jankp's Full Review: Arthur Golden - Memoirs of a Geisha: A Novel
Author’s Note—This is actually a book review told through the interaction of my alter-ego Dr. Freudine and her clients/friends/nemesises. Last time Dr. Freudine and Irish go see Down With Love and discover David and Miss Cunengonde (toospoiled) there on their pseudo-date.
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Irish and I pause on the crowded sidewalk outside the discount theater to discuss going somewhere for a bite, when suddenly a glaring Miss Cunengonde bears down on me.
“Hey, I want to know what you meant by that cute remark in there! It felt like a slam to my profession and we’re supposed to be working together to help David, right? So why are you being so b!tchy?”
I’m taken back by the fury aimed at me and can’t think of what to say for a moment, but once again inspiration rescues me. “As a sex surrogate you probably get insulted a lot worse than that and it makes you extra sensitive, especially when you’re on a pseudo date and I’m on a real one! Irish doesn’t need a Hollywood geisha like you, of course.”
“Hollywood geisha! You’re calling me a hooker?” Miss Cunengonde gasps, going even paler than usual. I notice a titter beside me and throw Irish a stern look.
“No, but’s that’s a common misinterpretation here. Have you ever read Memoirs of a Geisha by Arthur Golden? No, obviously not. Well, a geisha is much more honorable than a prostitute. She is trained to dance, sing, play a banjo-like instrument, make and serve tea and generally keep men company in a teahouse. It’s more like a date and only if the man becomes her danna, or sponsor who underwrites her expenses and buys her jewels and things, will she become sexually intimate with him.”
She’s still regarding me warily. “But you called me a Hollywood geisha and that means a hooker, hon. I’m telling Dr. Defiance and you’ll be sorry...”
“You won’t have to, pet,” says a husky voice. It’s the twisted old girl herself caught in the act of eavesdropping if not spying on us. “I’ve read that book and she’s calling you more of a call girl, which is still an insult. Sex surrogates aren’t just...bah! Entertainers!”
“Oh, so geishas are Japanese call girls? Poor Arthur Golden went to so much trouble researching and interviewing real geishas for his 400-page tale and that’s all you think of his Cinderella character, Chiyo, later Sayuri. It’s not like she did stripteases or chorus lines, you know, but told stories through her dance.”
“True, very true. Japan is a different culture than ours. You think we should regard their culture as superior then? Golden is guilty of that as well with painting their lives as so...I don’t know. Other worldly maybe? Almost god-like?”
I consider that with the growing excitement of analyzing a book. The others, even Irish, cease to exist in the headiness of such a prospect. “Now that you bring it up, I would agree. Sayuri’s not really a sexual person and is pretty virginal even after her mizuage where the winner of the bidding got to break her hymen. She once is overcome with lust and has a one-night stand, but Golden leaves that to our imagination and her love for the Chairman seems only child-like when he gives her no indication that he returns her love.”
“Plus he’s at least twenty years her senior. And doesn’t the Cinderella storyline and the poetic writing, an attempt to sound Japanese no doubt, also give her more class?”
Now we’re both nodding and smiling. How could this be the wacky Dr. Defiance, though? I seem to have misjudged her...
“What a stupid ending, huh?” I gush. “Everything turning up roses and nothing but blue skies. Forget the tragic guy she hurt...and he was probably the most interesting character, but Golden forgot him so Sayuri could have her implausible Cinderella ending. I mean, moving to N...”
“Oh, it was a cop-out totally. It was so interesting until then since I don’t know Japanese culture, but then, hell, I realized it was more like a movie than real life. P!ssed me off!”
“Boss, she called me a Hollywood geisha, remember?” Miss Cunengonde pouts.
“Well, Cinderella is goldarn Hollywood if it’s anything, wouldn’t you say? Maybe it’s a compliment on your princess-like beauty. You would do well to act like a geisha with David, let me tell you!” warns the observant doctor.
That makes the guy light up. “I’d love that! Do you mean dance or sing...?”
“Not necessarily. A geisha gives you a wonderful time by doing whatever you want to do...besides that. She doesn’t make eyes at other guys either, ahem!”
“I’m not!” Miss Cunengonde squeals. “Why are you looking at me like that?”
“Oh, I saw you, too!” I exclaim, stepping in between her and Irish. “Some geisha you are! You’re not even a good sex surrogate. I pity this sweet guy being out with a fake like you. Are those boobs even real or Hollywoodized?”
Her boss rolls up her sleeves. “Now wait a minute, Freudine!”
“You wait a minute, Defiance!”
“Yeah, cream her, boss!”
The moment the mad doctor lunges for me Irish blocks her with his body, which I might add is hard enough to withstand the force of the not exactly petite woman. I stick out my tongue from behind him and suddenly it’s chaos with the guys pulling us off each other. Dr. Defiance, I learned, becomes a woman possessed when she spies a tongue darting out at her.
I also learned that Memoirs Of A Geisha is best not discussed around a jealous sex surrogate...and if that’s a slam against her profession, it’s certainly no lie!
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