Amy Tan's writing is truly remarkable.

However, on certain occasions, I encounter difficulties in fully identifying with or sympathizing for her characters.

The reason being that they often come across as insipid and passive.

It's not that they possess an intriguingly complex nature that would draw me in or evoke a sense of pity in an inspiring way.

For instance, in some of her stories, the characters seem to lack the depth and agency that would make them more relatable and engaging.

They may simply go through the motions of the plot without really taking charge of their own destinies or showing any significant growth or transformation.

This can make it challenging for me to form a strong emotional connection with them and truly understand their experiences and motivations.

Nonetheless, I still appreciate the overall beauty and craftsmanship of Amy Tan's writing, even if the characters don't always resonate with me on a personal level.

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The opening chapter of Amy Tan's novel presents the elusive concept of "Truth." Truth is like a shapeshifter, constantly changing and being influenced by memories that are lost, edited, and re-edited over time. As LuLing's memory begins to fade, she writes her story in the beautiful calligraphy she learned as a child, using traditional characters. Her record is for her daughter Ruth, and it includes both her own story and that of Precious Auntie. However, LuLing is already forgetting Precious Auntie's real name, and she wonders why it is so important.

The declaration that almost all that mattered in her life has disappeared, especially losing Precious Auntie's name, jolts the reader. But just as our curiosity is piqued, Tan intervenes with Ruth's story. The narrative switches to third person from Ruth's perspective, and we see LuLing as a querulous, hyper-critical, and fearful mother who fills Ruth's life with superstition, folklore, and ramblings about Precious Auntie's ghost. Ruth is torn between the expectations of Chinese and American culture, and as a child, she resents learning Chinese characters and is embarrassed by her mother's pronunciation of her name.

The narrative of Ruth's life is lightened by Tan's sense of humor. She meets her future partner, Art, at a yoga class and mistakenly assumes he is gay, which allows her to relax and form a comfortable friendship. However, there are also serious consequences to her actions, such as when she tricks her mother into making permissive decisions by pretending to receive messages from Precious Auntie's ghost.

Part II begins with the heading "Heart," which is truly the heart of the book. LuLing's first-person narrative is a startling transition, and we learn about her childhood and Precious Auntie's story of love and tragedy. A different side of LuLing emerges, as we see that she was curious, clever, strong, and willful, just like Precious Auntie. The pages are filled with the sights and scents of the Chinese village household, and the family's business of making ink sticks adds a unique cultural touch.

Amy Tan also uses calligraphy as a tool to convey Chinese culture. It is a connecting thread between Precious Auntie, LuLing, and the rich ambiguities of language. LuLing tries to teach Ruth how to write characters, emphasizing the importance of gathering the free-flowing of the heart. This idea is further explored when Precious Auntie teaches LuLing about the meaning of each stroke in the character for "heart."

Overall, I had mixed feelings about this book. While the modern-day scenes lacked the authenticity of the past, and some of the resolutions in Part III felt contrived, the story was still enjoyable and had many layers of richness. Tan's gift for reproducing the voices of past generations and telling compelling stories shines through, making this a worthwhile read.

A first-generation immigrant is truly a unique being. Her past is deeply intertwined with her country of origin, encompassing its myths, culture, legends, and history. Meanwhile, her future is set to be shaped in the foreign land where she now resides. In the case of America, a land that seemingly lacks a past (or one that has been erased by the early white settlers), the immigrant's past never completely fades away. In this land where only the future matters and there is a dearth of myth, the past becomes the only thing she can hold onto.

For the second-generation immigrant in the USA, the past of a country she has only known through her imagination can feel like a heavy burden. She must somehow "belong" to her ethnicity while also being a part of the vibrant, youthful culture without standing out awkwardly. This often leads to friction with her parents, as the old world attempts to maintain its tenuous grip on her.

This is particularly true for immigrants from the East, as myth holds great significance in the Eastern psyche. In this story of a mother and daughter from China, it is this past - a tragic, horrific, yet poignant one - that extends its reach into present-day America and forms the core of the narrative.

Ruth Young, a ghostwriter, lives with her Jewish boyfriend Art and his daughters. Her relationship with her mother LuLing is troubled. LuLing, one of two sisters who moved to the USA from China shortly after the war, is a typical controlling Eastern mother and also sees herself as a perpetual victim. She believes she always gets the short end of the stick. She and her sister GaoLing married brothers, but LuLing's husband died in an accident, leaving her relatively impoverished, while her sister's husband prospered. From this tragedy on, LuLing lives in an extremely unstable world where sanity and security are precarious, and this upbringing also affects Ruth, who builds an impenetrable psychological wall around herself.

Every August twelfth, Ruth is afflicted by a strange illness that causes her to lose her voice for a week. This began when she moved in with her boyfriend. As the novel begins, it is the ninth anniversary of this peculiar condition. But this year, something is different - she discovers a manuscript written by her mother in Chinese: the story of her past. With LuLing feared to be gradually slipping into dementia, Ruth must decipher this to uncover her past before she loses her present and future.

