Having been a little disappointed by my only other foray into Amy Tan territory - an audiobook of The Bonesetter's Daughter, listened to whilst living in China - I began reading The Hundred Secret Senses with some trepidation, but ultimately an open mind. My boss had lent me her unread copy of the book, asking me to give her my opinion. I hoped that I would thoroughly enjoy it and hand it back with my blessings and encouragement to get stuck in as soon as possible. I intended to finish The Hundred Secret Senses and finally get around to reading The Kitchen God's Wife, which I've had on my to-read list for several years.
Sadly, this was not to be the case. Basic writing, dull storylines, and forced supernatural elements were the least of my issues with this badly-written, seemingly rushed and uninteresting book. The story is told by our unlikely (and unloveable) heroine Olivia, in the first person. This style I tend to find somewhat grating almost every time I encounter it, and something to which Tan has not enamoured me in any way. Choosing not to delve deep into the intertwining cultural, philosophical and emotional strands of Olivia's psyche but rather to deliver shallow, generic observations from a shallow, generic American woman, she totally misses the point of this potentially useful tool.
A quote from a critic on the front extolls the virtues of Tan's characters, describing them as "leaping off the page". Frankly, I wonder if she read the same book as me. The narrator is a bitchy, selfish, cold woman, but not to the extent that I am able to "love-to-hate" her. She is frustratingly two-dimensional, with few positive traits to make me wish her well. I found myself bored by her constant complaints, irritated by her lack of compassion and compromise, and appalled by her treatment of the ever-loving sister around whom the story is woven. Yet none of these emotions were strong enough to give me a sense of empathy or affection for the character, even in a negative sense. In fact, I simply found her transparent and easily forgettable.
The supernatural elements of the story were a good concept, but failed miserably in practice. They seemed forced, partially-developed, uninspiring and pointless. If the aim was to create a family drama with a supernatural twist, it didn't work. Instead my reaction was that the novel was another bog-standard, sibling-rivalry, "oh my mother was so mean to me", generic family drama with little to distinguish it other than some ghostly references crowbarred in for good measure. They jarred with the storyline and would, perhaps, have made for an interesting novel on their own had they been better developed and played a larger, deeper part in an otherwise unexceptional book.
Tan's descriptions of family life in modern rural China, the rolling mountains of Guanxi and the historical tales of the invaded Middle Kingdom are well-executed and interesting to read. She clearly has a genuine and deep love not only for her own people and homeland, but the history behind both of them. Her enthusiasm and joy comes through in the passages when she is describing the most mundane of tasks, in the most basic of settings. But this, perhaps, is where she should limit her tales. Trying to make them up-to-date by forcing the juxtaposition of traditional China with modern-day San Francisco is a gamble which did not pay off, simply because the sections of the story which take place in America are lacklustre and boring.
There is, of course, a strong possibility that Tan's intention was to contrast the hidden boredom of American life, with all of its goals, accomplishments and targets with the hidden joy of Chinese life, free as it is of deadlines, assessment criteria, appropriate spouses and 2.4 children. Maybe she deliberately wrote the first half of the novel with thinly-veiled unenthusiasm, creating two-dimensional characters with little to endear them to the reader so that one would be forced to "look deeper" and see the real emotion underneath the uninspiring written words. But I doubt it. I think that whilst that may have been her intention, it backfired by being, simply, not very interesting... and with no hidden agenda to save it from itself.
Tan writes simple books with dot-to-dot plotlines, ideal for someone who wants an easy introduction into the shallower waters of recent Chinese history. Other than that, I don't have a lot with which to recommend her novels; and The Kitchen God's Wife has been struck off my list for the foreseeable future.