Arthur Golden (1) (1957–)

I found the abridged audio version of this book to be an unpleasant listening experience. In the name of cultural relativism, I was willing to set aside my visceral reaction to the institutionalized slavery and child abuse at the heart of this account. After all, the author's goal clearly was to illustrate a bygone culture, not to moralize. But for the account to have legitimacy, it had to be accurate. In contrast, Arthur Golden’s story felt false and exploitative, catering to a Western show more male fantasy with a thinly- veiled Cinderella story peopled with submissive, compliant “Oriental” (sic) women.

Is that perspective too judgmental? Perhaps; but I’m struck by the number of negative reviews at Amazon, some from people steeped in Japanese culture and traditions who objected to this book as being historically inaccurate and culturally insensitive. This view also was expressed by the former geisha whom Golden interviewed at great length for the sake of the book (see the note below).

Such cultural issues aside, I thought the writing was amateurish, cliché- ridden, and annoying. The plot was trite, the dialogue was tedious, and the ending was simply not believable. The story is told in the first person by the purported geisha. However, her sentences contained Western slang and idioms of a kind an unskilled American writer would draw upon when grasping for a phrase; and they were interspersed with supposed “Japanese” metaphors (involving crickets, grains of rice, gongs, and so on) that commonly did not ring true.

As for the Cinderella nature of the tale, the protagonist (Chiyo) is sold at the age of 9 by her poverty- stricken parents into a geisha boarding house, along with her older sister Satsu. Satsu is forced into prostitution and the two girls become orphans upon the death of their parents. Chiyo is treated badly; she lives with a money - obsessed woman whom she calls “Mother”, along with stand-ins for “wicked stepsisters.” In view of the Cinderella parallels, it may be more than coincidence that Chiyo lives with a young girl named "Pumpkin". By story’s end, she has been rescued by a Prince Charming like figure, an older man called “the Chairman” whom she has contrived to encounter.

Despite the recurring motifs of kimonos and the endless drinking and pouring of tea, this seemed to be a semi-exoticized version of a cheap romance novel, cast in a stereotypical mode. The young, prospective geisha are shallow and manipulative. and compete for male attention with sophomoric tricks. The “Chairman” who rescues Chiyo is a wealthy, powerful man whom she has dreamed of since she was a little girl, when he bought an ice cream for her. Gaining him as a lover and protector gives her the security she has longed for. As for the sex (including the protagonist’s descriptions of intercourse with the man who won the auction for her virginity), they left me feeling mildly disgusted – as they apparently did the narrator herself. There is no eroticism; sex is something done by males to the females who endure it.

Told in the first person, the audio version is narrated in breathy, Japanese-accented English by a voice that sounds like that of a 10 year old girl. As the story progresses, the voice does not mature – a discomfiting incongruity by the end of the tale, where the narrator is purportedly a mature woman looking back on her life. That lack of development may unintentionally reveal a truth – since it parallels the lack of character development of the protagonist who seemingly remains childlike throughout.

One caveat to the above is that the audio version of this book is extremely abridged, since it may be that I’ve judged it unfairly. However, while the reviews at Amazon (and the Wikipedia summary) reveal a tale with a more complex plot and several more characters, they also suggest that major weaknesses identified above are integral to the work itself. Therefore, I have no inclination to seek out the book itself.

Note: Mineko Iwasaki, a former geisha that Arthur Golden interviewed at length for his book, sued the author in 2002 for breach of contract and defamation of character (on the grounds that he thanked her in the book's acknowledgements). Among other complaints, she argued that the practice of auctioning of virginity was not done in the Gion district of Kyoto, and was certainly not done to her. Golden denied that there ever was an oral agreement to not to mention her name, and that besides, his novel was a fictional portrayal. The lawsuit was settled out of court for an undisclosed sum. In being skeptical of the lawsuit, I’m struck by the fact that Iwasaki was born in 1949 (after World War II), whereas the protagonist of Golden’s story was born ~25 years earlier, well before that war, in a Japan of a different era. Thus, Iwasaki's claim that he was describing her own life (in post- Emperor, MacArthur- era Japan) is not very believable. Meanwhile, in rebuttal of Iwasaki, other geisha eventually came forward to acknowledge that in the geisha system, virginities of teenage girls were sometimes auctioned off at high price. show less

