Memoirs of losing it
April 11, 2004 | 12:00am
Chalky makeup and cherry lips.
All I knew about a geisha I learned last century from Madonna. The rest was provided by Arthur Golden’s Memoirs of a Geisha, a quasi-historical novel. It was only then that I lost my Japanese-culture virginity and was thrust into the past, a foreign realm of unusual customs. Getting deeper into the geisha culture, I was convinced that one should not be content with such an unscholarly understanding of its trappings.
It is rather complex to define what a geisha is. With a slave’s beginnings of being bought and being made a property of a geisha house, an okiya, she is gradually introduced to the world of seducing men through art.
With good strategy, she could wind up later in life being a mistress to a rich and powerful man. Success in this profession is measured by how moneyed her benefactor is. Some sort of popularity contest ensues among their kind and the one who becomes the most pampered kept woman emerges victorious. The Japanese flavor becomes more evident with a unique ritual called miszuage, an apprentice geisha’s first sexual intercourse. The lucky man to partake in this event is the winner in the bid for the girl’s virginity. (Women’s right advocates need not lose their temper for this ritual has been outlawed since 1958).
The novel’s beautiful heroine Sayuri, with her unusual blue-gray eyes and exquisite training in the geisha arts, is a gold mine to her okiya. The okiya mistress Nitta and mentor Mameha put a hefty price tag befitting her endowments. True enough, she held the record of the most expensive cherry popped. The whimsically named Dr. Crab, the highest bidder, has the pleasure of partaking in Sayuri’s mizuage. Come to think of it, the mizuage ritual is a toss-up between an auction and a cunning career maneuver. It is a mentor’s job to ensure an illustrious career for her apprentice geisha, and the mizuage is just about the most powerful tool to catapult her into stellar status.
While I admired the rich cultural theme and scandal-worth subplots, it took me some time to take a pragmatic look at Memoirs of a Geisha for its relevance in the modern times. I’m even almost ashamed to admit that the whole idea made me squirm a little bit. While I respect a woman’s prerogative over her choice of career, it’s not everyday that one rubs elbows with people who provide intimate services for a living. It requires a non-judgmental mind to appreciate Golden’s peephole into a geisha’s intriguing life. However, it is easy to regard a geisha with new respect with the novel’s dignified and elegant portrayal of Sayuri. The author makes his point in showing that a geisha is not another prostitute.
I commend Golden’s mastery of a woman’s heart. His astute observation of the female psyche is thoroughly and artfully rendered. Encapsulated in the story are nuances of a woman who like everybody else has her own cherished dreams of true love amidst time and circumstance. This novel that could’ve been alternatively called Love in the Time of Great Depression entertains the possibility of enduring love within the rigid bounds of a geisha house set in 20th-century war-torn Japan.
What makes this period piece a great literary work besides its ample dusting of fairytale sparkle is the astonishingly timely message it contains. Concealed in a secret language of traditions and obsolete rituals, it hit me right in the Achille’s heel. The book seeks to address women, regardless of race, who are oblivious of their worth. What one could gain from reading Memoirs of a Geisha is the wisdom of holding out for the worthiest man. I take the mizuage ritual as a metaphor of how I should arbitrate high standards on myself. Adopting a geisha’s philosophy on the aspect of putting a premium on myself affords me to finally put a check on Mr. Maslow’s top list.
Memoirs of a Geisha is recommended for femmes who stupidly fall in love put up with a less than VIP treatment. There really are girls smart and beautiful who settle for a sexually symbiotic relationship when what they really crave is the real thing. There are more who think that they’re merely at anatomical and physiological value. Gold-digging aside, it’s all about taking what is due. Call me old-fashioned but I certainly believe that a guy tends to value the jewel that cost him an arm and a leg to have. Every woman should never be short-changed regarding her worth. After all, it’s not the men who climb the highest mountains for a great ukay-ukay bargain.
All I knew about a geisha I learned last century from Madonna. The rest was provided by Arthur Golden’s Memoirs of a Geisha, a quasi-historical novel. It was only then that I lost my Japanese-culture virginity and was thrust into the past, a foreign realm of unusual customs. Getting deeper into the geisha culture, I was convinced that one should not be content with such an unscholarly understanding of its trappings.
It is rather complex to define what a geisha is. With a slave’s beginnings of being bought and being made a property of a geisha house, an okiya, she is gradually introduced to the world of seducing men through art.
With good strategy, she could wind up later in life being a mistress to a rich and powerful man. Success in this profession is measured by how moneyed her benefactor is. Some sort of popularity contest ensues among their kind and the one who becomes the most pampered kept woman emerges victorious. The Japanese flavor becomes more evident with a unique ritual called miszuage, an apprentice geisha’s first sexual intercourse. The lucky man to partake in this event is the winner in the bid for the girl’s virginity. (Women’s right advocates need not lose their temper for this ritual has been outlawed since 1958).
The novel’s beautiful heroine Sayuri, with her unusual blue-gray eyes and exquisite training in the geisha arts, is a gold mine to her okiya. The okiya mistress Nitta and mentor Mameha put a hefty price tag befitting her endowments. True enough, she held the record of the most expensive cherry popped. The whimsically named Dr. Crab, the highest bidder, has the pleasure of partaking in Sayuri’s mizuage. Come to think of it, the mizuage ritual is a toss-up between an auction and a cunning career maneuver. It is a mentor’s job to ensure an illustrious career for her apprentice geisha, and the mizuage is just about the most powerful tool to catapult her into stellar status.
While I admired the rich cultural theme and scandal-worth subplots, it took me some time to take a pragmatic look at Memoirs of a Geisha for its relevance in the modern times. I’m even almost ashamed to admit that the whole idea made me squirm a little bit. While I respect a woman’s prerogative over her choice of career, it’s not everyday that one rubs elbows with people who provide intimate services for a living. It requires a non-judgmental mind to appreciate Golden’s peephole into a geisha’s intriguing life. However, it is easy to regard a geisha with new respect with the novel’s dignified and elegant portrayal of Sayuri. The author makes his point in showing that a geisha is not another prostitute.
I commend Golden’s mastery of a woman’s heart. His astute observation of the female psyche is thoroughly and artfully rendered. Encapsulated in the story are nuances of a woman who like everybody else has her own cherished dreams of true love amidst time and circumstance. This novel that could’ve been alternatively called Love in the Time of Great Depression entertains the possibility of enduring love within the rigid bounds of a geisha house set in 20th-century war-torn Japan.
What makes this period piece a great literary work besides its ample dusting of fairytale sparkle is the astonishingly timely message it contains. Concealed in a secret language of traditions and obsolete rituals, it hit me right in the Achille’s heel. The book seeks to address women, regardless of race, who are oblivious of their worth. What one could gain from reading Memoirs of a Geisha is the wisdom of holding out for the worthiest man. I take the mizuage ritual as a metaphor of how I should arbitrate high standards on myself. Adopting a geisha’s philosophy on the aspect of putting a premium on myself affords me to finally put a check on Mr. Maslow’s top list.
Memoirs of a Geisha is recommended for femmes who stupidly fall in love put up with a less than VIP treatment. There really are girls smart and beautiful who settle for a sexually symbiotic relationship when what they really crave is the real thing. There are more who think that they’re merely at anatomical and physiological value. Gold-digging aside, it’s all about taking what is due. Call me old-fashioned but I certainly believe that a guy tends to value the jewel that cost him an arm and a leg to have. Every woman should never be short-changed regarding her worth. After all, it’s not the men who climb the highest mountains for a great ukay-ukay bargain.
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