Foreign Language Friday: after the quake by Haruki Murakami

Dear blog,
So.  I wrote a review, finally!  You'll have to forgive me if it sounds badly written.  I am so out of practise, but it will be good to get back into reviewing again. 

Original title: Kami no kodomo-tachi wa mina odoru

Author: Haruki Murakami

Original Language: Japanese

Translated by: Jay Rubin
Summary (from Goodreads): The economy was booming. People had more money than they knew what to do with. And then, the earthquake struck. Komura's wife follows the TV reports from morning to night, without eating or sleeping. The same images appear again and again: flames, smoke, buildings turned to rubble, their inhabitants dead, cracks in the streets, derailments, crashes, collapsed expressways, crushed subways, fires everywhere. Pure hell. Suddenly, a city seems a fragile thing. And life too. Tomorrow anything could happen. For the characters in Murakami's latest short story collection, the Kobe earthquake is an echo from a past they buried long ago. Satsuki has spent 30 years hating one man: a lover who destroyed her chances of having children, and who now lives in Kobe. Did her desire for revenge cause the earthquake? Junpei's estranged parents also live in Kobe. Should he contact them? Miyake left his family in Kobe to make midnight bonfires on a beach hundreds of miles away. Four-year-old Sala has nightmares that the Eathquake man is trying to stuff her inside a little box. Katagiri returns home to find a giant frog in his apartment on a mission to save Tokyo from a massive worm burrowing under the Tokyo Security Trust Bank. "When he gets angry, he causes earthquakes" says Frog. "And right now he is very, very angry."

Review: So, this is a selection of six short stories all set directly after the 1995 Kobe earthquake.  I thought I would review each story one by one.

UFO in Kushiro- I think this is actually my least favourite of the bunch. That's not to say that I disliked it- I did, the same way that I like everything that Haruki Murakami writes, just within certain degrees of liking as opposed to active dislike- but I suppose that I just found it rather ordinary, with all of the trademark aspects of his work that you would expect from his writing.  Look at it this way: as a kind of introduction, a prologue that sets the scene with the things that keep all of the stories in after the quake interlinked: people's lives that are outwardly so ordinary in many aspects, but which are somehow thrown slightly out of balance, and the way that the Kobe earthquake is somehow relevant to their lives.  UFO in Kushiro, to my mind, kind of establishes all of that as a lead-up to the rest of the book.

Landscape with Flatiron- is quite possibly my favourite of the six, and also quite possibly my new favourite Murakami short story.  The surreal and supernatural is something that's often one of the most prominent themes in his writing, but this collection is (apart from Super-Frog Saves Tokyo, which I'll get to in a minute) kind of devoid of all that. Yet Landscape with Flatiron reads as quite dreamlike and surreal in a way that no giant frogs could ever be, with the imagery that it conjures up, the fleeting dialogue, and the way that the story meanders along quietly, like it's hardly there at all.  You hardly notice that it's finished, the way it kind of trails off in an unfinished thought.

All God's Children Can Dance- is best described as...slightly disturbing, or maybe slightly unsettling would be a more accurate description.  There are all kinds of vague underlying themes and undertones to the story, like everything is lurking just underneath the surface.  You wouldn't think it when you first start reading and meet the protagonist- who wakes up alone at home with a hangover- but it's the darkest story of the six, and the deepest, too.  I found the conclusion of this story particularly satisfying: it opened in one place, seemed to go on a slight detour as a kind of intense character study, before concluding in what felt like a full circle.  Though the story was only around twenty pages long, by the end I felt like I knew everything about the main character and the world he inhabited.


Thailand-  Is it possible for a short story to pull you in gradually?  If it is, Thailand did exactly that. I started out thinking, "well, this is an okay story," but then as it kept going I felt myself more and more gradually drawn into it.  All the stories in after the quake are linked in differing ways, but I found the way that this was connected the most interesting; the main character, Satsuki, wonders if her hatred of one man is what caused the earthquake. 

Super-Frog Saves Tokyo- Reminded me a lot of the story The Little Green Monster from the collection The Elephant Vanishes, and was just as much fun. It's as strange and as quirky as it sounds, but always in the most delightful way possible.  A bank employee named Katagiri comes home from work one evening to find a six-foot-tall frog waiting for him in his apartment, and, after the frog has asked Katagiri to close the door behind him and take off his shoes, Frog proceeds to warn Katagiri that they must both work together to "do mortal combat with"...drumroll...a gigantic worm, in order to prevent aforementioned worm from destroying Tokyo.  Every page gets more and more random, but for that I absolutely love it.

