Forget Sorrow

History weighs heavily in Belle Yang’s graphic memoir. Political and familial history both are blended together so Yang’s family narrative cannot exist outside of its historical context. The narrator's name too, Xuan meaning “forget sorrow” is ridded with historical context, a phrase spoken towards the end, “forget sorrow. Forgive your children. Forgive the world” (page 241). The first page begins with Yang giving a short bio, introducing the relationship between herself and her father, the last two panels revealing her name. What follows is what could be the meaning behind that name and what it means to “forget sorrow,” or what sorrows were supposed to be forgotten.

Although Yang is the story’s true narrator and writer, the role of narrator is passed to other characters. A great portion is told through her father’s, Zu-Wu, perspective. It’s interesting that Yang’s story is the one that interjects, breaking Zu-Wu’s narrative. Adding more to the layers, Zu-Wu’s narrative does not detail his life, but that of his family, including his grandfather and his grandfather’s children. A majority of the conversations and conflicts arise from the older generation with Zu-Wu acting more as a spectator with little control over what happens. Zu-Wu’s grandfather also takes over the narrative to provide the beginnings of their family, the first Yang. I thought this was an interesting approach, but the narrative worked, for me at least. The graphic novel read as if it was being spoken out loud. What I was reading was what Zu-Wu said to his daughter on that night the power went out, when they were planting outside, or taking a walk out. And like oral tales, they are sometimes broken by “real life” which, in this case, was the interjections Yang provided. The breaks made the “oral” aspect of the narrative feel more organic because of its smooth transitions. On page 47, for only one panel, Yang interrupts to ask a question, “Your grandfather and this beggar became friends?” not for clarification or as a cue for more exposition, but to express her disbelief. It is the type of question I ask when listening to stories. My favorite example, however, is on page 60 where Zu-Wu pauses the narrative himself. He provides his insight and all that’s shown in one panel is he and his daughter sitting on the grass while Zu-Wu heaves a heavy, “Sigh” just as the sun sets behind him. 

 These voices are all filtered through one another: the grandfather’s through Zu-Wu’s, through Belle Yang, and exist because they are passed down. It is Zu-Wu’s grandfather that proclaims that, “we must understand the past so that we may understand how we became who we are today” right before he details his family history (page 19). This line, I believe, is the core of preserving family history and of Yang’s graphic novel. Yang carries these voices of her past in her name and her person as she struggles to find who she is. Her main conflict lay in reclaiming her life after being terrorized by Rotten Egg, the stalker ex-boyfriend. Her past is so tightly intertwined with her family’s past that through her father’s stories, she is able to break away from her fear. She “tried to write sorrow out of Baba’s life” and was able to write out her own sorrows and fears (page 246). 

What had been an oral tradition of passing down the family story, Yang chose to write down. With the grand blend of characters, by utilizing the visual style of a graphic novel, it is easier to recognize and remember these characters. I can follow the stories and characters because of their distinct profiles that match their personalities. For me, going from oral story to graphic novel worked. 

One last line I need to share. Off all the panels and all the dialogue shared, my favorite has to be Baba’s “Me, Killjoy? We bring you to America for education. You find Rotten Egg stalker boyfriend!” (page 37). I can just feel the loving, brutal honesty in their family bonds.