Even more beautiful on a re-read

Ruth is a member of the sandwich generation. She is constantly striving to balance her relationship with her live-in boyfriend and his daughters, while also dealing with her increasingly forgetful mother and a highly demanding job.

This was my initial encounter with an Amy Tan book, and I was completely captivated. I found Ruth's story to be far more straightforward and easier to follow. On the other hand, LuLung's life was truly arduous, and it left me feeling rather depressed.

The way Tan weaves these different storylines together is remarkable. She explores the complex emotions and challenges that come with being in the sandwich generation, as well as the impact of family history and relationships.

Overall, I thoroughly enjoyed this book and look forward to reading more of Tan's work in the future.

Amy Tan's books are like a fine wine that should be relished, extracting the maximum enjoyment from every single drop (or word) on each page.

I have not come across a book that is worthy of less than 5 stars. Touch wood, and let's hope this trend continues.

Ruth is a 46-year-old professional woman leading a busy life. She has a successful yet demanding career, a live-in boyfriend with whom she has a complex relationship, two stepkids who are bratty (in my humble opinion) for most of the book, and finally, an elderly mother who might have some serious health issues to deal with.

Her mother, LuLing, has one foot firmly rooted in her past. Her roots are in China, and she has spent a lifetime coming to terms with what occurred there before she moved to the United States after World War II.

There are certain things she has disclosed to her daughter, but only in Chinese. Ruth is compelled to come to terms with herself, her boyfriend, and her mother.

This book is divided into 3 parts, with the middle part delving into LuLing's history in war-torn China. The fluidity of Tan's writing is superb, and her ability to weave a tale that is written so impeccably is simply wonderful.

Tan is a master at writing about history (providing richly vivid depictions), complicated issues, multi-generational conflicts, redemption, forgiveness, and self-awareness.

I cannot express enough positive things about this book. My only regret is that I did not read it sooner.

I really enjoyed this particular experience.

However, I must say that I wouldn't recommend the audiobook version of it.

The reason for this is that there are certain aspects that might not come across as effectively through the audio medium.

Perhaps the nuances of the language or the details that one can easily pick up while reading in print are lost when listening to the audiobook.

Also, for some people, they might find it difficult to stay focused and engaged with the story when it's being read aloud.

They might get distracted more easily or have a harder time visualizing the scenes and characters.

So, while I had a great time with the original, I would suggest that others might want to consider reading it in print rather than opting for the audiobook.

This way, they can fully appreciate all the elements and get the most out of the experience.

If you have read "The Joy Luck Club", you'll have a good understanding of what this remarkable book by Amy Tan is like.

It is yet another in-depth exploration of the complex and profound mother-daughter relationship, but this time set against the tumultuous and ever-changing background of Chinese history.

I truly enjoy these stories because Amy Tan is an excellent writer. Her vivid descriptions and engaging narratives draw the reader in and make them feel as if they are a part of the characters' lives.

Through her writing, I have learned so much about Chinese culture, its traditions, values, and the challenges that the people have faced over the years.

The book is not only a beautiful piece of literature but also a valuable source of knowledge and insight into a different world.

It makes me appreciate the importance of family, the power of love, and the significance of cultural heritage.

Overall, "The Joy Luck Club" is a must-read for anyone interested in Chinese culture, family relationships, or simply a good story.

I had always believed that Tan couldn't surpass the brilliance of The Joy Luck Club. However, this particular work truly stands out and shines brightly.

Tan is undeniably one of the most remarkable storytellers. Her narratives are filled to the brim with hope, which gives readers a sense of optimism and a glimmer of light in the face of difficulties.

Moreover, the emotions she weaves into her stories are so palpable and intense that they tug at the heartstrings of the readers. Whether it's love, loss, or longing, Tan manages to convey these emotions with such authenticity and depth.

Her works are also a source of great inspiration. They encourage readers to look at life from different perspectives, to embrace their cultural heritage, and to find strength within themselves.

In conclusion, Tan's latest work has once again proven her to be a master storyteller, capable of creating works that are not only entertaining but also deeply moving and inspiring.

Amy Tan has long been committed to educating Westerners about the Chinese way of thinking. There are four levels of ability in relation to any form of beauty, such as painting, calligraphy, literature, music, and dance.