Honey Pie- I envy Haruki Murakami for his writing skills so much, and he makes me feel like such a mediocre writer. How are his characters so fully-formed and believable, even when we only stay with them for such a short period of time? I know that this is a highlight of the collection for a lot of people, but I was initially a little confused about where the focus of the story lay.  It started off in one place, with a young girl being told a story by her Uncle Junpei. Then it sort of takes a detour into the lives of Junpei and the girl -Sala's- parents, only it's sort of too long to be a detour and seems to become the central point or idea of the story, before coming back to Sala again at the end.  Still, whatever story the reader wants to get from it- and there are many within it- it remains ultimately heartwarming and hopeful.

In Three Words: surreal, profound, emotive.
Recommended for: everyone!  I think it's a good introduction to Murakami's short stories.
Rating: 4.

In My Mailbox 25 or The One with the Armchair Travelling

Dear Blog,
IMM is hosted by Kristi at The Story Siren.
I got a lot of books this week, which is mostly the fault of the huge charity shop in the centre of town, which has shelves and shelves and shelves of secondhand novels. I've probably sung its praises before, and with reason.
A lot of the books I obtained are a sufficient transportation method to other corners of time and space; Japan, Korea, Greece, Russia, China and so on, which is entirely ideal because I've been wanting to read lots of books set abroad lately.

BOUGHT

Tuesdays with Morrie by Mitch Albom

Captain Corelli's Mandolin by Louis de Bernières

This Lullaby by Sarah Dessen

Memoirs of a Geisha by Arthur Golden

The Last Day of a Condemned Man by Victor Hugo (read, review here)

Ten Thousand Sorrows by Elizabeth Kim

We The Living by Ayn Rand

Beijing Doll by Chun Sue

Stolen, er, BORROWED FROM MY MOTHER

Norwegian Wood by Haruki Murakami (she's reading this with her book club at the moment, and though I'm quite the Murakami fan I haven't read this one yet.)

FROM THE LIBRARY

The Teahouse Fire by Ellis Avery (currently reading. Entirely fascinating, but pretty heavy going)

So, there you go.  I'm off now to push on with The Teahouse Fire and write poetry.  Over and out.

In My Mailbox 24

Dear blog,
IMM is hosted, as ever, by Kristi over at The Story Siren.
This week I got way more books than I actually needed to, because I own so many books that I haven't  actually read yet.  I really need to stop going to the library until I've gotten through some of them.

BOUGHT

Collected Poems by John Betjeman

An anthology of Yeats poetry that doesn't actually have a title...

FROM THE LIBRARY

Molloy by Samuel Beckett

Tokyo by Graham Marks

After Dark by Haruki Murakami (read.  *fangirl flail*) 

Under a Glass Bell by Anaïs Nin  (read. Really interesting, if not slightly pretentious)

So, there you go. How was your bookish wek?

Foreign Language Friday: The Elephant Vanishes by Haruki Murakami

Dear Blog,

another anthology review, even though because it's so late here it's almost Foreign Language Saturday.

Original Language: Japanese
Translated by: Alfred Birnbaum and Jay Rubin
Summary (from Goodreads): When a man's favourite elephant vanishes, the balance of his whole life is subtly upset; a couple's midnight hunger pangs drive them to hold up a McDonald's; a woman finds she is irresistible to a small green monster that burrows through her front garden; an insomniac wife wakes up to a twilight world of semi-consciousness in which anything seems possible - even death. In every one of the stories that make up The Elephant Vanishes, Murakami makes a determined assault on the normal. He has a deadpan genius for dislocating realities to uncover the surreal in the everyday, the extraordinary in the ordinary.

The Wind-up Bird And Tuesday's Women- turned out later on, much revised, to be the beginning to The Wind-up Bird Chronicle, which I haven't read yet.  However, it certainly is a winning idea for a book, and certainly a strong opening to an anthology like this. 
The thing I like most about Haruki Murakami is the way that he manages to make the most ordinary, everyday things absolutely unputdownable reading. The narrator's cat disappears. If this was any other author, you'd be like, "It's okay, he'll turn up when he's hungry."  But in Murakami's writing you're like "Oh noes!  The cat!  He has to be found!"  Not just because of the writing style, but just because you care about the characters so much, you need the subtle balance to their lives to be restored now. 

The Second Bakery Attack- Is about (in my opinion) the most badass married couple in literature, who how after suddenly becoming ravenously hungry in the middle of the night, decide to hold up a MacDonalds in order to break a curse set on the husband. On one hand, taking a step back and saying to yourself "Hang on.  What are they doing..?"  it's quite hilarious, but on the other you can't help but take it seriously as you read it.

