It occurred to me to keep The Enlightenment of Katzuo Nakamatsu as a novella for November. But when I was rushing to leave the house one afternoon, and returned because I’d forgotten my wallet, I slipped TEoKN into my bag on a whim. So, naturally that’s what I read that day (not the carefully packed selections).
Augusto Higa Oshiro’s description of the sea, early in the novel, alerted me to the author’s attentive phrasing: “The sea was everything: the scent in the air, hidden desires, the morning’s secret, its impermissible force, the fury of what was incomprehensible.” The rhythm, the accumulation of sounds (in translation from the Spanish by Jennifer Shyue, whose afterword illuminates her passion for Latin American writers), echoes the water’s motion but also the inner workings of the professor’s mind, his difficulty adjusting to his forced retirement,
In one sense, the story is stuffed full, as with this description: “He greeted a neighbor with his usual pallid surliness, amid the customary crush of vehicles, vendors on their tricycle carts, vagrant recyclers with their sacks, and crowd of stands and orange sellers of Giribaldi.”
But, amidst the cacophony, Katzuo’s loss echoes amid his feeling of being unmoored. “He had to sit down on a bench, Katzuo seemed to shrink, he felt ashamed, those strolls, his very life, the books he had loved, everything settled into emptiness, like it had never existed, like there was no justification, for him, for his body, for his dreams, for anything at all.”
The sense of precision with language and structure is consistently present, but absence and a sense of a suspended self are overwhelming, rooted in Katzuo’s sense that he doesn’t truly belong anywhere (pulled between his Japanese and Peruvian identities and concealing his sexual orientation). It’s an immersive and impressive character-study that lingers. [It was originally published in 2005 and the translated edition from Archipelago was published in 2023, with an excerpt at Lithub here.]
Marie Hess’s Going Back Home (2019) is a novella which considers the gap between stories told to Indigenous children about their ancestors, their strength and resilience, and the sense of powerlessness instilled at residential school via the institutions of government and church.
“How many stories have the boys relieved through the memories of their fathers and grandfathers. Stories told of fearless hunters or the stories told of great warriors, their faces are unknown. Yet they feel their strength as their grandfathers portray their courage through battle after battle, a strength that saved our mohawk people. But these stories of battle were fruitless against the cowards that hid in the darkness and preyed on the young.”
She draws on her memories of time served in the Mohawk Residential School and the interplay between memory and invention, between reality and dream, invites readers into an ever-shifting exploration of inherited trauma and healing. This CBC short film presents the restoration work done on this historic site to allow survivors to share their stories and to allow visitors to explore the history in concrete terms.
Historical settings feature in Edith Wharton’s Old New York (one of the Virago green-spined editions on my shelves, originally published in 1925) with four long stories from settlers’ perspectives. In the 1840s, “False Dawn”, the 1850s “The Old Maid”, the 1860s “The Spark”, and the 1870s with “New Year’s Day”. They’re preoccupied with the upper classes, with those who “had not come to the colonies to die for a creed but to live for a bank account.” There is, for instance, a son whose decisions can never satisfy his father but which are, ultimately, proven worthwhile.
They’re the “conservative element that holds new societies together as seaplants bind the seashore.” In one instance, friendship allows a woman, who’s conceived out-of-wedlock, to devise a plan for her to raise the child until complications require a new plan. “Old New York always thought away whatever interfered with the perfect propriety of its arrangements.” And there’s another scandal caused by an elderly father-in-law who’s cared for by a man who may or may not have fought in the Civil War. They complement one another well and got me eyeing the other Whartons on my shelf. Do you have a favourite of hers?
In contrast, Kerry Trautman’s Irregulars (2023) is told from the perspective of a waitress, interacting with the customers seated in her section for one shift. We hear about their orders, the eccentric details required to satisfy their requests, and her involvement with (or disengagement from) the substance of their conversations. Trautman’s from Ohio and the back of the book contains a list of her favourite restaurants, including the Westway Diner in NYC and several Ohioan businesses, including Kewpee Hamburgers in Lima.
She credits Jason Baldinger for the photographs that contribute to the novella’s sense of place; you can practically hear the clatter of cutlery and the clunking of the fryer baskets. The cover is a barely legible Guest Check, and the slatted swinging door to the kitchen has something sticky on it: this is an insider’s perspective, with the perfect amount of messy detail to satisfy those of us who enjoy briefly inhabiting different characters’ workplaces. (Do you?) We can imagine what it’s like (for 70 pages) to smooth out the kinks with her colleagues and work her tables. “How to lie, be an actress, whatever gets you what you need.” I’d tip Trautman, if I could.
