Growing Up & Facts of Life
![Kelly Yang - [object Object] author](https://res.cloudinary.com/readsomnia/image/upload/authors/a_B07VCCC2VY.jpg)
Finally Seen
From the New York Times bestselling author of Front Desk comes a gripping middle grade novel about a young girl who leaves China to live with her parents and sister, after five years apart, and learns about family, friendship, and the power of being finally seen.
My sister got to grow up with my parents. Me? I grew up with postcards from my parents.
When ten-year-old Lina Gao steps off the plane in Los Angeles, it's her first time in America and the first time seeing her parents and her little sister in five years! She's been waiting for this moment every day while she lived with her grandmother in Beijing, getting teased by kids at school who called her "left behind girl." Finally, her parents are ready for her to join their fabulous life in America! Except, it's not exactly like in the postcards:
1. School's a lot harder than she thought. When she mispronounces some words in English on the first day, she decides she simply won't talk. Ever again.
2. Her chatty little sister has no problem with English. And seems to do everything better than Lina, including knowing exactly the way to her parents' hearts.
3. They live in an apartment, not a house like in Mom's letters, and they owe a lot of back rent from the pandemic. And Mom's plan to pay it back sounds more like a hobby than a moneymaker.
As she reckons with her hurt, Lina tries to keep a lid on her feelings, both at home and at school. When her teacher starts facing challenges for her latest book selection, a book that deeply resonates with Lina, it will take all of Lina's courage and resilience to get over her fear in order to choose a future where she's finally seen.
My sister got to grow up with my parents. Me? I grew up with postcards from my parents.
When ten-year-old Lina Gao steps off the plane in Los Angeles, it's her first time in America and the first time seeing her parents and her little sister in five years! She's been waiting for this moment every day while she lived with her grandmother in Beijing, getting teased by kids at school who called her "left behind girl." Finally, her parents are ready for her to join their fabulous life in America! Except, it's not exactly like in the postcards:
1. School's a lot harder than she thought. When she mispronounces some words in English on the first day, she decides she simply won't talk. Ever again.
2. Her chatty little sister has no problem with English. And seems to do everything better than Lina, including knowing exactly the way to her parents' hearts.
3. They live in an apartment, not a house like in Mom's letters, and they owe a lot of back rent from the pandemic. And Mom's plan to pay it back sounds more like a hobby than a moneymaker.
As she reckons with her hurt, Lina tries to keep a lid on her feelings, both at home and at school. When her teacher starts facing challenges for her latest book selection, a book that deeply resonates with Lina, it will take all of Lina's courage and resilience to get over her fear in order to choose a future where she's finally seen.
Editorial Reviews
Chapter 1 Chapter 1
I listen to the quiet hum of the plane and the not-so-quiet flutter of my heart in my chest. This is it. Another six hours and I will finally see my parents and my sister again! I try to picture Mom's and Dad's faces when I land. Except I keep picturing Marge and Homer Simpson. Only Asian. With shorter hair. And a less smart Lisa. (Hopefully.)
I guess that's what happens when you haven't seen your family in five years (and you've watched a lot of subtitled Simpsons). I was starting to give up on the whole going-to-America thing, until my mom called six weeks ago.
"Lao Lao told me you're doing your middle school applications," Mom said. "And you're writing an essay on your parents being in America?"
I nodded, coiling the phone cord around my fingers.
"Is that not a good topic?" I asked.
"No…," she said, "it's just… what are you going to say?"
I shrugged. I like writing, but not as much as I like drawing pictures. But art's a sure way to get kicked out of any school in Beijing, let alone Beijing Normal Middle School #3, where I was applying. It was my aunt Jing's middle school. She now has a fancy tech job in Shenzhen. She says there's no future for artists in China. Beijing Normal would get the art out of me… and turn me into a steady workhorse. Just like her.
"Well?" Mom asked.
I felt a rush of heat spread across my forehead. Here was my chance to tell her how I really felt about being left behind all these years. I was only five years old when she left. I thought she was going on a work trip. I didn't even understand. Most of all, how could she take Millie, my baby sister, and not me? My sister got to grow up with my parents. Me? I grew up with postcards from my parents.
But as usual, my voice was locked in the chamber of my throat.
There are things I don't want to tell anyone, well, except Lao Lao.