 The Kangaroo Communiqué-  I don't really have very much to say about this one.  One thing I do know; it was weird.  Even for this anthology. It didn't really make sense, it was shrouded in mystery; the narration sort of jumped about from one place to another. 


On Seeing the 100% Perfect Girl One Beautiful April Morning-is only five or six pages long, but one of my favourites nonetheless.  It's short and sweet and the sort of thing that puts a smile on your face when you've finished, and seems to make your whole day brighter for having read it.  Even though you know it's just a story, it's utterly enchanting. It's kind of like a fairy-tale.  

Sleep-Would have been another favourite, had it not been for the ending, which seemed to let down what would have otherwise been a truly, truly fantastic story.  The ending was very sudden and didn't really seem to fit with the rest of the story, which left me kind of disappointed.  However, up to that point it was unputdownable.  I'm something of an insomniac, but not...not in the creepy sinister way of this story.  It gave me chills.

The Fall of the Roman Empire, The 1881 Indian Uprising, Hitler's Invasion of Poland, And The Realm of Raging Winds-  Was another short one, and all the better for it. For all its length, it was pretty incredible in the way that it managed to weave in time and space to such a short piece. The writing style is beautiful; so clear and precise.   "I let out a short, maybe 30% sigh."    "The things on the line were all aflutter, whipping out loud, dry cracks, streaming their crazed comet trails off into space."

Lederhosen- Was a bizarre story; a woman goes to Germany, tries to buy some Lederhosen for her husband and then ends up divorcing him.    It was kind of "Oh.  Okay."  No real explanation is given for why she does this; the mind boggles.   But this is Haruki Murakami, dear blog, and if anything slightly out of the ordinary happens, you just nod and accept it.  Because thou shalt not question the master.

Barn Burning - Was quite a delightful escapade through the Japanese countryside, in which the narrator meets a young man who likes to burn barns out in the country.  It was around this point in the book that it started to strike me how similar the main characters are in all these short stories.  They're about thirty or so; they smoke, they drink, they listen to music.  Is that it?  Surely there's more to them than that.  Admittedly it's pretty hard to write full personalities with just twenty or thirty pages to play with; but they seem to be the same characters over and over, in different situations but with the same basic mold.

The Little Green Monster - This is a weird comparison, but The Little Green Monster reminds me somewhat of Andy Riley's Bunny Suicide books;  It's quite sweet in a mean sort of way, having you both laughing and going "aaw, no!  The poor rabbit/little green monster!"  at the same time.  So you do feel kind of guilty when you've finished it for finding the undersized verdant  lusus naturae's infatuation with the narrator amusing.  But you do anyway. 

A Family Affair- Was quite a "normal" story compared to some of the others; just the story of a brother, a sister and the sister's new boyfriend, whose name is Noboro Watanabe, a character who seems to appear in a fair few of the stories in the book.  There doesn't seem to be a link between all these people with the same name; they just are.

A Window- Is a beautiful story about letters, a part-time job and hamburger steaks; all are linked.  It's another short one that's quite similar to On Seeing the 100% Perfect Girl.

TV People -  Is bizarrely apathetic.  A man is sat in his living room late one night when suddenly little people appear in his apartment and set up a television.  Mysteriously when it's turned on, the television doesn't show any channels, and then the aforementioned TV People turn up at his office to install a similar television, which nobody else seems to notice.  It's...just so weird.  The narrator never mentions the TV people to anyone, nor do they mention them to him.  He just sits there and watches them go about their business...it makes no sense. But then, I don't think it's meant to.

A Slow Boat to China- Is absolutely beautiful.  It's poetic in a way that none of the other short stories are; it seems calm and flowing; like the narrator is stood still while the rest of the world keeps going. 

The Dancing Dwarf - Imagine that The Little Mermaid and Stephen King had a baby. The Dancing Dwarf is the result, some sort of fairy tale set in a different world which gets darker and darker with every page, until the ending which is slightly horrific and entirely disgusting. 
 

The Last Lawn of the Afternoon- Another...strange one, in which when you think about it not an awful lot happens.  Outwardly, it seems like another one of the more "normal" stories, but on another there are still a lot of questions that feel like they need answering.

The Silence- Is quite touching and powerful in a simplistic sort of way.   I've read a couple of reviews that have mentioned how this could be seen as quite political, referring to the way that herd culture works in Japan.  I hadn't really thought about this the first time I read it; so I suppose in that respect it's one of those books that works on many different levels.

