In my current anxiety ridden state of life I have been trying a bunch of different things to calm myself down. My anxiety first reared its disgusting head when I went away to college, and now I'm a senior who has frequent anxiety attacks and has succeeded into worrying herself into full blown sickness at least three times now, if not more. One of the ways I have tried to combat my caffeine coerced, probably going to develop a heart condition, life is by slowing down and trying to read more. Getting away from screens is difficult for a film major and social media addict like me, so I figured that going back to the printed page would help to de-stress my life a little, even if only for a moment.
Since November I have read one extremely shitty obscure fantasy novel I won't even both naming because I have nothing good to say about it, Slaughterhouse Five, Fight Club, and I just finished Memoirs of a Geisha. After Slaughterhouse and Fight Club I felt like I really gained a better understanding of the minds of men, and completely unintentionally took a dramatic swing back into the realm of estrogen and femininity.
I was initially attracted to Memoirs of a Geisha because I not only love historical fiction, but I also have a fondness for Japan. I remember seeing the commercials for the movie back when I was in fifth grade, before my introduction to Japanese culture, and I was enthralled by the beautiful women in the kimonos and the strange world they inhabited. So when I found a copy of it in a thrift shop in December, it brought to mind the sad dancing girl from the commercial I had seen all those years ago, and I was curious to know her story.
What I expected form the book was the story of a young girl who becomes a Geisha and some sort of strange love story that resulted in her growth as a character, interspersed with actual history and practices of Geisha during the time surrounding WWII. While the latter was correct, the story of a girls growth into a woman on the other hand was replaced with a watered down fairytale. Poor little Chiyo/Sayuri spends the entire novel pining after a single man, who she has almost little to no contact with other than ogling at him at dinner parties. Then after fantasizing about him the entire time he magically comes to her rescue and confesses he has been madly in love with her the entire time as well. They live happily ever after, nullifying nearly every conflict in the entire book.
Up until the last chapter this book had such potential. It could have been a beautiful tragedy where the Chairman, upon seeing her with the Minister, is so disgusted he tells Nobu, and together they destroy her reputation. Getting her kicked out of the Nitta okiya and forced to become a prostitute, she could die alone realizing she threw away her life pining for a man who never knew her. Or she could re-unite with her sister miraculously and end up back in her hometown, realizing that rural life is more fulfilling because everything carries a weight and she is more than a pretty sexual object to be enjoyed by men. However, the way I really hoped this book would end was that Nobu would become Sayuri's danna and that she would truly love him.
I'm sure that not a lot of you share my sentiment, after all, Nobu is pretty much an ass the entire book. But he is also one of the only men who really talks to Sayuri like she is a person. Everyone else talks to her like she is a child or a sexual object, but he treats her as he treats every one, and not only that but he gives her the opportunity to challenge him. I wished so many times that Sayuri would talk back to Nobu when he was attacking her for no reason, because he is the kind of person who needs that. Or at least I think he is. From what I read, Nobu was a man who desperately wanted to be loved, and he thought that Sayuri loved him so he did everything in he power to love her in return. But unfortunately she was too dumb and selfish to realize that and continued to pine for a man she barely knew. She never learned anything, she never grew. But if she had I think she would have recognized how much Nobu loved her and learned about to love him back.
I suppose that the Chairman-ex-machina was the "happiest" way the books could have ended, but it made Sayuri's character become completely unrealistic. Her downfall was set up eloquently with this bit of monologue from chapter twenty-nine:
"What if I came to the end of my life and realized that I'd spent everyday watching for a man who would never come to me? What an unbareable sorrow it would be, to realize I'd never really tasted the things I'd eaten, or seen the place's I'd been, because I'd thought of nothing but the Chairman even while my life was drifting away from me. And yet if I drew my thoughts back from him, what life would I have? I would be like a dancer who had practiced since childhood for a performance she would never give."
After that point I knew I was reading a woman written by a man. Our lives aren't completed by the presence or commitment of a man. They may add to our happiness in a way, but they do not fulfill our purpose for living or sustain our hope. By choosing the Chairman at the end of the book Sayuri confirmed that without him her life would have no purpose and she could be nothing without him. She could have made herself into so much more, but she choose to stay in objectified limbo, refusing to grow or develop into a real woman. The ending unraveled the reality the author was trying to weave into his fiction, and in the end the loose ends were tied up too well.
On a side note, I think that the reason I am so biased about Nobu is because I have someone very similar to Nobu in my own life. Reading his dialogue in the book reminded me of conversations I have had with this man in the past, which was something I was not expecting when I was first introduced to the character. I was swayed by Nobu's blunt crassness and felt like I could see the tender heart behind the scar tissue, because I am very fond of the man Nobu reminds me of. He has two arms, and no facial scars, but he has had a rough life and might as well have been partially blow up by a bomb. He has also had many a pretty girl walk in and out of his life, vying for his attention, playing with his heart, and then doing their own version of sleeping with the Minister. Like Sayuri, these girls never once thought of how their actions might affect him because he was a hard man, and a man like that couldn't possibly have his heart broken. Would he react angrily? Yes. But to be wounded on an emotional level? Never. Just because a man can take a hit does not justify you taking a swing at him.
I do admit that my own feelings definitely affected the way I read and enjoyed this book, but so does everyone. Regardless of what you think, I do not like the fairytale ending and the completely unrealistic portrayal of a woman that is Sayuri. I know that a lot of Japanese people were offended by this book, but honestly I would have to do a lot more research before I could even begin to discuss that topic.
Despite my complaints, over all I really did enjoy the book. Arthur Golden's style really does capture what I feel like is a very good look into what Japan might have been like in the 1940s, just from what little I do know about Japanese culture. Even if it wasn't, the world he created and the characters that inhabited it were interesting and well written (besides maybe Sayuri). I would recommend it if you are looking for a well written, culturally different book with a happy ending.
Quotes:
"This is why dreams can be such dangerous things: they smolder on like a fire does, and sometimes consume us completely."
"Young girls hope all sorts of foolish things, Sayuri. Hopes are like hair ornaments. Girls want to wear too many of them. When they become old women they look silly wearing even one."
"Adversity is like a strong wind. I don't mean just that it holds us back from the places we might otherwise go. It also tears away from us all but the things that cannot be torn, so that afterward we see ourselves as we really are, and not merely as we might be."
