A Hundred Secret Senses
Amy Tan has done some remarkable work when it comes to merging American and Chinese cultures into her writing. Especially in 'The Hundred Secret Senses'.
A first person narrative about the inter-cultural relationship between two women, Olivia and Kwan, who become sisters after Olivia’s father, on his death bed, confesses that he has an abandoned daughter in China. His last request – to bring her to America.
Kwan becomes Olivia’s worst nightmare, her typically Chinese ways embarrass and scare little Olivia. To add to this they are made to share a room. And Kwan soon reveals that she has ‘yin-eyes’ – she sees people who have died and now reside in the World of Yin.
More terrifying, her sister seems to relate to these ‘ghosts’ much better than she does to the living, except perhaps Olivia, who, despite her constantly cynical perspective, is the object of her undying affection.
“(Kwan) is like an orphaned cat, kneading on my heart…”
Kwan’s meddling ways and constant reference to her former life irk Olivia even after they have grown up and are married.
Despite her reservations, Olivia agrees to go on a journey back to the village where Kwan grew up. There she not only finds that Kwan’s stories may have a bit of truth to them, she also finds new passion for her husband Simon and a whole new respect for Chinese culture.
Amy Tan weaves in the American and Chinese accents so well, that you can actually feel Olivia’s frustration, as well as Kwan’s faithful belief of Oriental myths and ideology. The book effortlessly oscillates between the mystical stories of Kwan’s former life as Nunumu in the village of Changmian in the mid-nineteenth century and Olivia’s more modern, American dilemmas and relationship issues.
The worm does feel that the stories sometimes seem to meander, but being so very true to the character of Kwan, they become, none the less, very compelling. Kwan is both naïve and wise, funny and serious, helpful and frustrating.
And some of the storied she narrates made even the worms’ spine chill and moved her to leave the nightlight on.
Other than the fact that the cover is colourful, something that the worm’s six-month old niece loved, the book itself is a very good read – especially for a woman, a man might find it a tad too emotionally packed.
The worm likes novels that weave culture and tradition so beautifully to build up to a bittersweet conclusion without sounding trite.
And this book is far from trite.
Worm Rating – Highly Readable
A first person narrative about the inter-cultural relationship between two women, Olivia and Kwan, who become sisters after Olivia’s father, on his death bed, confesses that he has an abandoned daughter in China. His last request – to bring her to America.
Kwan becomes Olivia’s worst nightmare, her typically Chinese ways embarrass and scare little Olivia. To add to this they are made to share a room. And Kwan soon reveals that she has ‘yin-eyes’ – she sees people who have died and now reside in the World of Yin.
More terrifying, her sister seems to relate to these ‘ghosts’ much better than she does to the living, except perhaps Olivia, who, despite her constantly cynical perspective, is the object of her undying affection.
“(Kwan) is like an orphaned cat, kneading on my heart…”
Kwan’s meddling ways and constant reference to her former life irk Olivia even after they have grown up and are married.
Despite her reservations, Olivia agrees to go on a journey back to the village where Kwan grew up. There she not only finds that Kwan’s stories may have a bit of truth to them, she also finds new passion for her husband Simon and a whole new respect for Chinese culture.
Amy Tan weaves in the American and Chinese accents so well, that you can actually feel Olivia’s frustration, as well as Kwan’s faithful belief of Oriental myths and ideology. The book effortlessly oscillates between the mystical stories of Kwan’s former life as Nunumu in the village of Changmian in the mid-nineteenth century and Olivia’s more modern, American dilemmas and relationship issues.
The worm does feel that the stories sometimes seem to meander, but being so very true to the character of Kwan, they become, none the less, very compelling. Kwan is both naïve and wise, funny and serious, helpful and frustrating.
And some of the storied she narrates made even the worms’ spine chill and moved her to leave the nightlight on.
Other than the fact that the cover is colourful, something that the worm’s six-month old niece loved, the book itself is a very good read – especially for a woman, a man might find it a tad too emotionally packed.
The worm likes novels that weave culture and tradition so beautifully to build up to a bittersweet conclusion without sounding trite.
And this book is far from trite.
Worm Rating – Highly Readable
posted by Spazsim Chasm at 7:34 PM
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