She jumped down herself, twisting her left ankle when her pink high-heeled shoes hit the floor. Based on their histories, do their respective attitudes make sense to you? But sometimes, when I hear them talking, my mind will stray to completely unrelated thoughts, often too random and brief to be significant—perhaps about a book, a childhood incident, or a unique-looking person I just saw on the street. Two bottles of Wu Liang Ye and a dozen Qing Dao beers stood on the table. But their differences in upbringing and ideology ultimately drive them apart, leaving each to face her dark secret alone. February Flowers is an insightful meditation on forbidden love, loss, and redemption, and how a background shapes a life. I am applying for graduate school in the U. Discuss Yan's attitude toward authority, specifically male authority, and contrast it to Ming's approach.
A week ago, she had bought a few bags of knock-off Kang noodles from a street vendor and had diarrhea for three days. Ming, idealistic and preoccupied, lives in her own world of books, music, and imagination. It is a meditation on friendship, family, love, loss, and redemption and how a background shapes a life. Among the books is a collection of poems from university students, a few of mine included. The descriptions of the places as well as the culture brought the city to life. Too many people did the arithmetic. While I felt sorry for Yan in some respects, I never really cared for her character.
When the other students rushed into the bright room that smelled of flower-scented air freshener, I noticed a passage a few meters away at the northern corner. I liked to go up there when I was a kid, playing with my toys or fantasizing about the fairy tales I had read. The handrail shook and squeaked at my every grip. I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings 1970 Alice Walker. Choose an author like Faulkner or Hemingway and discuss why, in contrast to Fan Wu's seemingly delicate images, their images and prose might be described as masculine and American in feel.
I played the violin in the orchestra in middle school and high school, but since coming to university, I played merely to entertain myself. Though I had played it often, each time I felt it more touching and powerful. What do you think is at the root of Yan's and Ming's relationship? I drawl involuntarily at the end of a sentence when speaking Mandarin—my mother tongue—as a Cantonese would; I start my Sunday mornings with dim sum and cup after cup of tea at a teahouse; I buy an orange tree for New Year and hang red envelopes on its branches to be blessed with good fortune, in accordance with the old local custom. It is ultimately about people, their fears and hopes, their secrets and desires, and how they reconcile with their past and move forward. Apparently half drunk, she was playing a finger-guessing drinking game with two men who could barely raise their heads from their chests. I was a sixteen-year-old first-year student at a university in Guangzhou, one of the most prosperous cities in south China. A flight of stairs, almost hidden, led to the roof.
At the time I was looking for a quiet place to play my violin in the evenings so I ventured there after visiting the model room and thus discovered the rooftop. But beneath the surface tension and attraction between these two memorable young women is a story about contemporary China and the push and pull between tradition and modernity, communism and capitalism, constraint and freedom. Yan is, by contrast, beautiful, sexy, wild and manipulative. Sure some have typos, but not to the point of having every italicized word missing. Throughout the book, Fan Wu paints beautiful visual and aural images, what one might describe as word paintings.
It is a meditation on friendship, family, love, loss, and redemption and how a background shapes a life. I can take care of myself. When the two meet and become friends, Ming's world is forever changed. In what ways are the two women similar? If, as Yan seems to think, everyone uses everyone, of what use is Ming to Yan? One Saturday morning, my mother calls from my hometown, a city in another province. Students ride their bikes while talking on their cell phones. Ming, idealistic and preoccupied, lives in her own world of books, music, and imagination. Ming is shy, naïve, bookish and new to city life while Yan is bold, wild, magnetic and eager to corrupt.
It is all imprinted on my memory and can never be removed. Has whatever Ming lost been replaced with something of more value? Since my roommates were playing poker in our room, I decided to stay on the roof a little longer. They used to belong to Miao Yan but are mine now. There are no easy answers at the end, no clean break. An unlikely pair, seventeen-year-old Ming and twenty-four-year-old Yan meet and form an immediate bond. Her family was allowed to return to the city in 1985 and Wu went on to attend university where she studied Chinese language and literature.
She moved to the U. I am an editor at a reference and textbook publisher. Seventeen-year-old Ming and twenty-four-year-old Yan have very little in common other than studying at the same college. Who knows if your noodles really are Chef Kang? There she was, sitting in a corner, her knees drawn together tightly. I sit down on the bed and look at myself in the full-size mirror—sleeveless black turtleneck sweater in the latest fashion, whitish low-cut jeans with yellow seams on the sides, dark brown ponytail which is shining in the sunlight from the window, and two big silver earrings dangling above delicate but well-shaped shoulders.