The tale of a young orphan in a Chinese village, the daughter of a traditional "bone doctor" who treats orthopaedic ailments with medicines made from "dragon bones," proves to be the salvation of both LuLing and Ruth. Spanning the twilight years of the Kuomintang era, the Japanese invasion, and the Second World War, this tragic history provides Ruth with a window - a picture window through which she witnesses her origin and roots, all the way back to the Peking Man. As we reach the end, we see a transformed protagonist who no longer loses her voice but instead chooses silence.

***

Similar to The Kitchen God's Wife, this is a story of generations: from mother to daughter to daughter. The characterisation is excellent (especially that of LuLing), and the second part, LuLing's recollection of her Chinese past, is engagingly written. The book is also highly readable.

However, is it great literature? I would argue no. Having read Amy Tan's other novel mentioned above, I found this one to be thematically similar. I have a feeling that any future novel by her that focuses on these same themes might be difficult for me to finish.

Like most of Tan's books, this novel centers on mother-daughter relationships that span several generations.

It is a captivating tale about uncovering the truth regarding our past and ourselves. Ruth's mother, LuLing, who is in the early stages of Alzheimer's, meticulously writes down the "Things I Know Are True" and the "Things I Must Not Forget" - leaving them for her daughter to discover.

These serve as the means through which Ruth unearths the secrets and truths concealed in her mother's past. This is truly a remarkable book - perhaps a bit sluggish in the beginning, but outstanding overall.

Definitely take the time to read the "Conversation with Amy Tan" in which her friend Molly Giles interviews her (at the end of the novel). This addition makes the book even more personal and, without a doubt, even more wonderful. It provides valuable insights into the author's mind and the inspiration behind the story, enhancing the reader's appreciation and understanding of the novel.

I was truly and incredibly touched by this book.

As I stand on the brink of entering a new decade of my life, the way in which the past intersects with the present and future has become a matter that has led to a great deal of reflection.

Tan's novel follows a similar line of thought. It delves into the lineage of women, exploring how the past shapes our present. However, it also shows that it is possible to find clarity, grace, and forgiveness.

It touches upon various themes such as multi-culturism, aging, memory, the definition of self, guilt, love, family, and their many different forms.

This is an absolutely stunning and perceptive novel that has left my heart feeling completely full. It has made me think deeply about my own life and the relationships that have shaped me.

I highly recommend this book to anyone who is looking for a thought-provoking and emotionally engaging read.

The novel centers around the lives of two Chinese American women, namely Ruth Young and her mother, LuLing.

Ruth is a first-generation Chinese American, having been born and raised in the United States. Her mother, LuLing, on the other hand, is an immigrant from China.

Ruth stumbles upon a hidden manuscript penned by her mother. This manuscript holds LuLing's life story and the tale of Precious Auntie, a woman who had a profound impact on her life back in China. As Ruth delves into reading and translating her mother's manuscript, she uncovers valuable insights into her family's history, rich cultural traditions, and the numerous challenges her mother confronted as an immigrant.

Tan skillfully weaves together these two narratives. Initially, the story appears a bit sluggish when it delves into Ruth's "arduous" American life. However, as more of her mother's past is revealed, the pace quickens. It is well-written and thought-provoking. The history of China during WWII and the exploration of Chinese culture are truly captivating. Overall, it is a good read that I would recommend.

3 ⭐️ ⭐️ ⭐️

[4.5 stars, really:]

Because I'm such a sucker for this kind of thing. Mothers and daughters have always been a fascinating topic for me. Their relationships are complex, filled with love, conflicts, and countless memories. The life stories of mothers and daughters can be both heartwarming and thought-provoking.

And then there's the humor of bad grammar. It may seem strange, but it has a charm of its own. The misspelled words, the incorrect grammar, and the funny misunderstandings can bring a smile to your face.

You know, this kind of thing just gets to me. It's like a warm blanket on a cold day, or a good book that you can't put down. It makes me feel good inside, and it reminds me of the simple pleasures in life.

So, if you're looking for a good read that combines the beauty of mother-daughter relationships with the humor of bad grammar, then this is the book for you. I highly recommend it!

I really enjoyed the overall experience. However, for some mysterious reason, I found myself struggling with the middle part. It was as if there was an invisible obstacle that made it difficult for me to progress smoothly. I tried my best to overcome it, but it persisted. Maybe it was because the content in the middle was more complex or required a different way of thinking. Despite this, I didn't give up. I continued to push forward, hoping to find a way to break through. I believe that with perseverance and determination, I will eventually be able to master this part and fully enjoy the entire journey.

Usually, I have a great passion for reading books with a historical background. However, this particular book didn't bring me the same level of enjoyment. Amy Tan is renowned for her writing that skillfully blends Chinese and American culture. Since I have always had a deep love for culture, I made the decision to read this book. I typically start by skimming through the book first. Unfortunately, the first and second chapters failed to capture my interest. I must admit that my imagination didn't run wild as I had hoped. Thankfully, the latter chapters were an improvement.

