Status
Available
Call number
Publication
New York : Penguin Press, c2011.
Description
Traces the rewards and pitfalls of a Chinese mother's exercise in extreme parenting, describing the exacting standards applied to grades, music lessons, and avoidance of Western cultural practices.
Media reviews
...Amy Chua's unexceptional memoir about her dedication to raising children who excel...
“There are all these new books out there portraying Asian mothers as scheming, callous, overdriven people indifferent to their kids’ true interests,” Amy Chua writes. She ought to know, because hers is the big one: “Battle Hymn of the Tiger Mother,” a diabolically well-packaged, highly
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readable screed ostensibly about the art of obsessive parenting. In truth, Ms. Chua’s memoir is about one little narcissist’s book-length search for happiness. And for all its quotable outbursts from Mama Grisly (the nickname was inevitable), it will gratify the same people who made a hit out of the granola-hearted “Eat, Pray, Love.” Show Less
Parenting and child psychology take up most of the self-help book genre, stressing the point that every parent must develop their own creative and suitable ways to deal with their child.
Battle Hymn of the Tiger Mother stands out from its genre contemporaries, as author Amy Chua delves right into
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the techniques she used to raise her own genius daughters, who are very lucky. Why? Because they're Chinese! Yes, the author aims at educating the unfortunate rest of the world on how to raise their kids to be more like the genius race that is the Chinese.
Chua believes that the Chinese race is superior because of the mothers’ tough parenting techniques: for example, the Chinese mother considers an A- grade a bad grade, never compliments her kids in public, and only allows them to participate in activities from which they’ll win a trophy or medal; and it must be gold.
The controversy that this book has caused has been mainly down to how the author compares the know-it-all 'Chinese mother' to the typical good-for-nothing 'Western mother'. That being said, the book itself is very captivating, divided into stories and anecdotes that are both educating and suspenseful, with organized profiles on her family. Her controversial theory, however, may jar with parents who do not fall in line with the author’s ideals.
It’s important to remember that everyone has their own parenting methods. So, if you come out with just one thing from this book, it may be that if having no social life, being forced into hobbies, and being under constant pressure to score the best grades is what it takes for a kid to be genius, then perhaps it’s not worth it after all.
It’s easier to read the book as an autobiography than as a self-help book; that way you can enjoy the mother’s thoughts on her daughters’ upbringing and the methods that she used. That way, the book won’t ruffle your feathers or come across as condescending to those who might be in the firing line of the straight-talking Chua. Show Less
User reviews
LibraryThing member annbury
A book that's ssooooo easy to hate (particularly if you haven't read it) and so thought-provoking (if you have) certainly bears reading. Since it is a very easy read, with a gripping story line (who will win?), that's no major challenge, and I wish that everybody who damns this book would actually
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read it. The book is about, as very few will need reminding, the "Chinese Way" of raising children, which seems to be pretty much the opposite of the permissive. endorsing "American Way". An exaggeration of either method will underline some major problems, and Ms. Chua's book certainly does. But her book also challenges some American orthodoxies that need challenging: for example, every child is a winner, and every child should do what they enjoy doing. Ms. Chua points out that things are not generally fun until you are good at them, and that life is a very competitive sport. There's lots wrong in her child care approach (an issue she goes into herself in the last chapters of the book) but there is also a lot that is constructive. Show Less
LibraryThing member DFlanders
The Most Important Parenting Book of the Decade
Amy Chua’s little memoire on parenting is both fascinating and controversial. I read the Time magazine article and immediately downloaded the book to the Kindle app on my iPhone. I then read the entire book in two evenings with rapt enthusiasm, as if
The fact that it is so well written, interesting, and easy to digest means it will be widely read. Most parenting books have a limited appeal, which stunts their impact. This book, however, will undoubtedly have a much bigger audience and a correspondingly larger influence.
The fact that it is so provocatively written ensures it will incite debate. The sides of the debate as defined by Ms. Chua are “Western” vs. “Chinese” ways of raising children. As in every dialectic of thesis vs. antithesis, the truth or synthesis is somewhere in the middle as Ms. Chua partially and reluctantly concedes by the end of the book.
What may be overlooked amidst all the hype are the many important concepts about raising successful children in a modern context that Ms. Chua highlights, sometimes inadvertently.
First, is that affluence can be a handicap when it comes to raising kids. This might seem counterintuitive while reading about all luxuries that Ms. Chua and her family enjoy. However, Ms. Chua knows how intoxicating and ambition-dulling the affects of wealth can be on the children of the very successful. This book is as much an antidote to second and third generation complacency as anything else. It’s an important concept even for those without an Ivy League pedigree.
Second, is that hard work and discipline are essential to success. This is true regardless of the venue. With books like Outliers and Game On touting the magic of ten thousand hours as the key to success, who can doubt the age-old adage of practice makes perfect.
Finally, is that children eventually have to take command of their own success. The goal of parenting is not to raise large children, but independent adults. This requires the gradual granting of autonomy. If autonomy isn’t carefully measured out, it will eventually be wrested away, or even worse never gained at all.
The biggest mistake anyone could make after reading this book is to get too fixated on the details of Ms. Chua’s child-rearing techniques. Every parent makes mistakes. It was brave of her to document her own for the world to read. In most cases, the opposite of parental love is not hate, but apathy. No one can accuse Ms. Chua of being apathetic.
Doug Flanders
author of THE PRODIGY PROJECT
Amy Chua’s little memoire on parenting is both fascinating and controversial. I read the Time magazine article and immediately downloaded the book to the Kindle app on my iPhone. I then read the entire book in two evenings with rapt enthusiasm, as if
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it were the latest Tess Gerritsen or Michael Palmer thriller.The fact that it is so well written, interesting, and easy to digest means it will be widely read. Most parenting books have a limited appeal, which stunts their impact. This book, however, will undoubtedly have a much bigger audience and a correspondingly larger influence.
The fact that it is so provocatively written ensures it will incite debate. The sides of the debate as defined by Ms. Chua are “Western” vs. “Chinese” ways of raising children. As in every dialectic of thesis vs. antithesis, the truth or synthesis is somewhere in the middle as Ms. Chua partially and reluctantly concedes by the end of the book.
What may be overlooked amidst all the hype are the many important concepts about raising successful children in a modern context that Ms. Chua highlights, sometimes inadvertently.
First, is that affluence can be a handicap when it comes to raising kids. This might seem counterintuitive while reading about all luxuries that Ms. Chua and her family enjoy. However, Ms. Chua knows how intoxicating and ambition-dulling the affects of wealth can be on the children of the very successful. This book is as much an antidote to second and third generation complacency as anything else. It’s an important concept even for those without an Ivy League pedigree.
Second, is that hard work and discipline are essential to success. This is true regardless of the venue. With books like Outliers and Game On touting the magic of ten thousand hours as the key to success, who can doubt the age-old adage of practice makes perfect.
