Tomoka Shibasaki

I have a vaguely vexed relationship with Japanese literature. While I’m fascinated by the culture it describes, I often have difficulty getting into the writing itself, which, at least in English translation, can feel strangely detached or repressed. However, I’m determined to keep at it and, along the way, I’ve found a few books that I’ve enjoyed unconditionally, like the detective novels of Seishi Yokomizo. Spring Garden, which originally caught my attention by virtue of its gorgeous cover, has been on my shelves for a while: now, as the sun grows stronger and the trees burst into blossom, it seems the right time to read it. It falls into the category of ‘evocative but slightly frustrating’: a tale of two lonely people who bond over an old photo-book that records the sky-blue house next door to their block of flats. It’s less a story than a glimpse into someone else’s life – a chance to walk alongside them for a while, without the promise of explanation or catharsis – and it has a bittersweetly nostalgic feel, as Shibasaki explores notions of loss, change and stasis in a world that’s moving too fast...

For the full review, please see my blog:
https://theidlewoman.net/2021/04/26/spring-garden-2014-tomoka-shibasaki/… (mehr)

I enjoyed reading this novella which won an Akutagawa Prize, but I'm not sure what its point was, or what I was supposed to get out of it.

Taro lives in a soon to be demolished apartment block in which only two other units are occupied. One of the other tenants, Nishi, ignites his interest in a nearby house, which is painted sky blue. Two of the previous occupants of the sky blue house had published a book of photographs of themselves in various rooms of the house, entitling the book "Spring Garden." Nishi and Taro insinuate themselves into the lives of the current occupants of the house, to see and compare the rooms in their current state to the way in which the rooms appeared in the book of photographs. Beyond this nothing much happens, until abruptly, and I thought strangely, about 3/4 through the book, it switches to a first person narrative by Taro's sister who comes to visit him.

Despite this, the language is beautiful. It's a glimpse at life in contemporary Japan for a couple of odd characters, but beyond this I don't see a compelling reason to read it. If this description attracts you, it's not necessarily a waste of time. I just didn't get it.

3 stars… (mehr)

Una mirada magistral a la soledad urbana actual. Una emocionante historia sobre la pérdida, la amistad y los muchos modos en que podemos vivir nuestras vidas. Divorciado y distanciado de su familia, Taro vive solo en uno de los pocos apartamentos ocupados de su edificio, que pronto será demolido. Aunque desde la muerte de su padre se ha vuelto muy reservado, mantiene una inusual relación con su vecina Nishi, quien acabará contagiándole su pasión por la casa azul celeste que hay en su misma calle. Esta casa se convertirá en un símbolo para ambos de lo que han perdido, de todo lo que les ha sidoarrebatado, pero también un último vestigio de esperanza, de aquello que les puede deparar el futuro si se atreven a enfrentarse a sus fantasmas. Una novela delicada e íntima, una emocionante historia sobre la pérdida de identidad de las grandes urbes y los muchos modos en que podemos vivir nuestras vidas.… (mehr)

This novella from Tomoko Shibasaki is brief and insubstantial like a breath of fresh air, pleasant and briefly purifying. It evokes the isolation of living alone with few ties amongst neighbour who are little more than strangers, nameless and indistinct. The main character Toro is recently divorced and has lost his father, he is drifting lethargic and unconnected through his life until he forges a link with his neighbour Nishi through her fixation on a nearby sky-blue house.
It is beautifully written with a clarity of vision and restraint of prose that is remarkable in much Japanese literature and poetry and is perfectly captured in Polly Barton's precise and excellent translation. It does, however, lack an emotional foundation that would make it truly effective. Toro's isolation is accompanied by a passivity and listlessness that leave the novella unfortunately hollow and apart from a strange but moving passage about grinding down his father's bones in order to scatter his remains in the places he loves I fear most impressions will quickly evaporate.… (mehr)