The first level is competence, which stems from repetition. The second level is magnificent, characterized by strength and solitude simultaneously. The third level is divine, showing motion and shadow. The fourth level is effortless, represented by simplicity, like an oval looking inside bamboo, as Picasso put it.

By now, Amy Tan is well aware that a "hungry ghost" is a kind of Buddhist realm of purgatory. The ghosts in purgatory are hungry because they have extra long chopsticks and are unable to feed themselves. To eat, a hungry ghost must feed others. When someone dies, the spirit or ghost exists in a between world, between the living and the pure land, for 49 days. In the more benign version, the spirit wants to ensure that the living will be okay without them. At the end of the 49 days, the ghost/spirit crosses over to the pure land. Family ghosts return to visit once a year at Obon to check on the status of the family. The family eats together and dances to show the ghost that everything is going well for the living. Families also hang lanterns at Obon to guide the spirits to the family. At the end of Obon, in Hawaii, paper boats with candles are sent out with the tide to show the ghosts back to the Pure Land.

My mother lost her dad when she was a senior in high school during the depression. Her dad had wanted her to go to medical school. She went to Regina Grey Nuns hospital in Saskatchewan during WWII. I asked her if she was afraid, and she replied that she didn't feel afraid because she felt her dad was looking out for her.

The realm of hungry ghosts is more complex than just folk tales and superstitions. Gabot Mate, a Canadian doctor, wrote "In the Realm of Hungry Ghosts: Close encounters with Addiction", which provides a Western translation/description of the types of people who live in the Realm of Hungry Ghosts.

This exploration of the concept of hungry ghosts and the different cultural beliefs and practices related to it offers a fascinating glimpse into the intersection of religion, superstition, and human nature. It also shows how Amy Tan's work helps to bridge the gap between different cultures and ways of thinking.

Having already delved into two novels by Amy Tam, I was fairly confident that I knew what lay ahead. What did I anticipate? Essentially, a tale of a distant (Chinese) mother and a (Chinese American) daughter striving to mend their relationship, all recounted from a strictly feminine perspective. And indeed, the opening chapter titled ‘truth’ delivered as expected. It was written from the viewpoint of LuLing Liu Young, mother to Luyi Young (her American name being Ruth) and widow to Kai Jing and Edwin Young. The second chapter introduced the character of the daughter, Luyi/Ruth Young. As the writer acquainted us with Ruth’s life, it was revealed that this introductory chapter was actually the start of a long letter of sorts (which could also be regarded as an autobiography, a retelling of her mother’s life in her own words) addressed to her. LuLing Liu had penned this letter in Chinese, but Luyi/Ruth, not being proficient in reading the characters, made little headway. When the novel began, Luyi/Ruth had pretty much abandoned the effort to read it anytime soon and felt extremely guilty about it.

This second chapter was written in the third person view but followed Ruth (Chinese name Luyi), and this was in fact the beginning of the first part of the book. Luyi/Ruth’s narrative took a rather long time. The writer started by informing us about Ruth’s present work and private life. After growing increasingly concerned for her mother, Ruth (Liyu) delved into examining her past, until it was time for us to progress to the second part of the book and read her mother’s (i.e Lung Ling Liu’s) life story. Part two was essentially the letter LuLing Liu gave to her daughter. It’s also worth noting that part two only commences about halfway through the book (page 153 in my edition) but encompasses both the story of LuLing and her mother (the grandmother of Ruth). The third part of the book is not very lengthy (it starts on page 299), taking only a few chapters including the epilogue. The epilogue is quite short, lasting only two and a half pages (in my edition, pages 351 - 353). Those who have read The Kitchen’s God Wife will notice that the narrative structure and the plot are very similar. We get three stories favoring the maternal side of the family (grandmother, mother, and daughter) through the eyes of two characters (mother and daughter).