Finally, is that children eventually have to take command of their own success. The goal of parenting is not to raise large children, but independent adults. This requires the gradual granting of autonomy. If autonomy isn’t carefully measured out, it will eventually be wrested away, or even worse never gained at all.
The biggest mistake anyone could make after reading this book is to get too fixated on the details of Ms. Chua’s child-rearing techniques. Every parent makes mistakes. It was brave of her to document her own for the world to read. In most cases, the opposite of parental love is not hate, but apathy. No one can accuse Ms. Chua of being apathetic.
Doug Flanders
author of THE PRODIGY PROJECT
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LibraryThing member Summer_Kennedy
This book is extremely polarizing. People all over the country are discussing how crazy Amy Chua is. But they are missing the point. This book is not meant to be a how-to manual. Rather it is a memoir of how one woman implemented a particular style of child rearing. While her parenting style is not
What I find missing from the story is a greater degree of self-reflection. She makes a cursory attempt at the end to do this, but I think she relied too much on her daughters' contributions at the end of the book. And while I understand that she did not feel comfortable relating her husband's point of view, his voice is glaringly absent from the story. He seems like the more successful, more balanced, more rational member of the household; it would have been fascinating to hear why he gave such complete control to his wife in this aspect of their family.
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for me, she raises many valid points: dedication and persistence are required for success, a parent's job is to prepare his/her child for the future, and parenting means spending time with your child. Her story is well-written - sometimes cringe-inducing, sometimes funny, sometimes shocking. What I find missing from the story is a greater degree of self-reflection. She makes a cursory attempt at the end to do this, but I think she relied too much on her daughters' contributions at the end of the book. And while I understand that she did not feel comfortable relating her husband's point of view, his voice is glaringly absent from the story. He seems like the more successful, more balanced, more rational member of the household; it would have been fascinating to hear why he gave such complete control to his wife in this aspect of their family.
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LibraryThing member whitreidtan
If you have even a marginal interest in what books are generating conversation both inside and outside the publishing world, you've likely heard of Chua's controversial parenting memoir. People are outraged that she touts the strict "Chinese" parenting model, denigrates the much more laissez-faire
Chua is a high-achieving law professor at Yale. She is also a second generation Chinese-American who was herself pushed to excel as a child. As a parent, she makes the conscious decision to raise her children in accordance with the strict, demanding, and frequently unbending manner in which she was raised. And she attributes much of their exceptional academic and musical success to her insistence on routine, complete and expected obedience, and hours of repetitious drill. She holds her children to almost impossible standards and trusts that they are strong enough to hear about it when they have not met these lofty expectations. She compares what she sees as a "Western" laxity with her regimented "Chinese" methods and certainly the parenting method she didn't choose herself does come off poorly in some cases.
But Chua does have some legitimate points about the pervading culture which deems mere proficieny to be good enough instead of demanding exellence. Chua's insistence on her children spending hours practicing their instruments in order to be pre-eminent may strike people as excessive but how many parents of any stripe have spent hours standing over their children fighting the homework battle? Or have driven a child to a practice when said child whines that s/he doesn't want to go today? Or chosen a sport or an instrument for the child rather than allowing him/her a choice? Or pushed tutoring on a child? And the list goes on and on. Most of us have shades of a Tiger Mother in us. We might choose different battles and different instances in which to push our children, but we do fight those battles.
The memoir chronicles Chua's successes and failures and the high cost of both, with one daughter suited to her brutally honest, highly expectant parenting style and the other much less so. It is slightly disingenuous for Chua to claim her children's musical prodigality and academic successes result from her parenting given the girls' genetic inheritance. Both Chua and husband Jed are very intelligent, highly successful individuals and musical talent runs in Jed's family. So Chua has not been working all these years with children incapable of rising to her exacting standards. And that, perhaps is one of the biggest lessons of Chua's book: don't allow a highly-capable child to settle for mediocrity. High standards are not a bad thing. Giving trophies for participation regardless of effort is. Practice, onerous and tedious though it may be, is still the best way to get ahead.
This is an incredibly quick read and Chua pulls no punches on her behaviour as a mother but this isn't the mea culpa confessional sort of memoir we've come to expect. It does not have an apologetic tone and perhaps that is where some of the public excoriation comes in. But just as I stand by my own brand of parenting (certainly a mixture of laissez-faire and impossible standards), Chua stands by her own, mistakes and all. She says in the final chapter that her husband and both daughters read the book, making suggestions and registering their concerns so she has tried to balance her memories with theirs as best as possible. On occasion, hearing about the impressive accomplishments of Chua's daughters (as well as her own and her husband's) does get a little wearying, making it legitimate to complain this can be a rather long braggy book. But leaving out the accolades would make the account of strict parenting simply a preachy screed with tiny flashes of humility. The furor over the book might die away quickly but even if it does, it would make a fanastic book club choice. Clearly polarizing, discussions would go on for long periods as long as at least one person reads it carefully and with an open mind.
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"Western" parenting model, and holds her own very successful children up as proof that her conclusions and techniques are the "right" ones. This whole hue and cry made me incredibly interested in reading the book. And I am forced to come to the conclusion that some of the loudest voices of dissent can't possibly have read the same book I did. Certainly Chua stands by her parenting techniques but she isn't afraid to show her failures and the way in which she second guesses herself for not tailoring her parenting to better fit each of her daughters.Chua is a high-achieving law professor at Yale. She is also a second generation Chinese-American who was herself pushed to excel as a child. As a parent, she makes the conscious decision to raise her children in accordance with the strict, demanding, and frequently unbending manner in which she was raised. And she attributes much of their exceptional academic and musical success to her insistence on routine, complete and expected obedience, and hours of repetitious drill. She holds her children to almost impossible standards and trusts that they are strong enough to hear about it when they have not met these lofty expectations. She compares what she sees as a "Western" laxity with her regimented "Chinese" methods and certainly the parenting method she didn't choose herself does come off poorly in some cases.
But Chua does have some legitimate points about the pervading culture which deems mere proficieny to be good enough instead of demanding exellence. Chua's insistence on her children spending hours practicing their instruments in order to be pre-eminent may strike people as excessive but how many parents of any stripe have spent hours standing over their children fighting the homework battle? Or have driven a child to a practice when said child whines that s/he doesn't want to go today? Or chosen a sport or an instrument for the child rather than allowing him/her a choice? Or pushed tutoring on a child? And the list goes on and on. Most of us have shades of a Tiger Mother in us. We might choose different battles and different instances in which to push our children, but we do fight those battles.
The memoir chronicles Chua's successes and failures and the high cost of both, with one daughter suited to her brutally honest, highly expectant parenting style and the other much less so. It is slightly disingenuous for Chua to claim her children's musical prodigality and academic successes result from her parenting given the girls' genetic inheritance. Both Chua and husband Jed are very intelligent, highly successful individuals and musical talent runs in Jed's family. So Chua has not been working all these years with children incapable of rising to her exacting standards. And that, perhaps is one of the biggest lessons of Chua's book: don't allow a highly-capable child to settle for mediocrity. High standards are not a bad thing. Giving trophies for participation regardless of effort is. Practice, onerous and tedious though it may be, is still the best way to get ahead.
