Shelf Life Book Reviews

A  few weeks ago, I had the opportunity to re-watch my favorite movie (Memoirs of a Geisha) with one of my favorite friends. I do not love the movie just because it is set in Japan, nor do I believe everything portrayed is “historically accurate.” I love it because it is so beautiful to watch: the aesthetics are incredible, the music is powerful, and the story of how a single act of kindness forever changed a young girl is deeply moving.

But let’s not kid ourselves here, I really do like all things geisha. So, swept up in my rekindled interest, I had my library send me several books on the topic, some from far-fetched branches I had to wait for. So here are three of them, reviewed at once for your pleasure. I present then, the Good, the Great, and the Ugly of Geisha Books.

The Good: Geisha: The Life, The Voices, the Art – Photographs by Jodi Cobb
This was a coffee table book, for sure–the size alone confirmed it–but it was also profoundly beautiful and interesting. The book has a lengthy introduction by Ian Buruma which brought up some interesting aspects of geisha life alongside standard information  you can find in just about any reputable source. Cobb, on the other hand, spent a few pages talking about her perception of the geisha world before launching into itnerviews with an aged tokyo geisha, a teahouse owner, and several clients. These were profound stories that had gravitas, and lingered in the mind as one flipped through the rest of the book (pictures, sometimes captioned with a verse from a geisha song). But oh, the pictures. Jodi Cobb is a staff photographer with National Geographic, and it clearly shows. She captures more than jsut the stereotype: the behind-the-scenes moments, the environment, and even the faces of aged geisha in the white makeup which hides none of their wrinkles. I lingered over each photograph, and felt like I had truly entered a dying culture, if just for a few moments.

The Great: Geisha by Liza Dalby
If you’ve studied geisha even to a shallow degree, it’s very likely you’ve heard of Liza Dalby. A shamisen artist in her own right, Dalby also famously became a full-fledged geisha named Ichigiku for a year in 1970s Japan. Half dissertation, half ethnograph, and half memoir (that’s three halves, I know), I found the book to be fascinating. Dalby skillfully weaves in the history of geisha in general and several districts in particular with her own anecdotes and reflections on the life she lived. This was the best aspect of her book: in combining the historical and academic with the personal, she made the book intimate yet authoritative. 

She openly talks about the sad reality that Kyoto geisha are a dying breed: the disciplines and finances required, and the sacrifices that must be made to pursue the art. But she also talks about how geisha are surviving in other areas of Japan, without the condescension of a Kyoto-trained geisha: the “hot springs geisha” of Atami and the “commuter geisha” of Tokyo. She also talks about aspects of life, like kimono, dance, etiquette at parties, etc. All in all it was a wonderfully comprehesive and yet never weighty exploration; no wonder she has been considered the walking dictionary for geisha authors and filmmakers.

The Ugly: The House of 10,000 Pleasures by Sara Harris
I should have known to trust my gut when it came to this one. The title alone set off warning bells in my head, but I pressed on anyway. First of all this “modern” study is over 40 years old, but it still doesn’t excuse the atrocities. Harris clearly has no idea of the distinction between prostitute and geisha that many, like Dalby, have endeavored for years to do away with. That some overlap exists is acknowledged by all, but that it is largely an American misconception is strangely ignored by many. But beyond that, the prose is just awkward. It’s clumsy, bulky, and does not do justice I’m sure to the Japanese spoken in the translated conversations. It’s about as realistic to real geisha as the monstrosity above is. The first part read like a bad Arthur Golden rip-off, and I was so disgusted I didn’t even want to venture into the second half, which was focused on “streetwalkers” anyway. Avoid at all costs!

Many, many thanks to my incredible computer-hero and all-around awesome husband Nicholas for help with the formatting!

As part of my daily routine, I check the various social networking sites, including the ones of yesteryear like LiveJournal. And as part of LJ’s daily routine, they post a “writer’s block” question, to which one may respond. Today’s question was “Fanfiction: do you love it or hate it, or are you totally indifferent?”

I think the question fails to address the different kinds of fanfiction out there.  First there’s the stuff people normally associate with fanfiction (if they even know the term): people taking characters from a show and creating unofficial plots for them.  Like many young teenagers I myself dabbled in it a bit. But quite honestly, I’m pretty indifferent to the stuff over at fanfiction.net. I’m sure some of it is well-crafted and entertaining, but the majority that I’ve seen are either risible or shooting for mediocre. There are plenty of legitimately published authors out there I’d rather spend my time on.

I don’t understand how this can be legal, especially in a society that’s decided numerous times that intellectual property is legal property. It would be like if I took the Muppet characters, created a movie, and did not bother to give Henson Studios not only any consulting/collaboration, but any credit or compensation other than a tagline. I suppose most of the fiction of this kind is drawing off dead authors so they cannot sue them, which is sad, but you’d think their estate would. What really irks me is that so many authors out there with creative ideas that THEY thought of are being rejected left and right, while those who did not do half as much original work are getting paid for publishing these spinoffs.

I’m not against inspiration by any means.  But I am against people doing little to no work and reaping financial gain for it in an industry that is supposed to be about originality.  I guess before you know it, literature will be like music: all about the hooks, and who cares who covers them. I just hope I never live to see the day.

Alas, alas! I haven’t updated in nearly a week!

Of course reading is one of my life’s great pleasures. But how often in our lives do we let smaller, lesser pleasures drive out the greater ones? I’m afraid this is what I’ve been guilty of lately.

First of all, many things have changed at my work, which used to be a great source of getting through several books in a week or two. Now I actually HAVE work to do, which means that most of my reading will now have to be done at home. Which is where I’ve really been failing at it lately. Netflix, quilting, cross-stitching, The Office, new manga, Phantom Hourglass, Japanese class — all of these things have been gobbling up my after-work time lately, leaving me just a half-hour or so before bed to do any reading. So in other words, I’ve been a slacker, and have chosen, for some inexplicable or capricious reason or another, not to do much reading lately.

But life’s all about ebb and flow. During these down times I usually try to post “old” reviews that I have stored up, but life was so crazy last week I didn’t even think about it. I’ll try to remedy that this week. Right now we’re about a month away from graduation on campus, and I know over the summer there will be plenty of downtime at work. And eventually, video games will be played, the latest TV show I’m interested in will run out of new episodes, but libraries never go out of style.

But since I’m a little more serious than your average reader, I may start taking some deliberate measures to do more reading. I’m going to start really listening to audiobooks more often, not just on long trips (I think this will be a great way to get through Shakespeare). I’m going to try to be more serious about making time for it at home, saying no to shiny new toys in favor of dusty but true ones. And, I may even start reclaiming some of my lunch hours to read at my desk, sandwich in one hand and book in the other.