Elaine Luiis the voice behind the wildly popular and successful blog LaineyGossip.com, which gets nearly 1.5 million unique visitors monthly. She lives in Toronto with her husband and beagles. "Listen to the Squawking Chicken" is her first book."
I devoured this book in one sitting...alternately cheering,
laughing, cringing, and gasping in horror. Lui captures the
complexity of a mother-daughter relationship that is both
complicated and beautiful. Poignant with a bare honesty that may
make you think (and rethink) your own relationships. Jenny Lawson,
#1 "New York Times" bestselling author of "Let s Pretend This Never
Happened"
I m an avid reader of Elaine Lui s blog because of her intelligent,
funny and distinctive voice. So of course, her memoir was a
must-read. By turns hilarious and moving, it tells the story of her
charismatic mother her difficult childhood in Hong Kong,
immigration to Canada and tiger-mom style of raising her daughter
Lainey to be the outspoken success she is today. Along the way we
learn a lot about Mah Jong and Feng Shui (two of her mother s
obsessions), but most of all about the intense love between mother
and daughter. I was spellbound from start to finish! Jennifer Ross,
People.com "Listen to the Squawking Chicken" is authentic,
heartbreaking, and funny. Lui writes with the truest form of humor,
grounded in pain, honesty, and insight, and despite everything, Lui
s love for her mother shines true. This is a book that will
challenge and resonate with mothers and daughters everywhere. Jean
Kwok, "New York Times" bestselling author of "Girl in Translation
"and "Mambo in Chinatown" Elaine Lui has written one remarkable and
dangerous book. It had me laughing till I rolled off the bed,
rearranging my living room furniture in a panic at three a.m. to
achieve proper feng shui, and calling my mother out of pure guilt.
The Squawking Chicken could eat any Tiger Mom for lunch. Kevin
Kwan, author of "Crazy Rich Asians"
Readers will find an affectionate tribute to her tough, powerful
Chinese mother Lui's memoir demonstrates an undeniable mother
daughter bond that leaves readers with one overriding lesson:
[L]isten to your mother. "Kirkus Reviews" A sparkling new memoir
hilarious. Bookpage Bold and fresh, Elaine Lui s writing took me on
a journey filled with bittersweet verve and breathtaking grace.
Forget what you think you know about life, and enter the world of
the Squawking Chicken. This is a love story you won t soon forget.
Ami McKay, author of "The Birth House" and "The Virgin Cure" What
an incredible character is the Squawking Chicken she s a movie, an
Amy Tan novel, and a sitcom all rolled into one. By turns deeply
moving, shocking, and hilarious, this is a story of atypical
parenting, cultural complexities, and one daughter s capacity for
forgiveness, compassion, and love. I didn t want it to end. Lisa
Gabriele, author of "SECRET" and TV producer Once I started
reading, I couldn t stop. I read it compulsively, wide-eyed, and
devouring: Lui s writing is sharp, humorous, and deliciously
readable, like a long, insightful letter from your best friend.
Listen to the Squawking Chicken asks you to reflect on what you
think about loyalty, shame, pride and love themes that all mothers
and daughters know deeply. This book made me rethink what it means
to be a daughter. I loved it. I can't wait to give it to my mother.
Sarah Seleky, author of "This Cake Is for the Party" A peek inside
the book...
If the world operated on mute, my ma would seem to you like any
other Chinese lady -- on the short side of average, small-boned,
but obnoxiously dressed. Think rhinestones everywhere, and if not
rhinestones then sequins, and if not sequins then feathers.
Sometimes all of it at the same time. Her favourite outfit is a
denim suit, with rhinestone encrusted patches on the back and up
and down the leg. She purposefully wears it with the collar turned
up. Like the irresistibly catchy hook in the worst song you ve ever
heard, she finishes her China Woman Elvis ensemble off with a pair
of gold and silver Coach runners. If I m really lucky that day, it
ll be sunny out when we go for dimsum. And she ll keep her shades
on as she walks into the restaurant, her entire head hidden
underneath one of those massive sun visors regularly seen on
Asians. People will wonder: is it a movie star or a bag lady who s
pillaged a donations bin in Vegas? The face that appears when she
finally removes the sunglasses and the hat is so pretty it s almost
ornamental. In other words, by appearance only, ma seems harmless.
