Kafka on the Shore

For several years, I've been interested in reading the work of Haruki Murakami, so I was very pleased to find the novel, Kafka on the Shore, translated from the Japanese by Philip Gabriel, on a small table in my daughter's room.  Over the years, I've read a lot about Murakami's work, and was interested in several novels by this prolific, bestselling author, as well as his memoir, What I Talk about When I Talk about Running, which caught my interest even before I'd begun to run on a regular basis.

"On my fifteenth birthday I'll run away from home, journey to a far-off town, and live in a corner of a small library."

Published in 2005, Kafka on the Shore focuses on protagonist Kafka Tamura, a fifteen-year-old boy who lives with his father in Tokyo.  Kafka runs away from home to escape from his troubles with his father. The first five chapters in this book are told in the first person narrative by Kafka.  On the run, Kafka travels to a shore village called Takamatsu, and discovers the Komura Family Library, where he meets Oshima, who works at the library.  Throughout the book, Oshima helps Kafka in numerous ways.  Kafka also meets the lovely but sad Miss Saeki, who's in charge of the library.  In Chapter 6, we meet Satoru Nakata, an older man who refers to himself in the third person throughout the book simply as Nakata.  He "used to be smart",  but due to a strange accident Nakata became mentally disabled, and lost his ability to read.  Oddly, though, Nakata can talk to cats, and he helps find missing cats. (Chapter 16, "the scary cat chapter", was very difficult for me to read. Without saying too much about it, what happens in this chapter is horrific; I felt as if I were suddenly, temporarily reading a Stephen King horror story.)  Later Nakata meets Hoshino, a truck driver, and they become good friends. Nakata reminds Hoshino of his grandfather, and together they embark on a special quest. The lives of all of these characters, and other, secondary characters, like Sakura, Johnnie Walker, and Colonel Sanders, intersect in numerous, unusual ways, creating an unforgettable story. 

There are so many things I could say about Kafka on the Shore.  It's a story unlike any other I've read.  It's a beautifully written book that features a passion for books and libraries, music, nature, food (mostly delicious Japanese food), cats, and perhaps most importantly, friendship.  The protagonist's very name, Kafka, reflects themes of writer Franz Kafka's work, of alienation and loneliness. The wonderful friendships that develop in this book, especially between Kafka and Oshima, and Nakata and Hoshino, are antidotes to this alienation; the characters help and care for each other, and in doing so, provide companionship and solace. Throughout the book, Kafka seeks close, familial connection to others; he wonders if Miss Saeki is his mother, if Sakura is his sister. He craves connection.

Kafka on the Shore is a magical story which also has some magic, or more precisely, magical realism, in it, in just the right amount. At times, readers are left to wonder what's real and what's imaginary. I read the book at a leisurely pace, often at night before I went to sleep, a chapter or two at a time. I looked forward to my time with this novel because the book is original and fascinating. The main characters in this novel are unique and I enjoyed spending time with them.  I've been to Japan twice (my daughter lives in Japan so we have a good "excuse" to travel there), which enhanced my enjoyment of the book.  I'd like to reread Kafka on the Shore soon, while it's still fresh in my mind, because I enjoyed it a great deal and would like to understand it at a deeper level.  There are several puzzles and mysteries in the book, and although I'm not sure I will ever solve all of them, a rereading would at least bring me closer.  It would also be a pleasure.   

Special thanks to Bellezza from Dolce Bellezza for hosting the Japanese Literature Challenge 12.  She has hosted this challenge for many years, and in doing so has introduced me to the rich world of Japanese literature, for which I'm grateful.

Thanks for reading!  Your comments are welcomed, as always.

Never Let Me Go

A single question led me to read a 2005 novel by Kazuo Ishiguro, who was awarded the 2017 Swedish Academy Nobel Prize in Literature.

How about a read-along for Kazuo Ishiguro?  

The title of Dolce Bellezza's October 7 post was my impetus to read Never Let Me Go by Kazuo Ishiguro, a British novelist, screenwriter, and short story writer.  Born in Nagasaki, Japan, in 1954, the author's family moved to England in 1960.  On his Wikipedia page, Ishiguro says that growing up in a Japanese family in the UK was essential to his writing in that it gave him a different perspective from that of his British peers.

