aaduna in exile - Shin
The Fantastic World of Jen Shin
You
may remember.
The time you stood online, for most
likely several hours, waiting to get into your local movie theater to see the
1981 film, “Indiana Jones and the Raiders of the Lost Ark,” a film that I saw
five times (only matched by “Fame”) in at least three countries. And then a
year later in 1982, your wait time to
get into the theater, as well as your wildest imagination was furthered
stretched by once again, the creativity of George Lucas (founder of Lucasfilm
and the perennial influencer, Industrial Light & Magic) and director,
Steven Spielberg when “E.T., The Extra Terrestrial” was released.
As with great visual stimulation, there
was the wonderment and joy as you were transported to a different time, meeting
unimaginable characters, holding your breath as intrigue and excitement coursed
through your being. And years later, your world of imagination was furthered broadened.
With an enthused cultural awareness
influenced undoubtedly by a fiscal bottom line, Hollywood re-introduced Asian
characters (in real-life and animated films) that were not prone to be one-dimensional
portrayals in the manner that filmmakers had historically portrayed Asian
characters. (Think Charlie Chan portrayed by a “yellow faced” white actors and
Dr. Fu Manchu played by Boris Karloff, yes, that Boris Karloff. Or, the early
Asian detective novels penned by a variety of white male writers who were
grounded in presenting Asian stereotypes.)
While there is no pretense of being a
movie critic or film historian, there are certain films that have captured the
imagination of people representing diverse Asian ethnicities and cultures.
The 1998 “Mulan” featuring the Chinese
character Hua Mulan ranks that character as #3 on a Disney list of most popular
animated female characters. In 2009, the Japanese film “Ponyo” based on the
real-life experiences of Korean American, Pete Sohn were welcome additions to
film history. And who can forget the female character, Yi in “Abominable” that
followed the exploits of a young girl from Shanghai, China. “Lilo & Stitch”
set in Hawaii and “Over the Moon” from China enlarged the fan pool in 2020. And
the 2021 live action film, “Finding Ohana” supplemented by the animated “Raya
and the Last Dragon” gave world-wide audiences a more in depth look at Hawaiian
and Southeast Asia sensibilities, respectively. More importantly these cultural
insights came from Asian and Pacific Island directors, writers, directors, and
other craftspeople who for far too long were “invisible” simply due to racial
attitudes and indifference to the diversity of muti-cultural stories and how
best to manifest that legacy.
While aaduna continues to rest
on literary creativity with a thriving penchant for the visual arts, the
journal understands, and welcomes influences of all things visual. We savor our
ability to consistently embrace more than one creative endeavor. More than a
singular cultural or ethnic landscape.
Now…
Enter Jen Shin.
No, she is not the latest imagined Asian
character from an animation studio nor is ‘The Fantastic World of Jen Shin,’
the latest film entry in the streaming wars of major film studios.
The Jen
Shin world is permeated with real life
characters that enable her audience to delve into the intricacies of family,
race, and the pitfalls and overriding decency of the human spirit set against perplexed
odds.
The Jen
Shin world compels us to see her
characters, their thematic complexities and the visual richness that intriguing
words create in the mind’s eye. We see her “film.” It plays out in diverse
levels in our brain where subtle, multi-hued words weave lasting visual images in
color and shades of black and white that quietly grabs our consciousness.
Jen Shin is a writer and a new contributor to aaduna. Her
fiction will grace the journal’s winter 2021-22 issue scheduled to be released
in mid to late February. And even though she is currently attending Pacific
University’s Residency Conference, her words are presented as an excerpt from
her story “Three Motels.”
A few years ago, I visited my
family over Christmas break. My father and I went out to dinner one evening,
just the two of us. We picked a local restaurant in downtown Chattanooga,
Tennessee, where the servers wore plaid button downs and couldn’t wait to tell
us about the IPAs on tap.
Over
plates of medium-rare steak and grilled fish, I asked my dad about my keun
samchon, a term we used for my father’s middle brother. How is he? What is he
doing? When did you last talk to him? My father responded in the manner I am
used to – evasive, sparse, winding. So I dug deeper.
“Remember that time keun samchon
crashed our minivan?” I asked through a mouthful of mashed potatoes, refraining
from discussing the possible DUI.
My dad nodded, his head bowed over
his seared meat.
“Why don’t we see keun samchon
anymore?”
“He’s busy.”
His answer hung in the air as the noise of the restaurant swirled around us. I fluffed my mashed potatoes in a repetitive motion, willing momentum in my words. The waiter stopped by and broke the silence. I smile at him and told him everything was “Great!” I could feel my words beginning to catalyze.
Jen Shin (photo provided)
Jen Shin is a Korean American based in Portland, Oregon. Her writing
focuses on addiction, identity, race, and intergenerational trauma.
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aaduna - an online adventure with words and images - a globally read, multi-cultural, and diverse online literary and visual arts journal established in 2010.
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