Years ago, I read Viktor Frankl’s Man’s Search for Meaning; Frankl’s thesis has never left me. Everyone has something that motivates them, whether it’s family and friends, knowledge (me!), a successful career, etc., etc. Whatever that thing is can help folks get through the worst adversity. The trick is to find that thing. In An Yu’s novel, Ghost Music, we see characters wrestling with the realization that they made a mistake when they chose their life’s goal. What happens when you spend years pursuing something only to find out that it’s not what you wanted after all?
Song Yan has what some people would consider a good life. She and her husband have a comfortable life in a Beijing apartment. It would be more comfortable if Song Yan’s mother-in-law hadn’t just moved in. Her mother-in-law’s demands for a grandchild push Song Yan’s husband into surprising rages while leading Song Yan to question whether she’s really happy teaching piano, cooking, cleaning, and keeping an eye on her elderly mother-in-law. When Song Yan’s husband, Bowen, elects to leave on longer and longer work trips, Song Yan’s life begins to crumble.
And then there are the mushrooms.
I had to think about the literal mushrooms in the book and the possibly metaphorical mushrooms that have conversations with Song Yan to try and understand what they might represent. Shortly after Song Yan et al. settle into their apartment, they start to receive packages of rare mushrooms from Yunnan, where Bowen and his mother are from, that they never ordered. The women are able to create amazing, fragrant, filling, tantalizing meals from the mushrooms. The meals are good enough to keep Bowen coming home in spite of his anger at his mother, at least for a while. The mushrooms stop arriving shortly after Bowen finally loses his temper and leaves on a very long business trip. The imaginary(?) mushrooms that Song Yan talks to push her even further into questioning everything about her life. They and the misdirected mushrooms even lead Song Yan into tracking down a famous pianist who disappeared ten years prior to the opening of Ghost Music.
I think the mushrooms represent self-reflection and the happiness that can come with seeking personal truth regardless of social expectations. It’s a bit of a mouthful but every time Song Yan makes the decision that it’s okay to eat the no doubt expensive mushrooms that were intended for someone else or to talk to the mushrooms no one else can see, she finds some kind of pleasure and personal meaning. Sitting down to a good meal and eating mindfully can be a decadent experience, especially if you’ve been rushing around tending to everyone else. Following the name on the packages leads Song Yan back to the music she left behind. (She was raised to think that if she couldn’t be a concert pianist there was no point in pursuing the art anymore.) The conversations with the possibly-a-sign-of-mental-collapse mushrooms are disturbing and uncomfortable, but they make Song Yan pause all her other routines long enough to break her free from her unexamined and unfulfilling life.
Ghost Music is not an easy read. It’s hard to watch someone self-destruct the way Song Yan does. The reward at the end—seeing Song Yan finally living for herself—is well worth it, I think.
I received a free copy of this book from the publisher via NetGalley, for review consideration.
Ooh, I like your interpretation of the mushrooms in the book! I must say they were quite a mystery to me.
I’m glad my theory makes sense!