Joy Cruz is a beloved professor who imparted to me the more intricate techniques in Art Appreciation (both for ArtApre1 and ArtApre2) and Literary Criticism. I put that in sentence case for the sheer respect I have for both courses back in college. Ms. Cruz has a Palanca, M.A.'s earned from DLSU, enviable teaching credentials under her belt and lots of literary types the likes of Alfred Yuson, Virgilio Almario, Bien Lumbera as friends or colleagues. She was one of my coolest professors, and she's a self-professed lesbian (bisexual?).
So it is understandable why I had some sort of pseudo-intellectual orgasm when I found a book titled Women Loving written by a Jhoanna Lynn B. Cruz. I wasn't sure it was the same Joy Cruz, the cool professor, but I bought it anyway.
Having said that, I am going to be honest and say that it sucked.
The premise of having a book that explores the thoughts, feelings, beliefs, lives and loves of lesbian women is just irresistible, I think. Also Alfred Yuson's recommendation on the back of the book, convoluted and verbose as it is, is quite convincing.
But if you are looking to gain insight in that sense, look elsewhere. Women Loving is a nice collection of stories where one or more, or all characters are lesbians to varying degrees, but that is it. Sometimes, lesbianism is not even a central theme, but more of an afterthought. It's as if Cruz finished a story 10 years ago and decided to include it in this collection, so she just adds "by the way, I'm a lesbian" at the end of the story. Sappho would have been livid.
What the reader is given is an avalanche of stereotypes. It is easy to feel like the book was written by a straight guy posing as a lesbian. Nothing of the intuition that riddles the pieces in Ladlad, nothing of the acerbic realities and witty introspection that is present in Louie Cano's worst blog posts. The reader is left with the feeling that he/she is being cheated of a sneak peek into the mind of a genuine lesbian. And like most of us who can only aspire to be lesbians in this life, it feels like Cruz is an outsider looking in... taking notes and relating to us what she's seeing, hearing and feeling, but never what she is experiencing.
There are times when you find yourself really entertained. Cruz does write killer proses and her imagination gifts the reader with the most impeccable details and imagery. And there are times when a story starts off as having enough potential to make you read on, hoping that like a dental extraction or a bad breakup, it would get better. But that simply does not happen. And perhaps it is knowing how good a writer Cruz is that makes the disappointment more glaring. You know that Cruz could translate angst, mental quandaries, and psychological dilemma well into words, so when you don't read these even when the story is shouting for it, you know that it was simply not intended to be there. Cruz can make ink transmute into blood, she is that good, but she doesn't use that power here.
I've finished the book just last week, and I can't remember a single story or character. Nothing stands out. To me it's all a mishmash of the same boring person with nothing to do, only that she has different names and finds herself in what should be interesting situations. I guess it's a lot like life that way, you are given everyday to live life and you choose to sleep.
Finishing the book, it makes me wonder if I were not mistaken. Maybe this book was really not written by the Joy Cruz I know.
