Book Review 9-7-02

Oprahfied Fiction
Memoirs of a Geisha and Fall on Your Knees

The good thing about being part of a reading group is that you will sometimes come across books that you love, but would never have known to read.

The bad thing is, you will often end up reading the same old crap that Oprah likes. Mainly, stories of women who get dumped on for much of their lives yet somehow survive and learn some sort of spiritual lesson about self-actualization. Sadly, none of them ever a) learn these lessons early enough in life to avoid said dumping, and b) become angry enough to go out and change things.

Fall on Your Knees is one such piece of tripe which my book group roped me into reading. Oprah's webpage describes it thusly:

Fall on Your Knees Moving from Cape Breton Island to the bleak landscape of World War I and the emerging jazz scene in New York City, this epic tale tells the story of four unforgettable sisters. This is a story of inescapable family bonds, of terrible secrets, of miracles, murder, passion and forbidden love.

You know, when you're talking the kind of quality schlock that gets put into Lifetime movies, you can't go wrong with "unforgettable sisters", "family bonds", and "terrible secrets." The unfortunate reader will discover that what this entails is interracial love, child prostitution, incest, gender-switching, homemade (botched) C-sections, religious mania, spiritual visitations by dead twins, baby-drowning, child prodigies, a malignant scarecrow demon, and the birth of jazz. Halfway through, I just got exhausted---and more than a little suspicious that the author wass throwing all this at me to distract me from her sketchy characters and less-than-earthshattering insights into human nature. Especially men, who all come off as brutal or stupid or both. This book has about as much literary value as Flowers in the Attic, which at least covered many of the same topics without pretending it was anything but pulp.

The next book my reading group inflicted on me was Memoirs of a Geisha. I was actually surprised to learn it wasn't on Oprah's list, because it toes the same empowering-but-not line as Fall on Your Knees. Memoirs is the story of a Japanese girl sold into geisha-dom as a child, who learns to pour tea, sell her virginity to the highest bidder, and destroy other geishas who are jealous of her beauty (which we are told about ad infinitum). At the end, she overcomes adversity to become...some guy's mistress. The End.

And while a competent author could have made this the stuff of great tragedy, the heroine of Memoirs appears to be neither bright nor interesting.

She never escapes her role as a geisha and appears to have almost no inner life, but tells us over and over how happy she is to pour tea, giggle at men's bawdy jokes, and shuffle around submissively in an uncomfortable wig for the rest of her days. For that reason, it's one of the most depressing books I've read in a while.

What's insidious about these newer ones is their piousness...their borrowing of historical research, "empowerment" and "women's strengths" to make old stupidities more palatable, even appealing. It's the same insidiousness that makes it impossible for me to read self-help books or watch Oprah's show, or any of its imitators. It's all about making the best of things as they are (women=weak, men=rapacious monsters, society=cruel, etc.), rather than, I don't know, running for Congress.

These books give you the luxury of feeling indignant about the way women have gotten mistreated for millennia, and are still getting mistreated, without making you feel like you need to go out and do anything about it. You're just supposed to, you know, love yourself. Or something. It's hard to tell exactly what you're supposed to do, other than look at men and say "How awful!" And then wait for a semi-religious mystical experience to show you what to do with your life.

No one ever seems to consider just getting out, not marrying the abusive husband, calling the cops, or learning a trade, at least not till they've already been visited by Jesus/kidnapped/raped/ impregnated or beaten.

Sexism dies hard, sadly, even among women. We can't seem to let go of making saints of women who make destructive choices. This culture of talk shows and self-help books and novels is almost masochistic, like we want to see women suffer. Maybe a lot of women think that's the way it has to be, are afraid to think what it would take for their lives not to be that way, and seeing other women suffer but survive makes them feel better.

But that doesn't make it healthy, and it doesn't reduce these books' creepy messages.