“˜Apple Pie’ narrates the search for U.S. identity

 

By Howard Ho
Daily Bruin contributor

In the wake of the Sept. 11 attacks, what it means to be an
American has come under scrutiny.

David Mazzotta deals with this identity crisis through the eyes
of a Korean-American college student in his first novel,
“Apple Pie.”

The identity crisis is introduced on the very first page.
Mazzotta’s protagonist, Alex Kim, says, “I was born in
Grosse Pointe, not Seoul. I’m not Korean; I’m
American.” Indeed, the entirety of the novel is spent
exploring the ways he attempts to prove his Americanism.

As a student of the University of Michigan, Kim rejects his
childhood girlfriend as an emotionless robot and pursues an angelic
co-worker, Naomi, who is white. His pursuit of his new love
interest leads him into the strangest of situations, transforming
his life and identity in the process.

Mazzotta confronts the issue of the stereotype that all Asians
are good at math. The character, Kim, constantly repeats, “My
SAT scores were only slightly above average and my grades were
equally below … I overslept regularly and preferred to play …
rather than perform differential Calculus.”

Kim’s parents, however, have a very different vision of
their son. According to them, Kim’s future has already been
planned out, down to the very woman he was to marry. Even
Kim’s siblings, who are all doctors or engineers, have a hard
time facing a reality other than the traditional Korean life to
which they are accustomed.

Mazzotta creates something quite hilarious at times with
descriptions of people so vivid that readers can almost smell them.
Examples are the “dweebs,” Kim’s roommates who
maintain rituals of maniacal homework discussions mixed with video
games and playground name-calling.

Mazzotta writes, “His intellect was inconsequential and
his social skills had not progressed since potty training … His
name was Eustace, pronounced Useless “¦ He never got a grade
lower than an A-.”

Kim lives with these fellow engineer majors until he realizes
that they are keeping him from being with his new girlfriend. In
return, when Kim moves out, they reject him, if only to maintain
the integrity of their dweebiness. Mazzotta is so in tune with this
subculture that one can laugh at his insightful portrayal of
it.

Yet, Mazzotta has trouble recreating other subcultures, such as
when he tries to portray an underground party filled with offbeat
poets, transsexuals and environmentalists. Kim’s description
of them is that they are posers at heart, without true convictions
except to project self-importance. Mazzotta never explains the
motives of these characters, but keeps them somewhat mysterious and
stereotyped.

The dialogue, though functional, often sounds too clever for its
own good. The dweebs and Kim’s best friend, K.J., speaks with
cliches and biting sarcasm, sometimes coming off as endearing but
often just being annoying or juvenile. Though Mazzotta tries to
develop a dialect for his characters, they end up sounding forced
and awkward.

This short novel, one might even say novella, qualifies for some
great bedtime reading. Each chapter is like an episode with
appropriate cliffhangers, short enough to encourage page-turning
but long enough for a moment of satisfaction. If it is not a
literary masterpiece, then it is certainly a good way to kill some
time.

Overall, the novel reads like an Asian version of
 “The Wonder Years.” Mostly, it is full of some of
the best prose about the current state of college life in America.
More than that, the novel narrates the struggle to become an
American, despite ethnicity, race and social class.

Indeed, Kim’s rejection of the world he is given provides
a powerful reminder to current students that they can still change
their lives and be themselves, not a carbon copy of tradition.