In order to participate in this read-along, I ordered a print copy of the book, which took a bit longer than usual to arrive, but not too long, luckily.  (I also needed to get new reading glasses, as I got super glue on one of the lenses, and so could only read with one eye for a few nights; this is not recommended.)  I used a lovely wooden Japanese bookmark that my daughter, Jasmine, gave to me as a gift, pictured, which enhanced my nightly reading.

Driving around the country now, I still see things that will remind me of Hailsham.
~ Never Let Me Go, Kazuo Ishiguro

I started reading Never Let Me Go without preconceived notions about it.  The book is an "alternative history" set in England in the late 1990s, narrated in the first person by Kathy H., a 31-year-old clone, who has been a "carer" helping "donors" for over eleven years.  This story is told through the filter of her memory.  Kathy's memories focus on Hailsham, an English boarding school, and her two best childhood friends, Ruth and Tommy, who are also clones.  Over the course of the story we learn that clone lifespans are brief, and so they fit a lot of living into a short period of time.
 
Never Let Me Go centers around an "ordinary" sort of love triangle that develops between the three main characters, Kathy ("Kath"), Ruth, and Tommy.  At Hailsham, their teachers, called "guardians", tell them they're special, and emphasize the importance of creative work, such as art.  During childhood, Tommy has various struggles, and is not very artistic, but eventually he starts to draw elaborate pictures of animals, which he thinks may be helpful later on.  Kathy is a "carer" for Tommy near the end of the book, but she has always looked after and cared for Tommy.

Tender and beautifully written, Never Let Me Go is a reflective novel about the importance of friendship, love, caring, and memory.  Kathy's memories are a source of comfort and consolation to her throughout the book. The title of this novel refers to a song that Kathy loved, and it may also refer to her desire to hold onto her memories of Ruth, Tommy, and Hailsham. This novel reminds us to make the most of our time here, whether it's short or long, to live with hope, and to value the little things, such as a gentle touch on the shoulder.

"What he wanted was not just to hear about Hailsham, but to remember Hailsham, just like it had been his own childhood.  He knew he was close to completing and so that's what he was doing: getting me to describe things to him, so they'd really sink in, so that maybe during those sleepless nights with the drugs and the pain and the exhaustion, the line would blur between what were my memories and what were his. That was when I first understood, really understood, just how lucky we'd been--Tommy, Ruth, me, all the rest of us."
~ Never Let Me Go, Kazuo Ishiguro

Warm thanks to Bellezza from Dolce Bellezza for hosting this read-along,  as well as the delectable Japanese Reading Challenge 11.  It is this continued reading challenge that initially enticed me to read novels by Japanese authors over the past few years--and I've enjoyed reading them very much!

Your comments are welcomed. Have you read this, or other works, by Kazuo Ishiguro? 

Nagasaki

Don't hate me because I'm a book blogger.  Like many book bloggers, I get a lot of books in the mail (if only there were more hours in each day, I could read more, and write more); a book on my stacks may not be read for a long, long while, even a book I truly want to read.  Additionally, after I read a book, I may not post about it, or I may not post about it immediately.  My posting has been sporadic for many months now.  This review is long overdue.

I read Nagasaki by Éric Faye in July, so I had to skim the book this week to refresh my memory in order to share some thoughts about it.  Éric Faye is a French journalist and the author of many books; this book was translated from French by Emily Boyce, but the book is set in Nagasaki, Japan.  It is based on a story that appeared in several Japanese newspapers in May 2008, and it has a distinct Japanese feel to it, so I think it qualifies as Japanese literature.  Thankfully, it's not too late to add my post to Dolce Bellezza's Japanese Literature Challenge 9.  I received Nagasaki in the mail over a year ago from Meryl Zegarek Public Relations.

If you take a good look at the book cover above (click to enlargen it), you'll see that the book is described as brief and understated (two qualities which added to its appeal for me) by L'Express, a French weekly news magazine headquartered in Paris.  As I mentioned in a previous post, I chose to read this mystery novella during the weekend that my daughter, Jasmine, was leaving for Japan, to teach English.  We headed up to Los Angeles together before her departure, and I brought along a book set in Japan, in her honor.  Nagasaki is just over 100 pages, so it was the right length to read in my sparse spare time that weekend.  (Jasmine told me quite recently that she went to a library in Japan that is near her.  Of course, this pleases me.)