And you know what was NOT in my bookbag? Kim Stanley Robinson’s The Ministry for the Future, a nearly-six-hundred-page-long novel that several of you have recommended since it was published in 2020. I’ve borrowed it from the library three times before; I was determined this time, so I read just a few (very short) chapters most days, to keep the variety of voices distinct.
Unsurprisingly, with a book this massive, there’s something for every reading mood. So, yes, sometimes it’s grim: “Drop Plan A when the whole thing goes smash, enact Plan B, which was this: survive! You just do what you have to, in an ongoing improvisation, and survive if you can.” But, also, sometimes it’s not: “What will you know? Hard to say, but something like this: whether life means anything or not, joy is real. Life lives, life is living.” This is the first of KSR’s books I’ve read, but I’d like to read more. And they’re all pretty hefty, so I’ll leave them at home too.
Which of these have you read, or which do you have on your TBR? Which would you pack into your bookbag if you had to choose right now? And would you end up reading something else entirely, instead?
I miss having a book bag! A bunch of files on a Kindle is just not the same. The Enlightenment of Katzuo Nakamatsu is new to me and sounds wonderful. I’ve only read one Edith Wharton, The Age of Innocence, and it was a while ago so can’t say anything very interesting about it, but I do remember that I liked it and would recommend it. It was a really strong evocation of an old, aristocratic, rule-bound New York society that I guess was gone or disappearing by the time she wrote it and seemed a million miles away from contemporary NYC. Closer to the world of War and Peace than of Bright Lights Big City.
OTOH, how fortunate that you’ve got no barriers to your reading selections because you can read epubs while you’re on the move. And with just a few clicks you can act on the enthusiasm you’re feeling about a specific title. That’s pretty great too.
She’s very good with social commentary and observation. If you enjoyed TAofI that much, I bet you’d also enjoy The Custom of the Country (one I didn’t know at all until Laura recommended it to me some years ago-I don’t think she’s online anymore).
I haven’t read a single one of these books. Now I’m tempted to click on the link for the CBC short movie, and The Irregulars definitely piques my interest. I love that detail of the sticky swinging door, I can almost picture myself in that diner right now!
If I allowed myself, I could click around CBC video for days, I’m sure. There are some great vids there.
If the Kim Stanley Robinson novel was shorter, I’d recommend that one, as it really gallops at times (those short chapters really work)! Say, 400 pages shorter! heheh
I like the sound of The Enlightenment of Katzuo Nakamatsu, the quotes you selected appeal to me too.
I do enjoy Wharton’s novels (more so than her stories I think) – Age of Innocence is my fav (and a lush movie too)
Ohhh, yes, I’ve seen that film a couple of times and I’m sure it would be a good one to rewatch periodically. Now that you mention it, I think I prefer her novels too. The stories have a whiff of commercialism rather than a sense of her fully inhabiting the characters’ voices and experiences (to me, anyway).
Like Madame bibi, I really like the sound of The Enlightenment of Katzuo Nakamatsu. It a shame that it’s so hard to get hold of Archipelago books in the UK as I rarely see them in bookshops; otherwise, I’m sure I would read more of them!
I feel exactly the same: this copy was kindly shared with me via another reviewer. I looked into subscribing to Archipelago, because their books are so consistently rewarding, and the subscription is quite reasonable (in terms of cost/book and particularly when one is committed to indie publishing), but the postage and customs fees take them into unfeasible territory for me.
I think I’d really like The Enlightenment of Katzuo Nakamatsu, it sounds wonderful. Archipelago are a great publisher.
I have the Wharton in the TBR – a green Virago too! I haven’t read her in so long, I really must dust her off.
I hadn’t heard of Irregulars at all and it sounds so tempting, I’ll see if I can get a copy here.
It also supports my theory that the skinniest books can sometimes take the longest to read. Most sentences are worth (some require, just to fully appreciate) rereading.
That’s two editions we’ve learned that we have in common: this and the oh-so-lovely Drabble Penguin with its perfectly poised cover photograph.
It would make for a nice foil to the unexpectedly-serious books you’ve found in your pile. It’s an ordinary story, in the best kind of way.
