Saturday, August 29, 2015

Lies and Decorations

[Download Frank Chin's new article here]

The University of Washington Press has published a new edition of John Okada's NO-NO BOY. Jeffery Chan, Lawson Inada, Shawn Wong and me pooled our money and formed a publishing company, CARP, the Combined Asian Resource Project, to publish NO-NO BOY. We were all self-centered writers mightily impressed with John Okada and his novel.

The University of Washington Press has added a preface authored by Yellow White racists associated with the Japanese American Citizen's League (JACL). My "Afterword" is still attached at the back of the book.

Next month, in New York City, the Pan Asian Repertory Company will open Ken Narasaki's rewrite of Okada's NO-NO BOY with a musical ending for the stage. Car crashes and death are too difficult for the AAstage.

Okada's work convinced four hungry competitive Asian American writers of a writer better than themselves. Okada was better, but his book talked to us. We learned from him, looked into his life in Seattle, and said, "We have to publish this book." And we did.

I like to think that John Okada's NO-NO BOY is special to Yellow readers because four Yellow writers and an artist restored it to print.

My writer's sensibilities are offended by the intrusion of an illiterate editorial authority, over a work the illiterate editorial authority doesn't like.

If you don't like Okada, stay out of his bathroom, bedroom, stay out of his house, get out of his fucking book. Just leave it alone. If you publish it, the people will read. If you publish what you hate on page one, shame on you. Tsk tsk tsk. Sniff. Sniff. I smell the slime of the JACL!

What is the next step beyond Okada's NO-NO BOY? The oppressor JACL and 442nd face to face with their victims the camp people and their offspring. The guilt driven grandchildren of Goering, Himmler, and Hoes and the grandchildren of victims harboring vengeance are seeking each other out and connecting. The Japanese Americans and the White racists don't know the other exists in the same story. "The moving hand writes, and having writ, writes on," as the non-Chinese, Omar Khayaam wrote. Thanks, Omar.


[Download Frank Chin's new article here]

Tuesday, August 11, 2015

An Interview with Calvin McMillin

Dear Readers,

Eddie here—editor of ChinTalks and Frank Chin’s personal assistant. I hope you got your copy of The Confessions of a Number One Son. It further establishes Frank as a master wordsmith. If you notice the front cover of the book, Calvin McMillin’s name appears as the editor. So, who is Calvin? With Frank’s blessing I decided to interview him for the blog. Enjoy!

[My questions in bold]

(Calvin McMillin, PhD)

How are you doing?

I’m doing fine, Eddie. How are you?

I’m great! Thanks. Tell us a little bit about yourself. What was your upbringing like and what’s your educational background?

I was born a long time ago in a country far, far way—Singapore to be precise. I’m the son of a Chinese Singaporean mother and a white, West Texas-raised father. After living in Singapore and Texas for a few years, we moved to Rush Springs, Oklahoma—the Watermelon Capital of the World. For the most part, it was an idyllic, rural childhood. Rush Springs is a lot like Smallville, Kansas [Superman's hometown], and I mean that as a compliment.

Anyway, after graduating high school, I went on to earn bachelors’ degrees in English and secondary education from Oklahoma State University. After teaching junior high for a year, I left for Hawaii and obtained a master’s degree in English from the University of Hawai‘i at Mānoa with an emphasis in Cultural Studies in Asia/Pacific. After that, I pursued a doctorate in literature from the University of California, Santa Cruz where I specialized in Asian American literature.

Why Asian American Literature?

There are all sorts of reasons why I’m interested in Asian American literature, but making it a category of study was something that evolved over time.

In college, my literary tastes were—and still are—pretty eclectic, running the gamut from Shakespeare to hardboiled detective fiction, from Gothic novels to the works of Haruki Murakami. To tell you the truth, before I went to grad school I actually thought I’d end up being a Mark Twain scholar!

At OSU, I became involved in the Asian American Student Association, and I had read a number of works of Asian American literature by the time I graduated, but it wasn’t until I got to the University of Hawai‘i that it became a serious scholarly pursuit. Not only was I exposed to the local literature of Hawaii, but there were so many used bookstores around, that it was easy—and affordable—to amass a sizable collection of works by Asian, Asian American, and Pacific Islander authors. I also took an eye-opening class on pre-1960s Asian American literature taught by writer Gary Pak, and things sort of evolved from there. It wasn’t just the subject matter or the authors we covered that appealed to me, but a certain critical perspective that slowly emerged—one that I don’t think I even recognized until recently. Much of my research and pedagogy centers on the uncovering of hidden histories—that is, muted narratives that contradict or unsettle accepted knowledge. In so many respects, Asian American literature affords me that opportunity.

