Immigration is a political and social issue whose solutions have always seemed nebulous to me. It’s immensely complex, and I admit I’ve done little research to understand its intricacies. But from the surface and from a few immigrant friends, I know a few, very general things. First, it’s very hard to obtain citizenship in the U.S. Second, and contradictory to my first point, it’s just as hard to maintain any type of visa. Lastly, and most importantly, the way we treat immigrants — be that through policy or social interaction — is incredibly inhumane, leading to the “othering” effect with unhealthy stereotypes.
The odd thing is that people who set and maintain devastating policies or who speak such harmful words about immigrants likely have never talked to an immigrant — documented or undocumented — to understand their struggle and the heartbreak that led them to pursue the illusive American Dream. This point illustrates how storytelling — or qualitative data if you will — is just as or even more important than statistics and how storytelling can shape our morals and beliefs. Stories like Patsy are integral for our society to progress and for us becoming a little more compassionate.
Patsy tells a story that few of us probably know but one that exists all too frequently, that of the undocumented immigrant. The eponymous main character gives up her heartbreaking and unfair life in Jamaica for love and freedom in the States only to be deceived by those who promised her so much — including Americans and their precious ideals.
I have two favorite literary qualities I seek when I read a book or article: voice and characterization. You’ve read many a post where I either praise a book for having one of these qualities (here’s one for voice and another for characterization), and you’ve certainly seen me complain about the lack of them on more than one occasion.
Voice not only keeps you engaged in a book, but it also allows you to better understand the characters, making it an integral part of characterization, which is such an important quality. Without it, readers cannot fully see who these people are and why and how that motivates their actions. When a book has strong voice and characterization, and its main characters’ experiences completely differ from your own, that’s when empathy, understanding, and — most importantly — change occur.
That was the experience I had with The Kiss Quotient, whose main character, Stella, has Asperger syndrome. Not only was this book funny and sweet, but author Helen Hoang’s portrayal of Stella was so strong that I found myself in awe of the social struggles that someone with Asperger’s endures, which I had only ever experienced from a very far distance before this book. Stella’s story — and the author’s too — is one I’ve never personally witnessed, and I’ve never read about it in a fictional setting either. Hoang puts you face to face with it. By placing me directly inside Stella’s mind, which enhanced the book’s voice, I could feel everything she felt every single day — no matter how difficult.
Let me preface this post by saying I’m hesitant to make any resolutions this year. While I did a pretty good job of obtaining my 2020 goals, hindsight also warns me to saunter into the year rather than dive in head first. Last year taught me to take it easy and not put too much pressure on myself. But I’m also one for self-improvement, so I can’t help but make a few resolutions in this year, which will certainly be better than last … right? RIGHT??
Although I don’t have any crazy projects on the horizon like I did in 2020 or literary goals just spewing out of me, there are a few things I’d like to accomplish this year. Let’s take a look.