My grandmother, Lao Lao, is my moon and my Wilson. Like the volleyball in Cast Away (another movie I binged), she is my companion in my waiting city. That's what Beijing feels like, just me and Lao Lao waiting. It used to be me, Lao Lao, and Lao Ye. But last year, when Lao Ye passed away… our trio of tea leaves went down to two. Now I am Lao Lao's human alarm clock (I wake her up every day at 6 a.m.), dumpling steamer, pu'er brewer, flower waterer, and medicine fetcher.
I know how much she needs me. I'm all she's got left. Which is why some feelings are too hard to even tell her.
Instead, I catch them and tuck them behind my cheek...
I listen to the quiet hum of the plane and the not-so-quiet flutter of my heart in my chest. This is it. Another six hours and I will finally see my parents and my sister again! I try to picture Mom's and Dad's faces when I land. Except I keep picturing Marge and Homer Simpson. Only Asian. With shorter hair. And a less smart Lisa. (Hopefully.)
I guess that's what happens when you haven't seen your family in five years (and you've watched a lot of subtitled Simpsons). I was starting to give up on the whole going-to-America thing, until my mom called six weeks ago.
"Lao Lao told me you're doing your middle school applications," Mom said. "And you're writing an essay on your parents being in America?"
I nodded, coiling the phone cord around my fingers.
"Is that not a good topic?" I asked.
"No…," she said, "it's just… what are you going to say?"
I shrugged. I like writing, but not as much as I like drawing pictures. But art's a sure way to get kicked out of any school in Beijing, let alone Beijing Normal Middle School #3, where I was applying. It was my aunt Jing's middle school. She now has a fancy tech job in Shenzhen. She says there's no future for artists in China. Beijing Normal would get the art out of me… and turn me into a steady workhorse. Just like her.
"Well?" Mom asked.
I felt a rush of heat spread across my forehead. Here was my chance to tell her how I really felt about being left behind all these years. I was only five years old when she left. I thought she was going on a work trip. I didn't even understand. Most of all, how could she take Millie, my baby sister, and not me? My sister got to grow up with my parents. Me? I grew up with postcards from my parents.
But as usual, my voice was locked in the chamber of my throat.
There are things I don't want to tell anyone, well, except Lao Lao.
My grandmother, Lao Lao, is my moon and my Wilson. Like the volleyball in Cast Away (another movie I binged), she is my companion in my waiting city. That's what Beijing feels like, just me and Lao Lao waiting. It used to be me, Lao Lao, and Lao Ye. But last year, when Lao Ye passed away… our trio of tea leaves went down to two. Now I am Lao Lao's human alarm clock (I wake her up every day at 6 a.m.), dumpling steamer, pu'er brewer, flower waterer, and medicine fetcher.
I know how much she needs me. I'm all she's got left. Which is why some feelings are too hard to even tell her.
Instead, I catch them and tuck them behind my cheek...
Readers Top Reviews
swingdancefan
Once again, Kelly Yang brings us a story of what it’s like to try to navigate a new country. I don’t know how many parents find themselves in a situation where they must leave one or all of their children behind in order to forge a new life in the United States. In this case, once Lina is able to join her parents, she is excited to start living the beautiful life they’ve sent her photos of—only to find that that life isn’t real. They are struggling to get by. Her father lost his graduate school job after standing up for a coworker, and now does fieldwork for an organic farmer, who has promised to help Lina’s parents get their green cards. Lina’s little sister, of course, fits right in at school and speaks English well She’s all about her Tiktok dances. But although Lina has studied English back in China, it is nothing like actually having to go to school in English in the U.S. Furthermore, she’s worried about her grandmother, who has moved into an assisted living center and doesn’t seem to be settling in well. Enter a wonderfully sympathetic teacher to help Lina grow her English skills and a school librarian who helps Lina find the perfect graphic novel. The two of them even encourage Lina to create her own graphic novel about her experiences—including how she is bullied in her new school And when Lina shares her favorite graphic novel, about an immigrant girl whose experiences are similar to Lina’s own, there is consternation in the classroom when a parent objects to the book and wants it removed. It is here that Lina finds her voice and is able to stand up, speak up, and be seen. I really, really loved this book, and look forward to more by Kelly Yang. She made my heart hurt for Lina, and I sympathized with the struggles that her parents faced in trying to keep their family together. These are heavy subjects, but Yang handles them deftly and in a way that is appropriate to her target age group. It is such a pleasure watching Lina make friends and overcome her language barriers as she finds the way to make herself heard. Possible Objectionable Material: Family separation, bully, deception, censorship, immigration issues. Who Might Like This Book: Anyone who likes stories of families overcoming difficulties. Those interested in the immigrant experience. Those who like reading about social issues through the lens of a child’s life. Thank you to the publisher and NetGalley for providing an ARC in exchange for my honest opinion.