This is an incredibly quick read and Chua pulls no punches on her behaviour as a mother but this isn't the mea culpa confessional sort of memoir we've come to expect. It does not have an apologetic tone and perhaps that is where some of the public excoriation comes in. But just as I stand by my own brand of parenting (certainly a mixture of laissez-faire and impossible standards), Chua stands by her own, mistakes and all. She says in the final chapter that her husband and both daughters read the book, making suggestions and registering their concerns so she has tried to balance her memories with theirs as best as possible. On occasion, hearing about the impressive accomplishments of Chua's daughters (as well as her own and her husband's) does get a little wearying, making it legitimate to complain this can be a rather long braggy book. But leaving out the accolades would make the account of strict parenting simply a preachy screed with tiny flashes of humility. The furor over the book might die away quickly but even if it does, it would make a fanastic book club choice. Clearly polarizing, discussions would go on for long periods as long as at least one person reads it carefully and with an open mind.
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LibraryThing member Eagleduck86
This book is much misunderstood, as many have missed the self-parody and self-examination and have taken it to be some sort of child-rearing manual. Viewed in the correct light, it is an entertaining and engaging account of cultural adaptation and self-discovery.
LibraryThing member jcbrunner
If you like Arrested Development or Little Miss Sunshine, you will love this memoir whose ironic German title "The Mother of Success" captures the futility of controlling other people's lives. Contrary to the media reception, it is not about superior Chinese parenting techniques. During a visit to
Most of the comedy gold develops out of the author's complete lack of self-awareness and understanding of irony. Any feedback is a call to double down, to increase effort, to attack the breach once more, which when she refuses her children rest and food borders on child abuse. The silence of her husband and his acceptance of her ventures and plans (of which he is usually informed post facto) displays the same pattern of meek conformity that is often exhibited by the complicit wives in sexual abuse cases. Why didn't he speak out? Why did he accept her ruining another vacation by throwing another tantrum?
She projects her misdirected narcissism onto her children. Similar to Leopold Mozart and John Neville Keynes, she is well aware of her own limitations, of truly reaching the top. This narcistic wound is overcompensated by her investment in her daughters' lives who are expected to deliver the success and fulfill the dreams she herself couldn't achieve. The first ones to escape this quandary (apart from her husband) are actually the family dogs that learn that not playing her game is the only way out. While the older daughter follows her father into passive acceptance, it is the younger daughter Lulu who has to endure the most (Perhaps it was not such a good idea of naming a child after a well known man-killing opera prostitute?). Her children had to grow up fast. It would be interesting to examine how this loss of childhood affects the daughters' lives. A perfect subject for Woody Allen.
A final note on the domains where such rote learning mechanisms are possible. Chess, tennis, piano, language and some fields of mathematics distinguish themselves from being complete within a paradigm (Kuhn's regular science): Progress is a process of small step local improvements to reach the next skill level. When matters of creativity, judgment and feeling are touched upon, the mechanistic approach fails. This is beautifully explained by one daughter's hard quest to develop a musical piece's temperament. To achieve mastery in a domain, one has to combine the technical skills (where rote learning is valuable) and a feeling when one has to break the rules. True progress requires shattering outdated paradigms. As a law professor, Chua should be well aware of how much her domain relies on breaking the law while following the letter of the law. Highly recommended to reassess one's assumptions about how and when to interfere in other people's life.
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China, the Chinese they encounter, who might know something about what constitutes Chineseness, actively deny that the Chuas are truly Chinese and the treatment of China's little emperors couldn't be more different than what Chua's daughters had to endure. Amy Chua's parenting style resembles the training of Eastern European Communist sportsmen or circus artists. If Amy Chua had had a lower socio-economic background, she would have sent her daughters on to Beauty Contests. Instead, she drilled them into becoming piano and violin virtuosae. The currency of success is public acclamation and praise for which Amy Chua is willing to drive (and literally drive over) her children.Most of the comedy gold develops out of the author's complete lack of self-awareness and understanding of irony. Any feedback is a call to double down, to increase effort, to attack the breach once more, which when she refuses her children rest and food borders on child abuse. The silence of her husband and his acceptance of her ventures and plans (of which he is usually informed post facto) displays the same pattern of meek conformity that is often exhibited by the complicit wives in sexual abuse cases. Why didn't he speak out? Why did he accept her ruining another vacation by throwing another tantrum?
She projects her misdirected narcissism onto her children. Similar to Leopold Mozart and John Neville Keynes, she is well aware of her own limitations, of truly reaching the top. This narcistic wound is overcompensated by her investment in her daughters' lives who are expected to deliver the success and fulfill the dreams she herself couldn't achieve. The first ones to escape this quandary (apart from her husband) are actually the family dogs that learn that not playing her game is the only way out. While the older daughter follows her father into passive acceptance, it is the younger daughter Lulu who has to endure the most (Perhaps it was not such a good idea of naming a child after a well known man-killing opera prostitute?). Her children had to grow up fast. It would be interesting to examine how this loss of childhood affects the daughters' lives. A perfect subject for Woody Allen.
A final note on the domains where such rote learning mechanisms are possible. Chess, tennis, piano, language and some fields of mathematics distinguish themselves from being complete within a paradigm (Kuhn's regular science): Progress is a process of small step local improvements to reach the next skill level. When matters of creativity, judgment and feeling are touched upon, the mechanistic approach fails. This is beautifully explained by one daughter's hard quest to develop a musical piece's temperament. To achieve mastery in a domain, one has to combine the technical skills (where rote learning is valuable) and a feeling when one has to break the rules. True progress requires shattering outdated paradigms. As a law professor, Chua should be well aware of how much her domain relies on breaking the law while following the letter of the law. Highly recommended to reassess one's assumptions about how and when to interfere in other people's life.
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LibraryThing member verbafacio
I had mixed feelings about this book. Before I read Battle Hymn of the Tiger Mother, I had read several pieces about the book. I opened it prepared for moral outrage and derision of Chua's simplistic, autocratic parenting style. There was a bit of that, to be sure, but in reality the "Tiger Mother"
I'd love to hear a follow-up from her two daughters as they get older and move away from Chua's strong influence. She claims both are fairly well adjusted and not overly resentful, at least now that she has modified her approach to her younger daughter, Lulu.
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is much more complex and likeable. Her sometimes unfair comparisons of Chinese and Western parenting aside, much of her parenting style makes sense if following her somewhat twisted logic. Given her goal of extremely high achievements for her daughters, her parenting techniques get her what she wants, to an extent.I'd love to hear a follow-up from her two daughters as they get older and move away from Chua's strong influence. She claims both are fairly well adjusted and not overly resentful, at least now that she has modified her approach to her younger daughter, Lulu.
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LibraryThing member JaneSteen
Where I got the book: from the library.
