![Amazon prime logo](https://m.media-amazon.com/images/G/01/marketing/prime/new_prime_logo_RGB_blue._CB426090081_.png)
Enjoy fast, free delivery, exclusive deals, and award-winning movies & TV shows with Prime
Try Prime
and start saving today with fast, free delivery
Amazon Prime includes:
Fast, FREE Delivery is available to Prime members. To join, select "Try Amazon Prime and start saving today with Fast, FREE Delivery" below the Add to Cart button.
Amazon Prime members enjoy:- Cardmembers earn 5% Back at Amazon.com with a Prime Credit Card.
- Unlimited Free Two-Day Delivery
- Streaming of thousands of movies and TV shows with limited ads on Prime Video.
- A Kindle book to borrow for free each month - with no due dates
- Listen to over 2 million songs and hundreds of playlists
- Unlimited photo storage with anywhere access
Important: Your credit card will NOT be charged when you start your free trial or if you cancel during the trial period. If you're happy with Amazon Prime, do nothing. At the end of the free trial, your membership will automatically upgrade to a monthly membership.
![Kindle app logo image](https://m.media-amazon.com/images/G/01/kindle/app/kindle-app-logo._CB668847749_.png)
Download the free Kindle app and start reading Kindle books instantly on your smartphone, tablet, or computer - no Kindle device required.
Read instantly on your browser with Kindle for Web.
Using your mobile phone camera - scan the code below and download the Kindle app.
Big Little Man: In Search of My Asian Self Hardcover – June 10, 2014
Purchase options and add-ons
- Print length272 pages
- LanguageEnglish
- PublisherHoughton Mifflin Harcourt
- Publication dateJune 10, 2014
- Dimensions6.5 x 1 x 9.5 inches
- ISBN-100547450486
- ISBN-13978-0547450483
The Amazon Book Review
Book recommendations, author interviews, editors' picks, and more. Read it now.
Similar items that ship from close to you
Editorial Reviews
From Booklist
Review
From the Inside Flap
Alex Tizon landed in an America that saw Asian women as sexy and Asian men as utterly sexless. When he immigrated from the Philippines as a young boy, his steady diet of American television and movies taught him to be ashamed of his face, his skin color, his height; at every sporting event he feared, with good evidence, that the yellow man will lose.
His observations of sex and the Asian American male as funny as they are fierce include the story of his own quest for love during college in the 1980s. It was a tortured tutorial on stereotypes that still make it hard for Asian men to get the girl. Tizon writes: I had to educate myself on my own worth. It was a sloppy, piecemeal education, but I had to do it because no one else was going to do it for me. Here Tizon s memoir shifts seamlessly to history, as he illuminates his youthful search for Asian men forgotten or ignored men like Zheng He, the fifteenth-century Chinese admiral who sailed the world in an astonishing fleet long before the European explorers, but had no place in Tizon s American history books or classrooms.
And then, a transformation. First, Tizon s growing understanding that shame is universal: that his own just happened to be about race. Next, seismic cultural changes from Jerry Yang s phenomenal success with Yahoo! Inc., to actor Ken Watanabe s emergence in Hollywood blockbusters, to Jeremy Lin s meteoric NBA rise.
Finally, Tizon s deeply original, taboo-bending investigation turns outward, tracking the unheard stories of young Asian men today, in a landscape many still find complex but that increasingly makes room for powerful, dynamic Asian American men.
From the Back Cover
Part candid memoir, part incisive cultural study, Big Little Man addresses and explodes the stereotypes of Asian manhood. Alex Tizon writes with acumen and courage, and the result is a book at once illuminating and, yes, liberating. Peter Ho Davies
About the Author
Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.
What is the knocking at the door in the night?
— D. H. Lawrence
When I was twenty-nine, I flew to the island of Cebu in the Philippines to watch a fight. I arrived on a sweltering morning with nothing but books and some clothes in an overnight bag, which I threw into the trunk of the first taxi that stopped for me. It was a white clunker with the words Love Doll Coach painted in red cursive on the passenger door just above a phone number and a smaller inscription that read Ride Nice In Paradise. The driver’s name was Bobby. For the next two mornings, Bobby greeted me with “Morning, Sir Alex.”
“No need to call me ‘sir,’” I’d say.
“Yes, sir, Sir Alex,” he’d assure me.
