Show & Tell; Chao

Linsey Scriven
Response to “Why I Did Not Become a World-Famous Classical Violinist”; "Show & Tell"

Yu-Han Chao’s voice is sarcastic, realistic, and raw. There are moments when I can hear the child in her character’s narration, like on pg. 159 when she writes, “Mr. Bregazzo was well into his 70s when I went to him for classes, and whenever my dad left the room I would secretly panic—what would I do if Mr. Bregazzo croaked in the middle of the lesson?” Her use of “croaked” made me smile because it reminded me of a child’s vocabulary. There are other casual words she uses that evokes the same feelings in me: “rack”; “my tits”; “coolest.”

The norms Chao presents readers illustrates a family and community of musicians who are determined to be the best. This is far from what I have experienced in my life, and Chao does a great job at inviting me into her character’s world with her use of personal details that only child musicians would be familiar with. For example, the scene on pg. 160 when she describes the other children watching as her character auditions. Though I was never a child musician, I related to the scene and was moved by her character’s experience due to her description of the ruthlessness of the other children. I find it very believable that children would celebrate the failure of their competitors, especially when they are under so much pressure from their parents to be the best.

I was also moved on pg. 162 when Chao writes, “She said that she never had the chance to study music as a child, that her father was against it, and now that I had access to everything she didn’t have, I had better darn well be grateful, work hard, and cherish my opportunities.” She is describing a conversation her character has with her mother, and I feel like that’s all the reader needs to know about the mother in those few sentences. The mother is painted like a tiger mom, like someone who is blind to her child’s desires, and without this insight it is hard to feel for a character who puts such expectations on her own children. But Chao does a fabulous job that getting me to care about the mother’s character. Through this dialogue, I can understand why someone would push her daughter so hard to be the best: Why not be the best when you have such a lucky opportunity, when your parents have worked their asses off at providing you with the best? I don’t think it’s the best parenting plan, but I can see why someone like the character’s mother would think like that.

I appreciate the subtle ways Clabough discusses gender politics in “Show & Tell.” On pg. 61 Clabough describes how the school teacher automatically assumes the character’s mother is a homemaker when Clabough writes, “’Shh! Shh! said the teacher, growing irritated. Then to me, “There’s nothing wrong with being a homemaker, but you should ask your mother if there is anything special about what she does before she shows and tells. A lot of what homemakers do is unremarkable and the same. We don’t want all the visiting mothers to say the same thing.’” I love how the school teacher is saying one thing but really meaning another. She makes it a point to state there’s nothing wrong with being a housewife, but, really, what they do is unremarkable. It’s such a judgmental statement, but it does gives readers insight into the character. I’m assuming this is the 1960s, and I can imagine a working lady like a school teacher would look down at a housewives because (possibly) in their minds a housewife is conforming to social norms and doesn’t have to deal with sexism day in and out in their profession.

Later, the readers find out that the narrator’s mom is practically the opposite of a homemaker, for she works as a scientist in a male-dominated classroom and field. I also appreciated the juxtaposition of the “creatures” in the museum; they were abominations in the natural world, such was how some people must have viewed women who worked outside the home. To this day, there are people out there who believe gender roles are what nature demands from humans, and I can imagine that such an idea was way more prominent in the 1960s.

Also, on the subject of voice, I could always tell when we were in the mind of the character as a child when they would refer to the mother as “Mama.” On pg. 63, when we jump in time to the character’s time in college, I knew that such a time jump had occurred because “Mama” was not mentioned.

On another subject, the social norms that I picked up from the story where the strict gender roles that the narrator’s mother had to navigate in her professional and personal life. Also, the presence of abnormalities was frowned upon, like in the scene when Mama is touching the narrator and calling him perfect in every way, exactly how she imagined. There’s great attention paid to being normal, to being like everyone else. The school teacher wants Mama to be a housewife because that’s the norm. I also thought what Mama wore to show and tell said a lot about the social norms. She didn’t wear her lab coat or a business suit, but a dress and heels. I know from that description that these characters live in a world where women are pressured into wearing dresses and heels, even when they are surrounded by men in a classroom.

I also appreciated how Clabough dealt with a child’s state of mind. There are many close descriptions of Mama and missing Mama. I could relate because I was equally obsessed with my mother as a child, and when she left I felt like all the light had gone out in my world. I thought Clabough nailed this feeling on pg. 61: “But in my mind I could see her face at home and tell she was unhappy. My head began to throb and I would cry, softly, quietly. . . It hurt my heart to know she was all by herself and unhappy.” I found the character’s emotions depending on the happiness of Mama very relatable, because I have vivid memories of crying when my mom cried, even when I had no idea what made her sad.