Short Excerpt Teaser
Chapter 1 Chapter 1
I listen to the quiet hum of the plane and the not-so-quiet flutter of my heart in my chest. This is it. Another six hours and I will finally see my parents and my sister again! I try to picture Mom's and Dad's faces when I land. Except I keep picturing Marge and Homer Simpson. Only Asian. With shorter hair. And a less smart Lisa. (Hopefully.)
I guess that's what happens when you haven't seen your family in five years (and you've watched a lot of subtitled Simpsons). I was starting to give up on the whole going-to-America thing, until my mom called six weeks ago.
"Lao Lao told me you're doing your middle school applications," Mom said. "And you're writing an essay on your parents being in America?"
I nodded, coiling the phone cord around my fingers.
"Is that not a good topic?" I asked.
"No…," she said, "it's just… what are you going to say?"
I shrugged. I like writing, but not as much as I like drawing pictures. But art's a sure way to get kicked out of any school in Beijing, let alone Beijing Normal Middle School #3, where I was applying. It was my aunt Jing's middle school. She now has a fancy tech job in Shenzhen. She says there's no future for artists in China. Beijing Normal would get the art out of me… and turn me into a steady workhorse. Just like her.
"Well?" Mom asked.
I felt a rush of heat spread across my forehead. Here was my chance to tell her how I really felt about being left behind all these years. I was only five years old when she left. I thought she was going on a work trip. I didn't even understand. Most of all, how could she take Millie, my baby sister, and not me? My sister got to grow up with my parents. Me? I grew up with postcards from my parents.
But as usual, my voice was locked in the chamber of my throat.
There are things I don't want to tell anyone, well, except Lao Lao.
My grandmother, Lao Lao, is my moon and my Wilson. Like the volleyball in Cast Away (another movie I binged), she is my companion in my waiting city. That's what Beijing feels like, just me and Lao Lao waiting. It used to be me, Lao Lao, and Lao Ye. But last year, when Lao Ye passed away… our trio of tea leaves went down to two. Now I am Lao Lao's human alarm clock (I wake her up every day at 6 a.m.), dumpling steamer, pu'er brewer, flower waterer, and medicine fetcher.
I know how much she needs me. I'm all she's got left. Which is why some feelings are too hard to even tell her.
Instead, I catch them and tuck them behind my cheek.
Lao Lao says that's the way to succeed in China.
Every morning, Lao Lao reminds me: go to school, make your parents proud, and watch your words, lest they label you a bad apple. She grew up in the era of the Cultural Revolution, and her father was thrown in jail for being a "bad apple." Even though that was a long time ago, the memory of it never really left. She's always telling me to sew up half my mouth. I imagine an invisible thread running along my mouth, my lips stitched like a sock.
But the thing about some feelings is… they just won't go away. Instead, they form a tight ball at the base of my throat. Where they sit and they wait, planning their escape from the thread. And one day, just when you least expect it, they shoot out like a rocket.
That's exactly what happened that rainy Beijing spring day when Mom called.
"Do you really want to go to Beijing Normal #3?" Mom asked.
I looked over at my lao lao, craning her head eagerly to catch snippets of our conversation. She put her knitting needles down, massaging her hand. Her arthritis had gotten so much worse since Lao Ye passed, she could hardly keep knitting. The doctors in China had warned her that this day would come. They told her to do more acupuncture, to get out and exercise. But Lao Lao was born in the Year of the Ox. She does not like anyone telling her what to do.
I turned away from Lao Lao, held the phone close to my face, and cupped a hand around my mouth.
"No," I whispered. "I want to go to school in America. Please, Mama. I want to come."