The Elephant Vanishes- Seems to pretty sum up the whole book; how surreal every story is, the quirkiness behind the every day. It's like the disappearance of the elephant represents everything else about the other short stories in the book; situations or relationships that have vanished, or could have been but aren't, if that makes any sense.

In Three Words: sufficient Murakami awesomeness.  

Recommended for: fans. 

Rating: 3.5

Foreign Language Friday: four manga mini-reviews

Dear blog,

So I'm entirely aware that I've been awful at blogging lately. But for one thing I haven't really had time to sit down and write a review, and for another I think I've only read two YA novels so far this month.
I fail at being a YA reader, even though that's what I am. Most of the time.
Anyway. Here I am.
So for Foreign Language Friday this week I thought I might do something a little different. I've read a lot of manga recently, so I thought that I could sum some of them up in a couple of paragraphs.

50 Rules for Teenagers, volume 1

written by: Na-Ye Ri

original language: Korean

Rating: four

50 Rules For Teenagers is in a lot of ways a very ordinary sort of book. Mi-Roo, the main character, is like pretty much any other fifteen-year-old. Among other things she deals with her irritating twin brother, taking care of the house with her mother almost always away on business, assisting her crazy manga-ka sister, starting high school, and the required catty classmates. Mi-Roo is also the perfect protagonist. She's quite snarky and such, but so hardworking and thoughtful you can't help but be instantly on her side.

Maybe that's why it's such a great read; it's so familiar and, I guess, kind of comforting in that sense. Minimal intelligent thinking is required, and you can just sit back and go along with the story in all its quiet, everyday awesome.
One small, persnickety thing, because I myself am small and persnickety: I'm not so keen on the cover. That's her brother that Mi-Roo looks like she wants to eat.

Fruits Basket, volume 5

written by: Natsuki Takaya

original language: Japanese

Rating: 5

Fruits Basket never fails to rock the shojo manga world. Things are really getting going now, in the fifth volume following Tohru Honda's life staying with the cursed Sohma family, who transform into an animal of the Chinese zodiac when hugged by a member of the opposite sex. Kisa appears on the scene, though mute and troubled by her past, and there are some mysterious connections made between Kisa and Yuki's past; apparently he knows what she's going through. The plot thickens.

I am one of the multitude of fangirls of this series. With reason, I might say. With sufficient romance, three-dimensional, complex characters with interesting pasts, humorous best friends, what's not to like? The fact that the volumes aren't longer, I guess. Anyway, Natsuki Takaya seems to really hit the nail on the head when it comes to writing about people, and emotions, and the past and the present. She has all aspects of humanity covered, including- and maybe most importantly- their flaws.

In the latter part of the book, there's an interesting subplot involving Hanajima and Yuki's fan club, which I thought was highly amusing seeing as Hanajima and Arisa are among my favourite characters, and some sufficient comic relief seeing as parts of the rest of the story were so dark.
So. Bring it on, volume 6.

Hinadori Girl, volume 1

written by: Mari Matsuzawa

original language: Japanese

rating: 3

Yoshiki's father is away working all the time, mostly on the moon. Back at home, living with his little sister Akira, Yoshiki is repairing one of his long-dormant projects; Sally 001, a robot maid. But when brought to life, Sally seems entirely incapable of doing any work, and her main skill in live is being cute and naïve to the world, including the villains who continuously try and snatch Sally away. However, despite the fact that Sally is in peril, Akira gets increasingly jealous because Sally is taking up so much of her brother's time.

The whole concept is like something from Tomorrow's World. You know; "By the year 2000 we'll be taking frequent trips to the moon and robots will be doing all our work for us."
Alas, although the plot line was entirely charming, I didn't like Hinadori Girl as much as I would have if, say, it had been longer. The whole thing felt very rushed; no sooner had Sally been brought to life than she was being stolen, so it seemed, so I never felt like I could really really relate to the characters, or really warm to them in general. Sally herself wasn't in fact as much of a central character as I thought she was going to be; the story mostly focused on Yoshiki and Akira and their strange sibling rivalry/love.
Well, I've got a copy of volume 2 from the library, so we'll see if things improve, and I'm interested to see where things are going to go.