Interestingly, something rather funny occurred after I finished reading this book. I couldn't sleep! Hahaha! I found myself constantly thinking about the characters in the story. This is a tale about a woman named Ruth who accidentally discovers her mother's past. And who is the bonesetter's daughter? Well, she is Ruth's mother's mother, also known as her grandmother. My favorite part of the book is when Ruth's mother discovers, in a painful way, that her real mother was her nanny (bao mu). I also like the part when Ruth's mother remarries.

From this book, I have learned that we should not dwell on the mistakes of our past with regret. Instead, we should bravely face the consequences of those mistakes. Let them serve as a valuable lesson for the future, but never forget them. They should remain as a cherished memory that shapes who we are.

The Bonesetter's Daughter is the penultimate Amy Tan novel that I have yet to reread. Just like Hundred Secret Senses, I found myself unable to recall a single thing about this book. The Joy Luck Club features switching points of view among eight characters. The Kitchen God's Wife is essentially a much longer version of one Joy Luck story, which is often depressingly morbid. Saving Fish From Drowning is about a ghost following and narrating the wackiest tour group to visit Myanmar. It turns out that Hundred Secret Senses was about an irritating woman with a badass sister who had an amazing backstory. And The Bonesetter's Daughter is about an insufferable woman with a badass mother who also had an awesome backstory.
The first aspect that makes Bonesetter stand out is that the daughter, Ruth's, point of view is written in the third person. Given that Amy Tan is renowned for her rambling first-person POV, I'm not sure why this is the case. Especially since the entire middle section narrated by her mother, LuLing, is in the first person. But I'm getting ahead of myself.
Other than that, it's typical Amy Tan fare. Ruth is in a miserable relationship on the verge of collapse, and her immigrant mother, LuLing, drives her crazy. Ruth spends her time constantly whining, especially about her mother and her long-time boyfriend, Art. Art has two teenage daughters from a previous marriage with the most unusual names (Dory and Fia), who speak as if they are six instead of early teens. Basically, Ruth's life is full of complaints and negative emotions. She and Olivia from Hundred Secret Senses should become best friends and complain about the hardships of being upper middle class in San Francisco.
Anyway, the story goes like this. Ruth has a mother named LuLing, who is starting to act strangely. It turns out she has early-onset dementia and will only get worse. So what does LuLing do? She writes down her entire life story up until moving to America, just in case she forgets any details and can no longer tell her daughter.
Ruth has the documents translated while her mother is away. Of course, what she discovers about her mother are things she would have never guessed or even imagined. As usual, LuLing's story of growing up as the illegitimate daughter of a fire-deformed "Bonesetter's Daughter" in 1920s China is both heart-wrenching and intriguing. I struggled to get through Ruth's setup chapters but then devoured all of LuLing's backstory in one night. Since I had forgotten most of it, it felt like it was brand new to me, which was a pleasant surprise.
Despite all my whining (hi Ruth, you're influencing me), you may be wondering why I gave this book four stars. It's more like three and a half, but I decided to round up because of the score I gave to Hundred Secret Senses. These books are almost identical in structure and style, just with different details. The biggest difference is that Bonesetter had a much more satisfying ending than Hundred Secret Senses. I actually smiled a little when I closed this book, unlike the other one which I'm pretty sure I threw across the room.
Is it Tan's best work? No, not at all. I have the "reader's guide" paperback, and in it, Tan mentions several times how difficult this book was for her to write. Well, yeah. She's basically just repeating herself at this point. (I say this affectionately.) That being said, Tan is an amazing writer, so even her "lesser" works are of a much higher quality than most other authors' masterpieces. I read this book very quickly, not because I'm a fast reader but because I was truly hooked once LuLing's tale began. If you love the backstories of Tan's "mothers," then read this book now. You won't be disappointed. If you can't bear to read another Olivia-type character, I'm... I'm sorry. Good luck.

This is an outstanding book that delves deep into the mother-daughter relationship and uncovers the hidden elements that lurk around its edges, casting a shadow. From a critical perspective, I was truly captivated by the structure that alternates between the first narrator, Ruth, and her mother, Lu Ling, who then becomes the second narrator. It is a poignant story about generations of women who find themselves disempowered, often in strikingly similar ways.

Here is a paragraph that offers a tantalizing taste of the beauty of Amy Tan's writing: "As he said this, Precious Auntie came back into my mind. I was remembering how she taught me that everything, even ink, had a purpose and a meaning: Good ink cannot be the quick kind, ready to pour out of a bottle. You can never be an artist if your work comes without effort. That is the problem with modern ink from a bottle. You do not have to think. You simply write what is swimming on the top of your brain. And the top is nothing but pond scum, dead leaves, and mosquito spawn. But when you push an inkstick along an inkstone, you take the first step to cleansing your mind and your heart. You push and you ask yourself, What are my intentions? What is in my heart that matches my mind?"

This passage beautifully illustrates Tan's ability to infuse simple objects and actions with profound meaning, making the reader reflect on the deeper aspects of life and art. The comparison between the easy, thoughtless use of modern ink and the more deliberate, soul-searching process of using an inkstick and inkstone is both evocative and thought-provoking. It makes one realize that true art and self-discovery often require effort and introspection.