Battle Hymn of the Tiger Mother is Amy Chua's much touted (I could say notorious) memoir of how she raised her two daughters to become academic high achievers and musical prodigies using Chinese methods. Chua states up front that her sweeping assessments of
Having a kid who spent much of middle school in gifted classes where the Chinese kids outnumbered the rest, I can confirm anecdotally that much of what Chua covers in her book conforms to the normal practices of Chinese parents. An extremely limited social life, "always programs" as one mother proudly told me, Chinese school at the weekend, hours of homework and extra drills were the norm; a grade below an A was unacceptable. My child hid her very first D from me because in her Chinese friends' world, a D meant a total parental meltdown and probably solitary confinement till the age of 25. When my kid grew away from her friends in high school she plunged joyfully into the Western model of underperformance, only to rediscover achievement all by herself in her senior year. She now tells me that I should have been more of a Tiger Mother and that she's going to raise her kids the Chinese way.
But enough about me! I really enjoyed Chua's book. I agreed with quite a few of her criticisms of Western parenting as selfish (she is particularly critical of mothers who neglect their children's education so that they can pursue interests of their own) and lazy (Chinese mothers are willing to invest every spare minute in their children's development, etc.) And she attacks the scary spectacle of self-esteem, which is producing impossible children unable to deal with authority. Believe me, I know. Sorry, me again.
I was interested in Chua's own overachiever, type A+++++ personality; she cheerfully admits to her tendency to spread tension over every family gathering and her inability to enjoy herself. Toward the end of the memoir she does come over as a bit more human, and begins to concede that Chinese parenting does not always work (it was not successful for her father, and only partially worked with her youngest daughter) and that some Western ideas, such as pursuing your own passions rather than your parents', have some sense in them.
Still, when you consider how limited our Western aspirations are for our children (most of us just want them to be happy and to have monstrous self-esteem like my kids SORRY) compared to those of Chinese parents, who see Yale, Harvard, Nobel prizes and Olympic medals in their children's future, you may pause for a moment. The Chinese parents I've met began saving for college when their children were foetuses, and investigating Ivy League institutions when their kids were in 7th grade. So now I don't feel so horrible after all for insisting that we start homework straight after school AND WE SIT AT THE TABLE TILL IT'S DONE (that lasted until high school, when I lost control).
I'm struck by how much this book made me reflect on my own parenting successes and failures, as illustrated by the way I keep interrupting this review with news about me. Battle Hymn was very nicely written, lively, and easy to read. I rather hope that some of Chua's ideas catch on.
Battle Hymn of the Tiger Mother is Amy Chua's much touted (I could say notorious) memoir of how she raised her two daughters to become academic high achievers and musical prodigies using Chinese methods. Chua states up front that her sweeping assessments of
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the relative virtues of "Chinese parents" and "Western parents" are just that, very broad opinions, and that Chinese-style parenting can be found in many non-Asian homes, typically where the parents are first-generation immigrants.Having a kid who spent much of middle school in gifted classes where the Chinese kids outnumbered the rest, I can confirm anecdotally that much of what Chua covers in her book conforms to the normal practices of Chinese parents. An extremely limited social life, "always programs" as one mother proudly told me, Chinese school at the weekend, hours of homework and extra drills were the norm; a grade below an A was unacceptable. My child hid her very first D from me because in her Chinese friends' world, a D meant a total parental meltdown and probably solitary confinement till the age of 25. When my kid grew away from her friends in high school she plunged joyfully into the Western model of underperformance, only to rediscover achievement all by herself in her senior year. She now tells me that I should have been more of a Tiger Mother and that she's going to raise her kids the Chinese way.
But enough about me! I really enjoyed Chua's book. I agreed with quite a few of her criticisms of Western parenting as selfish (she is particularly critical of mothers who neglect their children's education so that they can pursue interests of their own) and lazy (Chinese mothers are willing to invest every spare minute in their children's development, etc.) And she attacks the scary spectacle of self-esteem, which is producing impossible children unable to deal with authority. Believe me, I know. Sorry, me again.
I was interested in Chua's own overachiever, type A+++++ personality; she cheerfully admits to her tendency to spread tension over every family gathering and her inability to enjoy herself. Toward the end of the memoir she does come over as a bit more human, and begins to concede that Chinese parenting does not always work (it was not successful for her father, and only partially worked with her youngest daughter) and that some Western ideas, such as pursuing your own passions rather than your parents', have some sense in them.
Still, when you consider how limited our Western aspirations are for our children (most of us just want them to be happy and to have monstrous self-esteem like my kids SORRY) compared to those of Chinese parents, who see Yale, Harvard, Nobel prizes and Olympic medals in their children's future, you may pause for a moment. The Chinese parents I've met began saving for college when their children were foetuses, and investigating Ivy League institutions when their kids were in 7th grade. So now I don't feel so horrible after all for insisting that we start homework straight after school AND WE SIT AT THE TABLE TILL IT'S DONE (that lasted until high school, when I lost control).
I'm struck by how much this book made me reflect on my own parenting successes and failures, as illustrated by the way I keep interrupting this review with news about me. Battle Hymn was very nicely written, lively, and easy to read. I rather hope that some of Chua's ideas catch on.
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LibraryThing member mscott1
If you can imagine a 7-hour plane ride in which you're seated next to a shrill, drunk woman with an inflated ego and a full-blown case of Munchhausen's disease, then you have some idea of what this book is like.
The book is an almost, but not quite, comedic farce. It's not just the author's
The biggest laugh came when Chua realizes that the family dog, a Samoyed, was not ranked as the smartest breed in the world. Determined to prove that *her* dog was better than all the other dogs, she drills the poor creature over and over again to make it behave perfectly (did I mention she was an expert dog trainer even though she'd only owned one dog in her entire life?)
Chinese, British, Canadian, American...I've seen this kind of mom many times before. I'm sure her kids *are* highly accomplished musicians (they should be - they were forced to practice at least three hours every day), but the reason they were successful was because their mother bullied everyone in her path. No doubt those teachers and tutors gave Chua everything she wanted just to make her *shut up and go away already*!
The saddest part of the book, to me, was when Chua's daughters make her birthday cards and Chua 'rejects' the cards, insults her daughters for not creating better cards, and rips up the cards they made for her. I kept thinking that those pathetic cards were, in reality, true expressions of how those girls felt about her. They didn't love her, so they made her crappy cards.
I almost gave the book one star, but there was a glimmer of hope for the author by the end of the book. I doubt she changed her beliefs (why would she? After all, she's an expert on everything), but at least she changed her behavior. A little bit.
The book is an almost, but not quite, comedic farce. It's not just the author's
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outrageous claims, (her three-year-old was reading Sartre and understanding the deeper concepts, too, no doubt) but also her complete lack of self-awareness. She verbally abused her daughters, 'inspiring' them to be number one in *everything*, yet admitted to giving up tennis as an adult because, "the pressure of competition was too great". Then there were her bizarre reasoning (she forced them to take piano and harp lessons because playing the drums leads to drugs. Everyone knows that, duh.) Even though Chua never learned how to play the violin, she studied books and watched the music tutors like a hawk so that she could stand over her children while they practiced and instruct them on how to do it right. Finally, there is the constant complaining about American culture: Americans are too fat, too stupid, too lazy, and too provincial (and yet she never moved back to China...why?)The biggest laugh came when Chua realizes that the family dog, a Samoyed, was not ranked as the smartest breed in the world. Determined to prove that *her* dog was better than all the other dogs, she drills the poor creature over and over again to make it behave perfectly (did I mention she was an expert dog trainer even though she'd only owned one dog in her entire life?)
