Review: The Joy Luck Club (by Amy Tan)

My Rating:  5 stars

Catch up review #3

I read The Joy Luck Club for the first time many many years ago, when I was a teenager in high school.  At the time, despite my shared background with the characters in the interconnected stories (the "Americanized" daughter of Chinese immigrant parents), I was too young to fully understand the significance of the book from a cultural perspective.  Re-reading this book now, as an adult, is a completely different experience for me, in large part due to the insights that I've gained from the 4 decades I've spent (and continue to spend) navigating my cultural identity. 

Consisting of 16 interconnected stories narrated alternately by 4 pairs of Chinese mothers and their Chinese-American daughters, Amy Tan's debut novel is a powerful exploration of the struggle between the mothers and daughters to relate to and understand each other amongst the cultural and generational disparities that define their relationships.  As I mentioned earlier, reading The Joy Luck Club this time around felt very different from when I did so in my youth — in addition to picking up on nuances with language that I didn't notice previously, most significant was the resonance I felt in the experiences of the various characters. Not only did I recognize aspects of myself in each of the daughters, I also recognized the struggles  in each of their relationships with their mothers — relationships fraught with misunderstandings, communication issues, unspoken hurt and pain, defiant silences, etc., yet ultimately rooted in love and the unbreakable bonds of family.  Each story had a familiar experience or feeling that I recognized and related to.  In the story "Without Wood," for example, I understood exactly where Rose was coming from when she kept hesitating time and time again to tell her mother An-Mei about her impending divorce because she was trying to avoid the criticism, judgment, and unwanted advice that was sure to follow her revelation (avoiding criticism from our mothers is pretty much a way of life for many Chinese daughters). The story "Two Kinds" brought tears to my eyes because I understood acutely the sense of failure that comes with not living up to my mother's hope and expectations (not to mention the argument about obedience and the expectations of a Chinese daughter that Jing-Mei has with her mother Suyuan echoes ones I've had in the past with my mom).  In the story "Rules of the Game," I commiserated with Waverly when her attempt to rebuke and defy her mother leads to her getting the silent treatment (which is something I've experienced countless times growing up). These were just a few examples among many.

But it wasn't just the daughters' experiences that I related to — the stories told from the mothers' perspectives were also profound in the way they provided clarity to some of the cultural circumstances that informed the mothers' lives, which in turn, affected their behaviors toward their daughters.  In these stories, I was able to recognize some of my own mother's experiences as well as things she's told me in the past that, at the time, I may not have understood the significance — these stories then, had the effect of helping me reflect and make better sense of things. 

Aside from being able to resonate with the characters' experiences and feelings on a personal level, I also appreciated coming across so many cultural references in the book that I grew up hearing about — a few examples: the Moon Lady story, the tale of Old Mr. Chou (I was also told the tale when I was a kid), the superstition about rice husbands (this was a huge one in my family), the historical details about China from some of the mothers' stories, etc.

With all that said though, the biggest thing that sets this book apart from so many others about the Chinese-American experience is the writing.  Tan writes in a way that, on the surface, appears simple and straightforward, but when you look deeper, there is a masterful complexity to it that, quite frankly, blows my mind.  In my previous review of Tan's novel The Kitchen God's Wife, I touched on how brilliantly she uses the mechanics of language to create nuance and meaning — this is certainly the case here as well.  At the same time, Tan's writing is also thoughtful, meticulous, and sincere — all qualities that, to me, are absolutely necessary when it comes to books (and stories) about cultural experiences.

I'm usually not a huge re-reader, especially nowadays when I have so many books I haven't yet read that I actually want to read.  But some books are worth taking the time to re-read —The Joy Luck Club is definitely one of them.  

Review: The Kitchen God’s Wife (by Amy Tan)

My Rating:  4.5 stars

As I mentioned in a previous review — I've read quite a few books over the past few weeks, but did not get around to writing reviews on any of them.  I have a little more time now so I'm trying to "catch up" on those reviews.  This, then, is catch up review #2.