When did you first learn about Frank Chin and his writings?

I first read Frank Chin’s work as an undergraduate at OSU. I suspect that I might have been exposed to a snippet of his critical writing when I read The Woman Warrior or maybe The Joy Luck Club in one of my college classes. Granted, that might be a false memory! In any case, I eventually got my hands on that double volume edition of The Chickencoop Chinaman and The Year of the Dragon.

What were your impressions when you read his plays?

At the time, I don’t think I completely understood them—for a great many reasons, I’m sure. After all, plays are meant to be seen, not read. Back then, you couldn’t just order a DVD from Amazon to see George Takei’s interpretation of Fred Eng in The Year of the Dragon. That kind of access was still a few years away, unfortunately. And watching a play being performed can make all the difference. Pacing, intonation, body language—none of that is available to you when you read a play in isolation.

Now, those conditions aren’t necessarily important; people read plays all the time without ever seeing a performance and still "get it." Even so, you have to remember that Frank’s plays were unlike anything I’d ever read, especially in regard to his inventive use of language. Also, I think the tendency of his protagonists to break with the norms of social etiquette—the sudden insults, the refusal to keep quiet, the bizarre non sequitur here and there—can be bewildering, alienating, perhaps even infuriating to the uninitiated. It’s like walking into a room and finding yourself in the middle of a heated argument. You’ve left the confines of your home behind only to step into a war zone, and suddenly, you’re scrambling to understand the stakes of the argument because maybe you’re going to be forced to pick sides! In a way, Frank’s plays operate in a similar manner. They don’t let the audience off the hook; he doesn’t give them the luxury of remaining neutral, at least not for long. So, I’m sure all of that was contributing to my initial response to his plays.

And yet, the plays still spoke to me. I’m not sure if I could articulate it at the time, but looking back, I can see why I found certain elements appealing—and why they stayed with me. In both of those plays, Frank was trying to articulate a Chinese American identity—not Chinese from China, not a white American identity, but something else. Of course, he’d probably use the word “Chinaman” since he was hell-bent on reclaiming that word from its racist connotations, but whatever you want to call it, his characters were attempting to assert a distinctive cultural identity. In other writings, Frank has argued that the so-called “Asian American identity crisis,” is something imposed from the outside, not from within. It was only as real as you allowed it to be. And as person of mixed race descent, I could identify with that. For some whites, I wasn’t white enough or American enough to fit in. For some Asians, I wasn’t Asian enough or was too American for their liking. So, despite having very little in common with Tam Lum or Fred Eng, I couldn’t help but be moved by their plight. They were deeply-flawed characters who were raging back against ethnic stereotypes and racist expectations. They were attempting to assert not just their identities, but their very right to exist by proclaiming “I AM!” in a primal scream that emanated deep from the heart of Asian America.

(Author Frank Chin. Photo by Nancy Wong)

How did you discover The Confessions of a Number One Son?

Like a lot of great discoveries, it happened quite by accident. I was conducting research for my doctoral dissertation, and part of that research involved Charlie Chan, the fictional Chinese detective created by Earl Derr Biggers. I knew Frank was an outspoken critic of Charlie Chan, so I was looking for an essay that might feature his definitive critique of the character. During that search, I stumbled upon a curious reference to Charlie Chan on Maui, a Frank Chin novel that was never published. It shocked me. I’m supposed to be a scholar of Asian American literature, and I had never even heard of this novel! How could that be possible? That tiny reference piqued my interest, so I decided to do some investigating, and the project took off from there.

Why wasn't the book published in the 1970s?

I think Frank is the only one who knows the full story. Through my discussions with him and the independent research I conducted, it seems like a number of factors contributed to the book’s demise—at least in its original form. There was the initial obstacle involving the lawyers for the Earl Derr Biggers estate. Soon after, the book evolved into a play and parts of it were used for short stories. After that, I think Frank just moved on. That’s the short version anyway. I devote quite a bit of space tracing the book’s evolution in my introduction.