Chinese, British, Canadian, American...I've seen this kind of mom many times before. I'm sure her kids *are* highly accomplished musicians (they should be - they were forced to practice at least three hours every day), but the reason they were successful was because their mother bullied everyone in her path. No doubt those teachers and tutors gave Chua everything she wanted just to make her *shut up and go away already*!
The saddest part of the book, to me, was when Chua's daughters make her birthday cards and Chua 'rejects' the cards, insults her daughters for not creating better cards, and rips up the cards they made for her. I kept thinking that those pathetic cards were, in reality, true expressions of how those girls felt about her. They didn't love her, so they made her crappy cards.
I almost gave the book one star, but there was a glimmer of hope for the author by the end of the book. I doubt she changed her beliefs (why would she? After all, she's an expert on everything), but at least she changed her behavior. A little bit.
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LibraryThing member jasonlf
Hilarious, perceptive, thought provoking, worth reading by anyone with children or anyone with a parent. I 90 percent agree with Eve that the coverage of this as a "parenting manual" is misguided and that Amy Chua is somewhat ironic, very self aware, honest about the failures of her parenting
One representative passage, about her seven year old daughter not sufficiently practicing a difficult piano piece:
"I threatened her with no lunch, no dinner, no Christmas or Hanukkah presents, no birthday parties for two, three, four years. When she still kept playing it wrong, I told her she was purposely working herself into a frenzy because she was secretly afraid she couldn't do it. I told her to stop being lazy, cowardly, self-indulgent and pathetic. Jed [her husband] took me aside. He told me to stop insulting Lulu--which I wasn't even doing, I was just motivating her."
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philosophy, and somewhat self mocking.One representative passage, about her seven year old daughter not sufficiently practicing a difficult piano piece:
"I threatened her with no lunch, no dinner, no Christmas or Hanukkah presents, no birthday parties for two, three, four years. When she still kept playing it wrong, I told her she was purposely working herself into a frenzy because she was secretly afraid she couldn't do it. I told her to stop being lazy, cowardly, self-indulgent and pathetic. Jed [her husband] took me aside. He told me to stop insulting Lulu--which I wasn't even doing, I was just motivating her."
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LibraryThing member madhatter22
In her memoir, Amy Chua argues for what she calls the "Chinese way" of raising children. (She's apparently speaking for all Chinese people, despite the fact that her own parents criticize her parenting.) Her Chinese parenting consists of things like allowing her children no choices, not letting
This book was really interesting, especially since I grew up with a lot of kids who were raised in a similar way. Chua actually makes some decent points about the hyper-concern some people have these days with not "damaging children's egos" that results in things I find ridiculous, like taking care not to use a red pen while grading papers (too harsh!) or making sure every child gets a trophy for every group sport they participate in.
And when I read what many people have cited as her lowest point - rejecting her young daughters' handmade birthday cards because they weren't good enough and "she deserved better", I went from being horrified to thinking that she was kind of right. Making sure you put effort into a job and thought into a gift are actually two really good lessons to learn.
Still, Chua ultimately comes across as extremely self-unaware, self-involved, controlling, manipulative, and even abusive. She claims right at the start that she learned a lesson about the negative effects of her behavior, but then she justifies everything she does and congratulates herself on her success (which means whenever her daughters are successful) throughout the book. Yes, her daughters get straight A's, win awards and are talented musicians, but they also seem frustrated, repressed and unhappy. Is it worth it? Chua seems to think so
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them have free time, and accepting nothing less than first place finishes, which she thinks is far more effective than the lazy, indulgent Western parenting that considers a child's feelings and personality.This book was really interesting, especially since I grew up with a lot of kids who were raised in a similar way. Chua actually makes some decent points about the hyper-concern some people have these days with not "damaging children's egos" that results in things I find ridiculous, like taking care not to use a red pen while grading papers (too harsh!) or making sure every child gets a trophy for every group sport they participate in.
And when I read what many people have cited as her lowest point - rejecting her young daughters' handmade birthday cards because they weren't good enough and "she deserved better", I went from being horrified to thinking that she was kind of right. Making sure you put effort into a job and thought into a gift are actually two really good lessons to learn.
Still, Chua ultimately comes across as extremely self-unaware, self-involved, controlling, manipulative, and even abusive. She claims right at the start that she learned a lesson about the negative effects of her behavior, but then she justifies everything she does and congratulates herself on her success (which means whenever her daughters are successful) throughout the book. Yes, her daughters get straight A's, win awards and are talented musicians, but they also seem frustrated, repressed and unhappy. Is it worth it? Chua seems to think so
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LibraryThing member ericnguyen09
Amy Chua wants you to know she's no wimp when it comes to raising kids. Here's some tips she has on raising kids the "Chinese" way:
Take your children to Chuck E. Cheese's and let them play any game they choose, then make them watch as you burn their tickets
Ice cream is a great motivator for kids;
Inform your child that televisions receive all of their power from flawless renditions of Brahms' Violin Concerto in D
Only let your children have a pet dog if they can tame the most rabid dog at the pound
Should your child express interest in spending more time with his or her friends, simply pack up and move several hundred miles away
To ensure academic excellence, inform your children that there is a mark higher than an
A-plus and then shame them for failing to attain it
Replace their frail little limbs with less fragile prosthetics
Remember, you may have to put up with one or two suicides before you finally craft that perfect child you've always wanted
Actually this was from an Onion article, but nonetheless Chua's new memoir Battle Hymn of the Tiger Mother is framed mostly as a critique of "Western" style of parenting, an advocacy piece for "Chinese" style parenting, a how-to guide, and a study of parenting in America. Flipping to the back, you can even see her sources for statistics such as this:
"Despite our squeamishness about cultural stereotypes, there are tons of studies out there showing marked and quantifiable differences between Chinese and Westerners when it come to parenting. In one study of 50 Western American mothers and Chinese immigrant mothers, almost 70% of the Western mothers said either that 'stressing academic success is not good for children' or that 'parents need to foster the idea that learning is fun.' By contrast, roughly 0% of the Chinese mothers felt the same way."
Reading this on page five, one would be quick to ask: is this supposed to be seen as something academic and serious, especially from a writer such a Chua, whose last two books were nonfiction studies of ethnicity and economies? Indeed, the book is filled with lists as if in evidence of how "Chinese" parenting is superior to American parenting. As David Brooks writes in the New York Times: "Chua plays into America’s fear of national decline. Here’s a Chinese parent working really hard (and, by the way, there are a billion more of her) and her kids are going to crush ours."