Firstly, I’d like to say a few words about Ruth’s part of the story. At the start, I really liked her character. Even though the writing was from the third person point of view, we had access to Ruth’s thoughts, so it was as if she was writing in her own narrative voice. Ruth’s reflections on life, both in her personal and private spheres, were very interesting. For instance, Ruth’s job was quite intriguing. Somewhat hard to define, we could call her a book doctor, a ghost writer, a book collaborator, or a very diligent editor (one who also does writing), and I relished learning more about this woman who seemed to handle it all. Ruth’s character and her present life truly piqued my interest. What followed was that Ruth’s relationship with Art (her partner) and Art’s daughters (he was divorced with children) was strained by her troubled relationship with her mother. Suddenly, Ruth started questioning everything.

However, by the time Ruth began to notice that something was amiss with her mother, LuLing Liu, I became increasingly irritated with Ruth. I mean, how could she be so blind? Ruth as a character ceased to hold my interest long before she started revealing her own life story. You see, Ruth seemed to take an eternity to figure out that her mother had dementia, and even when it finally dawned on her, Ruth waited an age to do something about it. I constantly wondered when it would finally be time for ‘her mother’s story’ because I couldn’t wait for Ruth’s story to end. Considering the fact that the narration followed Ruth for most of the book, this was clearly a problem. Not long into the novel, Ruth succumbed to self-pity, and at times, it made reading rather tiresome. Perhaps it was intended to show how Ruth was evaluating her life, but if it was supposed to depict a bit of soul-searching, it wasn’t written very well. Besides feeling sorry for herself, Ruth started to feel guilty all the time, seemed to let everyone walk over her, realized it might not be the best thing to do, but did nothing about it. I became more and more frustrated with her, so despite initially liking this character, by the time Ruth journeyed back to her childhood and shared it with me as a reader, I wasn’t that interested.

Secondly, let me expand on the second part of the book, for this is a part that I truly liked. I believe that the story about ‘the bonesetter’s daughter’ had great potential. I simply adored the concept behind the story. Was the potential fully realized? Some of it was realized during LuLing Liu’s narrative, but not entirely. At times, the narrative seemed rushed, and the writing lacked elegance. At the start, the writing was fluent, and LuLing spoke clearly (as it was supposed to be a translation from Mandarin, hence no need for the mother to speak in broken English), but soon the sentences became too simplistic, leaving the narrative in a sort of limbo, if you understand what I mean. I wouldn’t criticize Tan for making LuLing Liu speak in broken English in the first part (but I wish she had explained it better), but the writer should have been more consistent in the second part. Speaking of all that, why is LuLing Liu’s English so poor? Is it because it is her way of preserving her culture and not assimilating into American culture? If that’s the reason, I understand. It’s not an uncommon practice among immigrants, but we as readers require some sort of explanation, especially as Ruth seems to hint that her mother’s bad English might be related to one particular accident (why was that accident never fully explained)?

There were also some minor things, details, and inconsistencies that bothered me. For example, have you noticed how Chinese husbands in Amy Tan’s novels are always villains or die tragically early in the marriage? Additionally, there is this family that leaves a significant amount of money as inheritance after it was noted several times that they had no money left (first they lost it all, and then when the communists arrived, they were actually glad they had nothing because it would have been confiscated - historical context and all that). The heroines always have to seek salvation on their own - which would be commendable if it was more believably described. Nevertheless, I enjoyed part two of the book much more than part one. I relished reading about LuLing Liu’s upbringing and her life up until coming to the USA. The poetic way Chinese calligraphy was described was an absolute delight. As someone who paints, I thoroughly enjoyed those parts. Moreover, reading about her mother was equally, if not even more, interesting. There were some excellent minor characters here, well-portrayed even though they didn’t take up much space, for example, sister Yu.

Still, while reading, I couldn’t shake off the feeling of déjà vu. Now, I don’t mind that Amy Tan’s writing clearly follows a pattern (a mother - daughter relationship improves once the secrets are out), but this novel resembled The Kitchen’s God Wife so closely that it felt like plagiarism. I would have been tempted to call it plagiarism if it wasn’t written by the same author. The pattern itself isn’t a problem; it’s more that the story didn’t flow as it should have, and the characters didn’t reach their full potential. I don’t mind similar characters and repeated plots as long as the novel takes on a life of its own, and in my opinion, this one failed to do that.