What motivated you to get Confessions published?

Well, the funny thing is that I sought out the original manuscripts simply from a research perspective. I just wanted to see what Frank wrote and whether it would be relevant to my project. I had no intention of pursuing publication. However, once I started reading these manuscripts, I realized I’d found something special. This wasn’t just a lost novel—it was a great novel, one that should have been published. So, despite having a dissertation of my own to complete, I embarked on a restoration project—with no guarantees that Frank would even say yes. I didn’t even know how to get in contact with him!

In the introduction of Confessions, you mentioned you wrote a letter to Frank Chin, telling him you were the right person to edit the book and have it published. Obviously, you convinced him. In so many words, what exactly did you tell him?

I actually didn’t pitch myself to Frank as “the right person to edit the book”—not explicitly anyway. Certainly, I introduced myself, discussed my research, and told him what I thought about the novel. But really, I just encouraged him to seek a publisher and offered to help him in whatever way I could. At the very least, I was hoping he would agree to an interview.

By the time I contacted Frank, I had already created a master copy of the novel from multiple existing drafts. That took a year, maybe two years of work. I did this all in secret. I didn’t ask Frank if I could do it; I just did it—knowing full well that nothing might come from it. I hoped he might be impressed that I took the initiative, but even if he didn’t want the novel to be published, at least he’d have a clean, full-length copy on Microsoft Word to do with as he pleased.

The letter I sent to Frank became the basis for my introduction to the novel, particularly the section in which I talk about the restoration process. When I learned of the existence of Frank’s unpublished novel, I was really excited. I suggested to him that perhaps it was a lot like how he felt when he learned about John Okada, Louis Chu, and Toshio Mori. Maybe he responded to that, I don’t know. Something I said must have convinced him to give me—a total stranger—a shot. And I’ll always be grateful for that.

The original manuscripts of Confessions came out to over 660 pages. You edited it down to a little over 260 pages. Can you describe the editing process of the book? How did you work with Frank on it?

At one point, during a phone conversation with Frank, I tried to feel him out on how we would work together during the editing process. To my surprise, he handed over full editorial control. It was an amazing moment. I couldn’t believe it. It was truly beyond my wildest dreams. Of course, I wanted to be the editor, but that was a wish I dared not speak aloud, for fear that it would never come true. And then it did. That was a supremely generous move on Frank’s part, and again, I can’t thank him enough for giving me that opportunity.

The maximum page count was a restriction set by the publisher, and while you might think that would be detrimental to the editing process, it was actually quite liberating. Even before I became aware of this edict, I was concerned about publishing a “new novel” by Frank Chin that contained material that was published elsewhere, so the first thing I did was cut out anything that had already appeared in The Chickencoop Chinaman, The Chinaman Pacific and Frisco R.R. Co, and Gunga Din Highway. It was pretty easy to remove some of these elements because a handful of Frank’s short stories are actually chapters from this novel. In other cases, however, there were similarities deeply embedded into stray passages throughout the book, and that required both an attentive eye and some creative editing. All sorts of decisions had to be made in regard to structure and chapter breaks.

As I discuss in my introduction, I approached the project like a film editor. I treated my job as if I’d been handed a rough cut of a movie, and the studio was asking me to edit it down to a manageable length for release. In my case, the director had moved on to the next project, so it was up to me to complete the project while staying true to his vision the best I could.

What’s your opinion of Charlie Chan? This fictional character is obviously a theme in Confessions. And it's astonishing how influential Charlie Chan is regarding Chinese stereotypes. We have Yunte Huang's controversial book on him; and there are Hollywood rumors of a movie developing on Chan. But what do you make of him?

Charlie Chan is a racist icon. Many fans of the character will tell you differently. Some feel very protective of him because they enjoyed those movies as children. Some will even accuse critics of the character of not knowing what they’re talking about—of not doing the proper research. But I can assure you that I have seen every Charlie Chan movie ever made that is still in existence, even a Spanish-language adaptation. I have read every Charlie Chan novel Earl Derr Biggers ever wrote and every subsequent spin-off novel and short story that’s come out. I’ve seen every episode of the Charlie Chan TV series, and every episode of the cartoon. I’ve read the comic strips and the comic books. Charlie Chan is a racist icon.