One of the books I read during this time period is Amy Tan's The Kitchen God's Wife —originally published in 1991, this is Tan's second novel after The Joy Luck Club (which I also read and will review at a later date). As most readers familiar with Tan probably know, many of her works contain autobiographical elements (to an extent) either from her own life or from her family's background. In this case, the story is based on her mother Daisy's history and while many of the details were changed, the essence of her mother's backstory remained — specifically the depictions of how women were treated in China during that time period (1920s to late 1940s) as well as some of the things she had to endure and survive.  At its heart though, this is also a historical novel that chronicles the changes in China from the 1920s (when the vestiges of its feudal past were especially apparent) leading up to WWII and its aftermath (one of the things I appreciate most is that Tan tells this history from the Chinese perspective, rather than from the Western perspective).  

Interestingly enough, the story actually starts in the 1980s, in San Francisco, and the first few chapters do feel a little like The Joy Luck Club with its exploration of mother/daughter relationships and the generational as well as cultural gap that causes seemingly insurmountable tensions between them.  The mother is Winnie Louie, who is forced to tell her daughter Pearl about her past when her sister-in-law Helen (who believes herself to be dying) wants to "come clean" and confess all the secrets they've been hiding for decades. Winnie tells her story starting in chapter 5 through to the end (with the exception of the very last chapter, which brings everything full circle back to 1980s San Francisco).

To me, this book was more grim and harder to get through than Tan's other works — which, in a way, isn't too surprising given its subject matter.  Though there are certainly light-hearted moments (especially in the "modern-day" sections of the story) and the fact that the story starts with Winnie telling her own story 40 years later (so we already know she survives all the hardship from her past) lightens things a little with the message of hope and resilience, but the events that happen in the past leave such an impression that I couldn't help feeling like a dark shadow had been cast and couldn't be lifted.  The character of Wen Fu (Winnie's husband in China) was so deplorable and despicable that after some point, I honestly didn't want to read about this god-awful person anymore (though of course I finished all the way through to the end).

Overall, I did like this one and would definitely recommend it (though trigger warnings abound), as Tan's writing is, as usual, wonderful. I've always admired Tan's style of writing — how she is able to synthesize everything she and/or her family experienced and combine it with the skills she learned (she majored in English and Linguistics in school) to manipulate language in a way that conveys cultural nuance and meaning. To this point, The Kitchen God's Wife is especially significant in that, not only does she pull out her entire literary toolkit (I actually did a deep dive analysis of Tan's writing but I won't get into that here), but she also employs meticulous research to weave lesser known historical elements into a story inspired by her mother's background — all of this combined has the effect of paying tribute to her mother and her own culture and background, while at the same time, educating readers on aspects of China's history.  Trigger warnings aside, this one is definitely well worth a read. 

Review: Where the Past Begins: A Writer's Memoir (by Amy Tan)

My Rating: 3.5 stars rounded up to 4 stars

When I first learned that I had been approved for an ARC of Amy Tan’s new memoir, I was excited, as I’ve enjoyed quite a few of Amy’s books and count The Joy Luck Club as one of my favorites.  Reading the summary, I understood going into it that this would be a memoir where Amy talks about many of the things that influenced her writing over the last 3 decades, with emphasis on her family’s history and her own cultural heritage, both of which have served as a basis for her novels.  While I would say yes, this memoir did deliver in terms of what was laid out in the summary, it did so in a way that I didn’t quite expect, which impacted my overall enjoyment of the book as a whole. 