Strawberry Marshmallow, Volume 5

written by: Barasui

original language: Japanese

Rating: 5

After volume 3, which was a little "eh", (But then "eh" in Strawberry Marshmallow terms is actually "hey, it's pretty good I suppose" in other-literature terms) with volumes four and five Strawberry Marshmallow is back on top form, with more escapades from the most kawaii posse known to mankind. Nobue, Chika, Miu, Matsuri and Ana are back for more hilarity. Among other things, Matsuri's kitten hat makes a comeback, Miu and Chika wonder how close they really are, and their everyday lives are narrated through Japanese proverbs, all with the humour, characteristics and artwork that make me love this series so much (volume 6 is out in Japan, but my best friend Google tells me it may be a while before it's released in English). Be warned: as with the other Strawberry Marshmallow volumes, there are a lot of jokes that involve the Japanese language, pop culture and such, particularly in this volume, in which the girls study English and discover the meanings of their names. Thankfully here and there there are little notes that explain some of the jokes and references, which makes things a little easier and less "awkward for the American reader." Yeah, I know I quote that a lot nowadays. But it's...so relevant. I can't resist. /sarcasm/ I'm not mocking anyone. Well, perhaps I am, but I can't even remember who now.

So. There you go. Signing off.

Foreign Language Friday: Dance Dance Dance by Haruki Murakami

Dear blog,
Because I haven't done a Foreign Language Friday, and Dance Dance Dance is one of those adult books that's so good I just have to review it.

Name: Dance Dance Dance (originally published as Dansu Dansu Dansu)
Written by: Haruki Murakami
First published in: Japanese
Translated by: Alfred Birnbaum
Summary (from Goodreads): In this propulsive novel by the author of Hard-Boiled Wonderland and the End of the World and The Elephant Vanishes, one of the most idiosyncratically brilliant writers at work in any language fuses science fiction, the hard-boiled thriller, and white-hot satire into a new element of the literary periodic table.

As he searches for a mysteriously vanished girlfriend, Haruki Murakami's protagonist plunges into a wind tunnel of sexual violence and metaphysical dread in which he collides with call girls; plays chaperone to a lovely teenaged psychic; and receives cryptic instructions from a shabby but oracular Sheep Man. Dance Dance Dance is a tense, poignant, and often hilarious ride through the cultural Cuisinart that is contemporary Japan, a place where everything that is not up for sale is up for grabs.

Review:  If you like Japanese fiction then it's kind of undoubted that you will have heard of Haruki Murakami, the hugely popular author of The Wind-Up Bird Chronicle, Kafka on the Shore and other such novels.  He left the country after the huge success of his most popular novel, Norwegian Wood, when he became a national celebrity.  Most amusingly, the head of a newspaper claimed that "Haruki Murakami has escaped from Japan!"   This is enough to make me want to read his work.

Dance Dance Dance is, largely, a very confusing book. It's wildly chaotic, some characters and setting appearing for know apparent reason, and seemingly the un-named narrator already knows about.  The Dolphin Hotel, for instance.  Did I miss something there?  For a lot of the book I was expecting some sort of flashback to sort of explain everything, but largely most of it remained unexplained, and kind of threw the reader in at the deep end.  Kiki, for instance.  She was one of the most important characters in the book, but it was like, "this is Kiki, a high-class prostitute  that the narrator was once in love with.  She's disappeared".  Still, I think it was this air of mystery about her that made her so intriguing.  Who was she?  Why did she vanish?

Ditto the Sheep Man. The man who apparently ties everything together and connects thoughts and people.  He serves as a switchboard of sorts. Amusingly, the sheep man stars on the German cover , (the German title translates as Dance with the Sheep Man) although in the book he is actually described as an old man wrapped in some sheepskin, I prefer the idea of a sheep wearing human clothes.  Who wouldn't?  Anyway, I love the Sheep Man mostly for his whole "Yougottadance. Aslongasthemusicplays. Yougotta dance. Don'teventhinkwhy" speech, which is to my mind the Japanese "She was not an adventure. She was not a fine and precious thing. She was a girl." It's one of those quotes that there are about three different versions of in the Goodreads Quotes section.  With reason, I suppose.

And there are, of course, a multitude of other exciting characters: Yuki, a psychic thirteen-year-old and one of my favourite characters in the book for her frankness, Yumiyoshi, a constantly uptight hotel receptionist, and Gotanda, a divorced actor so handsome he's forever doomed to play dentists or teachers in teen romance movies. Oh, and look out for Yuki's father, Hiraku Makimura.  Stare at his name long enough and you'll get it.

