The Best Women Writers

I am so happy summer has come again and I have time for reading for pleasure! In my reverence for making the most of this time, I have found a list that I hope to follow through the summer.

Here is the link: http://www.buzzfeed.com/ariannarebolini/how-many-of-the-greatest-books-by-women-have-you-read

That's right, it's a Buzzfeed quiz. For those haters of Buzzfeed, I know where you are coming from, but this post is actually nice. It is a quiz made to see how many books by the greatest women writers you have read. I entered the quiz with high expectations, but I was shocked to see that out of 121, I had only read 18! Oh the shame! Therefore, I sought to resolve this problem as fast as I could.

My first choice was The Joy Luck Club by Amy Tan, which I had heard great praise of and was most interested in because it had been compared to one of my favorite books The Woman Warrior by Maxine Hong Kingston (it's on the list!). Below is a raving book review.

My next choice was The Tale of Genji by Mirusaki Shikibu. I took a Japanese Literature class on the kibyoshi (an early form of comicbook), which began with a discussion of Mirusaki Shikibu. The Tale of Genji is accredited as the first novel ever written (bet you didn't know it was written by a woman in Japan). However, the original tale is ginormous (as in twice the size of War and Peace). So in the spirit of the kibyoshi class, I found an illustrated version and a comicbook version to read! Hopefully with the two texts I will be able to get the fullest experience.

The next book up is I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings by Maya Angelou, which I chose to do in honor of her recent passing.

Look forward to the book reviews coming up and take a look at the quiz to see how you match up against these great women.

The Joy Luck Club: A Book Review

I had only heard tell of this book in my survey of Asian American literature course. It was mentioned in passing because it was assumed that if we were really interested in Asian American literature (and not just taking the course for a lit. credit or ethnic studies credit), we would have already read it. Again, I felt the shame of an uncultured bookworm on me. Therefore, when I saw it on my prized list of greatest women writers, I jumped at the chance to read it.

I took it with me on my trip to Portland OR and it only took the flights there and back for me to finish it. The book is set up as a number of short pieces from different women in four parts. All of the women are mother daughter pairs. I found myself constantly turning back to the contents page that listed each chapter and the woman it took its POV from. I found this very helpful to track the progress of the book and to understand the relationships of the particular mother and daughter. It was fascinating to see how Tan was able to weave each story together, to link them without direct mentioning of the other, and revealing how the mothers' stories fit themselves into their daughters' without them knowing, like a genetic history written into their DNA.

Tan's prose is beautiful. In each character's voice she created characters within characters by telling stories from childhood and reflecting on them through a present voice. This is a book that defies time for the reader, revealing how the women became who they are and how the experiences they had wash down into their daughters' lives. After taking multiple Asian American studies courses, the common theme of generational gaps, differences, and misunderstandings appear on every level. But Tan manages to make her generations' differences unique by showing the reader multiple POVs on the particular subject. In this way, the differences become personal and readers are able to view multiple opinions and reasons behind them. I saw myself and my mother in many of the interlocking dialogue in this book and believe all daughters could relate to the miscommunications readers observe.

I must say that I favored the mothers' stories over the daughters'.  Especially in their stories of childhood and escape from a war torn country, I felt myself bowing before their strength. Though students of Asian American studies often sympathize with the younger generation, who adapt to American culture, I found myself on the reverse side in Tan's work. It is a great book for seeing many sides of one core issue.

I cannot express how much I admire Tan's skill with lyrical language and mastery of the ability to voice the human psyche on a page. In her work, readers are not only told stories of these women's lives, but they become one with the woman, thinking her thoughts and saying her words. I recommend this book to anyone and everyone.

On to the my selected quotations:

“Now you see,' said the turtle, drifting back into the pond, 'why it is useless to cry. Your tears do not wash away your sorrows. They feed someone else's joy. And that is why you must learn to swallow your own tears."

