Though Suyuan dies two months before Jing-Mei’s narrative begins, the novel’s use of imagery keeps her memories alive. In Part 1, Chapter 1, Jing-Mei recounts the pre-war China of Suyuan’s early adulthood, initiating her reader into a lush world that surpasses dreams:
When I saw the hills, I laughed and shuddered at the same time. The peaks looked like giant fried fish heads trying to jump out of a vat of oil. Behind each hill, I could see shadows of another fish, and then another and another. And then the clouds would move just a little and the hills would suddenly become monstrous elephants marching slowly toward me!
Made possible by colorful metaphors and similes, the vivid imagery makes Suyuan’s “poor thoughts” seem pale by comparison. It honors the landscape’s beauty, by turns whimsical and imaginative; the imagery assembles a realm of fantasy that shifts and spellbinds. Gwilin’s hills resemble “fried fish heads” in a vat of oil, only to transform into “monstrous elephants” a sentence later. Hills turn into food and then marching animals. Suyuan’s storytelling gives the city an otherworldly beauty and lifts it off the novel’s pages.
Imagery strengthens the novel’s fantastical suggestions. Mothers forecast doom and sense elemental imbalances, mingling reality with the supernatural. These resonant descriptions showcase the compelling power of these stories, making them instruments of awe.
Tragedy comes coupled with beauty for Rose Hsu Jordan, who loses her brother on an ordinary family outing to the beach. As a nearly perfect afternoon takes a crushing, life-changing turn, the California beach around her remains hauntingly scenic:
We were there for many hours. I remember the search boats and the sunset when dusk came. I had never seen a sunset like that: a bright orange flame touching the water's edge and then fanning out, warming the sea. When it became dark, the boats turned their yellow orbs on and bounced up and down on the dark shiny water.
This imagery’s visual splendor amplifies the devastating awareness of loss. Rose captures a setting that, if not for Bing’s drowning, would have come close to stunning. The sun—a “bright orange flame”—touches the water and “fans” out along the sea. The boats with their “yellow orbs” “bounced up and down on the dark shiny water.” The California shoreline is idyllic, picturesque, impervious to the tragedy that has unfolded within it.
The contrast between sorrow and serenity creates an emotional dissonance. What follows between the sunset and the family’s frantic search is eeriness. Tan’s imagery deepens the heartbreaking poignance of the moment through a juxtaposition of different feelings.