Turn up the volume and everything changes. As soon as you hear her,
you ll never forget her. It s the voice, a voice that earned her
the nickname Tsiahng Gai, Squawking Chicken, when she was growing
up in Hong Kong. The volume is jarring, yes. You can t imagine that
something so loud can come out so effortlessly, and without
warning. The Squawking Chicken doesn t give you time to acclimate
to her levels. It s one level, and it s all-out assault. But it s
also the tone -- sharp, edged, and quick, not so much a booming
roar that leaves silence after it lands but a wailing siren that
invades your mind, kind of like acid on the brain that results in
permanent scarring."
"I devoured this book in one sitting...alternately cheering,
laughing, cringing, and gasping in horror. Lui captures the
complexity of a mother-daughter relationship that is both
complicated and beautiful. Poignant with a bare honesty that may
make you think (and rethink) your own relationships." --Jenny
Lawson, #1 "New York Times"-bestselling author of "Let's Pretend
This Never Happened"
I'm an avid reader of Elaine Lui's blog because of her intelligent,
funny and distinctive voice. So of course, her memoir was a
must-read. By turns hilarious and moving, it tells the story of her
charismatic mother - her difficult childhood in Hong Kong,
immigration to Canada and tiger-mom style of raising her daughter
Lainey to be the outspoken success she is today. Along the way we
learn a lot about Mah Jong and Feng Shui (two of her mother's
obsessions), but most of all about the intense love between mother
and daughter. I was spellbound from start to finish! --Jennifer
Ross, People.com ""Listen to the Squawking Chicken" is authentic,
heartbreaking, and funny. Lui writes with the truest form of humor,
grounded in pain, honesty, and insight, and despite everything,
Lui's love for her mother shines true. This is a book that will
challenge and resonate with mothers and daughters
everywhere."--Jean Kwok, "New York Times"-bestselling author of
"Girl in Translation "and "Mambo in Chinatown""Elaine Lui has
written one remarkable and dangerous book. It had me laughing till
I rolled off the bed, rearranging my living room furniture in a
panic at three a.m. to achieve proper feng shui, and calling my
mother out of pure guilt. The Squawking Chicken could eat any Tiger
Mom for lunch." --Kevin Kwan, author of "Crazy Rich Asians"
"Readers will find an affectionate tribute to her tough, powerful
Chinese mother... Lui's memoir demonstrates an undeniable
mother-daughter bond that leaves readers with one overriding
lesson: '[L]isten to your mother.'" --"Kirkus Reviews" "A sparkling
new memoir...hilarious." --Bookpage "Bold and fresh, Elaine Lui's
writing took me on a journey filled with bittersweet verve and
breathtaking grace. Forget what you think you know about life, and
enter the world of the Squawking Chicken. This is a love story you
won't soon forget." --Ami McKay, author of "The Birth House" and
"The Virgin Cure" "What an incredible character is the Squawking
Chicken--she's a movie, an Amy Tan novel, and a sitcom all rolled
into one. By turns deeply moving, shocking, and hilarious, this is
a story of atypical parenting, cultural complexities, and one
daughter's capacity for forgiveness, compassion, and love. I didn't
want it to end." --Lisa Gabriele, author of "SECRET" and TV
producer "Once I started reading, I couldn't stop. I read it
compulsively, wide-eyed, and devouring: Lui's writing is sharp,
humorous, and deliciously readable, like a long, insightful letter
from your best friend. Listen to the Squawking Chicken asks you to
reflect on what you think about loyalty, shame, pride and
love--themes that all mothers and daughters know deeply. This book
made me rethink what it means to be a daughter. I loved it. I can't
wait to give it to my mother." --Sarah Seleky, author of "This Cake
Is for the Party" A peek inside the book...
If the world operated on mute, my ma would seem to you like any
other Chinese lady -- on the short side of average, small-boned,
but obnoxiously dressed. Think rhinestones everywhere, and if not
rhinestones then sequins, and if not sequins then feathers.