And with that, I chose my future over my past.
A hand on my arm pushes me awake.
"Lina Gao?" the flight attendant asks. I rub my eyes awake. She smiles and says to me in Chinese, "We're moving you up to first class. So you can get out first when we land!"
I blink in confusion. I reach for my sketch pad. I was in the middle of working on a sketch of Lao Lao gardenin...
I listen to the quiet hum of the plane and the not-so-quiet flutter of my heart in my chest. This is it. Another six hours and I will finally see my parents and my sister again! I try to picture Mom's and Dad's faces when I land. Except I keep picturing Marge and Homer Simpson. Only Asian. With shorter hair. And a less smart Lisa. (Hopefully.)
I guess that's what happens when you haven't seen your family in five years (and you've watched a lot of subtitled Simpsons). I was starting to give up on the whole going-to-America thing, until my mom called six weeks ago.
"Lao Lao told me you're doing your middle school applications," Mom said. "And you're writing an essay on your parents being in America?"
I nodded, coiling the phone cord around my fingers.
"Is that not a good topic?" I asked.
"No…," she said, "it's just… what are you going to say?"
I shrugged. I like writing, but not as much as I like drawing pictures. But art's a sure way to get kicked out of any school in Beijing, let alone Beijing Normal Middle School #3, where I was applying. It was my aunt Jing's middle school. She now has a fancy tech job in Shenzhen. She says there's no future for artists in China. Beijing Normal would get the art out of me… and turn me into a steady workhorse. Just like her.
"Well?" Mom asked.
I felt a rush of heat spread across my forehead. Here was my chance to tell her how I really felt about being left behind all these years. I was only five years old when she left. I thought she was going on a work trip. I didn't even understand. Most of all, how could she take Millie, my baby sister, and not me? My sister got to grow up with my parents. Me? I grew up with postcards from my parents.
But as usual, my voice was locked in the chamber of my throat.
There are things I don't want to tell anyone, well, except Lao Lao.
My grandmother, Lao Lao, is my moon and my Wilson. Like the volleyball in Cast Away (another movie I binged), she is my companion in my waiting city. That's what Beijing feels like, just me and Lao Lao waiting. It used to be me, Lao Lao, and Lao Ye. But last year, when Lao Ye passed away… our trio of tea leaves went down to two. Now I am Lao Lao's human alarm clock (I wake her up every day at 6 a.m.), dumpling steamer, pu'er brewer, flower waterer, and medicine fetcher.
I know how much she needs me. I'm all she's got left. Which is why some feelings are too hard to even tell her.
Instead, I catch them and tuck them behind my cheek.
Lao Lao says that's the way to succeed in China.
Every morning, Lao Lao reminds me: go to school, make your parents proud, and watch your words, lest they label you a bad apple. She grew up in the era of the Cultural Revolution, and her father was thrown in jail for being a "bad apple." Even though that was a long time ago, the memory of it never really left. She's always telling me to sew up half my mouth. I imagine an invisible thread running along my mouth, my lips stitched like a sock.
But the thing about some feelings is… they just won't go away. Instead, they form a tight ball at the base of my throat. Where they sit and they wait, planning their escape from the thread. And one day, just when you least expect it, they shoot out like a rocket.
That's exactly what happened that rainy Beijing spring day when Mom called.
"Do you really want to go to Beijing Normal #3?" Mom asked.
I looked over at my lao lao, craning her head eagerly to catch snippets of our conversation. She put her knitting needles down, massaging her hand. Her arthritis had gotten so much worse since Lao Ye passed, she could hardly keep knitting. The doctors in China had warned her that this day would come. They told her to do more acupuncture, to get out and exercise. But Lao Lao was born in the Year of the Ox. She does not like anyone telling her what to do.
I turned away from Lao Lao, held the phone close to my face, and cupped a hand around my mouth.
"No," I whispered. "I want to go to school in America. Please, Mama. I want to come."
And with that, I chose my future over my past.
A hand on my arm pushes me awake.
"Lina Gao?" the flight attendant asks. I rub my eyes awake. She smiles and says to me in Chinese, "We're moving you up to first class. So you can get out first when we land!"
I blink in confusion. I reach for my sketch pad. I was in the middle of working on a sketch of Lao Lao gardenin...