Nagasaki centers around the main character, a 56-year-old, unmarried meteorologist, Shimura Kobo,  who lives a simple life in a modest house in a suburb of Nagasaki.  He is comfortable in his solitude. His neighborhood is safe, and he often left his front door unlocked.  His life has been ordinary and predictable, perhaps dull even, up until now.  Suddenly, he notices that certain things in his orderly house are missing, or have been slightly moved.  At least he thinks this is the case--he is not sure.  Shimura becomes uneasy.  He wonders if has an unseen, uninvited house guest, or if he's just imagining or forgetting things.  For example, there is less juice in the container (from the back cover : "Only eight centimetres of juice remained, compared to fifteen when I had left for work").

"I had new evidence that something really was going on, the third such sign in the last fortnight, and bear in mind that I'm a very rational person, not someone who would believe a ghost was popping in in to quench his thirst and polish off the leftovers."
Nagasaki, Éric Faye

Much of the book is written from the point of view of the main character.  Shimura's inner thoughts, his internal monologue, and his numerous questions are presented.  He doubts what he sees, and he questions what is happening in his house.  He's puzzled and repulsed by the possibility that a stranger, an intruder, may be living in his home.  Determined to solve this troubling mystery, Shimura sets up a webcam so that he can "spy" on his house while he's at work. 

Though quiet and contemplative, Nagasaki holds your attention firmly.  As I read this novel, I became entranced.  I imagined myself experiencing this odd scenario.  If I lived alone, I would be alarmed if I thought someone else was eating the food in my refrigerator, or otherwise using my personal stuff.  It would feel creepy.  As mentioned above, I skimmed the book before I wrote this post, and reread parts.  Now I want to reread the whole book again, slowly.  This thoughtful novella is beautifully written.  It is simply sublime.

Thanks to Meryl Zegarek Public Relations for sending me a complimentary copy of this book, and to Bellezza from Dolce Bellezza for hosting the Japanese Literature Reading Challenge 9.   It has been a joy to participate.  Although I've only read a handful of Japanese novels over the past few years, I've deeply enjoyed them.  I've also shared several with Jasmine, who's now able to read some of them in Japanese!

Thanks for reading!  I hope you are having a wonderful holiday season.  Your comments are a valuable addition to this post.

The Lake: Review and Giveaway

Having recently lost my mother, this book struck a chord in my heart immediately. As I began reading I had an uncanny sense that this was exactly the book I was supposed to be reading, to help me with my own grieving, and to help me sort out my feelings about my mother's death--and her life. My blog is dedicated to the memory of my mother (I may add a formal dedication at a later date); I've connected my mother to my blog since its inception (she was a great supporter and even left a few comments, incognito), and she was, up until her illness, cancer, overwhelmed her entire being, always positive and encouraging about this endeavor.

"Now that I was back in the real world, the dream didn't seem so sad. The sense of my mom, of her presence, kept radiating warmly through my chest, though I still didn't feel any affection for the town where I'd grown up."
~The Lake, Banana Yoshimoto

The Lake by Banana Yoshimoto was originally published in Japanese in 2005, and was translated into English by Michael Emmerich in 2011. The book is the story of a young woman, Chihiro, who moves to Tokyo after the death of her mother. She is deeply saddened by the loss, but also feels at the age of twenty-nine a sense of freedom in a new city where she's unknown and works as a muralist. At the beginning of the book, Chihiro, the protagonist, states that she has just had a dream in which her deceased mother spoke to her, enveloped in a beautiful haze. (I dreamed my own mother was in a small, white car the other night, and I hope to see her in another dream soon.) After the mention of the dream the narrator reminisces about her mother's hospital stay and romance with her father, and other events central to her mother's life. This novel made me miss my own mother, but also brought to mind her lasting presence and influence in my heart and mind.

Windows are important in this book--perhaps they represent the barrier or pathway between inner and outer life, or something of that nature--and Chihiro gazes out her window at a young man she has grown to like, who is also gazing back at her just as often. From their respective windows, they very slowly begin a sweet romance. Chihiro finds Nakajima quite beautiful (in an offbeat way). His mother is also deceased, and Chihiro knows he misses her love.

