Rules of the Game

“Wise guy, he not go against wind. In Chinese we say, Come from South, blow with wind—poom!—North will follow. Strongest wind cannot be seen.”

Waverly’s mother offers sage advice throughout the story, touching here on two of the narrative’s strongest tropes: wind and invisibility. When the wind naturally blows in a certain direction, one will not get far if one moves against it. If Waverly’s talent is playing chess, then Waverly must follow wherever that talent takes her. The “strongest wind” becomes Waverly’s mother, who although she stands in plain sight, acts as the invisible wind guiding her talented, headstrong daughter into a life full of possibilities.

“Like most of the other Chinese children who played in the back alleys of restaurants and curio shops, I didn’t think we were poor. My bowl was always full, three five-course meals every day, beginning with a soup full of mysterious things I didn’t want to know the names of.”

Tan repeatedly examines the familiar and the unknown, revealing stark differences between Waverly’s reality and the world around her. To not have realized she was “poor” in her childhood communicates Waverly’s youthful viewpoint and unawareness of her overall place in the world. Her willfulness to not “know” the specifics of what is directly in front of her points to her inner conflict of wanting to stay in the familiar Chinatown and her youth while also wanting to explore chess and her future.

“The best playground, however, was the dark alley itself. It was crammed with daily mysteries and adventures. My brothers and I would peer into the medicinal herb shop, watching old Li dole out onto a stiff sheet of white paper the right amount of insect shells, saffron-colored seeds, and pungent leaves for his ailing customers. It was said that he once cured a woman dying of an ancestral curse that had eluded the best of American doctors.”

This scene compares two cultures: Chinese and American. Waverly often observes these differences from the outside, here noting the “ancestral” influence of long-standing Chinese traditions and how they might outperform the less-rooted medical knowledge of “American doctors.” In her role as observer, Waverly stands between these two cultures, looking for a way to exist in one, the other, or both.

“My mother named me after the street that we lived on: Waverly Place Jong, my official name for important American documents. But my family called me Meimei, ‘Little Sister.’ I was the youngest, the only daughter.”

Names represent a strong connection to culture, and here Waverly has two: one taken from an American street and the other an affectionate Chinese term. Having two names not only signifies Waverly’s multicultural identity but also points to her search for a place in the world. Her “official name for important American documents” is based on the place where her family lives; her Chinese name, Meimei, signals her place in the family.

“When my turn came up, the Santa man asked me how old I was. I thought it was a trick question; I was seven according to the American formula and eight by the Chinese calendar. I said I was born on March 17, 1951. That seemed to satisfy him. He then solemnly asked if I had been a very, very good girl this year and did I believe in Jesus Christ and obey my parents. I knew the only answer to that. I nodded back with equal solemnity.”

The juxtaposition of cultures is a recurrent theme throughout this story. Having a different age depending on the cultural calendar is an example as is a Chinese girl talking to Santa. The date is important, too. In 1958, Chinatown would have been an exclusively Chinese community within the American city of San Francisco. The strained historical meeting of cultures is represented in the clunky blending of Christian influence and Chinese values.

“The chessboard seemed to hold elaborate secrets waiting to be untangled. The chessmen were more powerful than old Li’s magic herbs that cured ancestral curses. And my brothers wore such serious faces that I was sure something was at stake that was greater than avoiding the tradesmen’s door to Hong Sing’s.”

For Waverly, chess represents an adventure greater than any found in Chinatown’s alleys. The “secrets” and the “stakes” lure her to the chessboard and ignite a curiosity in her powerful enough to provide a way forward. Rather than weighing one culture against another or finding a way to live in both, chess offers an escape and a new identity that is all her own.

“All weaknesses and advantages become evident to a strong adversary and obscured to a tiring opponent. I discovered that for the whole game one must gather invisible strengths and see the endgame before the game begins.”

Waverly’s lessons about “invisible strengths” come to support her well in her chess playing. Unwittingly, Waverly’s mother has been “a strong adversary” to her, cultivating Waverly’s skills in predicting her mother’s reactions. While Waverly’s journey is about discovering her “next move” (Paragraph 79), her mother has had Waverly’s “endgame” in mind from the start: to design a life for Waverly that provides more opportunities than her own.

“A little knowledge withheld is a great advantage one should store for future use. That is the power of chess. It is a game of secrets in which one must show and never tell.”

The game of chess is not unlike the game of parenting in the story. Waverly’s mother does the shopping and the cooking and teaches her and her brothers many of life’s lessons. She fulfills many of the more traditional gender roles of parenting in this sense. Her “great advantage” in parenting Waverly is that she has knowledge about being a woman and the opportunities and obstacles that might afford a person. Rather than overtly telling her daughter of the opportunities she might miss if she avoids challenges, Waverly’s mother “withholds” some of that knowledge so that Waverly can make her own decisions. That “withholding” is not only the “power of chess,” but powerful parenting, “a game of secrets in which one must show and never tell.”

“Is shame you fall down nobody push you.”

To Waverly’s mother, it makes more sense to “fall down” when challenged than to collapse when no one pushes you. Her response suggests that being challenged in life is how we understand who we are. Therefore, she not only allows Waverly to participate in chess tournaments, but she encourages her to play. Waverly will never know what she is capable of if she never tries.

“As I began to play, the boy disappeared, the color ran out of the room, and I saw only my white pieces and his black ones waiting on the other side. A light wind began blowing past my ears. It whispered secrets only I could hear.”

Up until this point, Waverly’s narration relies heavily on sensory language so that readers can see, feel, hear, taste, and smell all the intricacies of Chinatown. Now, once Waverly aligns with her talent, some of those senses fall away. Doing so allows her to connect to something instinctive and natural—“a light wind”—signifying that her talent for chess is intuitive.

“[M]y mother decided that I no longer had to do the dishes. Winston and Vincent had to do my chores. ‘Why does she get to play and we do all the work,’ complained Vincent. ‘Is new American rules,’ said my mother. ‘Meimei play, squeeze all her brains out for win chess. You play, worth squeeze towel.’”

Asking sons to do housework disrupts the traditional order of the family, as does valuing a girl’s talent and intellect above her domestic duties. Waverly’s mother breaks traditions for her daughter so that she may succeed outside of the home. This seemingly small gesture creates major disruptions for what would be expected of a Chinese girl in the 1950s, and Waverly’s mother would have known this; yet, she does it anyway, showing the great risks she is willing to take to support her daughter.

“By my ninth birthday, I was a national chess champion. I was still some 429 points away from grand-master status, but I was touted as the Great American Hope, a child prodigy and a girl to boot. They ran a photo of me in Life magazine next to a quote in which Bobby Fischer said, ‘There will never be a woman grand master.’ ‘Your move, Bobby,’ said the caption.”

Bobby Fischer was a chess prodigy at the age of 14 in the 1950s. His comment here, captured by a reputable source, potentially voices the general public’s reaction to Waverly’s success with the game. Not even the reigning chess prodigy thinks that a woman could attain a mastery of the game, and yet here is a nine-year-old girl doing just that.

“I knew it was a mistake to say anything more, but I heard my voice speaking, ‘Why do you have to use me to show off? If you want to show off, then why don’t you learn to play chess?’ My mother’s eyes turned into dangerous black slits. She had no words for me, just sharp silence.”

Waverly’s line of questioning reveals her youth because of her unawareness of the rigidity of her mother’s place in the world. Her mother is raising three children, managing a home and chores and community and more, and cannot devote her time to developing a skill just for herself. Her children are the product of her hard work and talent and they are what she wants to “show off” to the world. Waverly misinterprets her mother’s pride in her as jealousy of her talent.