Jen

Trigger warning for any daughter who has ever had a fraught relationship with their mother: Gish Jen’s remarkable and heartbreaking latest book, “Bad Bad Girl,” may prompt a flood of feelings not felt since adolescence. This marvel of a mash-up — part novel, part memoir, part effort to reconnect with a dead parent who never uttered an “I love you” — has as many pain points as life lessons. Quite a few of the latter — mostly delivered in the form of Chinese proverbs — are dropped by the author’s parents, Chinese immigrants who met in New York as graduate students. Among the pearls of wisdom that stick with Jen, their eldest girl and a keen observer of her parents: “When you drink the water, remember the spring.”

In this, Jen’s 10th book, she wistfully, unsparingly commemorates that “spring” — a punishing mother she nevertheless credits for “biting my heel.” A master of the art of withholding when it came to praise or affection, her mother had no compunctions about delivering ego-shattering put-downs and physical punishments to Jen for being “too smart for her own good.” And yet, Jen writes: “I have thrived.”

Gish Jen has brilliantly structured “Bad Bad Girl” so that invented exchanges with her mother keep returning us not only to the relationship between mother and daughter, but to the present.

(Basso Cannarsa)

Still, she is not at peace. Even after her mother’s death in 2020 at 96, that censorious voice remained “embedded in my most primitive responses, in my very limbic system.” “You were a mystery Ma,” Jen writes. “Why, why, why were you the way you were?” The writer’s instinct kicks in: “If I write about you, if I write to you, will I understand you better?”

“Bad Bad Girl” constitutes a heroic effort to do just that. But soon after Jen embarks on that quest, she realizes that while many mothers want their daughters to show interest in them and listen to their stories, “they were not my mother.” Without much to go on in the way of shared memories or documentary evidence, Jen decides to recalibrate. Instead of writing a straight memoir, she’ll chronicle what she can and construct a fictional narrative around the rest. The result is a heart-piercingly personal work that also imparts universal truths about the immigrant experience — and what it is to be a daughter, a mother and a woman in a world where men are the more valued of the sexes. If there is such a thing as an intimate epic, this is it.

Jen’s mother Agnes — Loo Shu-hsin, as she was originally named — was born in 1925 Shanghai to a wealthy and prominent banker and his much younger wife. In Part I, we are introduced to the lush beauty and extraordinary privilege Agnes was born into, sequestered in a mansion situated in the “international” section of Shanghai, staffed by maids, cooks, nursemaids, chauffeurs and bodyguards. “Proper though she may have been,” Agnes’ mother “did smoke opium.” Apparently, it was good for cramps.

Agnes was the firstborn child, a disappointment in her gender. As tradition dictated, her placenta was hurled into the Huangpu River; when it floated away, it was deemed that she too “would be raised and fed, only to drift away.” Agnes’ mother never bonded with her daughter and showed her little attention except to object to her daughter’s clear intelligence and closeness with her nursemaid. (By age 6 and beginning to read, Agnes still hadn’t been weaned.) By contrast, her father delighted in his daughter’s zeal for learning. The prevailing view was that “to educate a girl was like washing coal; it made no sense.” Still, her father enrolled her in an elite Catholic school where she was nurtured by Mother Greenough, a nun with a doctorate. She praised Agnes for her intellect and encouraged her to be ambitious. After completing her undergraduate studies amid the Japanese invasion and World War II, in the fall of 1947, after peace had finally descended, Agnes declared her intention to leave for the United States to pursue a PhD. Her father embraced that decision, in part because the communist takeover loomed and he hoped at least his eldest child could escape what was to come. “My favorite daughter, so smart and brave,” he pronounces, as the ship she boards sets sail for San Francisco.

Jen has brilliantly structured “Bad Bad Girl” so that invented exchanges with her mother — post-death, printed in bold type and interspersed throughout — keep returning us not only to the relationship between mother and daughter, but to the present. That dialogue is conversational and often funny, in contrast to the unfolding chronicle of Agnes’ journey as a stranger in a strange land. She finds her new countrymen puzzling in nearly every way. For example, “That was how lonely Americans were,” she observes, “that they should not only feed their dogs but walk them every day, rain or shine.”

Initially, Agnes’ spirits are bolstered by her privilege and her parents’ checks. Soon after arriving in New York City to begin graduate school, though, the money stops coming. The communist takeover is complete and, as she gradually discovers through their letters, now they seek financial support from her. Agnes, who’s never boiled an egg, sets to work typing and translating for her still-rich Chinese classmates. She meets and marries fellow student Jen Chao-Pe, and together they move into a dilapidated walk-up in Washington Heights, where Agnes learns to scrimp and save and paint her own walls. Her husband teaches her to cook. When she gets pregnant with her son, Reuben, she is laid low and takes a temporary leave of absence from school. Soon she is pregnant with Lillian, later nicknamed “Gish” for the silent film actor, and motherhood overwhelms her. Three more children come. Of the five, Gish is her least favorite, a girl every bit as clever as she was — a reminder of what she’s permanently put on the back burner. Whatever maternal feelings she has for her other children are missing when it comes to Gish, who becomes her mother’s scapegoat and punching bag.

Miraculously, Gish appears to have been mostly a happy child who excels socially and academically. After being accepted to every university she applies to, she chooses Harvard. She attends graduate school at Stanford and begins to pursue a writing career. She meets her husband, David, to whom she’s been married ever since — for 42 years. They have a son, Luke, and a daughter, Paloma. Jen’s children know how difficult their grandmother has been, and Paloma offers this to her mother by way of consolation: “The effects of trauma can’t be washed away in a generation,” something she’s read in a book. “You can’t get rid of it all, but you did a good job,” she adds.

