When I read The Good Earth for class many years ago I enjoyed it, but until very recently it never occurred to me to read anything else by Pearl S. Buck. The Good Earth, is, after all, her most popular book by far, winning Buck the Pulitzer Prize and contributing to her Nobel Prize win more than any of her other novels (most of them, including this one, she wrote after she was a laureate). I didn’t even know the name of any of Buck’s other works, so I was surprised to find that she had been a rather prolific writer, with dozens of novels to her name. Pavilion of Women is, at least per goodreads, her second most popular novel, with only a small fraction the number of readers as The Good Earth, but it has a lot in common with that work: it is a novel focused on actions, with a distinctive writing style, and it has a similar setting. However, the scope of Pavilion of Women is narrower, painting the portrait of a family matriarch instead of depicting the fall of one great house and the rise of another.
Like The Good Earth, Pavilion of Women is almost entirely focused on the actions of its characters, and the progression of the plot. This, for whatever reason, is a rarity among the books I typically read. Only occasionally does Buck have a passage of descriptive imagery, touching on the garden, the countryside, or the weather, and even then that passage is usually only a few lines. Likewise, Buck is not concerned with “world building,” in the sense of explaining how the house of Wu or the rural Chinese town functions. As a reader you certainly become familiar with both the house and the town, but largely through the characters and what actions they perform. Buck never delves into how many courts the house of Wu has, or its layout, the fact that it contains a temple is only introduced over two-thirds into the book, but it’s clear that these specifics are not something Buck considers essential to the story being told.
Buck’s prose is particularly noteworthy. It’s a distinctive blend of straightforward depictions of actions, heavy on dialogue or internal monologue, with some distinguishing element occasionally added, creating a particular type of minimalism that is easy to read, and that gradually introduces you to the characters and setting without having to dedicate long sections of the book to such information specifically. In contrast, Buck will with more frequency than many authors drop in isolated lines that are an almost poetic take on the subject being discussed. “To bear him many children was her sole desire. She was his instrument for immortality.” I feel that this style has influenced American depictions of China, and the type of dialogue typically given to Chinese characters. Buck is, after all, likely still the most read author on the topic of China in America, as she has been from the 1930s.
Because the actions are so central to Pavilion of Women, it’s hard to discuss the book without going into the events depicted—so be warned that the rest of the review will contain general spoilers.
The book can be divided almost exactly into thirds: the third before Brother André, the third with Brother André, and the third after Brother André. Though these sections are defined by the presence or absence of Brother André, this book is primarily the portrait of Madame Wu, the matriarch of the great house of Wu. The book opens with Madame Wu’s implementing a decision she made long ago to retire from the physical duties of being a wife and to bring in a concubine as a second wife for her husband, a decision she adheres to even though her friends and family uniformly consider it a bad idea. But Madame Wu’s competence is such that everyone defers to her decision. In this first third, the character of Madame Wu concerned me, as she skirted the line of being a too-perfect character without any flaws (see her preternatural ability to harvest silk worms, ability to calm infants with her presence, deftly manipulate everyone she comes into contact with, she seems good at everything).
Luckily, the second third addresses my concern. Madame Wu’s perfection is juxtaposed with her initial lack of passion, as she calculates her every action. The introduction of Brother André, who sees through Madame Wu the way she sees through others, and who finally begins spurring emotions in her, is a welcome jolt to the story after the largely boring first third. Through Brother André, Madame Wu realizes (and we learn) that, instead of wanting to retire as a wife and bring in a concubine out of her continued desire to be a perfect wife and matriarch, Madame Wu did it out of a selfish desire to free herself from her burdens. This section chips away at the mask of perfection presented by the first part, revealing that the house of Wu is not the tranquil place it was originally depicted as being, and that many of Madame Wu’s machinations have failed or backfired. In discussing and learning from Brother André, Madame Wu begins to develop as a character, realizing her flaws but also growing toward her potential of actually being the benevolent matriarch she was thought to be (and convinced herself she was) in the first part of the story.
In the last third, Madame Wu’s promise is finally fulfilled, though the catalyst for this is unexpected. Madame Wu goes about helping others and correcting past mistakes where she can, and finally earns her reputation. This is not to say that the house of Wu is transformed into a paradise on earth, as, throughout all the parts of this book the rest of the Wu family has continued to develop, with some family members growing in a positive way and others the opposite. Madame Wu is no supernatural force, so there remain some members that live tragic lives despite her presence. To me this final section highlighted the main flaw of the Pavilion of Women, which is that Pearl S. Buck is not able to deliver the enlightenment her characters promise. The story presents two characters, Madame Wu and Brother André, who each come to a greater understanding of life, the universe, and their role in it. But when Buck has those characters share their insight, it is not the revelation it is depicted as being. When Madame Wu gives advice to her daughter-in-law, explaining that it is not her duty to her husband to have children, but rather their shared duty to mankind, it is different advice than Madame Wu would have given in the first part of the book, but not better advice. The Pavilion of Women has no great truths to reveal, even if its characters are depicted as revealing great truths and other characters act as though they have received great truths.
This lack of revelation is a serious flaw because it undercuts not only the plot of Pavilion of Women, but also its main characters, as they are not believably what Buck purports them to be. Since, as already described, the prose is dedicated to depicting events, there is not enough beauty in the language of the Pavilion of Women to elevate the book. Likewise, there is no grander, more symbolic story of the rise and fall of a great house like that depicted in The Good Earth, which could still work even if its characters fell short. There is, in short, not much to fall back on once the development of Madame Wu ends unsatisfyingly, which is what transforms a minor complaint into a more sizeable one.
The Pavilion of Women is a period piece, and I have a fondness for period pieces (arising out of my love for settings). So, just as I return to Zola and Austen, I may read more works by Buck, to again visit pre-revolution China. But if I do, I’ll be hoping for something more akin to The Good Earth (perhaps I’ll try its sequel) rather than The Pavilion of Women, which in my opinion didn’t quite work because Buck failed to clear the bar she set for herself.