I think what confuses some people is that Charlie Chan is depicted as a hero. He’s a good guy, they say. And that’s one-hundred-percent true. He isn’t a villain. From the fan’s perspective, since Charlie Chan is portrayed as a positive figure then he can’t possibly be racist. I think that interpretation is actually reflective of a larger problem we have in our country when it comes to racism. According to this line of thinking, racism is equated with ill intent. For something to be considered racist, you have to mean someone harm. Racism, from this perspective, has to be an expression of outright hate, even violence to qualify as racism. And yet even when hatred is obvious and violence occurs, we only have to turn on the news or scroll through social media to see that some people are still not willing to concede that racism is a contributing factor. But Frank Chin and Jeffery Paul Chan have already addressed and debunked that mindset back in the 1970s by arguing that there are such things as racist hate and racist love. Charlie Chan is an example of racist love. I won’t rehash the argument here, but, in many ways, you can view characters like Charlie Chan as precursors to the model minority myth—although in this case, the minority has been, quite conspicuously, played by white men.

Although the first three Charlie Chans were of Asian descent, ever since the first Warner Oland film for Fox, Charlie Chan has been exclusively played by white men—even as late as 1981. Former Number One Son Keye Luke—who loved the films, was a faithful defender of Charlie Chan, and actually wanted to play Charlie Chan on the big screen—only got to provide the voice for the character in the cartoon! Now, I know that Russell Wong and later Lucy Liu were slated for separate, never produced Charlie Chan films, and I’ve even seen people suggest that Charlie Chan should be rebooted with an Asian American actor in the lead. I totally understand that sentiment, and perhaps even subscribed to it once, but if you really think about it, one of the reasons why they kept casting a white man in the role is because Charlie Chan only “works” as racial impersonation. Yellowface is the appeal of the character. That’s the novelty. That’s the joke. Even Roland Winters, one of the actors who portrayed the character, admitted as much in an interview with Frank Chin. As Chin himself once said, “Charlie Chan will always be a symbol of white racism, no matter who plays him. If you put a black man in a hood, does that make the Ku Klux Klan a civil rights organization?”

Sure, Frank has a flair for the dramatic, but the larger point still stands. Rebooting Charlie Chan isn’t the same as putting a new twist on James Bond or Sherlock Holmes. Racial impersonation is at the very core of the character. If you want an Asian American detective on the big screen, I say create a brand new one, divorced from all that baggage.

Now, having said all that, let me clarify that if you enjoy the Charlie Chan series, that’s fine with me. A lot of the films are pretty terrible, but some are fairly amusing, and a select few are actually good. They have their charms. It really depends on the director. These weren’t prestige pictures or big budget blockbusters; they were B-movies churned out one right after the other. All these years later, what I find most interesting about these films are the performances of actors like Keye Luke, Victor Sen Yung, and Benson Fong, not to mention a number of Asian American actresses who appear throughout the series. So, just because I say Charlie Chan is a racist icon that doesn’t mean I’m saying that these movies should be banned or that you’re a bad person for liking them. All I’m saying is that if people bring up the racism inherent in the films, there’s no reason for Charlie Chan fans to get defensive.

I mean, look at the James Bond series. I have loved those movies for as long as I can remember, but there’s no denying that a lot of the films, especially the early ones, are horribly racist, sexist, and imperialist. The books, I’m afraid, are far worse. Still, you can enjoy something and be critical of it at the same time.

In my opinion, the introduction alone is worth the price of the book. If anybody is unfamiliar with who Frank Chin is they ought to read the intro to Confessions. There’s so much information you found on him. Of all the things you discovered about Frank, what was the most interesting in your opinion?

Thank you for saying that. I’m glad you liked it. I put a lot of work into that introduction, so it’s gratifying to hear that people are responding to it. As far as the most interesting thing I learned about Frank, well, that’s difficult to say. I learned a lot of interesting things—many of them I’m saving for a later project! Indeed, Frank has led an interesting life, and I hope readers get a sense of that when they read my introduction.

