Other Women's Stories: What I'm reading this week (4/29/19)

Last week I finished:

Where are you on letting a cover affects your choice in books? I give a book cover a lot of sway in my reading life. I look at hundreds of books to find the ones I want to read, so one way to narrow things down easily is the cover. I feel safe in doing this because if you know anything about marketing (and I admittedly know very little), you know how much thought and energy is likely put into every aspect of book cover creation--the pictures chosen, the colors, the font, where the title is, etc. The cover is a package created to appeal to a certain reading demographic. But every now and then I am led astray by a cover. Crazy Rich Asians (and the subsequent books in the series) is one of those. I kind of wanted to see the movie, so I decided to try the book on audio first. I was only 50% invested in finishing it. I had a feeling I might bale, but I was fine with that. I'm not big on "chick lit" or "beach reads" or whatever you call fluffier brands of fiction. I tend to like a more literary novel, and the cover told me Crazy Rich Asians wasn't doing to be that. And it wasn't. But it also wasn't the kind of fluff I expected. The story is this: Rachel Chu travels with her boyfriend to Singapore to attend a friend's wedding. She's unprepared for the enormous wealth she finds herself surrounded by. These are very rich folks, and her boyfriend's family is chief among them. Rachel and Nicholas's story is only one plot of the book, and the chapters alternate between the various families and the dramas unfolding within. There are a lot of characters here, as there are three generations represented, and I was initially concerned that I'd never be able to keep them all straight. It got easier as things went along, but I never was able to keep the aunts straight. This is basically a book of Asians behaving badly. And haughtily, and snobbishly, and condescendingly. Most of the action is outrageous, but there are moments, too, of kindness. I tend to dislike books where any of the characters are either all bad or all good. I just find that lazy (or perhaps immature) writing. There are some of those here (Rachel is all good, for instance), but most have depth and balance, and this fleshing out of characters is what made the book readable to me. It didn't take long for me to become fully engrossed in the story and characters. I loved the descriptions of the homes and fashions and cuisine, and the writing was vivid enough that I could see the scenes unfold. I enjoyed this book immensely--regardless of its cover. I'd like to read the others in the series now. The characters are the same, and I'm glad, because I got attached to their extreme personalities. This was a fun romp through the world lived in by the other half, and I recommend it to anyone needing something a little lighter but engaging. My rating: 4 stars.

Now, all that talk about book covers above comes into play again with Becoming Mrs. Lewis. When the book was released last fall, I took one look at the cover and said, nope, not for me. It looked a little too precious and "womany". And I should have listened to my wise counsel. Though it wasn't precious, it wasn't good literature either. I disliked this book very much. I didn't like the characters, and I thought the writing was awful. This is the fictionalized story of writer Joy Davidman's friendship and romance with C.S. Lewis. Davidman is stuck in an awful marriage (the husband is one of those one-dimensional all bad characters) and falls in love with C.S. Lewis through correspondence. Then she abandons her husband and young children to go to England to spend more time with Lewis, who does not return her romantic affection because she's married. You can guess from the title how it all comes together, but I'm here to tell you, it's not really worth the cost of admission. Perhaps if you have an affinity for C.S. Lewis or know anything about Davidman (I can't claim either), this will mean more to you. I had to approach it as a novel, and as such it's poorly written, unimaginative, maudlin, and bland. I especially disliked the audio version, where I thought the narrator was particularly ill-suited. It made a bad book worse. I know I'm in the minority with this book, so if Lewis interests you, and if you don't need your novels to be literature, give it a try (though I'd suggest book form). As for me, I would have abandoned the book had any of my other audiobook holds not been so slow to come in. This one made me cranky. My rating: 2 stars.

Amy Tan is a master storyteller. If you've never read her novels, you should probably stop reading this and just go ahead and go to your nearest library or bookstore. That said, I do like some of her novels more than others. My favorite is The Kitchen God's Wife, published in 1991. I think I prefer this to her better-known The Joy Luck Club because more of the action is in China than present-day America, but it's been so long since I've read TJLC that I can't be sure. Maybe I just prefer the story. Both are set in America with characters looking back to their dramatic and traumatic years in China. In The Kitchen God's Wife, Winnie is telling the story of her life in China in the years surrounding World War II, including her abusive husband, loss of children, foolish friends and hardhearted relatives, and all the usual war-related drama. Tan's characters are always very colorful. The women are often hyper-critical, which makes for some light moments. Her novels often explore the push-pull Chinese-American daughters feel when balancing their mothers' traditional Chinese beliefs and ways of seeing the world and their modern American outlooks. What sets Tan's work apart in this novel (and some of her others) is her storytelling. The storytelling is so engrossing that it transports you to another country and another time and keeps you there. It holds your attention, and though this book is long, there's never anything extraneous. Re-reading Stephen King's On Writing a few weeks ago, he said his impetus for the book was a conversation he had with Tan about what readers never ask you about in the Q&As after book readings, and she said: the language. The language really is what sets Tan apart from many other writers. The first time I read this book, 20 or more years ago, I assumed her ability to tell a good story was a characteristic of her Asian heritage. Perhaps that's some of it, but maybe some people are just born with that brain. Just like some people are born to run marathons or fuse culinary flavors or design bridges. This one stood up to re-reading, and I'm so glad I returned to it. Though the story is dark, you're really in it for the transportive power of the story. My rating: 4.5 stars.

I remember watching Oprah Winfrey's TV show in the 1980s. Though I was never a devoted fan, I have tuned in over the years, read a few of her book club selections way at the beginning (and some since, of course). I've enjoyed Super Soul Sunday episodes of her show on her OWN channel. I've read some of her O magazines (and I'll always hold on to the copy that features her library). But perhaps my favorite Oprah experience is reading What I Know for Sure. This is my second time with the book (my first reading was on audio). The audio is wonderful, because you get her advice to women in her voice, and it feels like she's talking just to you. This time, I read it on Kindle, and I could still hear her voice. She discusses joy and resilience and what soulfulness means to her. She talks about friendship and self-care and food and all the rest. The essays are short, so this could be read as a sort of Oprah devotional. There is a lot of sagacity here, a lot of confidence, a lot of hoping that you're living your best life. If you like this sort of thing, the market is flooded with options, but this is one of the better because it's one of the wiser. My rating: 4 stars.

Years ago I encountered Marie Howe's wonderful poem "What the Living Do", easily in my top five favorite poems. After discovering the poem, I immediately devoured the book it came from, also called What the Living Do. I haven't read this book for many years, and I'd forgotten if I liked it or not, because the book has become simply where I can find that wonderful title poem. On re-reading, I discovered what a wonderful collection it is. Most of the poems chronicle the loss of her brother, John (the "Johnny" in the title poem), grief, and family. Early poems in the collection talk about her childhood and sexual abuse at the hand of her father. (My goodness but a lot of female poets were abused by their fathers.) This all makes it sound like an awfully grim collection, but it really didn't feel grim to me. The love with which the poems are written keeps them from being traumatic, but they never veer too far into sentimentality. She strikes the perfect balance, serious, frank, and unassuming. I loved this collection. It felt very cohesive, and it struck the right note. The poems are approachable and relatable. Highly recommend. My rating: 4 stars.

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