"And I could see that no one else in the world would ever be able to love him the way his mother must have loved him."
~The Lake, Banana Yoshimoto

Gradually, Chihiro and Nakajima fall in love and begin to spend more and more time together. When Nakajima wants to take Chihiro to the lake to meet two of his friends, Mino and Chii, who live in a tiny, tidy house, Chihiro senses that this is a very emotional event for Nakajima, which may help her to understand him better. At the shimmering lake, Chihiro is captivated by Nakajima's unusual friends; she understands how special they are, and greatly appreciates the wonderful tea Mino brews for her, a simple yet great pleasure.

Unpretentiously written in plain language, this reflective book is about our relationships with the important people in our lives--parents, significant others, friends, ourselves. The author's characters are quirky and reflective and likable. Banana Yoshimoto once again demonstrates a beautiful simplicity of expression, even of the most profound subjects: death, love, and friendship.

Good news! Melville House Publishing generously gave me an extra copy of The Lake to offer as a giveaway. Because I have readers around the world, this giveaway is international.

• To enter this giveaway, simply leave a comment.
• For another chance at winning, become a follower of this blog, or let me know that you're already a follower, or that you subscribe in Google Reader.
• For an additional chance, post about this contest on your blog, Facebook, or Twitter.
• For an extra chance, name a simple pleasure you enjoy.

Enter by 5PM PDT on Monday, August 1. One winner will be randomly selected and announced on Tuesday, August 2.


This is my first review for the Japanese Literature Challenge 5, created and hosted by Dolce Bellezza. Special thanks to Nathan from Melville House Publishing for sending me these books.

The Lake: Thinking Ahead to the Japanese Literature Challenge

Hosted by Dolce Bellezza, the Japanese Literature Challenge is one of the first reading challenges I ever did, as well as one of my favorites. Goodbye Tsugumi and Kitchen by Banana Yoshimoto were my first tastes of Japanese literature. I'm looking forward to participating in the challenge again this year, and I plan on reviewing another book by this talented author, The Lake, which has been recently translated into English by Michael Emmerich. Published in Japan in 2005, The Lake has received many terrific reviews on Amazon and elsewhere, and I think it would make a perfect choice for Bellezza's Japanese Literature Challenge 5.


The 9.0 Tōhoku earthquake that struck Japan on March 11, 2011 triggered one of the worst natural disasters of our time. Melville House will donate a portion of the proceeds from The Lake to Japan disaster relief, in a program called Banana for Japan.

Out

"From midnight until five-thirty without a break, she had to stand at the conveyor belt making boxed lunches. For a part-time job, the pay was good, but the work was backbreaking. More than once, when she was feeling unwell, she'd stopped here in the parking lot by the thought of the hard shift ahead. But this was different, this feeling of aimlessness. As she always did at this moment, she lit a cigarette, but tonight she realized for the first time that she did it to cover the smell of the factory."
~Out, Natsuo Kirino

Ordinary housewives by day, Masako Katori, Kuniko Jonouchi, Yoshie Azuma, and Yayoi Yamamoto are graveyard shift workers at a boxed lunch factory in Tokyo suburb at night. Published in 1997, Out by Natsuo Kirino (translated by Stephen Snyder) won the Grand Prix for Crime Fiction in Japan in 1998, and is the story of these four women.

For various reasons, Masako, Kuniko, Yoshie, and Yayoi work the night shift at the factory. After one of them suddenly kills her abusive husband, the other women help her, and begin their descent into Japan's dark underworld. Although humorous at times, the novel explores the relationships between these women, and paints a dark portrait of marriage and family life. The author brings these characters and others to life through her use of detail and understanding of personality and psychology. This novel emphasizes the role of appearance for women (and for men, to a lesser extent). Appearance seems to determine the jobs that they get, as well as the way they're treated by others. Yayoi is bullied at work by some of the other women for being too attractive, but she is also protected to an extent by Masako. (There's a lot more I could say here--I am barely scratching the surface.)

Out is an unbelievably engaging thriller. Crime fiction isn't my usual genre, but once I started reading it, I was hooked and couldn't put it down. The images conjured up in this book are vivid and haunting, and some are quite horrific. I envisioned the workers walking part of the way to the factory during the damp, shadowy nights, and much more gruesome scenes. This is a story I won't be able to forget!

