East Vs. West: Amy Chua's Battle Hymn Of The Tiger Mother

The narrator of Battle Hymn of the Tiger Mother was recently accused of child abuse, shocking the world with a parenting style so rigorous, I suspect it will stun even hard-working, driven Paulinas.

The book is written by Yale law professor Amy Chua. She's written two other books on Law, with exciting titles like World on Fire: How Exporting Free Market Democracy Breeds Ethnic Hatred and Global Instability, which were (much) less controversial.

According to the blurb, this book was 'supposed to be a story of how Chinese parents are better at raising kids than Western ones.' Well, it is and it isn't. Taken simply, the book is about an abnormally pushy mother who raised her two half-Chinese, half-Jewish daughters to be brilliant, successful, musical prodigies. But it is also about the clash between politically correct, 'soft' Western thinking and 'harsh', but unarguably honest, Chinese upbringing.

The book begins with a manifesto that lists some things Chua's children were never allowed to do. That is, attend a sleepover, watch TV or play computer games, be in a school play, not be the top student in every subject (except sports and drama), and not play the piano and violin. Chua practised with her children daily for hours. And, while her methods can be viewed as extreme ('If the next time's not perfect, I'LL TAKE ALL YOUR STUFFED ANIMALS AND BURN THEM!'), they certainly yielded impressive results. By the time her oldest daughter, Sophia, was fifteen, she had performed at the prestigious Carnegie Hall in New York, won a couple of academic awards, studied under some of the best piano teachers in the country and, frustratingly for the critics, was a fully-functioning, well-adjusted, well-spoken and very 'normal' American teenager.

However, the second half of the book holds the real drama: having established that the 'Chinese method' (Chua does note that it's not only the Chinese who employ her techniques) worked on her first daughter, she narrates how her second daughter Lulu defied her at every turn. The battle between them is ferocious, bitter, painful; full of razor-ship and self-deprecating humour.

It's easy to see why America didn't get the jokes. It says something about Chua's personality that entire chapters are devoted to how she was utterly distraught, flabbergasted and 'nauseated' when she discovered her two pet dogs ranked No. 33 out of 79 breeds in terms of canine intelligence. Her dogs were 'only average'. At least Chua is self-aware enough to understand how ridiculous (and hilarious) this is.

If you're in the mood for a harder read, it will certainly make you question yourself and the way you were brought up. At some points, you'll be very glad you don't have a tiger mother; at others you wish that your own was more tiger-ish. There is impressive about the tiger mother's grim determination - and, indeed, in her children's filial piety despite, or perhaps because of, their mother's efforts. I sometimes think we all wish our parents believed in and cared enough about us to coach us for four hours straight until our algebra was perfect.

Chua is also unapologetic: although she does explain the motivations behind her actions, she doesn't apologise to the Western world, that's made very clear. And why should she? Whether you like her methods or not, they've gotten results.

It's hard to argue with that.