Many authors have a writing pattern. Take Isabel Allende, for example. Her novels always feature a young, intelligent heroine growing up and falling in love in a politically unstable Latin country. Now that I think about it, there are quite a few similarities between Isabel Allende and Amy Tan. Both are immigrants living in the USA, and both write in English about events that often occur in foreign (non-English speaking) countries, so there is always that sense of translation in their works. We feel as if these authors are translating their culture to us, and this adds another dimension to their ‘magic realism’. With Allende, my enthusiasm waned a little after reading several of her novels, and while it might have been due to the ‘pattern’, I don’t recall ever being bored. However, I was definitely bored, at least at times, while reading this novel.

Overall, I think this novel is too long and could benefit from either being 150 pages shorter or having certain parts rewritten. The first part of the book, in particular, seemed to drag on. There are many irrelevant episodes that could have been omitted, and nobody would have missed them much. Some parts of the narrative seemed to go on forever, while some important events were completely overlooked and only mentioned in passing. There were events and characters I wanted to know more about (a bit more about Ruth’s father, please; he is hardly mentioned), but the author just skimmed over them. In contrast, there were things that were repeated over and over again. For the most part, the writing in this one felt hasty and uneven. It wasn’t polished at all. There is only one truly beautiful passage, and that is when LuLing Liu’s first husband courts her by telling her a story about different levels of beauty in art. That philosophical conversation that revealed they were in love without even mentioning the word love - well, that episode was extremely romantic.

Do you know that feeling when you’re reading a book and you can predict everything that is going to happen? This novel, in particular, seems to promise a plethora of secrets, but you can actually figure it all out in the very first chapter. At least I could, maybe because I had read two of Tan’s other novels prior to this, so I’m not ruling out the possibility that for some readers, this book will truly be filled with secrets to uncover. But for me, this novel felt repetitive. At times, neither the myth nor the magic realism managed to save it for me. I enjoyed reading about Chinese folklore, but somehow, even that felt like something I had read before (perhaps in other Amy Tan books). Another thing I didn’t like was the ending. I thought it was unrealistic, inconsistent with the portrayal of the characters, and naïve.

Had it been the first book by Amy Tam that I had read, I’m sure I would have enjoyed it more. As it is, it felt a bit slow and repetitive. Nevertheless, I’m glad I read it. Told from a feminine point of view, this maternal family saga does have its advantages. I enjoyed some parts of this book more than others, but overall, I did like it. Some of its characters are truly memorable, and some of its passages are quite beautiful. As I already mentioned, I particularly liked the description of Chinese calligraphy and the philosophy behind it. I think it’s something that any art lover might enjoy. To sum up, this is a charming maternal family saga.

3.5/5 STARS

Honestly, this book didn't meet my expectations. When I started reading it, I had high hopes, envisioning a story similar to Memoirs of a Geisha. I wouldn't say I'm disappointed, but I'm definitely not completely captivated or in love with it. In some aspects, both books share similarities, yet in others, they have significant differences. I'm glad I read it without fully knowing its content beforehand; otherwise, I might have been reluctant to pick it up.

The story is told from the perspectives of a mother and daughter who are American citizens of Chinese descent. Ruth, the daughter, is a 46-year-old woman on a journey to find her true self. Her mother, LuLing, is superstitious and burdened by the memories of her past life in a small village in China. These two women are descendants of a famous "Bonesetter." Through the written pages of a journal that her mother shares with her, Ruth, and we as readers, learn about her heritage and the secrets of her ancestry.

\\n  WHAT DO I THINK?\\n
I do have an affection for this book. I really appreciate how the complex nature of the mother-daughter relationship is depicted. With a touch of filial affection, duty, and devotion added in, this book could have been even more perfect. The themes explored, such as Chinese culture, family, ancestry and genealogy, heritage and legacy, ghosts, curses and superstitions, love, self-discovery, and guilt, make it a rich and engaging read.

I just completed reading Amy Tan's "The Bonesetter's Daughter." For the most part, I really enjoyed the book. It had the same feel as her other stories, offering a fascinating glimpse into a culture that is radically different from my own. At the same time, it dealt with some similar issues that I have grappled with in my own life.

