February Books

[sanalith]

I managed to get through five books this month, along with my daily Bible readings. My reviews got a little long winded this time, so I'm cutting them to save my poor readers.

Ellis Avery, The Teahouse Fire

This was a very…strange book, and I had a lot of difficulty ranking it. Basically it’s about a young girl who is taken to Japan by her uncle, a religious official, just after the beginning of the Meji Restoration. He is killed in a fire within their first few days there, and she runs away and ends up at a tea house, where she is taken in by the family to be a friend/maid to the eldest daughter.

To be perfectly honest, I didn’t bond with the characters very well, but the reason I ranked it so high is because the writing style was like nothing I’d ever read before. It was so amazingly lyrical and it seriously felt like everything was a metaphor for something else. It was written from an extremely tight first-person perspective of the orphan girl, and it was just so beautifully done. What I loved most was how the author – who was very clearly trained in the art of tea – used the tea ceremony and its changing role in society as a miniature representation of the changes of the country in general. What was once revered and only taught to the highest ranked males was now being sold to popular geisha. Where once a kimono was a central part of the ceremony – based on the guest, the season, the weather – an instructor now earned more if they dressed in western clothing. It could be extremely moving at times.

I did learn to like the main character, at least toward the end. Most of her “friends” in Japan had never seen a westerner before, and they believed the old stories that they were shaped like monsters and demons. They assumed she was from extremely far north, or perhaps had a horrible birth defect. But she learned to speak excellent Japanese – to the point of almost forgetting her English and French – and she was accepted for what she was, until more westerners came to the city. Then people started ignoring her or treating her like a leper.

I wouldn’t recommend this for people who don’t have at least some knowledge of Meiji Japan, because the history and meaning behind the actions of the characters are, at least in my opinion, even more engrossing than the characters themselves. Other than that, I’d say go for it.

Arthur Golden, Memoirs of a Geisha *
Mineko Iwasaki, Geisha, A Life

I’m putting these two together, because I re-read Memoirs for the express purpose of buying Geisha, A Life. For those of you who may not know, Mineko Iwasaki was one of the geisha Arthur Golden interviewed for his novel, and she apparently inspired him more than any others. There were two problems, however, the first and (to me) most important being that she agreed to be interviewed only if she remained anonymous. He apparently agreed, then thanked her by name in his author’s notes. As a former journalism major who had the importance of protecting sources drummed into her, this did in fact bug the crap out of me, and she very rightly sued him. Her other issue was with the text itself, which she claimed was inaccurate in many places and planted a false image of geisha as prostitutes into the minds of the western public. For this reason, she wrote her own autobiography to set the record straight.

This was, I think, my third reading of Memoirs, and to be honest, I’ve taken a lot of flack for my high opinion of it. A lot of people agree with Iwasaki’s opinion that Golden took too many liberties with the truth in his book. I agree with this to a point, but the fact is, it has always been marketed as a fictional novel. He acknowledges this openly in his notes. Quite frankly, it’s not his fault that too many people believe everything they read in books and see in movies. Yes, there were enough truths in the book to make it difficult at times to separate fact from fiction, but we also have to recall that Sayuri’s story could have happened to at least some geisha during her era. (It’s also important to note that Iwasaki lived decades after Sayuri’s story supposedly took place, so things very easily could have been different back then.) Many girls were taken from their homes forcefully. Iwasaki’s eldest sister never forgave her parents for what she deemed as selling her into slavery. I know the biggest issue many people have is Golden’s claim that it was common for geisha to sell their virginity, which Iwasaki empathically contradicts. I’m not prepared to say whether it happened or not, as I clearly wasn’t there, but again, we’re talking about fiction. Maybe it happened, maybe it didn’t, but it definitely makes for a good story, and that is what his work should be judged upon.

Plus, I love Nobu. I can’t help it. He’s my favorite character and I will never tire of him.

