How does Maxine Hong Kingston use imagery in China Men?

Examples of Imagery:

"Waiting at the gate for our father to come home from work, my brothers and sisters and I saw a man come hastening around the corner. Father! 'BaBa!' 'BaBa!' We flew off the gate; we jumped off the fence. 'BaBa!' We surrounded him, took his hands, pressed our noses against his coat to sniff his tobacco smell, reached into his pockets for the Rainbo notepads and the gold coins that were really chocolates. The littlest ones hugged his legs for a ride on his shoes. And he laughed a startled laugh. 'But I'm not your father. You've made a mistake.' He took our hands out of his pockets. 'But I'm not your father.' Looking closely, we saw that he probably was not. We went back inside the yard, and this man continued his walk down our street, from the back certainly looking like our father, one hand in his pocket. Tall and thin, he was wearing our father's two-hundred-dollar suit that fit him just right. He was walking fast in his good leather shoes with the wingtips." (On Fathers, p. 6)

"BaBa sat on the cot, sat at the table. He would have enjoyed the luxury of having a window, though he did not need daylight or moonlight to study by. With hands folded behind his back, he paced, brushing the floor with the balls of his feet, and sang his memorizations. A jailor brought food, returned for the utensils, gave him back his bedroll, and locked him up 'until time for the first test,' he said. He left a teapot, around which BaBa held his hands and caught the rich heat that arose. He decided to stay awake all night. The tea lasted a short while. Fireflies in a jar would have given an appearance of warmth. Back in the village he had read by their light. Steam must have been issuing from his mouth and nose, but he could not see it. Huddling in a blanked, his knees against his chest, he perched on the straight-backed chair, but the blanked turned into a nest for sleeping, and he had to discard it. Muttering the texts, he gave voice and breath to word after word. His attention was aflame; when he saw it turn into a firefly, shrinking, going out, he almost fell off the chair with alarm; for a moment or longer he had fallen asleep. He tried propping himself up by the elbows. His eyes closed, and shapes and colors began turning into dreams. He tried holding his eyelids open with his fingers, but in the dark they might as well have been closed. He understood the blue-eyed Buddha-who-cut-off-his-eyelids. He stood on the chair and stretched - and felt a hook or a ring in a beam directly overhead. So there it was; of course, the poets said it would be there. He looped the end of his pigtail into the ring and tied it tight. Then he sat in his chair to study some more. When he dozed, his own hair jerked his head back up. Hours later, when the pull on his scalp no longer kept him alert, he opened the table drawer, where he found an awl. Like the poets whose blood had been wiped off it, he jabbed the owl into his thigh, held it there, and studied on. At the worst dark of the night, he needed neither ring nor awl. 'Aiya!' Out of the disembodying dark came screams of men already driven mad, footsteps, scufflings, someone yelling, 'Ah Ma. Ah Ma.' The poets say that men have used the ring to hang themselves." (The Father from China, p. 26)