The narrator is un-named throughout the book.  Still, his first-person voice seems very direct, as if he's speaking right to the reader, and how could you not root for him as he traverses across the far side of the world from Tokyo to Hokkaido to Hawai'i in his attempt to see how everything ties together?  He's humorous, realistic and quietly observant of the chaotic advanced capitalism of 1980s Japan, but more than anything he's just an ordinary divorced thirty-something trying to hold everything together.  His voice is realistic, slightly cynical and darkly humorous; it's very believable, mostly because he is nothing special. Until, that is, the string of encounters that throw him, the sheep-man and the other main characters together in the mysterious hotel room.  Still, aside from that obvious fact he is totally, 100%, undeniably ordinary.

And the plot itself is well-paced. I don't read mystery novels very often, mostly because I can't stand all the tension of the unanswered questions.  Maybe it's just me being unfortunate and reading the wrong stuff, but in the mystery novels I read the secrets either all get answered all at once in one big, life-changing scene or else they ask more questions than they answer (*cough* A Series of Unfortune Events *coughcough*).  But Dance Dance Dance is very engaging in how the author strings the reader along in a paperchase of murder, mystery and humour, slowly revealing things bit by bit.

The ending.  Hmm.  The ending, the ending, the ending.  I can't tell whether or not I liked it, actually.  One one hand it seemed like a nice enough stopping point, but it's clear that the narrator's search doesn't end there, and that he could spend his whole life traversing the globe trying to find answers to the multitude of questions left unanswered at the end of the book.  On the other hand, it was a little disappointing that the ending was so inconclusive.  Also, the penultimate scene in the book got on my nerves somewhat, because it seemed kind of "and then Harry woke up in the cupboard under the stairs and it was all a dream".  Let me say before you rip your hair out and scream "Oh my word she hasjust given away the ending", let me assure you that it was not all a dream.  However, mostly because so much of the book seems to surreal, I call into question how much of it was actually real (the obvious answer being none of it because it's fiction), and how much of it was just a figment of the narrator's imagination. The mind boggles, but such is the brilliantness, such is the author's writing that you have to doubt what really happens and what doesn't.

In three words: chaotic, surreal, engaging.
Reccomended for: Murakami fans old and new.
Rating: 5.

Foreign Language Friday: On Love and Barley- Haiku of Basho

Dear Blog,

Since today I am

reviewing a book of Basho's
haiku poetry,


I shall write all that
I can in the haiku form.
Fun, but kind of hard.

Name: On Love and Barley- Haiku of Basho

Written by: Matsuo Kinsaku (later known as Matsuo Basho)

Originally Published in: Japanese

Translated by: various people down the centuries, but this edition was done by Lucien Stryk

Summary (from Goodreads): Basho, one of the greatest of Japanese poets and the master of haiku, was also a Buddhist monk and a life-long traveller. His poems combine 'karumi', or lightness of touch, with the Zen ideal of oneness with creation. Each poem evokes the natural world - the cherry blossom, the leaping frog, the summer moon or the winter snow - suggesting the smallness of human life in comparison to the vastness and drama of nature. Basho himself enjoyed solitude and a life free from possessions, and his haiku are the work of an observant eye and a meditative mind, uncluttered by materialism and alive to the beauty of the world around him.

Review: You may or may not

know that I love haiku-  I

write some myself now

and again.  But I

feel kind of depressed when I

think about how mine

pale compared to the

beauty and simplicity

of Basho's poems.

Basho is the sort of

inspirational person
I wish I could meet.


And why do I like

them so much?  Well, Basho is

master of haiku.

He revived the form-

brought new life to the rules and

strictness of Haiku. 

He often broke

the form

throwing away rules

syllables-

drifting here

and there.

His poems seem both

disconnected and

full of nature, real;

minimalism

of Zen Buddhism echoes

through his work; calm and

uncluttered with the

everyday chaos of

normality and

such.  Like you can see

the flower's petals unfold
slowly but surely,


for example.  And
so Basho observes it with
curiosity.


I guess I better

give a few examples of

Basho's haiku.  So:

Together let's eat

shears of wheat

share a grass pillow

Old pond,

leap-splash

a frog.

Come, see real

flowers

of this painful world.

No hat, and cold

rain falling-

well!

Wake, butterfly-

it's late, we've miles

to go together.

Summary: Basho is a truly, truly brilliant poet and although it only takes a matter of seconds to read one of his haiku, they stay in your head for ages afterwards and really make you think about the world in a simplistic sort of way. Plus they're short and easy to remember, so read the book a couple of times and impress your friends by reciting half of them off the top of your head. Rating: 5.


Last but not least, the
final poem that Basho
wrote before he died:


Sick on a journey-
over parched fields
dreams wander on.

Foreign Language Friday: Translucent

Dear Blog,

Today I bring with me a review of the manga Translucent by Kazuhiro Okamoto for Foreign Language Friday. 