Chua and her publishers meant this book to be threatening. As a quick glance "study" it seems so; as a memoir, it drips with boasting. From Chua's writing we learn that her daughters are highly accomplished. They go to private schools. They have piano and violin lessons. They have vacations in Russia, Poland, China. Of course all this is possible since both Chua and her husband (professor and novelist Jed Rubenfeld) make high income, and their kids (due to this very fact of class) are automatically given privileges many others never see. What Chua misses is not that her parenting style is a matter of race, but it's a matter of class.
While I'm not Chinese, I know what Chua is getting at. What Asian immigrant parent doesn't want their kids to become doctors or play violin and get straight A's? Yet as part of a working class family, the best I ever did was get straight A's. As a child, we could never afford renting a violin, let alone paying for lessons. Likewise, the only time we went on vacation was visiting my grandparents once; we don't waste money on private schools because there's public school. While they dreamed of me becoming a doctor, I ended up--oh my god--a failing writer. What Chua ignores are class matters; she doesn't even question the definition of "Americaness;" she doesn't come close to seeing the magnitude of differences in family dynamics.
For a better and more professional study of parenting, I would highly recommend Annette Lareau's Unequal Childhoods: Class, Race, and Family Life in which she dissects and study parenting styles among class. The study (I admit, she was a professor of mine during her brief stay at UMD), is more insightful and less offending Chua's memoir, which finds its strength in stereotypes, blinded classism, and the occasional dehumanization. On a gender ambiguous piano teacher, she writes: "We couldn't tell if MJ was male or female , but it always wore a suit and bow tie, and I liked its matter-of-fact style." (emphasis added by me).
While framed partially (by the publishers especially) as a field study and critique of parenting style, Chua's strength here is that this is also (and mostly) a memoir and a story. Reading it, she can be both heart breaking and sharp witted, and one can't help but laugh at her endevors in parenting and her eventual humbling. She writes with truth as she exposes that she is mostly a bitch (she once tells her kids, "Oh my god, you're getting worse and worse" and then later throws her children's presents to her away) and that family happiness--whatever the culture--is hard to come by.
As a memoir is nearly works. But as Chua says herself:
"Like every Asian American woman in her late twenties, I had the idea of writing an epic novel about mother-daughter relationships spanning several generations, based loosely on my own family's story....Unfortunately, I had no talent for novel writing."
Chua's writing here (be it memior or how-to guide [which she swears it's not] or cultural critique) has no real substance. Where it lacks in actual cultural critique and insight, it also lacks in true style and voice. Chua is no novelist, no writer. At the end, she just proves to be another upper class American. While the writing is brisk and quick to read, there is no joy here.
Take your children to Chuck E. Cheese's and let them play any game they choose, then make them watch as you burn their tickets
Ice cream is a great motivator for kids;
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promise them that if they do everything you ask, they can have some when they turn 18Inform your child that televisions receive all of their power from flawless renditions of Brahms' Violin Concerto in D
Only let your children have a pet dog if they can tame the most rabid dog at the pound
Should your child express interest in spending more time with his or her friends, simply pack up and move several hundred miles away
To ensure academic excellence, inform your children that there is a mark higher than an
A-plus and then shame them for failing to attain it
Replace their frail little limbs with less fragile prosthetics
Remember, you may have to put up with one or two suicides before you finally craft that perfect child you've always wanted
Actually this was from an Onion article, but nonetheless Chua's new memoir Battle Hymn of the Tiger Mother is framed mostly as a critique of "Western" style of parenting, an advocacy piece for "Chinese" style parenting, a how-to guide, and a study of parenting in America. Flipping to the back, you can even see her sources for statistics such as this:
"Despite our squeamishness about cultural stereotypes, there are tons of studies out there showing marked and quantifiable differences between Chinese and Westerners when it come to parenting. In one study of 50 Western American mothers and Chinese immigrant mothers, almost 70% of the Western mothers said either that 'stressing academic success is not good for children' or that 'parents need to foster the idea that learning is fun.' By contrast, roughly 0% of the Chinese mothers felt the same way."
Reading this on page five, one would be quick to ask: is this supposed to be seen as something academic and serious, especially from a writer such a Chua, whose last two books were nonfiction studies of ethnicity and economies? Indeed, the book is filled with lists as if in evidence of how "Chinese" parenting is superior to American parenting. As David Brooks writes in the New York Times: "Chua plays into America’s fear of national decline. Here’s a Chinese parent working really hard (and, by the way, there are a billion more of her) and her kids are going to crush ours."
Chua and her publishers meant this book to be threatening. As a quick glance "study" it seems so; as a memoir, it drips with boasting. From Chua's writing we learn that her daughters are highly accomplished. They go to private schools. They have piano and violin lessons. They have vacations in Russia, Poland, China. Of course all this is possible since both Chua and her husband (professor and novelist Jed Rubenfeld) make high income, and their kids (due to this very fact of class) are automatically given privileges many others never see. What Chua misses is not that her parenting style is a matter of race, but it's a matter of class.
While I'm not Chinese, I know what Chua is getting at. What Asian immigrant parent doesn't want their kids to become doctors or play violin and get straight A's? Yet as part of a working class family, the best I ever did was get straight A's. As a child, we could never afford renting a violin, let alone paying for lessons. Likewise, the only time we went on vacation was visiting my grandparents once; we don't waste money on private schools because there's public school. While they dreamed of me becoming a doctor, I ended up--oh my god--a failing writer. What Chua ignores are class matters; she doesn't even question the definition of "Americaness;" she doesn't come close to seeing the magnitude of differences in family dynamics.
For a better and more professional study of parenting, I would highly recommend Annette Lareau's Unequal Childhoods: Class, Race, and Family Life in which she dissects and study parenting styles among class. The study (I admit, she was a professor of mine during her brief stay at UMD), is more insightful and less offending Chua's memoir, which finds its strength in stereotypes, blinded classism, and the occasional dehumanization. On a gender ambiguous piano teacher, she writes: "We couldn't tell if MJ was male or female , but it always wore a suit and bow tie, and I liked its matter-of-fact style." (emphasis added by me).
While framed partially (by the publishers especially) as a field study and critique of parenting style, Chua's strength here is that this is also (and mostly) a memoir and a story. Reading it, she can be both heart breaking and sharp witted, and one can't help but laugh at her endevors in parenting and her eventual humbling. She writes with truth as she exposes that she is mostly a bitch (she once tells her kids, "Oh my god, you're getting worse and worse" and then later throws her children's presents to her away) and that family happiness--whatever the culture--is hard to come by.
As a memoir is nearly works. But as Chua says herself:
"Like every Asian American woman in her late twenties, I had the idea of writing an epic novel about mother-daughter relationships spanning several generations, based loosely on my own family's story....Unfortunately, I had no talent for novel writing."
