68 pages • 2 hours read
The mega hotel that is threatening to take over the Calivista, the Magna, is symbolic of all big business. The sheer size of it makes it an intimidating metaphor. Mia writes, “It was a beast. At five times the size of the Calivista, the Magna completely overshadowed us” (133). This story about small businesses beating big businesses benefits from this physically looming metaphor for corporations, emphasizing the underdog nature of Mia’s small family business. The Magna’s physical presence serves as a constant reminder to the characters, and the readers, that this business is better situated—financially and systemically—to succeed.
Kelly Yang utilizes the literary device of personification with the symbol of the Magna. When the pool light forces her parents to cancel their date night, Mia wishes “the Magna [would] back off”(193). The physical Magna building takes on the characteristics of the company that owns it, serving as an antagonistic force in the book. Mia increasingly comes to fear it and what it might mean for her family. The times that Mia mentions the Magna’s overwhelming presence typically align with other stressful things in her life. For instance, when Lupe first tells Mia that she can’t work the desk, Mia goes outside and stands “in the colossal shadow cast on [her], feeling the full impact of the chill of the Magna—and everything else” (137). The arc of Mia’s relationship with the Magna and her relationships with her friends are direct parallels of each other. The Magna seems intimidating at first, and her friendships are turbulent. By the end of the book, Mia is no longer afraid of the Magna, and her friendships are healed.
Ms. Addison’s skirt symbolizes not caring what people think of you and embracing your culture anyway. When Ms. Addison reads Mia’s article about wanting to fit in, she says, “I know exactly what you mean. My mom used to make me wear these long colorful skirts when all I wanted to wear were jeans” (222). Like Mia, she wanted to fit in so others would respect her and treat her normally. However, on her way out, Mia notices that Ms. Addison is wearing a long colorful skirt. Ms. Addison follows up by acknowledging what she has learned about embracing individuality: “I guess I eventually stopped caring what everybody else thought” (223). The skirt, for her character, is a visual memory of embracing one’s true self and culture. It also potentially represents paying homage to one’s family and the family values that led to success and joy.
The skirt and what it symbolizes also plays into the theme of gentrification. The heart of small businesses is the personal touches that make them unique. When Mia first writes about shopping at the thrift store instead of a bigger store, she compares it to the gentrification of Anaheim. She writes that she hated wearing the colorful clothes her mom got at the thrift store and longed for blue jeans like everyone else. She “would have done anything to fit in. […] Like the taupe walls of the Pottery Barn that look exactly the same no matter which city” (209). However, Mia realizes that it’s better to stand out and have your own personal flair and heart—in your businesses, your outfits, and every other part of life.
Room to Dream features a multitude of letters, which broadly serve as a motif related to the importance of communication. The first is a rejection letter that Mia receives from a newspaper. After reading it, she takes “the letter and stuff[s] it deep in [her] closet, with all [her] other hidden rejections” (14). These letters are a secret that she feels can’t be shared, a fear that ties into the theme of The Pressure to Overperform in Oppressed Communities. In short, at the start of the book, Mia views these letters as representing failure, which is unacceptable; it takes Hank to point out that the letters in fact represent perseverance.
Mia’s career as a columnist then features two different kinds of letters. First, there are the letters that she writes to her readers. These letters serve as an emotional catharsis for Mia. After finishing one, she remarks, “I let out a long breath, feeling the calm that always followed after I wrote out my feelings” (140). Mia doesn’t feel safe telling her loved ones how she feels: “[S]ome things were easier to say to four hundred thousand people than to just one” (189). Second, there are the letters she receives from her readers, all of whom feel emotionally connected with Mia.
There are also the letters passed between friends. Mia is finally able to write out everything she wants to say and how she wants to apologize when she sends Lupe and Jason notes along with copies of her column. These letters are typically peace offerings. While it takes several versions to get to the full forgiveness version, the evolution of these letters helps track the characters’ relationship to the written word as a mode of communication.
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By Kelly Yang