A story of friendship, love and regret, Snow Flower offers insights into both the bond between two women in China during the period when footbinding was commonplace, and the culture that promoted this body image.
Primitive might not be the best way to describe the Chinese culture that advocated footbinding and arranged marriages, because after all the Chinese weren’t the only culture to regard women as property or tools for breeding. Barbaric probably isn’t right either, although in my mind it seems to fit given what footbinding entails. Suffice it to say it’s difficult to read about the hardships women had to endure centuries ago just because they were women. It’s even harder to read this as a woman who’s had the privilege of a loving family, an education, and the opportunity to marry for love, rendering the concept of arranged marriage as both primitive and barbaric, in addition to several other choice adjectives. So while I was often times horrified by the events in this book, I was also awed by the strength and resilience women of that era demonstrated.
From the very first page you get a sense of how empty a woman’s life is in nineteenth century China, and why women would dream of a deep yet platonic friendship with another woman to fill the many voids they have in their lives. I can appreciate how such a friendship would be possibly the only real relationship a woman could experience, and that such a relationship might afford the only instances, however brief, for a woman to feel loved and appreciated for who she was rather than what she could be used for. Lily and Snow Flower, the two female leads, are fortunate enough to have this relationship. But I don’t feel like I know that because I witnessed it develop; I feel like I know it because the author told me it was there by sharing bits and pieces of a few conversations. This won’t matter to some people, who can accept without question what a close bond these women shared and appreciate the story regardless of how that bond was formed. But I like to get into the mind of a character so I can participate in the events that shape them, and thus truly feel what they feel. I think I would have a deeper understanding of the bond Lily and Snow Flower share had there been a more detailed exposure to the years over which this bond was established, but in fairness this book is as much about Chinese culture as it is Lily and Snow Flower, so maybe what we’re privy to about their relationship that I find lacking is entirely appropriate from a Chinese perspective.
Yet even the strongest bonds are not without weakness, and ironically I found the weaker elements of the relationship to speak the loudest about the bond these women shared. I think love is hard to describe, particularly the different kinds of love that existed in 19th Century China, but the depth to which you experience love can sometimes be described by its contradictory emotions like pain, anger, fear and at the extreme revenge. I may have initially felt left out of what made the relationship between Lily and Snow Flower so special, but as that relationship progressed, changed and was redefined I could appreciate that it was a precious one.
Women today have many opportunities for happiness, which don’t necessarily rely on other women. But that doesn’t mean we don’t need female friends, and this book reminds you how much we still need each other even if we can find happiness in multiple forms through children, partners or work. Those don’t replace female relationships, and after finishing this book I’m reminded that much like romantic relationships friendships need to be nurtured too.
Michele Lenard 