Chua's writing here (be it memior or how-to guide [which she swears it's not] or cultural critique) has no real substance. Where it lacks in actual cultural critique and insight, it also lacks in true style and voice. Chua is no novelist, no writer. At the end, she just proves to be another upper class American. While the writing is brisk and quick to read, there is no joy here.
Show Less
LibraryThing member molugum
I really enjoyed this book and it's look at Chinese vs. Western parenting styles. At times it was hilarious, enough so that I could forgive the author's strident assumptions of cultural supremacy.
LibraryThing member Edith1
Thinly disguised bragging book. Bragging about her career, her kids, her husband, her accomplishments, her friends' accomplishments . . . it never stops. She's crazy.
LibraryThing member Mia_Catapang
I don't know what's gotten into me. What am I doing reading a book about parenting when I'm just fourteen-years-old and not a parent in any way? My Mom's the one who's supposed to be reading this, not me. About a month ago, she had read an article about this book and told me how the Chinese brought
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up their kids. It was really harsh - the way she described it. It was unimaginable for me. My curiosity was aroused by what my Mom told me about the Chinese way of parenting. The way she told it, it's like Amy Chua is a really terrifying mother. And so I read the book. Well, I wasn't really going to read the book, I was just going to read the first chapter and see if it's any good… and then from the first chapter I moved to the next and to the next and moved farther until I finished reading the whole thing. I wasn't shocked or anything because my Mom already told me some parts of it like how Amy Chua let her second child practice a piano piece for long hours without water, food and also no going to the bathroom until she got it right. But then, when I read it, it's not really as harsh as it sounded, if you have read the whole book. I guess the article just exaggerated it or it's my Mom. Yes, I know that it's somewhat a form of child abuse but it's the way Chinese mothers work. They want their children to be winners in life and be masters in the field of classical music, as well as in academics so they really push their kids to do their best. As a result, Chinese mothers got child prodigies. Just to make things clear, I'm neutral regarding this whole thing about Chinese parenting. And here are some of the things I want to point out: Chua may be severe with her kids but she still has a good relationship with her daughters. And that's something that counts. There are many kids who are not close to their parents. It's either their parents are busy with their business that they forget about their children or their parents practice a different type of parenting and do not believe that being close to their children is necessary. "Then, out of the blue, Lulu did it. Her hands suddenly came together—her right and left hands each doing their own imperturbable thing—just like that. ...Then she played it more confidently and faster, and still the rhythm held. A moment later, she was beaming. “Mommy, look—it’s easy!” After that, she wanted to play the piece over and over and wouldn’t leave the piano. That night, she came to sleep in my bed, and we snuggled and hugged, cracking each other up." Chua's parenting style may be severe but then she got some point. "Western parents worry a lot about their children’s self-esteem. But as a parent, one of the worst things you can do for your child’s self-esteem is to let them give up. On the flip side, there’s nothing better for building confidence than learning you can do something you thought you couldn’t." Lulu was able to build confidence in herself when she realized she can play the difficult piano piece. But then if there are pros, there are also cons. And one of the negative effects of Chinese parenting is rebelliousness. And it's a big glitch for Chua when her daughter Lulu rebelled. And since I'm talking about cons, now let me point out some things I object to regarding the Chinese parenting. First is the comparison between siblings which I think damages a child's sense of worth. But in the book, Chua tried to explain and defend her way of parenting: "I don’t believe that all parental comparisons are invidious...it’s true that I’ve said things to Lulu like, “When I tell Sophia to do something, she responds instantly. That’s why she improves so fast.” But Westerners misunderstand. When I say such things I’m not favoring Sophia; just the opposite, I’m expressing confidence in Lulu. I believe that she can do anything Sophia can do and that she’s strong enough to handle the truth." Another thing is the insistence of parents in making their kids always the number one. A lot of kids want to be the best and parents can't just expect their kids to surpass everyone's skills and remain on top, no matter what. It's not really that bad to demand your kids to do their best and become number one but parents must give their kids some understanding if they don't make it to the top. Critics also pointed out that children should not be treated as machines and the parents' goal should not only concentrate in making their kids the number one or the best but also in expanding their heart and mind. And parents must not forget that their kids have different and unique personalities. They have different interests and should not be forced to pursue an activity that they don't like to do. But despite the controversies about the so called Chinese parenting, "Battle Hymn of the Tiger Mother" is still an entertaining read. So happy reading to you fellow readers! Show Less
LibraryThing member stephxsu
It’s easy to attach controversy to this book. Parenting is a sensitive subject, and there are a lot of stereotypes surrounding Asians, Asian Americans, and “Chinese” parenting. But if you’re reading BATTLE HYMN OF THE TIGER MOTHER with the expectation of analyzing the strengths and
Amy Chua is in the unusual, unique, and privileged position of tiger parenting. She adopts the Chinese parenting model—because she herself is in fact American, and thus her memoir cannot be a representation of actual Chinese immigrant parenting, because it is always tempered by the girls’ American society and the “Western freedom” that Chua does give her daughters. Read the book carefully: Chua doesn’t talk about demanding her daughters to be doctors or lawyers. Her love for her daughters isn’t conditional to the girls’ success, just to whether or not they put all that they could into their efforts.
What BATTLE HYMN really should be read as is comedy—and if it makes you rethink your parenting strategies, well, then, more power to you. Chua skillfully weaves hyperbole and just a tinge of the absurd into her prose, with the result that, even in the guise of SuperScary Tiger Mom, she remains utterly charming and amusing. Sometimes I couldn’t decide whether to be shocked at a scene, or to nod in sympathy, or to laugh out loud.
More people than you think—especially children of Asians and immigrants—will be able to relate to the story of Amy Chua and her daughters. BATTLE HYMN OF THE TIGER MOTHER is an entertaining and thought-provoking look into the parenting adventures of one determined mother and her two talented daughters. It has certainly made me think more about what kind of parent I’d want to be if I am ever a parent—and to expect the unexpected when it comes to people.
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weaknesses of Chinese parenting, you’re getting your reading experience wrong. BATTLE HYMN is a comic memoir of one mother and her two daughters; it is NOT meant to be read as a representation of all Asian or immigrant parents, it is NOT a parenting manual, and it is NOT trying to make any formal statements about any kind of parenting.Amy Chua is in the unusual, unique, and privileged position of tiger parenting. She adopts the Chinese parenting model—because she herself is in fact American, and thus her memoir cannot be a representation of actual Chinese immigrant parenting, because it is always tempered by the girls’ American society and the “Western freedom” that Chua does give her daughters. Read the book carefully: Chua doesn’t talk about demanding her daughters to be doctors or lawyers. Her love for her daughters isn’t conditional to the girls’ success, just to whether or not they put all that they could into their efforts.
What BATTLE HYMN really should be read as is comedy—and if it makes you rethink your parenting strategies, well, then, more power to you. Chua skillfully weaves hyperbole and just a tinge of the absurd into her prose, with the result that, even in the guise of SuperScary Tiger Mom, she remains utterly charming and amusing. Sometimes I couldn’t decide whether to be shocked at a scene, or to nod in sympathy, or to laugh out loud.