I read Out for the Japanese Literature Reading Challenge 4, hosted by Dolce Bellezza. Previously I read and reviewed Real World, also written by Natsuo Kirino. I don't think I'll read Kirino's Grotesque, though, because I think I'd find it too disturbing.

For other reviews of Out, please visit Dolce Bellezza and The Reading Life.

Real World

Now that autumn is here, I long to stay inside in the cool evenings, sip warmed apple cider, wrap myself in a throw, and read a sweet, comforting book.

Instead, I read about murder, violence, sexuality, and alienation.

These are some of the themes in Real World, a dark tale about Japanese teenagers living in a suburb of Tokyo. Written by Natsuo Kirino, published in 2003, and translated into English by Philip Gabriel in 2008, this short novel tells the story of four teenage girls, Toshi, Terauchi, Yuzan, and Kirarin, and a boy called Worm. Each resents society and their parents and has something to hide. When Toshi's neighbor, Worm, goes on the run after being suspected of matricide, the girls initially react with empathy and even fascination, rather than repulsion or fear. They are quickly drawn into Worm's world, and I was also pulled in. In this modern Japanese novel, multiple voices tell the story; each chapter is told from the point of view of one of the teenagers in this group. They take turns and each character describes the action as well as their thoughts and histories.

This is a chilling book for several reasons. These teenagers seem to be okay on the outside, and some even do well in "cram school", but they're all wearing masks which hide their true feelings and identities (some even have changed their names). As they transition from children to adults, they become disillusioned and seem to be utterly lost. Natsuo Kirino captures the essence of teenage angst and isolation in this novel--and it's taken to a terrifying extreme. The girls communicate with Worm by cell phone and want him to elude the law. They're on his side, and even applaud his actions. His world is exciting and fresh to them--a new world--and he enjoys his elevated status with the girls. These girls are not "bad", but tired of the restraints of society, and confused, forlorn, and isolated--and headed for disaster. I have not read that much crime fiction before, and this is my first taste of Japanese crime fiction. It will not be my last.

For another review of Real World, visit The Reading Life.


Spooky thanks to Carl V. from Stainless Steel Droppings for hosting R.I.P. IV.

ありがとうございました！








Thanks to Meredith from Dolce Bellezza for hosting the Japanese Literature Challenge-3. As I've mentioned before, this challenge has opened up a new world of reading to me.

Kitchen（キッチン）

Whether large or small, modern or old-fashioned, cluttered or organized, the kitchen represents the heart of the home for many of us. It's the place where we gather with others to eat, cook, and share parts of our day.

Kitchen is also a novel by Japanese author Banana Yoshimoto, a critically acclaimed example of contemporary Japanese literature, published in 1988, and translated into English in 1993 by Megan Backus. Kitchens in Japan are called Daidokoro (台所; lit. "kitchen", notice the little house symbol). Until the Meiji era, a kitchen was also called kamado (かまど; lit. "stove"), which was considered to be the symbol of a house; the term could even be used to mean "family" or "household", similar to the English word "hearth".

In this novel, a young Japanese woman, Mikage Sakurai, has just lost her grandmother, her last living relative, with whom she has lived for several years. Grief-stricken and on her own, Mikage is invited to the home of one of her grandmother's friends, a young man, Yuichi Tanabe, and ends up staying with him and his transsexual mother, Eriko. After Mikage's arrival at their apartment she inspects the kitchen and starts to feel at home. Mikage has always been enchanted by kitchens, which seem to nurture and comfort her. She quickly falls in love with the kitchen at the Tanabe's home.

"Lit by a small fluorescent lamp, all kinds of plates silently awaited their turns, glasses sparkled. It was clear that in spite of the disorder everything was of the finest quality, There were things with special uses, like . . . porcelain bowls, gratin dishes, gigantic platters, two beer steins. Somehow it was all very satisfying. I even opened the refrigerator (Yuichi said it was okay)--everything was neatly organized, nothing just 'left'.

I looked around, nodding and murmuring approvingly, 'Mmm, mmm.' It was a good kitchen. I fell in love with it at first sight."
~Kitchen, Banana Yoshimoto

Mikage feels lost and lonely after the death of her grandmother. However, with the help of Yuichi and his mother, and through her cooking and job as a culinary teacher's assistant, she begins the healing process. There's also a budding romance in this book, which is a lovely treat.