In her memoir, family history was conveyed via the various mementos and keepsakes Amy finds – old photographs, letters, documents, newspaper clippings, etc. – all of which opened up the floodgates of her memories of her childhood, her relationship with her parents, her brothers, her extended family and relatives in China, some of whom she never really got to know.  Digging deep into the past, Amy describes in candid detail the story of her maternal grandmother’s life in China (the differing versions told to her by her mother and by relatives) and the impact this had on the life her mother ended up leading as well as the type of person she eventually became – the significance being how greatly this impacted the next generation, specifically Amy and the books she ended up writing.  I found this part of the book fascinating and most enjoyable.  But then, in the middle of all this history, entire sections are inserted that appear to be excerpted from Amy’s journals -- random segments that seem to be (somewhat philosophical) self-reflections on her writing, tangents from her imaginative mind, ideas she had jotted down over the years as well as parts of stories that she had written that never got published. For me, these journal excerpts were the parts of the book that I didn’t expect and in fact, broke the flow of the narrative about Amy’s life and her family, which affected my ability to enjoy this book as much as I would’ve liked.  There was also a chapter that consisted entirely of letters between Amy and her editor, letters exchanged during the writing of The Valley of Amazement – while the letters were interesting and at times fun to read, I felt that they were a bit of a distraction and, like the journal entries, broke the flow of the book a bit.  Of course, it didn’t help that I haven’t yet read The Valley of Amazement, so much of what was said about the novel was lost on me – perhaps later, after I read the book, I can come back to this chapter, during which time I’m sure I would be able to appreciate this chapter better.

In addition to giving us insight into her family’s history and past, Amy also revealed many of her personal struggles, some of which I was surprised to find out about, such as her having epilepsy and the periodic lapses in her brain being able to function properly, also the fact that she suffered from depression that stemmed largely from her tragic childhood and a family history (on her mother’s side) of suicidal tendencies.  There were also the instances where she narrowly escaped death several times, all of which were described in such detail that it made my heart stop a few times.  I appreciated all the details and stories that Amy told about her own life as well as those of her family, but what appealed to me most was Amy’s depiction of her relationship with her mother, which was so vividly described in here (the theme of mother-daughter relationships is one of the things I love most about her novels – the ones that I’ve read, that is).  There were so many aspects of Amy’s childhood and upbringing that I was able to relate to, but most of all, it was her relationship with her mother that had me floored because of the striking similarities to my relationship with my mom -- many of the experiences Amy described about the way she and her mother often interacted, I had actually experienced the same things growing up, so I knew exactly what she was talking about when she described her feelings and reactions to situations that had occurred.  I was also shocked at some of the similarities in background with our parents (i.e.: my mom is also Shanghainese and came from a well-to-do family, also a beauty in her youth who lived a privileged life but left all that behind to start over again in another country; my dad was also born into a Cantonese family with an ancestral home in Guangzhou and also came from a large family, with him being the oldest of 10 children).  My parents’ histories weren’t as tragic of course, but many of the cultural and emotional nuances that Amy and her brothers experienced as a result of being raised in an immigrant Chinese household parallel the experiences my brother and I had -- also the pressure this caused on the entire family was similar (i.e.:  the struggles with assimilating to a completely different life in a foreign country, constantly having to live up to certain expectations, the resentment towards having to give up so much in exchange for a way of life that didn’t turn out as expected, etc.).  It is this personal connection and also the emotional impact from reading Amy’s story that made me round this up to a 4.  I greatly admire Amy and her mother’s strength, resolve, endurance, and most of all resilience in the face of all the tragedy and loss their family suffered.  What is also admirable is Amy’s continued dedication to her mother after the death of her father and brother – a dedication that continued to endure despite all the arguments and the hurts and the emotional pain inflicted (whether intentionally or unintentionally).  The chapter where Amy described her relationship with her mother during the last years of her mother’s life, when she was suffering from Alzheimer’s and could barely talk or move, up through the days of her death, truly moved me to tears.  That chapter alone reinforced for me the power of love and family and its ability to put previous grievances and wrongs suffered into perspective. 

Despite the issues I had with the format (if it had been better organized instead of all over the place, I think I would’ve given this book a solid 4 stars, maybe even higher), I would still recommend this memoir to Amy’s fans and/or anyone who has enjoyed her novels.  The writing is wonderfully descriptive in many places and quite a few passages were beautifully rendered.  The 80% or so of the book that talked about her childhood, family history, and their influences on her writing and in shaping who she became, really pulled me in…the rest, not as much, but overall this was still a worthwhile read.  Also, knowing what I know now about the influence of her family background in her writing, this makes me want to go back and read/re-read Amy’s novels in the context of what I learned, as I’m sure her novels will take on a whole new meaning for me now.

Received advance reader’s copy from Harper Collins / Ecco via Edelweiss