If I were feeling charitable I would give this memoir three stars, but since the book ended with a TMI scene in which Isabel and her elderly husband get naked together in a jacuzzi and she asserts her "non-feminist" love for him, I won't. It's a shame that this is the first Allende book I've read, because now I'm not sure if her fiction is any good. Based on the meandering nature and average prose of this memoir, my guess is not really, but maybe I'll still give The House of the Spirits a go since Isabel wrote it when she was younger (and presumably less pompous).
Most people who write memoirs do so, I feel, because they have a compelling or unique life story to tell. Usually these seem to involve poor or usual childhoods, which the author reflects on with humor. That or a celebrity pays a journalist to wrangle their scattered recollections into something resembling complete sentences. But Isabel is not a celebrity, at least not in the traditional sense; although she is doubtless extraordinarily wealthy, she leads a very normal, family-centered life, which does not exactly make for an engrossing plot. Some people have the gift of making the ordinary seem more interesting than it is, but such is not the case with Allende. Nor does she have any particularly sagacious advice to offer, or opinions that stray from beyond the realm of normalcy. She really wants you to know that she hates George Bush, for example, but so did a lot of people, and Allende's logic for doing so is neither unique nor particularly analytical. So, really, don't read this unless you already like Allende and want to know what her spoiled life in California is like. Oh, and who each of her children marry, and which grandchild she considers the most attractive.
After reading this memoir, I feel like Isabel Allede is maybe not as good of a person as she thinks she is. She repeatedly refers to herself as the matriarch of her "tribe" (and I have always found it distasteful to use that word outside of its anthropological definition), and meddles endlessly in her children's, stepchildren's, and various daughter- and son-in-law's affairs. Her daughter, Paula, dies from porphyria-related complications near the beginning of the book, but Allende has already written a second, separate memoir about that time (entitled, you guessed it, "Paula"). With the proceeds from the memoir about her daughter, Allende establishes a charitable foundation to help women and children after going on a trip to India and meeting a desperately impoverished woman who tries to give her baby daughter to Allende. Isabel never says what the name of this foundation is, though, and it's unclear what the foundation does (though Allende, in a typical show of nepotism, hires her daughter-in-law to run the foundation). She also gives her remaining offspring, Nico, a house, and frequently describes how attractive he is and how lucky any girl would be to have him as a husband (eew). She gives money and employment to various members of the close and extended family, which is cool in one way I guess, and also a bit disturbing and cloying in another (to what extent do her relatives view her primarily as a source of funds?)
Isabel also engages in a fair amount of body-shaming, which is not an attractive quality especially in a middle-aged woman of considerable means. She constantly harps on about how short she is; as a short person myself, I can assure you it's not that bad. At one point she describes how she teeters around on high heels and must cling to her husband's arm for support, and then later in the memoir she claims to be low-maintenance. She often observes that she is "no beauty", but from the few photos of her that I've seen online, Allende is not exactly unattractive. Isabel claims not to place a great deal of importance on physical beauty, as evidenced by the fact that all of the heroines in her books are "strong women" who cannot simply glide through life on looks alone. In reality, however, Allende's modus operandi is to surround herself with beautiful people. She decides that Lori, with her "model-like" figure, is a suitable match for her son Nico. She incorporates a gorgeous Greek-American woman (unrelated by blood or marriage), Juliette, and her two sons into her tribe and provides said "Aphrodite" with a job as her assistant. And she is constantly claiming that her husband, Willie, looks like Paul Newman, in a seemingly congratulatory aside to herself for snagging such an attractive partner.
The most cringeworthy part of the book, though, is probably her handling of Celia's story. Celia, an opinionated Venezuelan, was Nico's first wife and mother to Isabel's three grandchildren. After giving birth for the third time in almost as few years, Celia descends into a depression and eventually concludes that she is gay. She tells Nico, who says he has been betrayed, and decides that they must divorce. Isabel is outraged. She seems to blame Celia for causing discord in her family, and instead of being understanding, Nico asks Isabel to sever all communications with Celia. Allende recounts these developments in a dramatic fashion, and never concedes that Celia's oppressive Catholic upbringing might explain why she was not able to acknowledge her homosexuality until the age of 27. The Celia/Nico story takes up a large chunk of the book, and Isabel often remarks how embarrassing the entire episode was for the family. It is almost as though she takes a perverse pleasure in the gossip and drama the episode created. I found it distasteful that Allende would make this one of the primary plot elements in her memoir, as it seemed exploitative rather than essential.
Once Isabel has accumulated some money from her book sales, she and her husband purchase a large plot of land and build a custom house for themselves. She becomes, in her own words, a castellana: Mistress of the Castle. She goes on a trip to the Amazon. She takes her grandchildren on safari in Kenya. She has a heated pool installed. You know, rich people stuff. None of this would be so bad, perhaps, if she recounted it in an interesting way, but there is a cozy, almost cloying quality to Allende's writing. I thought at first it might be a fault of the translation, but Isabel herself asserts that she checked the English version before it was approved for publication. She seems to think her readers will find it interesting that she has sexual fantasies about Antonio Banderas, or that she helps her husband's accountant select a mail-order bride from China. She comes across as a meddling matriarch - something she herself acknowledges - and seems to be unduly proud of her status as castellana. She is simply not a person who I relate to very well, and I couldn't figure out why she cares about half of the things she did. Some might chalk this up to cultural differences and the importance that Chileans place on family, but Isabel's interest in her tribe seems to spring from a need to control others. Besides, it's not necessarily about the quantity of family you have surrounding you, but rather the quality and character of your familial relationships, which should be mutual acceptance, not judgement.
Oh well. I'll try House of Spirits and nothing else.