, and Auntie Mei did not ask. Instead, he had measured his career against the man’s: Paul had become a real professional; the man had stayed a laborer. An enemy could be as eternally close as a friend; a feud could make two men brothers for life. Fortunate are those for whom everyone can be turned into a stranger, Auntie Mei thought, but this wisdom she did not share with Paul. He had wanted her only to listen, and she had obliged him. Chanel, giving more details, and making Auntie Mei blush at times, was a better storyteller. She had slept with an older married man to punish her father, who had himself pursued a young woman, in this case one of Chanel’s college classmates. The pregnancy was meant to punish her father, too, but also the man, who, like her father, had cheated on his wife. “He didn’t know who I was at first. I made up a story so that he thought I was one of those girls he could sleep with and then pay off,” Chanel had said. “But then he realized he had no choice but to marry me. My father has enough connections to destroy his business.” Had she not thought how this would make her mother feel? Auntie Mei asked. Why should she? Chanel replied. A woman who could not keep the heart of her man was not a good model for a daughter. Auntie Mei did not understand their logic: Chanel’s depraved; Paul’s unbending. What a world you’ve been born into, Auntie Mei said to Baby now. It was past midnight, the lamp in her bedroom turned off. The night-light of swimming ocean animals on the crib streaked Baby’s face blue and orange. There must have been a time when her mother had sat with her by candlelight, or else her grandmother might have been there in the darkness. What kind of future had they wished for her? She had been brought up in two worlds: the world of her grandmother and her mother, and that of everyone else; each world had sheltered her from the other, and to lose one was to be turned, against her wish, into a permanent resident of the other. Auntie Mei came from a line of women who could not understand themselves, and in not knowing themselves they had derailed their men and orphaned their children. At least Auntie Mei had had the sense not to have a child, though sometimes, during a sleepless night like this one, she entertained the thought of slipping away with a baby she could love. The world was vast; there had to be a place for a woman to raise a child as she wished. The babies—a hundred and thirty-one of them, and their parents, trusting yet vigilant—had protected Auntie Mei from herself. But who was going to protect her now? Not this baby, who was as defenseless as the others, yet she must protect him. From whom, though: his parents, who had no place for him in their hearts, or Auntie Mei, who had begun to imagine his life beyond the one month allocated to her? SH1903 07 Teaching Materials 2 *Property of STI Page 42 of 91 See, this is what you get for sitting up and muddling your head. Soon you’ll become a tiresome oldster like Paul, or a lonely woman like Chanel, telling stories to any available ear. You can go on talking and thinking about your mother and your grandmother and all those women before them, but the problem is, you don’t know them. If knowing someone makes that person stay with you forever, not knowing someone does the same trick: death does not take the dead away; it only makes them grow more deeply into you. No one would be able to stop her if she picked up Baby and walked out the door. She could turn herself into her grandmother, for whom sleep had become optional in the end; she could turn herself into her mother, too, eating little because it was Baby who needed nourishment. She could become a fugitive from this world that had kept her for too long, but this urge, coming as it often did in waves, no longer frightened her, as it had years ago. She was getting older, more forgetful, yet she was also closer to comprehending the danger of being herself. She had, unlike her mother and her grandmother, talked herself into being a woman with an ordinary fate. When she moved on to the next place, she would leave no mystery or damage behind; no one in this world would be disturbed by having known her. A little bit about Yiyun Li Yiyun Li grew up in Beijing and came to the United States in 1996. Her debut collection, A Thousand Years of Good Prayers, won the Frank O’Connor International Short Story Award, PEN/Hemingway Award, Guardian First Book Award, and California Book Award for first fiction. Her novel, The Vagrants, won the gold medal of California Book Award for fiction, and was shortlisted for Dublin IMPAC Award. Gold Boy, Emerald Girl, her second collection, was a finalist of Story Prize and shortlisted for Frank O’Connor International Short Story Award. Kinder Than Solitude, her latest novel, was published to critical acclaim. Her books have been translated into more than 20 languages.