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Novelist Amy Tan’s first book of nonfiction is so good
that I couldn’t put it down, and once finished, went back to reread my favorite
parts.
I always enjoy a book that gives me a peek into the writer’s life;
the struggle to produce that second book, the exhaustion that comes with a book tour, or
the thrill of jamming with Steve King and Dave Barry. Tan’s book does that and much
more.
One of her longer essays describes the making of the film The Joy
Luck Club, based on her first novel. Another details her good times on the road with
her sometimes rock band, the Rock Bottom Remainders. One is a hastily written email to
friends, saying yes, she’s OK, the mudslides that wrecked her Tahoe neighborhood didn’t
sweep her and her husband away. The final and most poignant piece is about her struggle
to find the cause of her strange recent illness. (Turned out to be Lyme disease, courtesy
of a tiny tick.)
Thrown into the mix are tales of (what might have been)
ghosts, lucid dreams, and innumerable weird coincidences that speak to the themes of fate
and faith.
Tan has a clean, accessible and often humorous style, and she
had no trouble casting her spell over me. It made me wonder why I never found the time to
read any of her four novels. But I have a feeling that that won’t be the case for long.
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