However, the last few pages truly drove me insane. The main character is dealing with so many difficult problems. Her elderly mother has Alzheimer's and only has a $750/month Social Security income. She has an insecure boyfriend and his two whiny teenage daughters. She is also losing confidence in her career.

Then, in the last few pages, everything changes magically. A huge trust fund appears out of nowhere, allowing the elderly mother to afford the nicest assisted living facility. A professor instantly decides that the mother with dementia is the ideal girlfriend. The insecure boyfriend becomes Mr. Rock overnight, and his daughters start being wonderful. The main character's career evaporates as she becomes a novelist. And miraculously, the old mother remembers a name she couldn't think of for decades, and this name is backed up by 100-year-old glass photographer plates that survived both WWII and the Chinese cultural revolution.

Oh, and eight years into her Alzheimer's, the old mom calls her daughter and apologizes for something she did when the daughter was a little girl. She can't remember what she did, only that she's supposed to apologize. This is something that so many women of my generation long for from their mothers, but in my experience, it's never received.

The impossible events in the resolution of this book completely ruined the rest of it for me. The reality for families dealing with dementia is much harsher. It's poverty, hurt feelings, loneliness, stress, and unfinished business that will never be resolved because the people they once knew have been lost to the disease.

I felt insulted by the resolution of this book. I understand that it was probably meant to be heart-warming and hopeful for others in similar situations, but it seems like cruel false hope built on wishful thinking and thin air. I think I'm done with Amy Tan.

I finally made up my mind to search for The Joy Luck Club at the library. However, what I found was The Bonesetter’s Daughter instead. In a sense, this book offered a similar experience. I entered it with the anticipation of finding one thing but ended up with another.

What I consider to be Amy Tan's expertise lies in the way she reveals her characters throughout the course of the book. At the beginning, LuLing is the silly, pushy, morose, and slightly embarrassing mother of Ruth, who suffers from Alzheimer's. Her identity, which I initially thought was a stereotypical portrayal of Chinese motherhood, is easily categorized. Her appearances in the book serve as comic relief to the more complex inner thoughts of Ruth. I didn't look any further. I believed I knew everything there was to know about Luling and her crazy superstitious idiosyncrasies. Of course, Luling has this memoir that she wrote for her daughter, detailing her childhood in China, and Ruth (after several years) is finally finding the time to have it translated.

And then...

Suddenly, the comic relief turns into poetry. Is this young version of Luling, with her hopes, dreams, failures, and disappointments, anything like the dumpy elderly woman that I admittedly overlooked? So much of her personality gets lost in translation. In America, she is just a semi-fluent mother struggling to make a living as a calligrapher, embarrassing her daughter with comments like "Maybe I die soon!"

What's tragic is that I can't simply dismiss this as a story of Chinese immigrants. The story is relevant to mothers and daughters everywhere. Every daughter thinks she is the first to experience a story with its dramatic twists and turns. The mother she sees every day during her upbringing becomes a two-dimensional figure; the complexities and subtleties are lost. Is age the mask that prevents us from delving deeper into their lives to find the keys to our own?

My edition of this book is actually the large print hardcover.

I discovered it on my shelf and suddenly remembered that I was supposed to read it and then send it to a friend. Since I already have another book ready to send to her, I'm truly glad that I found this one before going to the post office, rather than after.

When I initially started reading this story about the relationship between Ruth and her mother LuLing, I had the strangest feeling that I had read the book at some point in the past. However, as it turned out, I hadn't. I was just recognizing Tan's favorite topic, which is the bittersweet interactions between a mother and daughter. There always seems to be a hidden past on the mother's side, and this was no exception. But the question remains, will the daughter learn all of the secrets?

What made this story even more poignant was that Mom LuLing developed dementia. Would she remember the facts she wanted her daughter to know? How would Ruth cope with this new stress added to her baggage from the past and her rather dicey current relationships?

This was a good story, although I couldn't identify too closely with Ruth, who seemed to be so full of conflicts and obsessions. She seemed so consumed by them that she appeared to miss out on living in the present moment. I think I wanted to like this book more than I actually did. But I do believe that my friend will enjoy it, and I'm glad that my Mom got it at the library book sale when she did. (She read the book too and liked it very much.)