Book Review: THE JOY LUCK CLUB, by Amy Tan

When she noticed me reading THE JOY LUCK CLUB, my friend Stacey asked, "That's one of those girl books, isn't it?" Yes, I had to admit, it definately is.

And, though I've thought a lot about it, I cannot figure out how this should detract from the book for me--but it does. For some reason, girl books just don't appeal much to me, and by "girl books" I mean books almost solely about women, where men are just husbands, brothers, and/or tormentors who rarely have a moment of interesting character-hood. By "girl books" I suppose I mean Divine Secrets of the Ya-Ya Sisterhood, Girls' Poker Night (Jill A. Davis), The Memoir Club (Laura Kalpakian) (I'm noticing a club/sisterhood theme...) and several others that I read at somebody's suggestion, felt terrible for not liking and returned promptly to the bookstore for trade.

Which isn't to say that all books about groups of women are not to my taste--after all, I loved Reading Lolita in Tehran (Azar Nafisi) and The Woman Warrior (Maxine Hong Kingston)--or that I didn't enjoy THE JOY LUCK CLUB. Amy Tan landed herself on one of the higher rungs of Girl Book-dom, but I just felt compelled to add a small rant about all those books with pink covers featuring some sort of beverage (wine, lattes and so on). The rant is finished and now we may move on.

Tan's definately a gifted writer, to the point where I will definately read more of her books, and I enjoyed being whisked right out of my white American experience and into that of several Chinese immigrant families--the way Tan tells it, in a series of small scenes, each narrated by either a mother or a daughter of the four families, layers the story beautifully, even if I lost track periodically of who was speaking. It's a gorgeous book, full of great descriptions and rich characters--all of whom, you may notice, are women. But I got a little choked up at parts, Tan's words were that strong.

RATING: 3

Book Review: THE LIARS' CLUB, by Mary Karr

I sort of fell out of the habit of memoirs after analyzing the joy right out of a few good ones in college, but THE LIAR'S CLUB was a book club assignment (and it was a whole heck of a lot better than the last one), so I had a deadline to get me reading. This turned out for the best, because THE LIAR'S CLUB is brutally good.

I say "brutal" because Karr's childhood is exactly that, and the way she tells of growing up in Leechfield, Texas, with a famiy as dysfunctional as they come, is brutally honest and quite discerning--not "disturbing", but "discerning", because she knew what to put in, and what to leave out. Her telling isn't steeped in bitterness--instead, she uses the best edge of humor to separate herself from the story's events, but also to retain a certain child-like sense of awe and unflinching love.

THE LIAR'S CLUB is sort of the polar opposite of The Ya-Ya Sisterhood: though there are some similarities (the peppery smell of gumbo cooking is enough to make my eyes water, and the sticky heat of the bayou makes the sweat bead up on my upper lip, no matter that I've never seen a swamp, nor spent a night tossing in that oppressive damp), there is not a Southern belle to be seen in Karr's memoir. I give her two thumbs up.

RATING: 4

Book Review: GIRLS' POKER NIGHT, by Jill A. Davis

That's right--I joined a book club. I've yet to attend a meeting, but there's one coming up this week and I hear there will be fondue. I'm supposed to bring apples, or at least that's what my invitation said.

On a random but not entirely unrelated note, I must add that I checked this book out from the library and discovered, to my dismay, that it smelled strongly of cough syrup. Undoubtedly this has effected my reading of GIRLS' POKER NIGHT, but possibly not--possibly I'm not that shallow.

But probably I am.

Anyway. I must admit I was skeptical going into this book, mostly because it has pink on the cover and one of those foo-foo fonts with all kinds of swirls and peppy letters heading every chapter (okay, yeah, I am that shallow), but really, when it's all said and done, I think I liked GIRLS' POKER NIGHT. Ruby Capote, the narrator, kinda won me over.

See, Ruby, a quirky newspaper columnist, sends the editor of The New York News a batch of her best columns and a six-pack of beer, lands a job at the paper and leaves Boston (and her boyfriend, Doug) behind. The story is told in a series of short scenes (not even chapters, really--the sections are titled but are not often longer than, say, half a page apiece), and the scenes are sprinkled with the wacky antics of Ruby's friends at their weekly poker night, as well as with Ruby's therapy sessions.

And therein lies the problem: the therapy session. At some point, Ruby gets less funny and more...emotionally conflicted. Psychobabble abounds; there's talk of her abandonment issues and several scenes where she cries and cries and cries...and cries. And cries.

Perhaps she has reasons to cry, but they're so over-analyzed--by Ruby, her friends, her lover and her shrink; everybody's got a take on Ruby's problems--that, well, I quit actually knowing (or caring) what pushed Ruby to a state of near-breakdown. Ruby, as a character, is fun, but not especially deep, so when she stopped being fun, I found it difficult to stay interested.

But when she's fun, she's really fun. Ruby Capote's got some great one liners.

This is a good light read, I'd say--take it to the beach or something, read it when you crave something witty and laughable, and try not to mind the crying. That's my advice.

RATING: 2