He was not being funny. Bobby went about his work with robotic swiftness and a prefab smile that appeared on cue. He was eager but detached at the same time, with no interest in making real contact. I never felt at ease around him. I wanted to be friends; he wanted to be my servant. I would learn that his was the prescribed demeanor for all service workers in the Philippines. Saying “sir” two or three times in a single sentence was not considered excessive. Chronic obsequiousness had seeped into the national character during four centuries of colonial rule. Bobby also chain-smoked, which no doubt contributed to turning the whites of his eyes crayon red. He had greasy misshapen hair and grimy fingernails as long as guitar picks. He was not a pretty sight in the morning. But I knew no one else, and there were so many other things to rest my eyes upon.
Cebu is one of the Philippines’ larger islands, a long skinny outcrop of sand and forest in the central region known as the Visayas. From the air, the island resembles the profile of a high diver in mid-dive: from the tip of the toes in the north to the fingertips in the south is 120 miles. The thickest part, around the trunk, is twenty-five miles across. If the plunging diver were facing east, the capital — Cebu City — would be right near the belly button, which was where Bobby drove me on that first day. It was an hour’s drive in heavy traffic from the airport.
To get to my hotel, the Love Doll Coach wound through a labyrinthine maze of crowded neighborhoods, the masa made up of brown bodies in scant attire pressed closely together and yet somehow also moving like a river. Up we chugged on climbing narrow streets lined with rickety storefronts, their corrugated steel awnings bent and rusting out. Freshly butchered goats hung from hooks, blood still dripping from open mouths. Women in shorts and flip-flops with baskets of fruit on their heads walked past with small children running in orbits around sinewy legs. I rolled down my window and was instantly smothered in air thick with exhaust and something else, what was it — sweat? The smell of toil. Occasionally an ocean breeze cut through, and a hint of wet sand and palm trees. The scent of mangoes from somewhere. It was all new to my Americanized senses. I was awash in newness, as if I had landed on a never-discovered continent. And yet it was not my first time here. I was born on one of these islands. My blood, with its tinctures of Malay and Spanish and Chinese, came from the same pool as those of the masses we passed on the road. At age four I was brought by my parents to America, a land where people did not look too kindly on a groveler, for instance, anybody who said “sir” three times in a single sentence. I recognized Bobby because I had a little bit of Bobby inside me, and I didn’t like it much. Becoming an American meant I had to hate the groveler and exorcise him from my soul. It was hard work, becoming an American, and I felt I’d succeeded for the most part.
Yet I was not “all-American.” I could never be that. Most of us, when imagining an all-American, wouldn’t picture a man who looked like me. Not even I would. You would have to take my word for it that more than a few times in my life I looked in a mirror and was startled by the person looking back. I could go a long time feeling blithely at home, until a single glance at my reflection would be like a slap on the back of the head. Hey! You are not of this land. Certainly during my growing-up years in America, many people, friends and strangers, intentionally and not, helped to embed in me like a hidden razor blade the awareness of being an outsider.
I remember an encounter with a fellow student at JHS 79 in the Bronx, where my family lived in the 1970s. I was about thirteen. My school was just off the Grand Concourse on 181st, a five-story brick building with bars over all the windows and dark clanging stairwells that might as well have been back alleys. Some stairwells you did not dare travel alone, but I was new and didn’t know better. One afternoon in one of these stairwells, an open hand with five impossibly long fingers fell hard against my chest and stopped me in my tracks.
“What you supposed to be, motherfukka?” the owner of the hand said.
“Wha — ?” I stammered.
“Are you deaf, boy? I said, What you supposed to be?” The owner of the hand was a tall black guy, Joe Webb, who turned out to be the oldest and biggest member of my seventh-grade class, a man among boys. He was one of those guys whose muscles bulged like rocks sewn under skin, whose glare conveyed the promise of apocalyptic violence. “Are you a Chink, a Mehi-kan? What?”
Blacks, Puerto Ricans, and other Latinos made up the majority of students at the school. There were some whites and a handful of Chinese and Taiwanese. I was the only Filipino in the school, and a lot of students like Joe had never met one and knew nothing about the Philippines. I told him what I thought I was.
“You don’t look American, bitch,” he said. He eventually let me pass after I gave him the change from my pocket, which I would learn was really what he was after. Moving around the school meant paying certain tolls. Sweet scary Joe Webb. We ended up sitting next to each other in English, and he would copy off my test answers with my implicit consent. After he had found me acceptable six months into the school year, he became my friend and protector for the rest of my time at JHS 79. Sometime later that year, when another kid tried to shake me down in the very same stairwell, Joe loomed over him with those murderous eyes and long fingers rolled up into fists and the other kid melted into the darkness whence he came, never to bother me again.
Joe’s original query was a question I’ve been asked in various, usually more tactful ways ever since I could remember. What you supposed to be? From where on this planet did you come? What are you? The person in the mirror was the color of coffee with two tablespoons of cream. The face was wide with hair so black it sometimes appeared blue. The eyes were brown and oval, the nose broad, the lips full. A face that would have blended naturally with those I saw on the street that morning from the back seat of the Love Doll Coach.