This novel centers around food and its preparation. I must admit that while reading this book, I started to crave Japanese food (I adore miso soup and bento boxes), especially the katsudon--even though I rarely eat pork--because it sounds so delicious in the book. Influenced by my reading but unable to head to my neighborhood Japanese restaurant, I went to the kitchen and made some ramen noodles with onion and scallion for lunch.

I've read some criticism of this short novel, and this book is certainly not for everyone. As for me, I'm interested in modern Japanese culture, food, and fiction, and was intrigued by this book. Yoshimoto uses words sparingly, yet deals with large themes such as death, isolation and loneliness, love, and food. She captures the essence of what she writes about with a clear and simple elegance. At first I was startled by the descriptions of Eriko's radiant physical beauty (she used to be a man, Yuichi's father), but soon I appreciated the unconventional aspect of this. These unlikely housemates form a new family, a new home, their own "kitchen". I really enjoyed this short book.

My edition of Kitchen also includes a novella, Moonlight Shadow, a much shorter story about love and loss and healing, with a touch of the supernatural, which is also quite engaging.

Special thanks to Dolce Bellezza's Japanese Literature Challenge 3 and Rebecca Reid's Spice of Life Reading Challenge, which motivate me to read books that I probably would neglect otherwise!

Crow Boy

This book spoke to my inner child.

Crow Boy by Taro Yashima is a Caldecott Honor Book for children, my second book for Dolce Bellezza's Japanese Literature Challenge 3. Bellezza wrote a beautiful review of it, and I do not wish to compete with her, but I decided to post on this charming book because I was equally entranced by the storyline and pictures. In this story a young school boy in Japan called Chibi, which means tiny boy, is taunted by the other kids who call him "stupid" and "slowpoke" because he's different and because they don't understand him. He's quiet and doesn't fit in, and keeps to himself most of the time. It's not until he's in the sixth grade and has a kind and perceptive teacher that things begin to change for him.

Through colorful pictures and simple prose, Crow Boy illustrates that many children lack the maturity to think for themselves, and are often cruel to those who don't fit in. I have three children, and have heard the meanest things said to them by other children--and it makes my blood boil. (Thankfully I've also experienced the opposite, and have been astonished by the kind words and acts of their peers.) When I was a young child, other children would make fun of me for being skinny, which was dreadful. It's never easy being a child. Luckily the tiny boy in the story is able to nurture his own gifts in nature, and when these unique gifts are finally recognized and acknowledged, it's that much sweeter.

I'll share this book with my children. If I were an elementary school teacher, I'd read this to my students on the first day of school like Bellezza does.

Goodbye Tsugumi

Confession time. I have an ugly secret. A few months ago, I read a post on a book blog and I made a stupid comment. I suggested that perhaps the most notable thing about Banana Yoshimoto was her name. Almost immediately, I regretted posting this comment, and because I couldn't delete it, soon posted another comment, saying that I'd been unfair, having never read her work. Time passed. I still felt bad about my foolish remark (and still do). I've since read some glowing reviews of Banana Yoshimoto's work. The moment I signed up for Bellezza's third Japanese Literature Challenge, I knew I had to read a novel by Banana Yoshimoto. This challenge compelled me to finally get one of her books and read it.























Goodbye Tsugumiwas published in 1998 in Japan, and translated into English by Michael Emmerich in 2002. Banana Yoshimoto is actually the pen name for Mahoko Yoshimoto, the author of several novels popular in Japan and many other countries.
This short novel tells the story of two cousins, Maria, 19 years old, and Tsugumi, 18 years old, who are very different from each other. Maria is kind and compassionate, whereas Tsugumi is often unpleasant to others, downright mean and nasty. She's described by Maria in the first few pages of the book:

"She was malicious, she was rude, she had a foul mouth, she was selfish, she was horribly spoiled, and to top it all off she was brilliantly sneaky. The obnoxious smirk that always appeared on her face after she'd said the one thing that everyone presently didn't want to hear--and said it at the most exquisitely wrong time, using the most unmistakably clear language and speaking in the ugliest, most disagreeable tone--made her seem exactly like the devil."
~Goodbye Tsugumi, Banana Yoshimoto