The unfortunate thing is that some people only know Frank by reputation or not at all. I’ve encountered Asian American scholars who have never read his work or have only read excerpts, albeit quoted in someone else’s critique. And that’s completely understandable. There are gaps in anyone’s knowledge, including my own. I’m not faulting them for that. But this apparent lack of familiarity with his work is one of the primary reasons I decided to write an extensive introduction—or reintroduction, if you will—as I firmly believe this novel can provide readers with a new vantage point from which to judge his work. The Confessions of a Number One Son is not a polemic. It’s a work of art.

I think it’s a shame this book wasn’t published earlier. What do you think would have happened had this book been published in the 70s?

Honestly, I have no idea. But just imagine an Asian American novel with all the resources of a New York publishing house behind it: a publisher that would be able to garner media coverage, book reviews in major print publications, and placement in major bookstores all across the country. Also, consider the cultural moment: Bruce Lee is dead, filmmakers are actively trying to resurrect Charlie Chan on the big screen, and moviegoers are flocking to theaters to see the films of the American New Wave, that whole post-Easy Rider movement full of rebellious characters who—while predominantly white—are not unlike Tam Lum in terms of outlook and personality. Now, if you factor into this equation a very outspoken Asian American author, especially one who would have at least one groundbreaking New York play to his name at that point, then I think one can at least imagine an alternate universe in which the novel makes a big splash. It could have been, at the very least, controversial.

Of course, it’s just as possible that none of that would have happened. Readers might have rejected Frank’s work. For all I know, the novel could have been a dud. But to paraphrase Marlon Brando, it coulda been a contender.

Of all the books you read of Frank’s where would you rank Confessions?

Number one, of course. Maybe I’m biased because of my involvement, but I honestly think it’s his strongest work.

Finally, finish this sentence: “In the movie about me, ________”

“In the movie about me, I live happily ever after.”


Tuesday, March 31, 2015


Frank Chin's long awaited novel The Confessions of a Number One Son (edited by Calvin McMillin) is finally out today. Don't forget your copy!

- Amazon (hardcover and paperback)
- Straight from the Publisher
- Facebook Link

Wednesday, February 25, 2015

Update on "Confessions of a Number One Son"

Mark your calendars! Frank Chin's new book Confessions of a Number One Son will be released March 31, 2015. It is now ready for pre-order at hardback or paperback. Don't forget to checkout the facebook site too. Oh, and another thing. If you happen to cross paths with Frank Chin, wish him a happy birthday. It's today!

Monday, January 26, 2015

Frank Chin's NEW NOVEL! The Confessions of a Number One Son

Happy New Year, Everybody! Exciting news. Frank Chin's new novel (edited by Calvin McMillin) is coming out this year. It is titled The Confessions of a Number One Son: The Great Chinese American Novel. Here are some details:

In the early 1970s, Frank Chin, the outspoken Chinese American author of such plays as The Chickencoop Chinaman and The Year of the Dragon, wrote a full-length novel that was never published and presumably lost. Nearly four decades later, Calvin McMillin, a literary scholar specializing in Asian American literature, would discover Chin’s original manuscripts and embark on an extensive restoration project. Meticulously reassembled from multiple extant drafts, Frank Chin’s “forgotten” novel is a sequel to The Chickencoop Chinaman and follows the further misadventures of Tam Lum, the original play’s witty protagonist.
Haunted by the bitter memories of a failed marriage and the untimely death of a beloved family member, Tam flees San Francisco’s Chinatown for a life of self-imposed exile on the Hawaiian island of Maui. After burning his sole copy of a manuscript he believed would someday be hailed as “The Great Chinese American Novel,” Tam stumbles into an unlikely romance with Lily, a former nun fresh out of the convent and looking for love. In the process, he also develops an unusual friendship with Lily’s father, a washed-up Hollywood actor once famous for portraying Charlie Chan on the big screen. Thanks in no small part to this bizarre father/daughter pair, not to mention an array of equally quirky locals, Tam soon discovers that his otherwise laidback island existence has been transformed into a farce of epic proportions.
Had it been published in the 1970s as originally intended, The Confessions of a Number One Son might have changed the face of Asian American literature as we know it. Written at the height of Frank Chin’s creative powers, this formerly “lost” novel ranks as the author’s funniest, most powerful, and most poignant work to date. Now, some forty years after its initial conception, The Confessions of a Number One Son is finally available to readers everywhere. 
More info here.
Facebook link:

More details to come!