How rich this book is, and how humane. Unlike, for example, Molly Jong-Fast’s merciless “How to Lose Your Mother,” “Bad Bad Girl” doesn’t read like a hit job. It’s suffused with love and a desire to finally understand. “You shut me out the way you shut your mother out. … What was my crime?” Jen challenges her mother in one of their imagined exchanges. “You were a pain in the neck,” Agnes observes, in another.

“She does not say ‘I love you’ back; she never has,” Jen writes. She doesn’t put those words in Agnes’ mouth here, even when she has the chance. But Jen does venture this about her mother: “I like to think (she) would finally agree both that this book is a novel and that there might be some truth to it.” And then in their final imagined exchange: “Bad, bad girl! Who says you can write a book like that?” Jen laughs. “That’s more like it.”

Haber is a writer, editor and publishing strategist. She was director of Oprah’s Book Club and books editor for O, the Oprah Magazine.

ATLANTA — Jen Pawol breezed through Sunday’s Marlins-Braves game as if breaking a gender barrier was just another day on the job.

Considering Pawol became the first female umpire to work behind the plate in the majors, making unprecedented history appear to be routine was especially impressive.

“I think Jen did a really nice job,” Miami manager Clayton McCullough said after Atlanta’s 7-1 win over the Marlins.

“I think she’s very composed back there. She handled and managed the game very well. And big day for her. Big day for Major League Baseball. I congratulated her again on that because it’s quite the accomplishment.”

It was an impressive cap to a memorable weekend for Pawol. She made history in Saturday’s doubleheader as the first female umpire to work a regular-season game in the majors. She called the bases in the doubleheader before moving behind the plate on Sunday, placing her in the brightest spotlight for an umpire.

Pawol never showed any indication of being affected by the attention, even while knowing every call would be closely watched.

“Congrats to Jen, obviously,” said Braves left-hander Joey Wentz, who earned the win by allowing only one run in 5 1/3 innings.

Asked about Pawol’s calls, Wentz said, “I try not to focus on the zone, to be honest with you. … I thought it was good though.”

Umpire Jen Pawol stands at third base during a game between the Marlins and Braves on Saturday.

(Brett Davis / Getty Images)

There were few opportunities for disputes as Wentz and Miami starting pitcher Cal Quantrill combined for only three strikeouts. The first called third strike came in the fifth inning, when Pawol used a fist pump when calling out Miami’s Kyle Stowers on a pitch that was close to the edge of the plate.

McCullough was seen in the Marlins dugout with his palms held up as if asking about the pitch call. He said after the game it’s not unusual to question a close called strike.

“Over the course of the game, there are a number of times that you just are going to be asking for clarity on one, if you aren’t sure,” McCullough said. “So it could have been that.”

The 48-year-old Pawol was called up as a rover umpire, so her next assignment in the majors has not been announced.

“I wish her the best moving forward as she continues to, I’m sure, hopefully one day be up full time, you know, a permanent big league umpire,” McCullough said.

Pawol also received positive reviews from Braves manager Brian Snitker, who on Saturday said, “You can tell she knows what she does.”

Pawol’s work in the minor leagues began in 2016 when she was assigned to the Gulf Coast League. She worked in the Triple-A championship game in 2023 and in spring training games in 2024 and again this year.

“We certainly didn’t call her up from A ball, right?” Quantrll said. “So yeah, I’m sure she was well prepared. And like I said I think, you know, part of the game moving forward is that if this is normal then we’re going to treat it normal, too. So, you know, I thought it was fine. I think she did she did a quality job. … And yeah, I think she’d be very proud of herself. And, you know, it’s kind of a cool little thing to be part of.”

Pawol spoke to reporters on Saturday when she said, “The dream actually came true today. I’m still living in it. I’m so grateful to my family and Major League Baseball for creating such an incredible work environment. … I’m just so thankful.”

Pawol received cheers from fans on both days. On Sunday, some held up “Way to go Jen!” signs.

Odum writes for the Associated Press.

A woman will umpire a major league game for the first time Saturday when Jen Pawol works the bases during Saturday’s doubleheader between the Atlanta Braves and visiting Miami Marlins at Truist Park.

For Dodgers manager Dave Roberts, that announcement Wednesday brought one response: It’s about time.

“That’s great. I’ll be watching,” he said of Pawol, who will work behind the plate Sunday. “It’s good for the game. It’s fantastic.”

The NHL is the only major U.S. professional sport that hasn’t used female officials. The NBA was the first league to break the gender barrier, with Violet Palmer and Dee Kantner calling games in 1997. MLS followed a year later with Sandra Hunter and Nancy Lay-McCormick refereeing separate games on the same day.

The NFL’s first woman official was line judge Shannon Eastin, who made her debut in 2012.

Pawol, 48, was an all-state soccer and softball player in high school in New Jersey. She went on to play Division I softball at Hofstra, then played for the women’s national baseball team. She began umpiring NCAA softball games in 2010 and five years later enrolled in the minor league umpire training academy in Vero Beach, Fla., the first step toward a career in professional baseball.

That earned her a job in the rookie-level Gulf Coast League. By 2023, she had worked her way up to triple A, the highest rung on the minor league ladder. Last year she became the third woman, after Pam Postema, in 1988, and Ria Cortesio, in 2007, to umpire major league spring training games.

The careers of both women were later blocked by senior male umpires who, according to colleagues, colluded against them. Postema later filed a federal discrimination suit against the National and American leagues, triple A clubs and the office of umpire development, claiming sexual harassment and gender discrimination. The suit was settled out of court.

Pawol, conversely, said she has received nothing but support, saying the coaches and players have gone out of their way to acknowledge her example as a trailblazer for their daughters.

On Wednesday, Roberts added his name to that list.

“Congratulations to her,” he said. “Baseball has done a great job of being completely inclusive. “