Tsugumi is, in a word, obnoxious. She's also been frail and sickly since birth, prone to fevers, and not expected to live a long life. The narrator of the story, Maria, has spent her childhood at the seaside Yamamoto Inn (which is owned by Tsugumi's family), with her mother and Tsugumi's family, and feels most at home here with them by the ocean. When Maria moves to Tokyo with her parents she longs for the ocean, and Tsugumi invites her to spend one last summer at the inn, which will be closed down in the spring. It is during this particular summer that Maria and Tsugumi grow closer. Maria not only puts up with her cousin's behavior, she actually loves her deeply. I, too, began to care about Tsugumi, in spite of her difficult personality. Although in poor health, Tsugumi shows considerable strength, as well as spirit and spunk, and is lively companion to her cousin.

The fleeting nature of time, specifically of the summer, is an important theme in the book, bringing to mind the season's ephemeral sandcastles, and Ray Bradbury's Dandelion Wine, which I've read, and Farewell Summer, which I'll read closer to the summer's end. Yoshimoto captures many sparkling moments, made even more poignant by the shadow of death which hovers near Tsugumi.

"I wanted to hold on to the particular feeling of languor that I got as I walked the streets of this town, the town of my past, which I would lose when summer ended."
~Goodbye Tsugumi, Banana Yoshimoto

I felt the same way about this book: I did not want it to end. Yoshimoto's writing is sharp, clear, concise, striking. I wanted to hold onto this book longer, to savor it; I'm sure I'll reread it. I'll definitely read more books by this author!

In 1990, Goodbye Tsugumi was made into a movie, directed by Jun Ichikawa. I'd like to see it if it's available here.

For another review of Goodbye Tsugumi, please visit The Reading Life.

Miscellanous Musings

Last month, I was honored by two new awards from fellow book bloggers. Cathy from One eyed stuffed bunny and. . . gave me a B-I-N-G-O Award, while Mel from The Reading Life gave me a Lemonade Award. Thanks, Cathy and Mel! I'm honored by these awards and display them on my blog (at least for the time being--if I get many more, I may need to keep them in a separate post). I'm not distributing any awards today because I know far too many deserving blogs, but please feel free to "steal" these awards and give them out if you desire.

Today I found out that I won a copy of The Blue Star from Laura's Reviews. Many thanks to Laura and the Hatchette Book Group--I can't wait to read this book!

Until late August, I'd resisted joining any organized reading challenges. I noticed that several bloggers, including Amanda from The Zen Leaf, Mel from The Reading Life, and Mee from Books of Mee, seemed to do a lot of challenges. To make up for lost time, I joined four reading challenges: Rebecca's Spice of Life, Belleza's third Japanese Literature Challenge, Carl V.'s R.I.P. IV, and Jennie's China Challenge. These challenges are not overly ambitious for me. I've already completed the Spice of Life challenge at the level of A Taste.

My friend, Laura, just started a blog about the process of writing a screenplay, called aptly, Screenplay 101. Please stop by her blog to welcome her when you have a moment!


Update, 5:00 PM: Laura from Laura's Reviews just gave me three more awards, which now adorn my blog: a Super Comments Award, a Superior Scribbler Award, and a Zombie Chicken Award.

Wow! I am triply honored! Amanda from The Zen Leaf commented that the Zombie Chicken Award is too cool to not give to others. Nor do I wish to risk the wrath of zombie chickens by not not sharing this grand award, officially described below:

"The blogger who receives this award believes in the Tao of the zombie chicken-- excellence, grace, and persistence in all situations, even in the midst of a zombie apocalypse. These amazing bloggers regularly produce content so remarkable that their readers would brave a raving pack of zombie chickens just to be able to read their inspiring words. As a recipient of this world-renowned award, you now have the task of passing it on to at least 5 other worthy bloggers. Do not risk the wrath of the zombie chickens by choosing unwisely or not choosing at all."

I hereby bestow this prestigious award upon the following blogs:

Bending Bookshelf
Bibliophile by the Sea
Books on the Brain
Giving...Reading-A Chance
One eyed stuffed bunny and. . .
Sam's Book Blog
The Reading Life
Writing Space

Congratulations to each of you!