Devouring Books: Lizard by Banana Yoshimoto

There's this Maya Angelou (RIP) quote that goes "I've learned that people will forget what you said, people will forget what you did, but people will never forget how you made them feel." I bring this up because, much as this applies to people (and it so, so does), it can equally apply to books. I think we've all read books where we can't quite remember the plot or much that's specific from them, but shit, we know they made us feel things, and also stuff.

I bring this up because, I know that I really liked Lizard while I was reading it, I just can't remember much about the specific stories (there are 6). Banana Yoshimoto writes in a style I really like- it's fairly simple and easy to read, and then a sentence might come along that takes your breath away just a little bit; and that's in translation. Obviously because she's a Japanese author, I'm predisposed to like her (I'm currently reading my third Japanese book in a row, and have my next Murakami allll planned out), and it doesn't hurt that there's a touch of Haruki in her writing- a touch of magical realism, and oh yes some sadness; but her writing and her stories are still definitely all her own.

All that I've really said so far is 'Banana Yoshimoto is good, you should read her.' This is definitely true. If you tend to steer away from short stories (or Japanese authors. Or Murakami) then this might not be for you, but otherwise I say go forth! Get stuck into these little slices of life and love and hope and loss and all sorts of other themes that I can remember, even if I can't remember much from the stories themselves. Maybe you will, and they'll stay with you for the rest of your life. I really hope so.

However. Even if I can't remember much, I can remember some stuff. There are some little moments from some of the stories that have stayed with me, and because this review is lacking just a little bit in content, let's talk about a couple of those (bear with me, there will be quotes).

"Your love is different from mine. What I mean is, when you close your eyes, for that moment, the centre of the universe comes to reside within you. And you become a small figure within that vastness, which spreads without limit behind you, and continues to expand with tremendous speed, to engulf all of my past, even before I was born, and every word I've ever written, and each view I've seen, and all the constellations and darkness of outer space that surrounds the small blue ball that is earth. Then, when you open your eyes, all that disappears.

I anticipate the next time you are troubled, and must close your eyes again."

Mostly I just wanted to share that because it's abouuut as close as prose comes to poetry to me. But also, each time I read it, I interpret it differently. The first time, I thought it meant that her love for him is all consuming and engulfing, whereas his love is about enjoying meaning that much to another person. Now I think it's more that she uses his love as her place of comfort and home, and loves being able to provide that for her and welcomes it when he can. Maybe it's a little bit of both, or maybe it's something else entirely- THIS IS THE BEAUTY OF READING.

"I shut the window, and then looked down at the river again. Unlike the river I had seen moments before, full of chaos and anxiety, the water now appeared calm and powerful, like an image frozen by a camera lens. It was peaceful, like the passage of time, flowing by, gentle and unchanging. It amazed me how utterly different things can look, just with a change of heart."

I love this because it's so simple but it's so incredibly true. One of the oldest philosophical fragments (I know, I studied Ancient Philosophy one time, leave me alone) is about how no one steps in the same river twice, and this makes me think of that, as well as just the general idea that, the world isn't really this one static thing, it's also inseparable from the way we experience it (more philosophy!). The exact same view can be repellant or pleasing, depending on where we've been, what we've done, or simply how we feel that day; books can change what they mean to us as we age and learn more, and it's just one of the more interesting aspects of life- because we change, things that seem eternal and fixed just aren't.

I'm pretty sure that's what Yoshimoto was trying to say in those four sentences, anyway. Ahem.

So, yes. Lizard is pretty great at getting me to think deep thoughts, but not so much at getting me to remember stuff. On the whole, I'd probably rather do the former anyway, so if that appeals to you too, you should probably read this. If not, then you've probably got a better memory than me, so you can read this too. Failing all that, just read Moonlight Shadow from Kitchen, because it's been more than a year since I read that, and I was moved by it AND I remember it. Bonus points there, Yoshimoto.

"His impressions were fresh in a way he would either remember all his life or instantly forget."

Oh crap, you guys. Franzen got to me.