Product details
- Publisher : Houghton Mifflin Harcourt; First Edition (June 10, 2014)
- Language : English
- Hardcover : 272 pages
- ISBN-10 : 0547450486
- ISBN-13 : 978-0547450483
- Item Weight : 1.02 pounds
- Dimensions : 6.5 x 1 x 9.5 inches
- Best Sellers Rank: #460,133 in Books (See Top 100 in Books)
- #147 in Asian American Studies (Books)
- #555 in Journalist Biographies
- #12,733 in Memoirs (Books)
- Customer Reviews:
About the author
![Alex Tizon](https://m.media-amazon.com/images/I/01Kv-W2ysOL._SY600_.png)
Discover more of the author’s books, see similar authors, read author blogs and more
Customer reviews
Customer Reviews, including Product Star Ratings help customers to learn more about the product and decide whether it is the right product for them.
To calculate the overall star rating and percentage breakdown by star, we don’t use a simple average. Instead, our system considers things like how recent a review is and if the reviewer bought the item on Amazon. It also analyzed reviews to verify trustworthiness.
Learn more how customers reviews work on AmazonCustomers say
Customers find the book mind-opening, highly readable, and heartfelt. They also describe the writing as real and heartwarming.
AI-generated from the text of customer reviews
Customers find the book mind-opening, wonderful, and important. They appreciate the historical and investigative work the author has done to craft the story into more than a memoir. Readers also find the personal accounts interesting and touching. Overall, they describe the book as an important and necessary representation of an emerging consciousness.
"...The book is also mind-opening...." Read more
"Great book especially when it pertains to Asian/Asian-Americans masculinity. I'm a Vietnamese-American male living near Los Angeles...." Read more
"...Overall a very eclectic array of experiences and events that meld in what I at least thought was a pretty cohesive package...." Read more
"...I still found his personal accounts interesting if not touching...." Read more
Customers find the book highly readable and captivating. They also describe the author as a true wordsmith.
"...I enjoyed the entire book. Simple, honest, and straightforward language for the most vulnerable part of Mr. Tizon's heart...." Read more
"...The book was highly readable, and I think the author underplays his capabilities as a writer when assessing his own talents...." Read more
"...Anyway, I found his book a great read. I was also touched by the add on segment about Lola. I only wish I could have met him before he died...." Read more
"...The main difference is that this book is well-written, expressive, and far more introspective than the often inarticulate frustrations of the online..." Read more
Customers find the writing and content heartfelt, real, and insightful. They also say the book gives them a liberating feeling, like a weight has been lifted off their consciousness.
"...Mr. Tizon explored the complexity of this blend in his own memoir. A painful read, because it feels so real, so close to my own experience...." Read more
"...containing historical context, the overall book is a painful and potent reflection of what it's like for many Asian American men growing up and..." Read more
"...Tizon is courageous, probing, passionate and clear-headed about his own experiences as well as the experiences of other men like him who must deal..." Read more
"...Reading this book gave me a liberating feeling, like a weight off my consciousness...." Read more
-
Top reviews
Top reviews from the United States
There was a problem filtering reviews right now. Please try again later.
I enjoyed the entire book. Simple, honest, and straightforward language for the most vulnerable part of Mr. Tizon's heart. If there is one thing that can be used to measure a male's manhood, I would say it is his courage. And such an exposure of one's vulnerability is the highest form of courage.
The book is also mind-opening. There are lots of pages about how the western world, from ordinary people to media, carry a biased views of Asian males. I shared the same experience personally. Reading the book, I also think it is useless to ask Hollywood gods to present Asian males properly in their productions. That is not their jobs. Their jobs, their only jobs, are to make money by pleasing the majority of the market. We Asian males shall not rely on others to tell our stories or to present us properly. We shall by our own story-teller, in our daily life, in our career, in the form of arts, engineering, managements, fatherhood, spousehood, ... It is complacency to think that improvement will come over time if we don't take control of our stories. It is human nature to say bad things about our competitors, the other tribes.
I wish I had read his book when Mr. Tizon was still with us. Highly recommend this book.
I think as more Asian males read more materials not just from Mr. Tizon but from various sources, that they then feel they share a common experience--moving forward could actually happen.