More people than you think—especially children of Asians and immigrants—will be able to relate to the story of Amy Chua and her daughters. BATTLE HYMN OF THE TIGER MOTHER is an entertaining and thought-provoking look into the parenting adventures of one determined mother and her two talented daughters. It has certainly made me think more about what kind of parent I’d want to be if I am ever a parent—and to expect the unexpected when it comes to people.
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LibraryThing member varwenea
I read Battle Hymn of the Tiger Mother not because I was curious about the ‘tiger mom’ methodology (I’m largely familiar with it), but instead wanted to know how far (=intensity) she would push and when does it break. Overall, I found the book relatively soulless, not due to the subject at
The full title of this book ended with “…, and how I was humbled by a thirteen-year-old”. I didn’t believe for a second that she was humbled. Defeated – yes. Humiliated – yes. Humbled – no.
While I don’t believe a book review should directly judge contents to be true or false, I will point out two aspects:
The first – when Lulu was finally allowed to choose her own path, she exceled over time. As much as the author was proud (and surprised) of her daughter’s new found success, the author failed to recognize and specifically notate what she really taught her daughters – discipline, structured learning, and hard work are needed to succeed with anything in life.
The second – the giant celebratory party that she threw for Sophia after Sophia’s performance, bussing in friends, jumbo shrimp charged by the piece. Is the author proud of her daughter? Or is it her own pride at stake? It’s often a thin line between the two.
In the end, this book feels as though it’s written to grab attention for the author vs. the desire to tell a rich, meaningful story. Again – pride?
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hand, but for the mundane telling of the story. Is this possible? Between all the screaming and yelling, the colorfully translated name calling, the interim reconciliations, and the final meltdown, could it still be soulless? I say yes. The daughters were hers to own, to ‘teach’, to manipulate (my word), and to push down paths that she believed to be for their best. The author wrote this book entirely from her perspective – purposely. The husband’s views are left off; she stated, “that would be his book to write”. While her husband, and both daughters, Sophia and Lulu, gave final approval of the contents, not enough of their thoughts and views were included (in fact, none from the husband). This book was thusly – lopsided.The full title of this book ended with “…, and how I was humbled by a thirteen-year-old”. I didn’t believe for a second that she was humbled. Defeated – yes. Humiliated – yes. Humbled – no.
While I don’t believe a book review should directly judge contents to be true or false, I will point out two aspects:
The first – when Lulu was finally allowed to choose her own path, she exceled over time. As much as the author was proud (and surprised) of her daughter’s new found success, the author failed to recognize and specifically notate what she really taught her daughters – discipline, structured learning, and hard work are needed to succeed with anything in life.
The second – the giant celebratory party that she threw for Sophia after Sophia’s performance, bussing in friends, jumbo shrimp charged by the piece. Is the author proud of her daughter? Or is it her own pride at stake? It’s often a thin line between the two.
In the end, this book feels as though it’s written to grab attention for the author vs. the desire to tell a rich, meaningful story. Again – pride?
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LibraryThing member pianomama
What a thought provoking read! If reading is meant to expand our perspectives and see life from another viewpoint - then this book certainly fits the bill. As a homeschooling mom, who chose this path to give my children more individualized attention and a better education, I certainly empathize
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with a "Chinese mother". But at the same time, do excellence and kindness mutually exclude each other? Can accountability be loving? This book left me thinking long into the night about that precarious balance. Thank you Amy, for writing an honest, self-depricating, but thought provoking memoir that has done the great service of bring a valuable philosophical question into the public discourse. Show Less
LibraryThing member BonnieP
For me, this book was a self indulgent rant about a Chinese mother who was looking for justification for her way of raising her kids. What did it accomplish in the end - who learned the lessons? Are the girls better off or not? Are they all living happily ever after? Way too harsh for my liking.
LibraryThing member amandajoy30
Interesting book. Can't say I alway agreed with her parenting choices, but it did seem to work for her. I did admire how she kept her kids from quitting when something got hard. I think the lesson lies somewhere in between her strict "Chinese" parenting and the liberal "Westeren" parenting. I liked
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the afterward in this edition, because it shows this book was an extreme, and narrow view of what went on in her house. Show Less
LibraryThing member booksbooks11
Every parent should read this. We have so much to learn from Chinese parenting. The culture of narcism is rampant in the west, we don't have to get kids playing piano for 5 hours a day, but we have to teach them the life lessons in hard work and what it can do for you, life doesn't owe you anything!
LibraryThing member elsyd
A surprising book! After hearing scathing discussions on "The View" and remarks on "The Talk" and other T.V. shows, I found this book surprisingly honest, funny, and sad. It is beautifully written. I personally do not believe that Amy's way of child rearing is right, but somewhere there must be a
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happy medium. Better to expect too much than too little! Show Less
LibraryThing member deadgirl
Being Chinese myself (my ancestors are from China), I can relate to the Chinese upbringing. My parents were not as strict, but I grew up with friends who had very strict parents, and they were sometimes scary to me. We were all very academically competitive. I am not sure if I want to bring up my
The book is funny and overall entertaining. It touches mostly on the author's daughters' musical pursuits (and how she drills them on it), but the narration also includes other events in her life which at times I feel doesn't do a good job of weaving the story together, but is a good read all the same.
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kids this way, but I find this book helpful in that reading about it helps me think about it and look at it from different perspectives, grasping with pros and cons.The book is funny and overall entertaining. It touches mostly on the author's daughters' musical pursuits (and how she drills them on it), but the narration also includes other events in her life which at times I feel doesn't do a good job of weaving the story together, but is a good read all the same.
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LibraryThing member mfeichtl
Although this book received scathing reviews in the NYTimes, I ordered a sample for my Kindle and was immediately hooked. As the author states from the beginning, this is a story about a mom and her two girls. She is a Chinese mother and bluntly compares her experiences with Eastern Chinese
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parenting and Western parenting. I enjoyed the bluntness tremendously. Amy Chua approach to parenting style is harsh and traumatizing at times but not once did she say her children were successful because of her. Don't get me wrong, the entire book implies that is what she thinks but the presentation of her story is based on she, as a mother and person, feels pushing her daughters long grueling hours with fierce intensity, is what it will take for them to learn self-esteem, sense of accomplishment and the confidence to succeed on their own. Her method might be extreme for the Western parenting style but her motivation is not. Most parents want to do what it takes to prepare their children for this world, including this author. As a Western parent, I can honestly say this story caused me to reflect on my own parenting approach and at least to wonder, am I being too soft? How will I teach my 3 year old over the next decade plus, the ability to be self-confident and truly feel the ability to accomplish her goals all on her own. Show Less
LibraryThing member fsmichaels
A well-done memoir, regardless of whether or not you agree with the Chinese parenting style. It's fascinating to learn about the cultural differences between Chinese and Western parenting from someone who's lived it and lived to tell the tale.
Subjects
Language
Original publication date
2011
Physical description
197 p.; 25 inches
ISBN
1594202842 / 9781594202841