Name: Translucent (original title:  Toransurūsento- Kanojo wa Hantōmei)
Written (and drawn) By: Kazuhiro Okamoto
First published in: Japan
Translated by: Heidi Plechl

Summary (from the blurb of volume 1): Eight grader Shizuka Shiroyama is  an introverted girl, dealing with school woes, bossy peers, and a medical condition-the mysterious Translucent Syndrome- which causes her to periodically turn semi transparent or completely invisible.  One classmate, the hyperactive Mamoru Tadami, is falling for Shizuka despite her prblem, and his dogged determination and unconditional support brings hope to her life.  As Shizuka struggles to overcome her difficulties, her illness becomes a metaphor in the ordinary lives of jer classmates and friends, as they try to work their way through life and relationships.

Review: Two things before I actually start: 1), this is a review of the first 3 volumes, 'cause volume 4 is scheduled to come out on August 15 (a day after I leave to go on holiday to Italy for a fortnight, dammit) , and I've heard (ok, read on a website) that volume 5 is going to be released in November.  But this is all internet rumours, so don't believe this is the truth.  2, I told myself when I started doing Foreign Language Friday that I wouldn't spend the whole time waffling about all the manga I read.  Which is a lot.  But manga is books, and even more it is a teenage book, and even more it is a very awesome book.  Books, plural, I guess I should say.  The Translucent books are my favourite manga of all time (even better *gasp* than Strawberry Marshmallow, which I reviewed here, and Azumanga Daioh, though I guess you can't really compare them to Translucent because Translucent has a plot and Strawberry Marshmallow and Azumanga Daioh are both slice-of-life manga.  And these brackets have gone on far too long and I better get back to reviewing now).

The artwork is good; simplistic and slightly minimalist at a first look but as you look closer and get more and more sucked in, everything seems more complex and beautiful.  Much like everyday life I suppose.  One thing: the artwork sometimes looks a bit weird and surreal.  But then, it must be tricky to draw something and give the impression of invisibility (I can't draw anything to save my life).  If .  The picture on the left also a picture of nearly-invisible-Shizuka (there are some scenes in the book where you can't even see her unless you look very closely, but I can't find any on Google Images). 

Now onto Shizuka herself.  And all the technical bits about the plot and the writing and stuff you find in novels. 

Translucent is awesome because it's all about life.  There's so much to learn from the books: about first love, friendship, happiness and uniqueness.  I realised when I was typing up the summary that it probably does sound a bit corny and High-School-Musicaly.   The bottom line is IT IS NOT.  Translucent is a wonderfully touching series and it always leaves me with a warm smiley feeling when I've finished reading.

The characters are absolutely everything to this story.  Apart from Shizuka and a few other characters turning invisible now and again (including Keiko Haruna, who is always invisible, and who you only know is there because you can see her cap and glasses), the characters are all regular, everyday people, with dreams and aspirations and secrets.  What makes Shizuka such a compelling character is that in every other aspect from her Translucent Syndrome, she is an ordinary  fourteen-year-old girl.  She wants to be an actress. She has a crush.

Speaking of which.  I love, love,  love the relationship between Shizuka and Mamoru because it's so...normal.  As yet.  They're friends and then they realise that they're slightly in love with each other. Their "first date" had me in stitches.  I wish Mamoru was my friend.  He's funny, sweet, and collects plastic models.  Oh, and he pretends komodo dragons are monsters.  Who wouldn't to be his girlfriend?

Shizuka herself is a likeable character, though she's kind of pessimistic.  Sometimes I just want to pat her on the back and say, "smile, Shizuka!" but I'm the sort of person who stays up until the small hours worrying themselves sick about everything from a fear of open water to the demise of the human race, so I can't really talk.

My favourite character is probably Okouchi-san.  I know she's meant to be tough and mysterious, but the little bonus manga strips between chapters reveal otherwise. Oh, and she also has a crush on Mamoru, which adds an extra dimension to their relationship (as I said, who wouldn't like him?!).

Summary: if you read one manga, then I suppose it ought to be Translucent. It's an easy read, but it's deep and full of emotions and everyday life.  Rating: 5.

Review: Strawberry Marshmallow

Dear Blog,

I'm currently reading The Carbon Diaries 2017 by Saci Lloyd, and I'll write a review when I've finished.  But for now I'll review (at least what I've read of) the Japanese manga series Ichigo Mashimaro, or Strawberry Marshmallow to the English-speaking world.  Personally I like calling it Ichigo Mashimaro.  It sounds better.  Anyway.

