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INTERVIEW
TBR
Writer Jami Edwards had a chance to ask Author of the Century, Amy
Tan, some questions about her writing and her life. After the publication
of THE JOY LUCK CLUB, Amy Tan became a familiar name --- her debut
novel was a raving success and won several prestigious awards. Find
out what the pressure was like for Amy when she sat down to write
her second book, if that kind of pressure ever really goes away,
who her saving grace is when writing gets extra tough, and what
she is working on now. Amy Tan is an extraordinary writer who skillfully
reproduces the powerful and at times eruptive relationships between
mothers, daughters, and siblings in her works of literature. Readers
everywhere can relate to her lyrical prose and her complex characters
--- read Amy Tan's latest interview to find out more about this
amazing woman and writer.
TBR: Your first book, THE JOY LUCK CLUB, won the National Book
Award. How did that affect you as a writer?
AT: Actually, I did not win
the National Book Award, although this notion that I did win it
has followed me around for years. (I keep waiting for the misprint
to escalate to the point that people will be saying I won a Nobel
Prize!) The truth is, in 1989, I was one of five writers nominated
for an NBA, which was given to John Casey, as well as for a National
Book Critics Circle Award, which was given to Oscar Hijuelos. That
year, I did receive the Commonwealth Club Gold Award and the Bay
Area Book Reviewer's Award, as well as some other honors. At the
time that all this happened, I was trying to dismiss the hoopla
as transitory, rationalizing that I was the flavor of the month,
and that once I received my pat on the back, I would return to the
same obscurity from which I emerged.
TBR: Did winning awards for your first book make you feel like
your second book was "under a microscope" or pressed for a second
success of the same magnitude?
AT: I felt many pressures, the
most onerous one coming from myself. I did not know what
people saw in my first book. And as I tried to write
the second, I could not quiet the anxiety that I would fail for
all kinds of reasons. There was first and foremost my
need to create something that was different, yet honest, personally
meaningful, and which contained the aesthetic merits I valued in
good fiction. At the same time, I would often replay
in my head the reviews, but only the really bad ones, the mocking
ones that said my life wasn't interesting enough to fill a book,
that sort of thing, personal jibes. I realized that the public does
not simply judge your art but your persona, or their imaginings
of what that must be, which, of course, becomes a fiction of sorts.
On top of that, I did not want to disappoint my publisher and their
hopes for book that would do well. Yet, I did not think
I could "write a bestseller." I could only write a book. And
seven false starts later, I finally wrote that second book, THE
KITCHEN GOD'S WIFE, which, as it turned out, went to number one
on the bestseller lists and all that. But the anxiety still continues,
gets worse with each book.
TBR: At one point, you were banned in China. Please
elaborate on that for us and update us on your current status in
China.
AT: Banned may be too harsh
a word. I was denied a visa a couple of years ago. Six
months before that, a friend who lives in Beijing had invited me
to fund-raiser for orphanages in China. I was planning to go to
Beijing to visit relatives anyway, so I agreed to attend the dinner. Shortly
after, a British television production called "The Dying Rooms"
appeared in the UK and the US and created a frenzy of outrage over
the belief that China was systematically killing its orphans. So
by the time, I arrived in China, the tensions were high over any
foreigner presence related to orphanages. At the same
time, the fund-raiser had sold 450 seats among the expatriate community
in Beijing, and the event was going to be attended by many of the
ambassadors there, as well as top executives of international companies.
On the afternoon of the event, the Public Security Bureau (PSB)
in Beijing informed the fund-raisers that they did not have a proper
permit to collect public monies and the event would have to be canceled. Eventually,
the PSB compromised and said they could hold the dinner, but not
the program. The dinner proceeded like a wedding reception at which
the bride did not show up. The children didn't sing. I didn't tell
my jokes. The international press caught wind of this,
and somehow the headlines got whipped up, to the effect of saying
that "police stormed the dinner," "tore down banners," and "prevented
Amy Tan from going to the podium" (I could practically picture my
arm being torn off as I tried to exercise my freedom of speech!)