I had an idea of possibly establishing an Asian men's support group or a panel to stimulate discussions. I think it's a matter of having like-minded men to come together. So far it's just me who feel strongly about this in my area. I specifically remember in this book about an Asian male friend of the author whom he had met at a party. The three men then sat outside the party porch and the friend was very vocal with explicit language about why women are dating everyone else except Asian men. I could envision a group like that as a support group. Also, how the author befriend an Asian female who just would not date Asian men. She said to Mr. Tizon, "Would you date them?" Lines like that still sting me. But I think having both gender presence stimulate interesting discussions.
I'd attended some major conferences pertaining to Asian/Asian-American (A/AA) leadership, empowerment, and team building. I saw concepts from Jane Huyn's book "The Bamboo Ceiling" used at these conferences. I hope ideas and experiences from this book will be used as well. At least then, we know it's no longer just an individual and isolated experience.
I have to admit, there were times tears swell up due to the hurt I feel, but also a sense of hopelessness--a sense of how far we Asian men have to go to date in this country. If it starts out with just one, then no problem. But as more and more women turn down my advances, I always revert back to some of the issues Mr. Tizon had mentioned in this book but try not to internalize them. That's a losing battle if that happens.
Finally, I'm still hopeful & continue to read and open blogs, articles, and books like these knowing that there are people who care & want to make that ripple change no matter how dire the circumstances.
For that, I'm grateful that Mr. Tizon have exposed fully his life and his journey on public display. His experiences are so raw and powerful. I'm grateful and hopeful that these ripple effects are what allow others to have their own voices and develop trust in their own journeys.
I'm looking forward to more writings from Mr. Tizon. Again, thank you so much. This book just means so much to me. For the upcoming year, I'm am forever grateful.
The book was highly readable, and I think the author underplays his capabilities as a writer when assessing his own talents. Some recollections of events from his past occasionally seemed to have a bit too dramatic of a flair in describing a scene, in the style of some immersion journalism articles you might find in Rolling Stone. But otherwise, Alex gets straight to the point and offers a great glimpse into his thoughtful mind without any pretense. The parts of the book that dragged a bit for me were on topics that I've heard plenty of times before, but that's owing more to my over-familiarity with said topics (lack of Asian males on screen, the perception of them as sexless, etc). The most interesting aspects of the book were looking at Asian figures and interactions with the West further back in history, such as the explorer Zheng He who preceded Columbus by some decades, and theories on the perpetuation of the view of Asians as servile with the wave of Chinese immigrants to the American Wild West. Tizon's recollection of the coverage of the My Lai massacre and the relative indifference to the Killing Fields of Cambodia in American classrooms are examples from more recent history were impactful. Another excerpt that stood out for me was his recollection of a new female Asian coworker at a newsroom where he once worked, who was at first doted over, but was quickly turned on when she showed her competence, independence and ambition. Overall a very eclectic array of experiences and events that meld in what I at least thought was a pretty cohesive package.
As an Asian American man who is about a couple generations removed from when Alex Tizon first came to America, his experiences written on paper elicited a sense of familiarity, while also confirming my belief that I have been relatively fortunate compared to those who came before me. Time has brought positive change, and while there's a long way to go, the trend points to better things. I felt sad at the pathos that still seems to have a grip on Mr. Tizon, although it is one that has loosened and changed as his views on manliness, duty, and life have changed. And as he theorized about the young, confident (at least on the surface) young Asian men that he has met on his Oregon University campus, my relatively sunnier disposition is likely a result of growing up in a more accepting time, with more examples of Asians in high profile positions that are taking steam out of persistent stereotypes.
I know this review has dragged on, but there were many feelings I felt I needed to put on page about this book. And while the subject matter may on the surface may only pertain to Asian males (and females), it's really about larger issues of self-worth and inner confidence, about finding a place in a world that may put their own, often demeaning and limited expectations on you. Really, anyone can get some perspective and some enlightenment from this half biography, half history lesson.
Top reviews from other countries
![](https://images-eu.ssl-images-amazon.com/images/S/amazon-avatars-global/default._CR0,0,1024,1024_SX48_.png)
I might be younger than him, but believe me in some part i saw my self in his biography.
Its a different contest and imo an harsher one cause racism and stereotypes are still a common things here.
He made me understand a lot of things and made cry with that Lola's story , i dont know if i will ever buy that book...
I like the part of the asian (especially chinese) Hierarchy.
FILIPINO WAKE UP! We need to stand and catch up!
Overall it made me stronger, opened my eyes and warmed my heart.
To all of you : AKNOWLEDGE WHO YOU ARE ,dont try to fit in something you dont belong and then you will be ready for great things.
RIP BROTHER ALEX TIZON AND THANK YOU
![](https://images-na.ssl-images-amazon.com/images/S/amazon-avatars-global/default._CR0,0,1024,1024_SX48_.png)