I have to confess that I’ve read little Wharton – some short stories and Hudson River Bracketed, all of which I loved. I really should take more of her work off the TBR!
You and I are reguarly reading on opposite shelves it seems, but in another reading lifetime I’d be quite content reading most (maybe all) of what you’re prioritising instead of what I’m reading. There are just so many interesting books!
I liked the sound of the waitress novella but it’s no good for me on Audible,not long enough to be value for money, but maybe as an ebook (either way A$%^& wins, which is sad).
KSR and I are nearly the same age, but I had almost grown out of straight SF by the time he started writing. I’ve read Red Mars etc, but a long time ago. My son, who still reads only SF, has recommended The Ministry for the Future, so I might read it. But after looking up KSR’s wiki entry I’d rather read his PhD thesis on PK Dick.
Would it help if I said that she serves the tables and then she moves onto other tables, so there’s no resolution (which is the point, but it’s not necessarily satisfying)? A little short-story-ish?
I thought I remembered that he’d recommended it; it and the trilogy with years for titles are considered to be softer than KSR’s other stuff, I think? It would be hard listening for most people, with so many different perspectives but, because you’d be listening in a single go, it could work well. You’d certainly get your credit worth, but that length is only a boon if you’re enjoying it.
I keep all my novella-length books together on one shelf, not just as prep for November but also so that I can do as you did and grab one to stick in the back of a purse if I’m on the go for the day. It’s a good way to keep the stock turning over in the year instead of hoarding it all up for one month and then barely making a dent.
Irregulars looks great to me.
As with poetry, and children’s books, I’m really trying, this year, to keep a variety all the way through 2024, instead of remembering in a single moment “It’s been ages since I read ___” and then binge-reading (then resuming the habit of neglect). It’s not quite working, but I’m happier with my reading this year than last (so far).
You would love it. I wish we lived closer so we could share! (And hang out in coffee shops, where we’d lug bags stuffed with novellas and then yack about books the whole time instead of reading.)
The Oshiro just moved on to my TBR, though it wasn’t before (except in the sense that *everything* from Archipelago is on my TBR).
I’ve read some of those Edith Wharton stories, but not all four (I think) from a different edition.
Hah! Same. When I landed there to pull the cover image, I immediately got sucked into a dozen others that (like this one) had escaped my attention when they were new but which, at that moment, suddenly felt urgently pressing.
Ah, I can see where that would happen; especially with the success of varous mini/limited-series and films, various backlist volumes have appeared over the years, mixing and matching (adding to my confusion of what I’ve actually read and have yet to read).
Oh I enjoyed this post Marcie but I can’t remember all I want to say. Oshiro’s book … the language sounds wonderful. This of the sea – “its impermissible force” – would make me stop to think about. I think this book would take me a long time to read.
Hess’s book about the conflict/tension between what FN kids learn at home and at residential school sounds right up my alley and applicable to here.
As for Edith Wharton, I have read six or more of her novels and a few short stories so it’s hard to pick a favourite but if I had to I’d probably say The house of mirth. I still have more books of hers to read and I think I gave my mum a collected short stories of hers which I now have here somewhere.
That particular phrase really held me up for awhile too. I reread more sentences and phrases in this fiction than I can recall doing since, oh, I dunno, maybe since my Henry James days. Usually I have to reread in non-fiction. Oh, nevermind, Praiseworthy…I am forever rereading sentences in there, multiple times! I’ve probably reread the equivalent of the 200 pages I’ve actually read.
I’d actually planned to read another Wharton but when I started into it, I realised I’d read it before. Her titles feel very interchangeable to me; I can never remember which ones I’ve read (past the biggies).
Some good books in your bag!
I read Ministry for the Future not long after it came out. I enjoyed the book and how KSR so meticulously details all the things. I didn’t agree with it all, but it was good reading and imagining how we might get ourselves out of this climate change mess. It is not the first KSR book I have read. I do like his work but one has to be in the right frame of mind for all those meticulous details otherwise impatience for the story to go faster gets in the way 🙂
Isn’t it funny, though, that you have the idea that there’s something to agree about, when it’s fiction? But I can see why you’d feel that way because, at times, when I would read aloud for a bit (which I do, when I’m having trouble concentrating, if nobody’s nearby to be bothered by it) some paragraphs felt like they were pulled from a textbook. But, yet, there were some characters to become attached to too. It took me a long time to be in the right mood for this one, for sure, but I’m glad I read it.