Memoirs of a Geisha was beautifully written. Similes and metaphors describe the era, landscape and characters in a way that is almost like watching an artist wisk charcoal across canvas. I ate this book up, finished almost three weeks ago but hadn't commented on it yet as I wanted to also see the movie. Both works were nice compliments to each other. The book, described the tradition behind the customs and culture of the Geisha community. The movie depicted the beautiful scenery, kimonos and show more makeup.

I did feel, however, that the hopeless romantic feelings the Geisha Sayuri had towards the Chairman were a bit hard to swallow. And I'm sick of reading books where a hard done by female character places all her faith that everything in life will work out in a dashing, strong male character. Why are we supposed to hold our breath to see if she gets her man? Are we supposed to be surprised when she finds love? Are we supposed to give a shit?

I know this book was set in a different time (just prior and during WWII) and that it was also set in a country with different perceptions about the roles of males and females but Christ, adapting a Cinderella story still leaves us with a Cinderella story. When will our beautiful, oppressed heroine stand up from the fireplace and say "I'm not taking this shit, I can do better." And the real challenge here is having her make her own way without it reading like a bra burning feminist piece of propaganda. I mean, I like men – they have their purpose, but I’m not gonna put my wrist to my brow and wait for one to make all my dreams come true. Isn't there any middle ground? show less

It's been many years since I read this book, but lately I've just been craving a re-read since I unpacked it along with the rest of my long-since boxed up collection. I'm so glad that I caved rather than insisting on reading more new material because this novel was a total palette cleanser - and I needed one. The last time that I read this book I remember being a bit disappointed that it didn't match the film, but honestly I don't see the problem anymore. I think that the narration threw me show more off a bit previously, since the story in the film is presented with a bit of distance between the reader and Sayuri, but this time around I felt like it actually drew me into the story more to see things from Sayuri's personal perspective. Golden could easily have told this story from a variety of perspectives, but having Sayuri narrate her own story made me feel like we were hearing the story while seated at an intimate teahouse engagement. Obviously this mode of storytelling (and its subsequent intimiacy with the audience) is meant to mirror the relationship between geisha and their clients - we are there to be entertained and made to feel welcome, but we must not forget that what we receive is not necesarily the truth between two true companions. Sayuri's story is told to us with many startling secrets (some of which I am sure would never be divulged by a true geisha), which breaks the reality of the story somewhat, but is the result of the author's artistic license. All that formatting stuff aside, this is definitely one of my favourite historical fiction novels. Golden may have taken some liberties with the facts of geisha culture, but the narrative he has written touches on many themes that ring true for humanity as a whole and for that specific period in time, and are sure to spark reader's interest in discovering more about Japan. It's been even more years since I seriously studied Japanese culture or language, but it is compelling stories like these which pique my interest in expanding my knowledge. show less

What struck me most about this book was that it was fiction. Repeatedly as I was reading it, I would turn to the cover, or the front matter, or the book's description, or the author's bio, and was each time baffled to find that this was, indeed, a work of fiction. The voice is so absolutely convincing, the setting and storyline painted so vividly, that at times I forgot I was reading at all. The story is the fascinating tale of a young girl sold to become a geisha. A geisha, well trained and show more successful, lived the life of a princess, but it was a life of sacrifice, of hard work, and, in the years surrounding WWII, one that would change in definition, requiring that some very difficult decisions be made, and all with unknown consequences. It is at once a rags to riches story and an impossible romance. It is tragic and inspiring and truly makes one reconsider what one thinks he believes about pre War Japanese culture. An amazing, enlightening, inspiring read. show less