I first came across them by way of Amazon.  I thought they looked pretty similar to Azumanga Daioh by Kiyohiko Azuma, a.k.a the first manga I read.  And probably still my favourite (Actually, I like Ichigo just as much).  Anyway, seeing as like Azumanga Daioh  it was the seemingly ordinary (but hilarious) escapades of a group of girls, I decided to give it a go.

Author: Barasui (a nom-de-plume it seems).

Volumes so far (in English): 5

Publisher: Tokyopop

Rating: 13+

Summary: Volume 1 starts with sixteen-year-old high school freshman Nobue Ito (also occasionally romanised as Itou or Itoh) introducing herself and her twelve-year-old sister Chika (who, according to Nobue, "specialises in being totally generic").  She introduces Chika's friends, the energetic drama-queen Miu (age twelve also) and crybaby Matsuri (age eleven, pictured on the bottom right) In volume two they're  joined by Ana Copolla, an English girl who's lived in Japan so long she's forgotten how to speak proper English. 

 The books follow their many adventures about the extraordinary behind the everyday. Among other things they run a doctor's surgery, pretend to be Ninjas, hilariously re-tell Cinderella, go to the beach, hold a bet to see if Nobue can quit smoking, visit a bath house, etc. etc.  There's no real plot as such.

Review: first things first (lol, that seems to be my reviewing catchphrase)- it is the cutest, fluffiest, funniest, silliest manga in the history of the world.  That is exactly why I love it.  *lists other manga read* Azumanga Daioh, Yotsubato, Tori Koro...As well as other shoujo manga with more plot like Fruits Basket and Translucent, you can see a sort of similarity between them.  That's why Ichigo is right up my street.

Some people don't like it because, well, it's plotless.  That's the point!  It is a slice-of-life manga.  Unless you're in a soap opera, life has no particular plot, does it?

Another thing some people dislike is that Nobue is a chain smoker and that sets a bad example to others.  Um, excuse me, but what teenager would read it and think, "Nobue smokes. Cool.  Now I want to!"  We all know the dangers of smoking, don't we?!  And there is yang to this yin (or yin to this yang) as she never has any money because of it, and Chika comments now and again that she'll get cancer.   An unhappy review on Amazon.com says it was suggested for her eight-year-old daughter *tut tut tut* and, "boy am I glad I did [decide to screen it]".  As one commenter pointed out (and I agree), "just because it cute makes it for kids?"  The answer is NO.  However: if you are 13 or over and liked Tori Koro or Azumanga Daioh, you will throw these two comments aside and enjoy it.  Preferably on a dark night on a comfy chair and a mug of hot chocolate.

Ichigo was originally published in a Shonen magazine, but I think that Shojo fans will enjoy it as much as Shonen readers (Shojo-aimed at girls.  Shonen-aimed at boys). Though I imagine boys reading it if it was serialised in their magazine, I can't imagine them buying the books.  The covers, I imagine, would appeal more to girls *shrugs*.  Either way.

Since I care not about Nobue smoking and the lack of plot, my only (slight) complaint is that in the first few chapters of volume 1 some of the charachers undergo lots of changes: Chika and Miu look almost identical, and Nobue's hair is blonde and much longer.  It's strange because in the opening few pages, when Nobue is introducing herself and the girls, her hair is as it is for much of the series (short and black).  But then as the story itself begins, it switches to its long blondeness until a few chapters in.  Very strange.

My favourite of the 3 I've read* is probably volume two, when it really gets going and Ana joins the gang.  It's particularly laughable when they go to the bath house and try running a doctor's surgery.  Volume 3 isn't my favourite if only because Miu seems to hog the spotlight a bit.  I know that's because of her personality but I think Chika's total word count for volume 3 is about 50.  Oh well.  

My favourite characters are probably Ana and Nobue.  And Matsuri.  And Chika and Miu.  They're all wonderful!  Such wonderful, unique, fully-formed, three-dimensional characters.

I also love the humour; sarcastic, quick-witted and dry.  Timed perfectly to boot.  I don't know why but some of it reminds be of Chandler's one-liners in F.R.I.E.N.D.S.  It's the same style of hilarity I guess. 

Summary: read it!  read it!  Ichigo is guaranteed to make you smile.  Nay, it will make you cry with laughter.  Moe has never been so cute nor so funny.

*I'm going to order volumes 4 and 5 after ordering some more Dear America/Dear Canada books from the US.  I truly live by the Erasmus quote "when I get a little money I buy books; and if there is any left, I buy food and clothes".After buying one lot of books I start saving up for another *sigh*.  Oh well.