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Collapsed to the couch

with a movie put on,

my parents enjoyed themselves

until

my mother’s water broke.

Rushing to the hospital,

aching with pain,

screams fill the halls

until a baby girl

comes crying out.

What should we name her?

my parents pondered.

Thinking of the movie title,

Angel,

the film they watched

when my mother’s water broke,

Angelica Cheng was born.

With my parents hearts,

they hoped Angelica grows up

becoming an Angel of God.

But from the very beginning,

it was apparent she was the

devil in disguise.

Day by day,

she planned her evil schemes,

especially against her sister,

plotting how to get rid of her,

how to destroy all of her toys

and how to cause the most

physical pain possible

with her pointy sharp claws.

Yet Angelica’s wickedness

never stopped her little sister

from calling her by her nickname,

Angel.

Yes.

Angel.

Like the ones that fly,

protecting the Earth,

full of kind hearts

and clean souls.

Every time Geneva

referred to Angelica as

Angel,

she left her older sister confused,

knowing she was anything

but an Angel.

But you can see it in

Geneva’s eyes,

as Angelica cuts the heads

of all of her sister’s stuffed toys off,

faith in her big sister

that she can be good to her

shines brightly within her pupils.

After terrorizing Geneva once more,

the name Angel rings

in Angelica’s ears.

Over and over again,

Geneva’s voice repeats in her head.

Angel.

Angel.

Angel.

A warm sense of forgiveness vibrates

through her body,

chances for change

occur to her,

reminding Angel of the goodness

she can live up to,

the name she can live up to.

She finally realizes

why she is continually called Angel,

so she drops the scissors

and Geneva’s plush penguin,

gathering all the money

that she saved from every

birthday party

Chinese New Year

and Christmas.

Then Angel sets out,

bringing every penny she has

to replace all of Geneva’s

stuffed toys,

trying to fulfill what

her parents, sister,

and now herself

wants her to be.

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My name is Angelica Cheng. And where it came from, I sometimes laugh at it. Just how random it is. So one night at around 10pm, my parents collapsed onto the couch, getting ready to put on a movie. Already half way into the film, my mother’s water broke. Quickly, my father and mother rushed to the hospital-or should I say walk as the building was right behind our home. Then for the next twenty four hours my mother suffered through the horrors of going into labor. When I came out, the name they ended up giving me was Angelica. Why? Because the movie they were watching when my mom’s water broke was called Angel.

The first thing that comes to mind when anyone thinks of Angelica or Angel is an Angel. But believe it or not I’m the complete opposite than that. I’m like a devil in disguise. Even though it doesn’t match with my personality, I have no regrets having my parents calling me Angel or my friends calling me Angelica at school everyday. It gives me motivation to try to live up to what my name means. One of my biggest problems is how often I fight with my sister. To her, I might as well be evil incarnated as a human being. Yet she calls me Angel. No matter how loud I might scream at her, break her stuff, physically attack her, she still calls me Angel. To me, it represents her faith in my ability to be good to her. I don’t know if this is how she really thinks, but it just seems like it. Anytime she calls me Angel, my ears hear her saying she forgives me and believes I can do good.

Now for something I feel a little more resentful towards, but not as much. My last name. Cheng. What country do you think of when this comes up? Chinese. The thing is I’m Filipino. In fact, I’m three-quarters Filipino, one-eighth Spanish, and finally one-eighth Chinese. If someone asks me where am I from, I’ll say Filipino. Nothing else. However, my last name is Chinese, so people will think I’m Chinese.

“I’m Filipino!” I often will say.

Do you want to know something else? Cheng isn’t even my original last name. It’s Uy (pronounced as oi). And Uy is actually a very common Chinese-Filipino last name! The reason it was changed is because my great-grandfather, who was Chinese, immigrated to the Philippines, he was forced to change it due to Uy being a rude word to say in the Philippines.

I used to find all of this so weird. Only one person in the family was actually Chinese, everyone else was Filipino, yet we all have this last name Cheng. It didn’t bother me up to the point, where I would want to change the name. Instead I would only feel frustrated when people mistake me for Chinese (which still happens today). Now I just learned to go with it. I’ll laugh when someone says are you Chinese?

Having lived in Hong Kong for 10 years, I feel even more comfortable with Cheng. I almost consider Hong Kong home and having this Chinese last name lets me justify this.

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A. The title of the novel indicates the importance of Gogol’s name.  Briefly explain the significance of Gogol’s name to Ashoke, Gogol as he begins grade school, Gogol as a teenager, and Ashima.

-Gogol is the man Ashoke met in the train. As Gogol enters school, it's a name he loves so dearly. He didn't want to change it and be called Nikhill. But growing older, he felt more insecure about it (the fact that it was so odd and people would make fun of it).

B. The significance of Place comes to play for both Ashima and Gogol.  Explain what Calcutta represents to Ashima and then to Gogol by the end of Chapter 4.  Then explain what Boston (Pemberton Road) means to Ashima and then to Gogol.

-Calcutta is the home of Ashima, where she feels that she belongs to. To Gogol it's just this far away place he visits a few times because he doesn't feel as much of a sense of home there. To Ashima, Boston is still a place she is trying to adapt to. For Gogol it's his home.

C. To this point we have seen Ashima and Ashoke assimilate to America as immigrants and Gogol living the life as a multicultural kid.  In your opinion, which is the harder life to live? Provide anecdotal evidence from the novel.

-It's harder to live as immigrants because it's just too unfamiliar. As a multicultural kid, you grow up in a world that is weird to your parents. You are fine with it and want to take in everything about it. To be a foreigner, you tend to want to separate yourself from the American culture and maintain your own. But in other lands, that's something so difficult to do. For example, the thing about not wanting to change Gogol's name.

D. Trains and books both show up as motifs in the novel.  Trace either the role of trains or the role of books so far in chapters 1 4.

-Trains have been what has been facilitating travel. And this ability for the characters to do so through this have enabled them to go to places of different cultures. It's opened up the world.