Thursday, August 21, 2014


Sharon Pian Chan blasted the Seattle Rep’s rep in her op-ed in the Seattle TIMES.

Sharon's is the first Editorial, by a Yellow  in a White paper to question the White man's racist characterization of Yellows, in the history of the press, She has raised more than Theater to scrutiny, but all the arts and Yellow artists of Seattle. What the Yellow arts need is Yellow critics and a noisey critics argument-  and conclusions , not instructions from Whites on how to be Yellow in White America.  We know  the Whites Adam and Eve, Jack and Jill, Jack and the Beanstalk, Jack the Giant Killer,  and the Whites still don't know Poon Goo and  Nur Waw, Far Mulan, Liang Hongyu, Mu Guiying. We've been here since 1849. We learned. Why didn't the Whites? Because their White racism forbids them to read anything not written by a White.  The subservient state of Yellow artist in America has reduced the Yellow man’s self-esteem  to how closely he mimicks the Whites, not how much he teaches the Whites about the Yellows.

What is Rick Shiomi, Yellow Playwright of Minneopolis doing?  He’s wrong to touch Gilbert & Sulluivan ‘s intentionally British White racist MIKADO. It’s humor and subtle wit depend on the White racist sympathy of the audience. The author’s intention is in the design , the art of Gilbert’s topsy turvey  prose.

Rick Shiomi’s attempted production of MIKADO with the racist organs Frankesteined out strikes me as wrongheaded as a Jew sweetening   Reinhard Heydrich and Adolf Eichmann’s   Wannsee Conference where the final solution to the Jewish question was worked out for presentation at one today's entertainment industry fair.

Sharon Pian Chan is really criticizing the Seattle Rep as a White racist theater.  Bravo!  If the White man wants to prove he’s not White racist , let him present an image of himself (no coaching from the Yellows), instead of silly white racists in Yellow pancake  make-up .

Gilbert & Sullivan’s THE MIKADO was the Charlie Chan of its time, that ate up England. Whites never tire of trying to sell us silly Charlie Chan is a positive lovable stereotype, at best and a mere metaphor, obviously not real Chinese. (Didya, hear that? ) …at worst. Why do Whites insist the Yellows are not serious and are not real?

Take off your pancake Mikado-Show the world the white man inside Charlie Chan.

Prove you Whites really know, respect and treat the Yellow Man as the racial, and cultural equal to yourself, White Man. Show me your real self and not metaphors that aren’t really me and mine.

Frank Chin   

Tuesday, April 22, 2014

Frank Chin's Letter to Allan Kornblum. Kornblum Responds.

Frank Chin to Allan Kornblum:

Allan Kornblum
Coffee House Press

You accused me of unjustly attacking Maxine Hong Kingston, David Henry Hwang and Amy Tan for being White America favorite Yellow writers, and sending me packing.

They are the favorite writers among Whites. That proves their White racism. They love Kingston because Kingston heaps contempt on all Chinese and all of Chinese culture by selling you her pitiful cutdown of Far Mulan.

The Chinese of San Francisco and Kingston were stripped of all knowledge of the books that held our identity, asthe Bible holds the identity of Christians, and Torah holds the identity of the Jews, and Koran holds Islam identity. Since our arrival in 1849 we were greeted with contempt, in the White religion. The Whites refused to read what we offered. We knew Whites. Whites had been China peddling Christianity and selling opium for sixty years before we took of greener pastures and the Gold Rush. But the Whites did not want to know us.

In 1889 Missionary Donaldina Cameron and the Age of American Imperialism came to San Francisco. She invented the stereotype of Chinese men are cruel to their women and built Cameron House. The stereotype became a staple of SF Christianity and is the jewel of Chinatown.

You are not my friend. A friend would have read THE BALLAD OF MULAN. A friend would have given Chinese poetry a glance and seen that before MULAN the only patriotic beauties were concubines skilled in pleasing targeted men and four of them are celebrated as THE FOUR BEAUTIES. Mulan was the first girl to decide for herself how to save her family. She decided when and who she fucked and her saved family accepted. A friend would have been impressed that her name was invoked by Liang Hongyu, the girl who drummed signals to Han Zhisong, her husband and troops on the field below. Her belly was slashed and her guts spilled out in battle. She stuffed her intestines back into her body, wrapped a scarf around to hold them, remounted her horse, said, "Today I die for my country," and rode into a barrage of arrows. She is buried with her husband. Mu Guiying, was a bandit queen who captured a general of Yang family, fell in love with him, married him and was appointed commander of the seven Yang family armies by the Yang matriarch. Both Liang and Mu were allies of General Yue Fei- the tattooed general, and Kingston's source for the tattoos Mulan's parents inflict on the child when born!

