I have decided to write book reviews for every book that I read outside of school. I love to read, and am sad that numerous things (including school, books we read for school, and life) keep me from reading everything I want to read (basically everything). (Although I would add that school does not keep me from reading, but rather forces me to do it more subtly, as I have a bad-but-unbreakable habit of reading during class). Some things I read on a regular basis include the newspaper (every morning, although lately it's been every afternoon), the New Yorker magazine (which I read cover-to-cover and quote frequently), poetry (particularly Andrea Gibson), and every type of book imaginable. In 8th grade, I started keeping a list of books I wanted to read. I couldn't bear the idea of not having anything to read. That list has now filled two notebooks and is well on its way to filling a third, so I don't think that will ever happen. I also currently have a pile of books. (I made a point of reading all the books on my bookshelf. It seems obvious that you'd have read the books on your bookshelf, but when I checked a couple years ago, to my surprise, I hadn't. I promptly took care of that). My pile of books includes books I got for my birthday (some on math, some on languages (another thing that fascinate me), some on theatre, some miscellaneous), books I got at a Worthy Cause yard-sale, and (mostly) books I got at a moving sale at the house of someone on my street. I went over and introduced myself. They asked what I might be interested in. I said old telephones (I collect them) and books. They showed me two huge boxes of books, and said, take what you want for free. Those are dangerous words to say to me, my friends. Dangerous words. I filled a grocery bag to the brim, and ended up needing to reinforce it with a second bag so it wouldn't rip under the weight.
(Though it isn't the point of this post, I would like to take a tangent train to nowhere for a moment and say that while I think I've made it obvious that I love books, you may be mistaken, and think I mean only the substance of books, namely stories or knowledge or whatnot. No. I love the entire book--the ink, the words, the meaning they hold, the pages, the spine that cracks slowly as you progress, the feeling of holding a world in your hands. Especially the feeling of holding a world in your hands. But you know what I don't love? Electronic books. Kindles and Nooks and whatever other stupid names they call them. While I naturally support the sharing of words, there is an experience involved with reading, and technology does not have a place in it. I hate e-readers. I loathe them. I DETEST THEM. GAHHHHHHHH. And accessibility--carrying numerous books at your fingertips--bah! That's what bookstores are for! I have a beautiful memory of one summer vacation when we were visiting family, colleges, and scenic areas in Oregon and Washington. I did not bring enough reading material to fill my time and wandering mind. You know what I did? I went to bookstores, and looked at new arrivals and bestsellers, and got tips from a clerk (which turned out to be a terrible idea, as the resulting book was incredibly depressing, but regardless). When I finished that book, I got suggestions and borrowed from my family in Seattle. Books traverse boundaries. They are common bonds. They are something we can unite on, and discuss, and love. But they are a community effort, in the finding and sharing and giving and loving and understanding and teaching, and e-readers can't touch that. Or at least they better not. It's depressing enough when everyone on the Metro is on their iPhones or whatever, but if the smattering of newspapers and New Yorkers and real, live, actual books disappear, I don't know what I'll do. Probably open a bookstore. New future job, right there. Sorry this is such a long tangent. I HATE E-READERS).
Anyway...
One of the books I got at the yard sale was "Snow Flower and the Secret Fan", by Lisa See. It is a noval set in the 19th century, about two Chinese girls named Lily and Snow Flower, who become a laotong pair--two girls bonded together for eternity as kindred sisters, or "old-sames". Together, they progress through such cultural practices as foot-binding, marriage ceremonies, and the production (or lack thereof) of sons, who determined a woman's worth in society. They also learned, and communicated in, a secret phonetic language called nu shu, which was developed so women could have a way of communicating without the knowledge of men, who might've seen their messages as improper and unladylike.
This book interested me primarily because of the historical and cultural perspectives and information given. I knew (and know) very little about Chinese culture and history beyond the meager overview given in 6th grade. The culture, practices, and values were and are very different from those recognized in the United States today. Certain things, like the footbinding and marriage ceremonies, were interesting purely because I knew nothing about them. (The footbinding was graphic and disgusting, largely because it actually happened). Others, like the recognized values, were somewhat disturbing. A woman's worth was based on her ability to produce sons. What else? That's it. She should be obedient, quiet, and fulfill her duties as a woman. Kindness, sympathy, and love had nothing to do with anything. Footbinding was given as an example of a woman's "mother love" (the characters for which phrase, by the way, mean "love" and "pain"). The footbinding was because the mother loved her child. Pain is required for beauty, and beauty for status, and status for the unborn sons. Gahhh. In the end--though I won't give away the ending--the protagonist (Lily)'s inability to recognize and portray these qualities (kindness, sympathy, love) end in disaster. You can't really blame her--after all, it is not something her society promotes. However, you don't want to not blame her, because she does not behave nicely.
To be honest, I didn't particularly like the book. I'm glad I read it, because it was interesting and I learned things I didn't know and probably wouldn't have sought out to learn, but I'm not going to give it a stamp of approval. Which isn't to say you shouldn't read it. But...don't blame me.
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