--- a much more exciting version of what actually happened. In the
news coverage that followed, my name was consistently linked to
the events, with old file footage of me from years ago inter-cut
with footage from "The Dying Rooms." I suspect that the
authorities-that-be in China believed I was somehow behind an effort
to humiliate China. So when I next applied for a visa,
my application was turned down. What bothered me most,
however, was how the event was reported by the rest of the world. This
was such a gross exaggeration of what happened and it is the kind
of hyperventilation that creates a backlash and does nothing to
promote human rights. One footnote: I have since applied for a visa
and received one.
TBR: One of your strengths as a storyteller is the insight with
which you depict the complexities of mother/daughter relationships. What
effects, good and bad, has this storytelling had on your relationship
with your own mother?
AT: By writing parts of my stories
in a mother's voice, I had to imagine what my mother had gone through,
what she had hoped, as well as what she regretted. And
in doing so, I learned a very important lesson about imagination. And
that is that much of imagination is empathy and compassion. And
that to have compassion you must have imagination, to imagine fully
another person's life. I remember that after my first book came
out, my mother was complaining about something that had happened
to her. She was about to go on one of her two-hour laments when
suddenly she stopped herself and said, "I don't have to tell you.
You understand. You're just like me." And I realized
that we both understood each other emotionally. My mother now has
Alzheimer's Disease, but she retains this uncanny intuition about
me, particularly about things that bother me. She'll call me and
say, "I think you sad today." And she'll be right. She
dreams about how I am feeling. She is always concerned
over whether I have had enough to eat. And it's those
little concerns of her that are no longer annoying but so precious.
TBR: The poet Molly Peacock says in her memoir, PARADISE, PIECE
BY PIECE, that "my choice not to have children has defined my adult
life... I had to make the choice from so far down in my own core
that I was never wholly aware of it. It took insight
to see and release it --- an insight I didn't always have. For
this is a decision you do not make once but many times."
You've stated that you have also made a conscious decision not to
have children. In what ways has this personal decision
manifested itself in your work as a writer?
AT: I include children in my
stories and at times I imagine that they are my children. For
some reason, they are not always the best-mannered kids. But
they always contain the potential to break my heart.
TBR: What were the catalysts that lead you down the path to children's
literature and how does the creative process differ for you from
adult fiction?
AT: When I was a child, I dreamed
of becoming an artist not a writer. I wanted to make
picture books. The words in those books were secondary,
for the pictures would inspire the words. In a way, I
think that is still true for me. I write from imagery
in my mind. In the 1970s, I started drawing again. I
was working as a language development specialist with young children,
birth to five, with developmental disabilities and I would create
language materials --- pictures when I didn't
find the ones I wanted that would motivate the kids to communicate. Again
pictures inspiring words. As it turns out, my best friend,
Gretchen Schields, is an illustrator, and her sense of imagery closely
complements mine -- being lush, dense, and at times, gothic. So
it was only natural that we use our collective imaginations and
collaborate, with her providing the drawings and me the story. One
of those children's books we did together, THE CHINESE SIAMESE CAT,
is now going to be a TV production.
TBR: THE HUNDRED SECRET SENSES in particular deals with ghosts
and the more mystical side of life. Tell us a little
about your "yin eyes" and your own experiences with "yin people."
AT: Part of me would like to
be a skeptic about the mystical. I like to think of myself
as a rational person, not easily given to suggestibility and wishful
thinking. But so much of what has happened me is outside
the ken of my ordinary senses, outside of logic. I have
had more than my share of invisible footsteps in broad daylight,
apparitions, and prophetic dreams. And what is even more
telling to me, I have had an inordinate amount of luck. What
has happened to me as a writer is evidence to me of that. Certainly
a bit of talent and hard work went into my work, but I don't think
anyone would deny that what has happened to me was frankly phenomenal
and unexpected. It is as though I have any number of
unknown people, ghost writers, so to speak, who happily provide
help, be it research or helping the book fall into the right hands.
I don't know what to call this help --- "yin people," "ghosts, "
"the muse," "the cosmic unconscious," or "God." But I
believe that this type of luck is not simply a fluke.
It feels very personal and specific. Perhaps it's a form
of love. After all, love is also intangible, and mysterious.
You simply feel it and believe it. And why anyone not
want to believe in love?
