PetroneIla Wyatt
Exceptional for imagination alone is Arthur Golden's Memoirs of a Geisha (Vin- tage, £6.99). Golden places himself in the mind and body of a pre-war apprentice geisha girl living outside Tokyo. It is diffi- cult enough for a man to write as woman — even more so for that man to write con- vincingly of her domestic and sexual rituals. Golden manages both beautifully, never descending into voyeurism or letting the net curtain of good taste obscure our view of the heroine, whose story is as moving as any real tale. Our young geisha, born into poverty, defeats her rivals to become one of the most sought after practitioners of her profession, all the while harbouring a wistful passion for a man who is apparently indifferent. Golden treats his subject with courteous respect — understandable, as geishas were never prostitutes, nor does the word courtesan accurately describe them. They were well-educated and versed in the arts of singing, dancing and conver- sation. Anything less like bimbos could not be imagined. The only females comparable with these Japanese goddesses were the Aspasias of ancient Athens.
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