I thought I remembered a similar thing happening with Freedom, feeling vaguely antagonistic towards most of the characters, and then getting to the end and deciding that, hey, they're not so bad, and I had a feeling something similar was coming with The Corrections. And HEY, it did. I mean, I haven't left The Corrections with some newly renewed faith in humanity or anything, because, you know,

But I guess I did leave with a better understanding of all the characters, even if I didn't like them more (some of them, I liked WAY less) and I kind of just GOT what Franzen had been trying to do throughout the book a lot more. Which is probably a good thing because if I'd finished this book and been left with nothing, I might have had to stab things, and that wouldn't have been good.

Firstly, and most importantly, I just want to comment that, even though this book ends at Christmas, none of the characters are in any way thinking about Christmas (with the possible exception of Enid). I'm not trying to say that just because it's Christmas, no one should have any troubles and everyone should just be constantly eating turkey, but not one of the characters is excited, or humming jingle bells, or doing any of that good sweet Christmas stuff they should be doing. Try telling me it's because they're all grown ups, and I will punch you because Christmas is aweeeeesome and always will be.

Try some singing, Lamberts.

Actually, I've just remembered the carollers, and that one bit where Chip arrives. THOSE were pretty Christmassy. But that's it. 

Character conclusions:

• Gary- Gary is kind of a terrible human being. I know, I know, his wife sucks. But you know who married his wife? Gary did. Because he ALSO sucks. I can't even, with the stringing Enid along about Jonah, and oh hey, you owe me $5, mom; and also did I mention that I invested in that company that sort of short changed my dad and am making a mint off of it? Oh yeah, and remember when I said I was depressed? Turns out I was just an asshole! Fucking Gary. Above all things, though, I hate this about him the most: "It frustrated him that people could so happily drop out of the world of conventional expectations; it undercut the pleasure he took in his home and job and family; it felt like a unilateral rewriting, to his disadvantage, of the rules of life." Firstly, Gary, comparison is the thief of joy, so, you might want to work on that. Secondly... You wife is a sociopath, your kids don't like you so much, how's that conventional life working out for ya? Oh yeah, I don't care.
• Denise- I don't know if it's just because her narrative came straight after Gary's which, trust me, was a welcome break, but I feel a lot more positive towards Denise now. Actually, it's not that uncomplicated- I hate that now she's allowed to have Robin she doesn't even want her anymore, and what was with that domestic violence thing? But, still, Denise seems to see people better than any of the other characters, to realise the things that they want and need AND- more importantly- she tries to help them get them. Like an ultimately good person would do. She tries, anyway.
• Chip- Oh, Chip. Has he redeemed himself? It's basically impossible to forget what an absolute dick he was at the start, but... Looking after his parents! A wife! Twins! Moving to Chicago! And, maybe most importantly, realising that his script (and, by extension, his life) is/was not a thriller but a farce. I don't know- if it's possible to forgive a character for the bad things they did/were, then I think I did that with the knowledge that he stayed in St Jude for SIX WEEKS, sacrificing the image he had of himself in the process and, just maybe, becoming better. In my brain sequel, Gary's kids are as messed up as these three, but Chip's twins are fine, but that's just me.
• Alfred- I don't really know what to say about Al. He's been tyrannical, distant, hugely racist, and helped to mess up three human beings, but he's also a sick old man who can't tell his left from his right any more. The main feeling left behind from his character is of never ever wanting to grow old in such an undignified, and yeah, upsetting way. Fuck this shit: "The clarity to think and the power to act were still vivid in his memory. Through a window that gave onto the next world, he could still see the clarity and see the power, just out of reach, beyond the window's thermal panes."
• Enid- I don't really know what to say about Enid. On the one hand, yay for standing up for gay rights, on the other... I'm really uneasy about her 'correcting' Al. I get it- she's put up with all his bullshit for YEARS, has been his caregiver for the past few, and now it's time for her to get her own back. Ok, fine, BUT the man who did all the bad things to her isn't even there anymore, so really she's just taking it out on a sick person. I am happy about her eventual freedom, only... I'm not so sure she has it in her to use her last years in a good way. But hopefully I'm wrong.

Sorry, that was really long!

Just one more thing and I'll leave you be. I found this really really interesting:

"He'd lost track of what he wanted, and since who a person was was what a person wanted, you could say that he'd lost track of himself."