TBR: You have expressed strong feelings about a book being judged
for art's sake only, without borrowing on one's ethnicity as a writer.
What do you see as the inherent dangers in one's work being judged
on historical and cultural qualities instead of --- or as well as
--- its aesthetic ones?
AT: From the beginning of time
and book reviews, literary critics have always tried to find social,
political, and cultural meaning in fiction. Students
of literature are forced to do so --- to find the hidden symbols
and all that. But I'll tell you a secret: The reasons
writers write may be different from the reasons readers read.
The reasons may be aesthetic or emotional or simply a matter of
having fun. And we may not be consciously planting those symbols. I
certainly don't. This is not to say that readers are
wrong when they read for cultural meaning or what have you. But
cultural messages are not necessarily my intention as a writer. I
do become alarmed when I hear certain people saying that works by
writers, particularly ethnic writers, should perform a specific
role --- educating others or providing positive role models, for
example --- because that assumes you can delimit what the work should
be, as well as how it should be written. Art is created
out of freedom and not a specious desire to win approval by others
or to serve popular policies. And yet that notion that
literature has a proscribed role is one that is sometimes put forth
in literature classes and among some critics. It is
the same rhetoric that conscripted literature to serve the tenets
of Marxism and the cultural revolution in China. And
as a result, a lot of good writers were trounced, and those who
followed party line were placed on the pedestals. That's an effective
way to kill good literature.
TBR: What do you see as the social role of literature, particularly
of American literature in our society today?
AT: I don't think American literature
should have any specific social role, except perhaps to provide
pleasure and reflection. I think we are pretty good
as Americans at discovering what the role of books is for each of
us as we go along. I would hope, however, that part of
that discovery is that reading good fiction can help enrich what
you notice in life, that it is like a meditation on what details
you might also observe and bring into your own life. Reading,
I think, helps you live well and fully.
TBR: You have emphasized the need to "read a lot and know what
you like to read." What do you like most to read and
what is currently on your nightstand?
AT: What's usually on my nightstand
is what I read as research. But at the moment, the pile
is quite fun --- 120 stories selected for Best American Shorts Stories
1999. I am the guest editor and so I get to choose my
top 20. Imagine it, pages of the best stories out there. It's
rather like having the biggest box of the most delectable chocolate
truffles, and my job is to sample them all. I once dreamed
of having a job in which all I had to do was read good stories. And
it's rather amazing to me that this is exactly what I get to do. The
worst part of this is knowing I can choose only 20 and feeling that
I will inevitably have to leave out many that I would have included
as equally outstanding.
TBR: What authors would you personally find indispensable to
a list of Writers of the Century?
AT: I would not want to list
them all out of fear that I would certainly forget to name others
and kick myself later. My list would be very long and
I would certainly include writers, living and not, as well as those
outside of American literature.
You've stated in past interviews that you "couldn't survive without
writing." It's been four years since THE HUNDRED SECRET
SENSES. What have you been doing to "survive" during
these past four years? What will your next project be?
AT: I've been writing and rewriting
and finding that writing does not get any easier. My saving grace
and chief distraction have been my dogs, two travel-sized Yorkshire
Terriers named Bubba and Lilliput, who weigh a combined total of
5-1/2 pounds. They adore me no matter how many bad sentences
I write, no matter how much I have not accomplished.
They sit on my lap as I work and we spend an awful lot of time reading
various AOL message boards related to dogs. Aside from
working on my next novel, I am also guest editing Best American
Shorts Stories 1999 (published Fall 1999). In addition,
I am beginning a TV production based on my children's book THE CHINESE
SIAMESE CAT. I have a role as creative consultant, so
it's just the fun stuff and none of the daily hard work of producing
a 26 episode series.
TBR: What advice would you give young readers who want to grow
up to be writers?
AT: Know why you want to write,
why it's necessary. No one can tell you what those reasons
are. But if you want to write only to be published then
you will likely get discouraged and quit before that happens.
An ambition for fame is not enough. The reason you write
should be substantial enough that you would continue to write no
matter what. I would also advise young writers to continue
reading prolifically. Know the difference between good
writing and bad. Be willing to revise. Go
to readings by other writers and stay inspired. Don't
ask them how much money they got as an advance. Ask them
what they value in writing.
