The Woman Warrior

Tonight the University of Notre Dame opened a three-day conference celebrating 25 years of the democratic Chinese magazine Today. I attended with Marianne, Joan, and Laura Farina for a wine and sushi reception (fabulous), and to hear readings from one of my literary idols, Maxine Hong Kingston.

She was wonderful. She was pointed out to me while I sat in the atrium of McKenna Hall trying to identify the most polite way to eat a sushi roll: a petite woman in a black-and-white striped dress with shoulder-length gray-white hair pinned back at the side in cute little clips, standing with her back to me about seven feet away. I watched her greet the people she knew with hugs and thought, Ohhh she's nice. (It's lovely to see in person a favorite writer who is nice.)

And her readings were superb. She stood just a head above the lecturn in the cozy auditorium and told funny stories about her writing career (which began with a funny poem she made up when she was two, hanging out a second-story window from her mother's hands, greeting her great-uncles coming toward them in a coach drawn by a pair of black horses). And she read exerpts from her work. This is the thirtieth birthday of The Woman Warrior, and in the thirty years since its publication, Maxine discovered some errors (or omissions) in her representations of the myths of Fa Mu Lan and Ts'ai Yen, which she corrected (or added) in her readings. She has a low, easy voice and a relaxed presence. Her reading voice is excellent. And her passion for peace is both inspirational and contagious.

I left wanting to read everything she's written, and kicking myself for not bringing my copy of The Woman Warrior for her to sign. And as we filed out of the auditorium, I found myself walking right behind her.

I touched her shoulder and thanked her for presenting, and said, "It was an honor to hear you."

She squeezed my arm and said with a big, warm smile, "Thank you -- I love your coat! Pink -- so appropriate." (My pink spring coat coincided neatly with her concluding remarks on pink as the color of peace.)

Then she went to the table to sign books, and I wandered out into the frigid South Bend early spring night, happy happy happy.

If you haven't read Maxine Hong Kingston, please do. Not only is she brilliant and amazing and powerful in her works, she's also gracious and endearing.

So glad I went. So glad.