The primary focus of Amy Tan's short story, "A Pair of
Tickets," is Jing-Mei's journey in coming to terms with her Chinese
heritage.
At the beginning, there is a "great divide"
between Jing-Mei's perceptions of self (an American) and her true heritage (as she comes
face-to-face with the half-sisters she has never met) as a woman of Chinese
descent.
Of the images presented, the idea of a camera is
particularly effective as Jing-Mei records mental images of what
she sees as she and her father travel to China after her mother's death. The "pair of
tickets" have been paid for and sent so that Jing-Mei and her father can make the trip.
All Jing-Mei has to do is be willing to begin her
journey.
As they travel, the landscape is very different,
though somehow Jing-Mei is nostalgic for this land she has never seen before. All she
knows and has left behind in the States to make this trip is at odds with what she sees.
Trying to come to terms with these changes is one thing, but finding where
she fits into this mysterious and alien landscape presents an even
stronger challenge.
Jing-Mei recalls her conversation (at
age fifteen) with her mother, when Jing-Mei insisted she was not
Chinese:
'Cannot be helped,' my mother said when I was
fifteen and had vigorously denied that I had any Chinese whatsoever below my skin...and
my Caucasian friends agreed: I was about as Chinese as they
were.
'Someday you will see,' said my mother. 'It is in
your blood, waiting to be let
go.'
Before Jing-Mei arrives
in China, the change has begun. In her heart she realizes that perhaps while she had her
mother, she did not appreciate her in the way she should
have.
When Jing-Mei and her father arrive in Guangzhou, and
her father and his great-aunt meet, Jing-Mei observes their delight at being reunited,
but she fights the change coming to her:
They are both crying openly, laughing at the same
time, and I bite my lip, trying not to cry. I'm afraid to feel their
joy.
Jing-Mei starts to use
her camera, capturing the images of her experiences in China—the meeting of unknown
family members. It is the camera, too, that builds a bridge between the two worlds—where
common language may not be found, the images Jing-Mei captures speak
instead.
Perhaps the most poignant moment of Jing-Mei's
"journey" is when she learns the story of why her mother had to leave her twin baby
girls behind in China: as her father starts to recall the details, Jing-Mei insists that
he tell her in Chinese.
The use of pictures connects
Jing-Mei finally to her sisters. In their faces is captured the image of her mother's
face, and in their hands, the picture Jing-Mei had sent them. They hug, with the spirit
of their dead mother in their midst, and at this moment, Jing-Mei finally feels Chinese,
stating: "After all these years, it can finally be let
go."
The reason that the Polaroid
picture is so important to the theme of change in the story is that the picture is
exposed to the light, but must take time to develop: to become sharp, focused and
life-like. The parallel is obvious. Stories of China, even her mother's memories, are
pale reminders of the land from which Jing-Mei's parents are from. Being a part of
that world and allowing the essence of that land and her
people wash over her allows Jing-Mei to fully develop, finding her own sharp
focus of her place in the world as a Chinese daughter, and
woman.
The tickets are symbolic of Jing-Mei's passage to an
unknown aspect of herself.
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