'I WOULD LIKE to love my mother without feeling, to perform the rituals and duties of filial care without the risk to heart of hurt. Mine, I am ashamed to recognise, is a thin love that loves small, loves just a little bit. Love for someone like me – a middle-aged, middle-class, privileged woman with a comfortable life and a job I find endlessly fulfilling – should be easy. But, like so many of my female friends, I am afflicted with Asian Daughter Syndrome, and after a lifetime of being a second mother to my family, I can’t shut up the loathsome whiny voice of the self-pitying child in my head, squatting behind my left ear, hand out and begging for visibility, wanting ‘mother’ to be a verb as well as a noun to me.' (Introduction)