My friend would notice that all the Yellows whites like to read trash Chinese and exalt Whites. That's what Whites like to read. And thanks to White publishers like Coffee House contempt for the Chinese Heroic Tradition is all they get.

Some friend. Cameron House and their lovable Ornaments and all the Yellows honeys doing White news only are more numerous than ever. My friends are not my friends. Too cowardly to read. They go like torn pages in the wind.

Our relationship is business. Just business. Old business.

I go now looking for a non-existent Yellow America publishing house. China and Singapore are authoritarian states. Readers there have to take me under the covers. At least in America they can read my lesser works in a plain brown wrapper.

Now Pres Bill Clinton's 1998 award of his Humanities Medal to Kingston for "revealing the truth of Chinatown" hangs like a Damocles sword over Hillary Clinton campaign. Maybe you can warn them, and maybe they can smooth over Pres Bill's white racist act of contempt for the Chinese.

Frank Chin

Allan Kornblum to Frank Chin:

Date: March 26, 2014


I'm sorry Cinda and I weren't able to get together with you on our little get-away trip to Los Angeles early this month. I actually put together an itinerary for the trip with things to do and people to see in the morning, afternoon, and evening of every day of our visit--you were on it. But even though I'm much better than I was in early December, two years plus of chemo and eight years of leukemia have taken their toll. We had to scale back those plans dramatically.

But if all goes well, I will be back in your fair city later this year or early next. I have a long list of books I'd like to see at the Huntington Library, as part of the research for the book I'm writing--a quirky history of publishing from a literary publisher's point of view. If I'm able to make the trip, I'll get in touch and maybe we can get together for lunch. Speaking of our last exchange of emails, which began when a teacher who had assigned your book, contacted us about what appeared to be an error in Donald Duk. You confirmed that it was an error, and we will be making the correction next time we reprint.

And that's when I told you about the ordeal I've been through, and how I wound up getting saved at the last minute by a new drug. And your response was, "Hey, Don't Die you fucker. I'm running out of Whites to yell at."

Ah, Frank, don't you think it's time to stop yelling at people? You had a case to make, with regard to the way some Asian American writers have portrayed Chinese culture, and the obligation of Chinese American writers to read the classic Chinese texts. And you've made that case eloquently and fiercely over a long career.

And during that career you have written some terrific plays, stories, novels, and essays. It was my honor to have published some of your stories and your two novels, Frank. The work you have had performed and published has influenced at least two generations of Asian American writers.

Now it's time to take pride and pleasure in your achievements. Don't worry about Maxine Hong Kingston, or Amy Tan, or any of the writers with whom you have had a quarrel. You've made your case in speeches and essays, and by example in the books you've written.

As I'm sure you know, physically, getting older sucks. Every day another part of your body hurts, or doesn't work as well as it once did. Our only recompense is to take some pride in having made the contribution it was in us to make.

I feel so good about my years as a publisher. And I'm so grateful that Chris Fishbach was there to take over Coffee House Press, and build on my accomplishments while making his own contribution. Leukemia sucks, but I can take pride and pleasure in knowing I gave everything that was in me to literary publishing, and I still had enough left for my family.

You've had a great literary career, Frank, and you've influenced hundreds of writers, and tens of thousands of readers. As to your perceived "literary enemies"--let your anger go, man. Stop yelling at people. It's not good for you. Take it from a guy living with cancer.

I don't know what brought up the above late-night night diatribe, but don't worry about having burned bridges, or destroyed a long, warm relationship. I know about writing late night letters. Fortunately I threw most of them away, or the people who did receive them chalked them up to a crazy mood of the moment.

So, I hope you got to sleep last night, and that today life seems a bit brighter. Go have a cappuccino and enjoy your day--keeping in mind that it's eighteen degrees here in Minnesota. And remember that a lot of people care about you.

All best,