Sometimes all of it at the same time. Her favourite outfit is a
denim suit, with rhinestone encrusted patches on the back and up
and down the leg. She purposefully wears it with the collar turned
up. Like the irresistibly catchy hook in the worst song you've ever
heard, she finishes her China Woman Elvis ensemble off with a pair
of gold and silver Coach runners. If I'm really lucky that day,
it'll be sunny out when we go for dimsum. And she'll keep her
shades on as she walks into the restaurant, her entire head hidden
underneath one of those massive sun visors regularly seen on
Asians. People will wonder: is it a movie star or a bag lady who's
pillaged a donations bin in Vegas? The face that appears when she
finally removes the sunglasses and the hat is so pretty it's almost
ornamental. In other words, by appearance only, ma seems harmless.
Turn up the volume and everything changes. As soon as you hear her,
you'll never forget her. It's the voice, a voice that earned her
the nickname "Tsiahng Gai," Squawking Chicken, when she was growing
up in Hong Kong. The volume is jarring, yes. You can't imagine that
something so loud can come out so effortlessly, and without
warning. The Squawking Chicken doesn't give you time to acclimate
to her levels. It's one level, and it's all-out assault. But it's
also the tone -- sharp, edged, and quick, not so much a booming
roar that leaves silence after it lands but a wailing siren that
invades your mind, kind of like acid on the brain that results in
permanent scarring.
A peek inside the book...
If the world operated on mute, my ma would seem to you like any
other Chinese lady -- on the short side of average, small-boned,
but obnoxiously dressed. Think rhinestones everywhere, and if not
rhinestones then sequins, and if not sequins then feathers.
Sometimes all of it at the same time. Her favourite outfit is a
denim suit, with rhinestone encrusted patches on the back and up
and down the leg. She purposefully wears it with the collar turned
up. Like the irresistibly catchy hook in the worst song you've ever
heard, she finishes her China Woman Elvis ensemble off with a pair
of gold and silver Coach runners. If I'm really lucky that day,
it'll be sunny out when we go for dimsum. And she'll keep her
shades on as she walks into the restaurant, her entire head hidden
underneath one of those massive sun visors regularly seen on
Asians. People will wonder: is it a movie star or a bag lady who's
pillaged a donations bin in Vegas? The face that appears when she
finally removes the sunglasses and the hat is so pretty it's almost
ornamental. In other words, by appearance only, ma seems harmless.
Turn up the volume and everything changes. As soon as you hear her,
you'll never forget her. It's the voice, a voice that earned her
the nickname "Tsiahng Gai," Squawking Chicken, when she was growing
up in Hong Kong. The volume is jarring, yes. You can't imagine that
something so loud can come out so effortlessly, and without
warning. The Squawking Chicken doesn't give you time to acclimate
to her levels. It's one level, and it's all-out assault. But it's
also the tone -- sharp, edged, and quick, not so much a booming
roar that leaves silence after it lands but a wailing siren that
invades your mind, kind of like acid on the brain that results in
permanent scarring.
A peek inside the book...
If the world operated on mute, my ma would seem to you like any
other Chinese lady -- on the short side of average, small-boned,
but obnoxiously dressed. Think rhinestones everywhere, and if not
rhinestones then sequins, and if not sequins then feathers.
Sometimes all of it at the same time. Her favourite outfit is a
denim suit, with rhinestone encrusted patches on the back and up
and down the leg. She purposefully wears it with the collar turned
up. Like the irresistibly catchy hook in the worst song you've ever
heard, she finishes her China Woman Elvis ensemble off with a pair
of gold and silver Coach runners. If I'm really lucky that day,
it'll be sunny out when we go for dimsum. And she'll keep her
shades on as she walks into the restaurant, her entire head hidden
underneath one of those massive sun visors regularly seen on
Asians. People will wonder: is it a movie star or a bag lady who's
pillaged a donations bin in Vegas? The face that appears when she
finally removes the sunglasses and the hat is so pretty it's almost
ornamental. In other words, by appearance only, ma seems harmless.
Turn up the volume and everything changes. As soon as you hear her,
you'll never forget her. It's the voice, a voice that earned her
the nickname "Tsiahng Gai," Squawking Chicken, when she was growing
up in Hong Kong. The volume is jarring, yes. You can't imagine that
something so loud can come out so effortlessly, and without
warning. The Squawking Chicken doesn't give you time to acclimate
to her levels. It's one level, and it's all-out assault. But it's
also the tone -- sharp, edged, and quick, not so much a booming
roar that leaves silence after it lands but a wailing siren that
invades your mind, kind of like acid on the brain that results in
permanent scarring.
Ask a Question About this Product More... |