Eduardo Santiago
Abandoned, p.82. It's not funny. I can forgive that. It's not kind—and that, I can't. The essays so far have all consisted of her poking mean-spirited fun at: Americans, for not knowing much about Iran; Americans, for not wanting to learn about her culture; Americans, for wanting to learn about her culture, because those are just wannabe hipsters; her husband, for not mind-reading her precise fantasy honeymoon; and mostly her mother and father, over and over, for not learning English well enough, for not adapting “the right way” to U.S. culture, for being goofy yokels. It's like a surly thirteen-year-old: everything and everyone sucks.
Abandoned, p.82. It's not funny. I can forgive that. It's not kind—and that, I can't. The essays so far have all consisted of her poking mean-spirited fun at: Americans, for not knowing much about Iran; Americans, for not wanting to learn about her culture; Americans, for wanting to learn about her culture, because those are just wannabe hipsters; her husband, for not mind-reading her precise fantasy honeymoon; and mostly her mother and father, over and over, for not learning English well enough, for not adapting “the right way” to U.S. culture, for being goofy yokels. It's like a surly thirteen-year-old: everything and everyone sucks.