ࡱ> 241 /!jbjbt2t2 "&PP/cccccwwwww  w'))))))<b)c)cc>:cc''cc@ѽw. T0c ):   John Thompson 02/28/06 Warner Armchairs and Shareware: Minfong Hos Recovery of the Metaphor Truths are illusions which we have forgotten are illusions- they are metaphors that have become worn out and have been drained of sensuous force, coins which have lost their embossing and are now considered as metal and no longer as coins. -Nietzsche, On Truth and Lies in a Nonmoral Sense, 1873 In the first few paragraphs of Minfong Hos short story, The Green Armchair, the initial mention of the titular piece of furniture provokes a curious response from Sopeap, the storys protagonist: Did that mean a chair for an arm, or a chair made of arms, or maybe a chair with legs that were shaped like arms? ...Of course, it was a chair with arms (204, this and all following quotations are taken from First Crossing, edited by Donald R. Gallo). Sopeap, an English learner, recognizes the jarring metaphor embedded within her schoolmates everyday languagean unconscious analogy on the speakers part. Toms use of the word armchair is not intended as a creative comparison, but merely as a name for the object in question. But surely Sopeaps series of reactions, from wonder to recognition, bears some resemblance to that of the audience when the utterance was a novel one. This, after all, is the purpose of metaphor: to compare unlike thingsa human appendage and an upholstered rail, for examplein a surprising but ultimately satisfying way. With repeated usage, these comparisons are stripped of their original element of surprise; they cease to be effective as metaphors. In The Green Armchair, Ho restores the sensuous force to metaphorical language, first by allowing us to hear an old phrase with new ears, and then by suggesting a bewildering new breed of metaphor, which takes as its frame of reference contemporary youth culture. Sprinkled throughout the stories that make up this collection are casual nods to Information Age technology: the smuggler of human beings in First Crossing operates with the use of a cellular phone, and e-mail correspondence is considered by the narrator of Second Culture Kids. The experience of encountering these references within realistic literatureas opposed to science fictionis momentarily disorienting; the immediacy of the setting becomes apparent in the same way that allusions to September 11th, in both First Crossing and Lines of Scrimmage, register a jolt of familiarity. They mark the work as of a certain time, even of a certain class, rather than timeless or universal. But while the inclusion of such innovations may strike some readers as gimmicky, it accurately represents the everyday world of many (though certainly not all) of todays young adults. In most cases, these of-the-moment objects serve as little more than set decoration, like a powdered wig in a period film. But in The Green Armchair, Ho employs the use of current technological innovation to the extent that it becomes an integral part of the plot, and a literary device in and of itself. As the story opens, Sopeap is constructing a computer simulation of Phnom Penh, her distant home city, using the popular Sim City software. Her game catches the attention of Tom, a classmate, in much the same way that it may catch the attention of a young readerit becomes suddenly relevant to the young adult experience in a way that it might not have if the author had chosen to tell a more conventional tale of heritage and homesickness. The computer game becomes as much of a scaffold for Toms relationship with Sopeap as the restoration of his grandfathers armchair. When their shared creation begins to require more memory than Sopeaps computer can handle, Tom volunteers his laptop to carry the load, saying, Its the software thats the important part You can always switch the hardware, but its that fantastic city were building that counts (217). The cooperative building and running of the simulated Phnom Penh allows for authentic interaction between the two adolescents, both of whom yearn to hold onto family legacies: Tom by reupholstering his grandfathers ancient armchair, and Sopeap by recalling the Cambodian classical dance positions taught by her grandmother. As trust builds in their relationship, they are able to encourage and help one another in their pursuit of a link to the past. The computer game recedes into the background as the deadline for restoring the chair approaches, but makes a surprising reappearance at the climactic moment of the story, when Sopeap receives the news that her grandmother has died and imagines that her connection to her Cambodian heritage has been severed. When Tom, in a show of empathy, reaches out to bend Sopeaps fingers back in the gesture of Kbach Sung Luc, it dawns on her that the legacy of the dance has been passed on through her: Like software, Sopeap murmured. Tom let go of her hand. Even better, he said. Its shareware. (220) It is a jarring, almost offensive metaphor: children comparing the preservation of human heritage to the beeping and whirring of modern technology. Yet the audacity of the comparison frees the reader to reconstruct and reevaluate the notion of inherited culture and tradition. Even readers who lack fluency in computer jargon will understand, via the metaphor, that shareware implies the freedom to pass on ideas, knowledge, even ancient customs from one individual to another. A few lines later, Sopeap says more conventionally of the dances motions, They are mine, yet they belong to me only as much as the flame of a candle belongs to its wick (221). The simile is charming, but familiarit brings to mind clichs like the passing of the torch, or eternal flameit lacks the jolt of Toms assertion. A metaphor neednt entirely describe a thing, or it would be a definition. Certainly there are infinite ways in which the arm of a chair is unlike a human arm, in which cultural heritage is unlike shareware. But a metaphors job is to surprise us with its observations, and it is a rare thing, in our centuries-old language, to come across such a phrase. If metaphors were worn out in Nietzsches day, then by now they must be all but extinct. 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