TBR: What do you find most frustrating, and most rewarding, about
the way you are depicted specifically as a Chinese American writer
and role model, and do you see this changing at all?
AT: It's annoying when reviewers
refer to new writers who are Asian-American as "the new Amy Tan."
Those writers must feel stymied and pigeonholed. And
I feel positively calcified and decrepit. It's frustrating
when people who are using my work in multicultural classes take
the stories too literally. I saw one question on a study
guide that asked, "If you are invited to a Chinese family's house
for dinner, should you bring a bottle of wine?" The
correct answer was supposedly based on one of my stories! It's
amusing when I go on book tour and I am asked everything related
to anything having to do with Asian-Americans, China, and even Chinese
cooking.
TBR: You've stated that with your writing you want to "create
a work of art." Which book comes closest to your conception
of what you want your artistic creation to be?
AT: I have yet to write that
book. Each book I write succeeds in ways aesthetically
that I did not expect. Each book also fails in ways I
would have hoped it would not. I think most writers
are compelled in part to continue writing because we are trying
to come closer to what our work of art should be. For
me, language and a seamless and deceptively simple quality to the
story are hugely important.
TBR: What are your thoughts on the millennium?
AT: 2000 is a big year for me. It
is the year of the water dragon, and I am a water dragon, a year
that comes up only once every 48 years. My birthday
also falls right around the Chinese New Year. Nothing
is fated, but I like coincidences and take them as reminders to
pay attention. Mostly though, when I think of the millennium,
I think I should back up my hard disk drive in case my computer
crashes at midnight.
ARTICLE
In
politics, the gates of China were opened by Richard Nixon.
In literature, the colorful characters who poured through those
gates and into our hearts were created by Amy Tan.
Disparate events to be sure, but not so dissimilar as they might
appear at first glance. The world of commerce hasn't been the same
since China was recognized by the United States, and as for the
world of storytelling...the tremendous success of 1989's THE JOY
LUCK CLUB illustrates just how effectively Amy Tan has toppled the
Great Wall that once separated the Chinese heroine from American
readers.
Amy Tan is first and foremost an American writer. Born in 1952 to
Chinese immigrants, she's also contemporary. Her books deal with
pertinent and complicated American issues such as cultural assimilation,
love, marriage, ambition, and, family conflict. You would be hard
pressed to find fiction today that is more believable and affecting
in the depiction of the gradient levels of complexity in relationships
between women --- mothers and daughters; sisters and sisters; friends
and friends; friends and rivals. And through it all, dry wit is
never far from her pen.
The vivid stories her mother told of life in pre-Communist China
and the straightforward manner in which her Baptist minister father
presented his sermons had a lasting effect on Tan. She combines
rich, intricate story lines with down-to-earth, exuberant language,
and peppers her novels with Chinese myth and mysticism.
While she has never pretended that her books should be taken as
historically accurate portrayals of China, Tan's attention to detail
in description and characterization make us feel as though we are
right there. We want to comfort THE JOY LUCK CLUB's two-year-old
Lindo when she finds out she has been promised in marriage and we
feel Ying-Ying's despair when she rushes to the Moon Lady with a
wish on her lips. In THE KITCHEN GOD'S WIFE, when the despicable
Wen Fu publicly abuses Winnie, we feel her humiliation so strongly
that the blood rushes to our own cheeks. As Olivia desperately searches
for Simon in the caves at Changmian in THE HUNDRED SECRET SENSES,
our pulse takes on the speedy beat of panic.
Never has China seemed so brilliant and accessible to so many readers
worldwide.
Yet, to telescope Amy Tan's work into some sort of Chinese-American
goodwill ambassadorship is to do her an injustice. She, herself,
downplays the part her ethnicity has in her books. She doesn't want
to be the Chinese-American poster child for literature, and who
can blame her? However, the influence she has had in clearing the
way for more Asian-American writers can't be denied. By exposing
the palates of mainstream readers to another culture, Amy Tan has
undoubtedly opened minds through fiction, and in the process she
has created art.
And isn't that ultimately what a great writer does?
--- Jami Edwards
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