Iwasaki, of course, had a perfect right to tell her own story, to at least give the public another version of the life of a geisha, and one we can be sure was true for at least one person. It was a good story and I’m glad I read it, but to be honest, I really didn’t like her. That’s the main reason I scored it lower than Memoirs. She came across as extremely arrogant and rude, and yet, she was rather a coward. She was in the habit of hiding herself in closets whenever something bad happened to her, and she didn’t stop this until she was in her teens. I realize that this is a risk we take whenever we read a biography or autobiography. Unlike a novel, the author’s first duty is to tell the truth. If the story and the players happen to be engaging, so much the better, but it’s not as important as telling it like it is. I enjoyed reading about the events in her life, but I didn’t exactly enjoy her, if that makes sense.

The one thing her arrogance and stubbornness did allow her to do was to retire at the height of her popularity at age 29, because she was unhappy with the way the system was run and it was very clear that no one was listening to her ideas for change. I highly respect her for taking her life into her own hands like that, and she very clearly had a happy life after she left. I think if she hadn’t had such a high amount of pride and sense of self-worth, she never would have been able to tear herself away from a system that essentially took care of her and provided for her every need. The one time she tried to live away from her okiya (geisha house) she was back rather quickly when she discovered she had no idea how to cook or wash clothes or do anything for herself. But none of that mattered when it came time to leave for good. For that, I respect her greatly.

Joan Haslip, The Lonely Empress: Elizabeth of Austria

This is the third biography I have read on Empress Elisabeth of Austria, and I think it’s safe to say that it’s my least favorite thus far. That’s not to say it didn’t have its good points, or that I wouldn’t recommend it to my fellow Sisi lovers – because it did and I would – but in comparison to the other books I’ve read, it did fall a little short. There are no footnotes, which always drives the historian in me insane, and Haslip used the “anglicanized” versions of some of the names – Elizabeth instead of Elisabeth, Francis Joseph for Franz, and Sophia for Sophie – which was rather jolting at first. But the most important thing to know going into this book is that the author pulls absolutely no punches. She paints Sisi in a very negative light, emphasizes her vanity and her cult of beauty, and basically sees her as a cold-hearted woman. And while everything she says was most likely true, she makes very little attempt to explain why Elisabeth might have acted the way she did. She does mention the rivalry between Elisabeth and Sophie, but she places most of the blame for that squarely in Sisi’s lap. In Haslip’s eyes, she was a very poor mother and wife – which I agree she could be – and she doesn’t offer much in the way of forgiveness.

Now, I fully agree that Elisabeth was all these things and more. But the other authors I’ve read at least attempt to see things from her perspective. Brigitte Hamann's The Reluctant Empress is an extremely good example of a balanced narrative. She acknowledges Elisabeth’s faults and doesn’t try to gloss over anything, but she makes and effort to explain the potential motives behind her actions. Sisi was a very young and confused bride who had little to no support her entire life. I’m not saying she should be forgiven for acting the way she did, but it’s important to be fair. When Haslip did try to explain Sisi’s actions, she had a tendency to blame it all on her family history of insanity. And while constant inbreeding definitely does have that effect, and it’s well-documented that Elisabeth was fascinated by insanity and saw it as her potential fate, I think it’s a little harsh to blame her entire personality on that.

Haslip also tended to skip over what she considered the more well-known events of Elisabeth’s life. Her visit to the mad Queen Charlotte, for example, she merely glossed over, calling it apocryphal. This is one of the more interesting narratives for me, so I was a little saddened by that. She did this a few other times, as well, so even if you don’t mind the intense negativity toward Sisi, I wouldn’t recommend this as a first read to someone wanting a little history. Haslip rather takes it for granted that her readers already know the basics.

At the same time, for Sisi lovers like myself, I truly would recommend this. It’s always good to have a new perspective, whether I agree with it or not, and in some cases, I thought she did extremely well. Her portrayal of Rudolph was very well-done, and I may say that her take on the events leading up to Mayerling, the suicide itself, and the subsequent reactions of the family and press, may be the best I’ve ever read. So if you’re like me and you’ve read a few other biographies first, I’d say go ahead and try this one. Otherwise, I’d recommend Hamann's bio or The Golden Fleece by Bertita Harding. The latter is perhaps a little skewed in favor of Elisabeth – and it doesn’t have footnotes either – but it takes historical events in the correct order, doesn’t gloss over anything, and doesn’t assume the reader knows anything about Sisi or her family, so it’s a good first read.

