Jane Shore

Happy Family Once specific instance of numerous types of imagery techniques 

being used is in the poem, Happy Family. Shore parallels her family with how 

she was brought up. 

Every Sunday night after work, 

my mother ordered takeout from the Hong King, 

the only Chinese restaurant in town.

This referring to how it was tradition to order Chinese food in her house 

every week as she was growing up. The relevance of Shore paralleling her 

childhood and her parenthood only amplifies Shore’s eagerness to form the “Happy 

Family,” and her willingness to not become what he parents were during these 

traditional dinners.  The difference between the way Shore writes when contrasting 

the two different settings is remarkably different. When referring to her 

childhood, the descriptions are flat, somber, and depressing almost mechanical.

My little sister and I unpacked the food,

unsheathed the wooden chopsticks--

Siamese twins joined at the shoulders--

which we snapped apart.

Thirteen years old, moody, brooding,

day dreaming about boy,

I sat and ate safe chop suey,

bland Cantonese shrimp,

moo goo gai pan, and egg foo yung.

My mother somber, my father drained,

too exhausted from work to talk,

as if the clicking chopsticks

were knitting something in their mouths.

My mother put hers aside

and picked at her shrimp with a fork.

She dunked a Lipton teabag in her cup

until the hot water turned rusty,

refusing the Hong Kong's complimentary tea,

no brand she'd ever seen before

I cleared the table,

put empty cartons back in the bag.

Glued to the bottom,

translucent with oil, the pale green bill

a maze of Chinese characters.

Between the sealed lips of my fortune cookie,

a white scrap of tongue poking out...

However, in her parenthood descriptions there are vibrant descriptions and 

there is an almost jovial and bubbly undertone. This undertone almost shouts 

relief in a sense that these dinners no longer have to be lifeless and dull. 

Tonight, the waiter brings Happy Family

steaming under a metal dome

and three small igloos of rice.

Mounded on the white oval plate, the unlikely

marriage of meet and fish, crab and chicken.

Not all Happy Families are alike.

The chef's tossed in wilted greens

and water chestnuts, silk against crunch;

he's added fresh ginger to baby corn,

carrots, bamboo shoots, scallions, celery,

broccoli, pea pods, bok choy.

My daughter impales a chunk of beef on her chopstick and contentedly

sucks on it, like a popsicle.

Eating Happy Family, we all begin to smile.

I prod the only thing left on the plate,

a large garnish

carved in the shape of an open rose.

Is it a turnip? An Asian pear?

The edges of the delicate petals

tinged with pink dye, the flesh

white and cool as a peeled apple's.

My daughter reaches for it--

"No good to eat!" The waiter rushes over--

"Rutabaga! Not cooked! Poison!"--

and hands us a plate with the bill

buried under three fortune cookies-

our teeth already tearing

at the cellophane, our fingers prying open

our three fates.

The overall impression and symbolism of the poem is that Shore uses her vivid 

and witty descriptions to contrast the difference between her childhood and 

her parenthood. From this poem Shore shows that she takes pride in her 

resilience from a rather cold childhood and doesn’t let it stop her from trying to 

recreate what the Happy Family platter should’ve looked like. This poem exudes 

her pride and can be seen as inspiring for others who feel they have been 

“ripped-off” in their childhood. Shore is able to contrast the two different 

families and show the growth on her behalf and how it has transformed her idea of 

what family means to her. The clever word selection of the Happy Family Platter 

was rather cunning and cute, and I thought it really tied the whole poem 

together quite nicely.

The Princess of the Rink  is a poem that I think exemplifies a young girl’s 

train-of-thought rather accurately. Once again Shore uses perfect descriptions 

to capture the scene and the feelings of the characters. This poem is once 

again written in the simplistic prose of Jane Shore, however it tells a tale of a 

little girl, which we know is probably a first-hand experience that Shore 

experienced herself. The clever part about the poem is that it gives a rather 

rounded and mature perspective on the situations at hand. Shore seems to like to 

have her characters perform a sort of growth throughout the poem. For example, 

in this piece, at the beginning Shore seems to have a rather idealistic and 

naïve perspective on the life of Stacie. 

Stacie had skating practice twice a week

and a closetful of sequined costumes

she'd squeeze into, for competitions.

I wanted skating lessons,

but added to piano and ballet,

my mother said enough was enough.

I had to help out in our store:

fold boxes, straighten dresses,

be on my best behavior

with out salesgirls, Eleanor and Josie--

best friends, just like Stacie and me.

This excerpt proves the point that Shore sort of idolizes Stacie and seems to 

have a sort of child-like envy of her possessions and wealth.  However a 

turning point in the poem occurs when Shore realizes that Stacie’s life is, in 

fact, not so picture perfect. 

I'd go, sometimes, to Stacie's lessons

and skate by myself in a corner of the rink.

Once, when she attempted the double lutz,

the coach stamped his foot and called Stacie

a klutz, the boss's daughter!

The bell rang. All skaters cleared the ice.

The Zamboni machine roared broad sweeps 

across the ice as Stacie's eyes

glazed over with tears.

But Stacie didn't argue. Or Complain. Or tattle.

An amiable, sweet-tempered girl, 

she knew she has to set a good example.

A week later, Stacie broke her ankle, skating.

I paid her a call, bearing a bag

of sugar-free sourballs.

The shoeboxes were piled like cinderblocks

at the foot of her mattress,

the sandwich on her lunch tray

reduced to crumbs.

Tacked above the headboard, Sonja Henie

posed in a sit-spin on glossy ice,

in a short skirt and flesh-colored tights,

her right like extending toward the camera, 

the white boot of her skate

like the thick plaster cast

wrapped around Stacie's foot and ankle

propped up on pillows

higher than her heart.

Stacie grinned; she'd have to stay off her feet 

untill she learned to use her crutches.

She'd have to miss two weeks of school,

six months of practice, and sit out

the regional championship.

Pointing at the stiff right leg of her jeans

slit cuff to knee along the seam,

she handed me a fountain pen.

Between patches of black and blue ink

Where other friend’s ahd signed her cast,

I wrote my autograph,

the pen nib skating on the white carapace

covering the tender, itchy skin

Stacie scratched at with a chopstick,

trying to reach the deeper hurt

beneath that compliant flesh.

By the end of the poem the overall realization that not everything is as 

perfect as it seems really comes into effect. This poem, however really stood out 

to me because of its drastic changes in tone from girly and perfect to sort of 

realistic and depressing actual setting. I found that Shore’s ability to be 

so real, in this sense to be quite gripping and fascinating and made it as 

thought it was occurring in real life.