“I know how it is to live your life like a dream. To listen and watch, to wake up and try to understand what has already happened.
You do not need a psychiatrist to do this. A psychiatrist does not want you to wake up. He tells you to dream some more, to find the pond and pour more tears into it. And really, he is just another bird drinking from your misery.
My mother, she suffered. She lost her face and tried to hind it. She found only greater misery and finally could not hide that. There is nothing more to understand. that was China. That was what people did back then. They had no choice. they could not speak up. they could not run away. That was their fate.”

“When you lose your face..., it is like dropping your necklace down a well. The only way you can get it back is to fall in after it.”  

“So this is what I will do. I will gather together my past and look. I will see a thing that has already happened. the pain that cut my spirit loose. I will hold that pain in my hand until it becomes hard and shiny, more clear. And then my fierceness can come back, my golden side, my black side. I will use this sharp pain to penetrate my daughter's tough skin and cut her tiger spirit loose. She will fight me, because this is the nature of two tigers. But I will win and giver her my spirit, because this is the way a mother loves her daughter.” 

“But now that I am old, moving every year closer to the end of my life, I also feel closer to the beginning. And I remember everything that happened that day because it has happened many times in my life. The same innocence, trust, and restlessness; the wonder, fear, and loneliness. How I lost myself.
I remember all these things. And tonight, on the fifteenth day of the eighth moon, I also remember what I asked the Moon Lady so long ago. I wished to be found.”

“She cried, 'No choice! No choice!' She doesn't know. If she doesn't speak, she is making a choice. If she doesn't try, she can lose her chance forever.
I know this, because I was raised the Chinese way: I was taught to desire nothing, to swallow other people's misery, to eat my own bitterness.
and even though I taught my daughter the opposite, she still came out the same way! Maybe it is because she was born to me and she was born a girl. And I was born to my mother and I was born a girl. All of us are like stairs, one step after another, going up and down, but all going the same way.
I know how it is to be quiet, to listen and watch, as if your life were a dream. You can close your eyes when you no longer want to watch. But when you no longer want to listen, what can you do? I can still hear what happened more than sixty years ago. 

Bad Women by Janice Miriktani

In an attempt to get myself writing again I am reading poetry. My attention was caught when I searched my campus library for keywords "woman," "Japanese American," and "poetry" and only one book returned with the results - Love Works by Janice Mirikitani. It's very good and I would recommend it to anyone interested in Asian American poetry or just reading poetry for pleasure.

This poem stood out as one of my favorites in the collection.

Bad Women
by Janice Mirikitani

From San Francisco Women's Summit Speech

delivered on April 25, 2000

Women must change the definition we've been taught about ourselves, and embrace our resilience that brought us through adversity. We reject the word "bad" in its traditional meaning, referring to women who should be silence with shame. Instead, we are women who, in recovery, are so good we "be BAD."

Bad women
          know how to cook
          create a miracle in a pot
          make something out of chicken feet, pigs feet, cornmeal,
          hogmaw, fisheads, fatback, ribs, roots, soy or red beans
Bad women overcome homelessness, violence, addiction and self hate.
Bad women march for equality
          education, jobs, childcare, universal health care,
          affirmative action and choice.
Bad women flaunt themselves
          plump as mangos, skinny as tallow
          tall, short
          dark as plums and coffee
          light as cream and butter
          gold as sun on lemons, red as cinnamon
          brown as kola.
Bad women don’t get old, they get full
          full flavored like aged wine
          full as harvest’s vine
          seasoned.
Bad women celebrate themselves,
          fingerpopping, hipshaking, big laughed, wisemouthed
          hefty thighed, smart thinking women
          hatwearing, soft syllabled, eyelash fluttering
          tangerine lipstick queens,
          small and big breasted
          fat kneed, skinny ankled women
          who dance without warning
          wrap their men or their women around their waist
           and dance to the edge of dawn.
Bad women know how to stir
          their tears in pots of compassion
          add some hot sauce, wasabe, five spices, jalapenos
          the salt of memory
          stoke the fire of history
          simmer in resilience
          make it taste like home.

Bad women can burn.