Lao Tzu, Tao Te Ching: The Definitive Edition, trans. Jonathan Star

This is the first of several religious and philosophical texts I’m going to be reading this year. As I noted in my master list, the rankings for these books are strictly for the translation and commentary. In other words, how easy did they make it for people who perhaps have no previous knowledge of the religion to read and understand it. I’m not going to get into the business of judging the actual texts, because no way am I going to even take the chance of offending anyone. Yes, yes, that may be the coward’s way out, but oh well =P

In any event, this book was awesome. I seriously cannot even begin to describe its awesomeness. I read it in a single evening – I just couldn’t put it down. I’m definitely going to go out and buy it. It actually had more information in it than I wanted, which I didn’t think was possible. In so many cases, I think translators and historians build themselves and their books up to sound greater than they are, but as far as I’m concerned, Mr. Star has a perfect right to call his work definitive.

The book is broken up into several segments. He starts with a history of Lao Tzu and the legend of how he wrote the Tao Te Ching, and then goes on to discuss the possible meanings of Tao and the legacy of the religion. My favorite part of his intro was his honesty in describing his translation problems. Anyone who knows anything about the Chinese language knows that kanji is a bear to translate. Each symbol can have multiple meanings depending on context, and while it makes the language itself beautiful and full of hidden depth and meaning, it makes translating it properly as near to impossible as it gets. Add to this the fact that the entire meaning behind Taoism is that Tao cannot be understood. If anyone thinks they understand it, then it’s clear they don’t. So how could he possibly translate something that isn’t supposed to be understood even in its original language? Star eventually came to the conclusion that, in a way, it was very fitting that an accurate translation wasn’t possible, because Lao Tzu wouldn’t have wanted one anyway. Perhaps these problems only increased the mysteriousness of his beliefs. I thought that was pretty awesome.

The next section was a translation of the 81 verses of the actual Tao Te Ching, and despite all the above issues, I thought Star did an amazing job. The beauty and simplicity of Lao Tzu’s beliefs were extremely clear, and I honestly don’t think anyone could provide a better translation. In some of the notes in the latter parts of the text, Star offered other translations from several other historians and I didn’t care for them nearly as much. Many of them didn’t have the lyrical quality that Star managed to preserve.

The third part of the book was a literal word-for-word translation of each of the verses, with each kanji reproduced and every single possible meaning given. This was the “more information than I needed” part, but for a true Chinese linguist, it would have been invaluable. He then offered some notes on certain verses and discussed some of the more important Taoist concepts, like wu wei (actionless action), and concluded with a 20-page analysis of the first verse alone, which is considered to be the heart of the Taoist belief system.

I might be somewhat prejudiced because Taosim is one of my favorite eastern beliefs, but I truly believe Star did a superb job of translating, commenting, and analyzing the Tao Te Ching while still preserving its essential mysticism and simplistic beauty. I can give this my highest recommendations without any hesitation.

Lastly, I’m still on course with my Read-the-Bible-in-a-Year plan. I’ve gotten through the first three and a half books of the Old Testament, and I finished Matthew and am about a third of the way through Mark. I’m starting to wish that I actually looked for an annotated Bible to read instead of just a regular copy, because there are things I’m just not getting. Like, at one point, God tells Moses that the head of each of the 12 Tribes of the Israelites must make him an offering (which he does a lot, but this one was special) and the entire page was a listing of what they gave Him. The thing is, each tribe gave the exact same offering, and so the same list was repeated twelve times. This seems rather unnecessary to me, but I’m sure there’s some sort of reason for it. I just…don’t know what it is. Despite this, I’m still liking the Old Testament for its scope, though the second half of Matthew was really very inspiring. The difference between the two is just amazing, really. I just read a passage where, in the Old Testament, a man was caught gathering sticks on the Sabbath and God ordered him stoned to death. Compare that to Jesus, who taught compassion and love, although sometimes he seemed really frustrated with our human limitations. I’m definitely still glad to be doing this.