The reason I find this interesting is, IS a person what they want? Are we just bundles of desires, making decisions that satisfy our most pressing current want, or is there more to us than that? I'm not even sure I know what I think about it, but I think what Franzen thinks is... Yes, we are more than a grouping of wants, because what we also are is what we are to other people. Even if we don't know what we want anymore, there's still the essential facts of where we came from and people who know us and a whole lot more than just wanting stuff like horrible little capitalists. I understand why Chip thinks people are what they want, but I think he's wrong.

 Saw a philosophical question, had to answer it. You're welcome, kids. And here endeth my involvement with The Corrections. Alley, thank you SO MUCH for hosting it (and thus ending our endless discourse of 'when are we going to read The Corrections?' 'Dunno, we should do a readalong' and freeing up more time to talk about Extreme Couponing and other important things) and let's just say... I'm glad I read it, and I'm really glad that I don't have to read it again. Laura Out.

Devouring Books: The Outsider by Albert Camus

"I wanted to assure him that I was just like everyone else, exactly like everyone else. But it was all really a bit pointless and I couldn't be bothered."

I picked up The Outsider (aka The Stranger) on a whim one day from the library, mainly because I'd sort of heard about Camus and wanted to check that shit out, and also because they didn't have the book I actually wanted and I didn't want to waste my visit to the library. Also, it was short, so everybody wins. 

In spite of my crazy shallow reasons, I ended up really really really enjoying this book, although I'm not sure if enjoying is even the word for it. I should explain- this isn't really the kind of book that I like because it's an amazing story, or because it's incredibly well written or any of the usual reasons I have for liking books. Nope, this is one of those times where I like the book because it's almost a work of Philosophy, only it's Philosophy in the way I wished it was always expressed- with recognisable characters, real life situations, Philosophy-as-life, if you will. If I'd read this before I wrote my dissertation (which was on the advantages of fiction over philosophical works in affecting the way people live their lives, basically), this shit would have been straight in there without question because it's perfect for that.

So the story. It's pretty sparse- Meursalt is an Algerian man whose mother has just died, a fact which he takes on like any other and her funeral is an event where he doesn't act much differently to normal, in spite of everyone else's thought that he should be more outwardly emotional. After her funeral, he returns to everyday life, goes on with it as normal until a series of events lead to him shooting 'an arab' (casual racism really seems to be part of this) wherein he is imprisoned and put on trial, seemingly not only for his actions but for the entire way he chooses to live his life.

That is basically the story in a nutshell- and I don't consider it filled with spoilers because, well, like I said, the story isn't really the point. I don't know if this is the kind of book that other people would have a problem with because Camus should maybe have written an essay containing these ideas instead, but I would much rather read a novel than an essay, so. There are various things Camus brings up about life and ethics and stuff like that, but I think the core of things is this- A lot of the time, people act not in an authentic way, but in a way which they believe is expected of them, and so they sacrifice truth for acceptance. Meursalt isn't like this- he is truly honest about the things he feels, and even if at times that makes him read like a sociopath (who knows, maybe he is), it's difficult not to respect the fact that, say, he doesn't feel like crying at his mother's funeral and so he doesn't. 

My extensive research* of Camus since I read this has led me to believe that his main philosophy was one of absurdism, where there is no meaning in the world, and meaning has to be rendered by each individual. In The Outsider, there are characters who have their different ways of adding meaning to situations (through religion, or the law) and Meursalt is the only one who sees through this and almost goes 'there is no meaning to anything because we're all going to die anyway, and besides, everyone knows that life isn't worth living.' It's not the most cheerful philosophy I've ever heard (and someone following its exact line does come off as an almost complete sociopath) but the idea that events and things don't have meanings except for the ones we ascribe to them is a kind of powerful one because it means we can easily change those meanings and kind of create an entirely different world to the one we live in because meaning is all just individual, anyway.

I think the main thing this blog post has taught you is, I wish I could write a whole essay on Camus and Absurdism and oh gawwwd, does this mean I have to do an MA now? I'll stop boring you with it now, but really really this book is so interesting in terms of the things it did to my brain, if not so much in its pure story form. And if you've read it, please, tell me what it did for you? Because I'd be willing to accept that, actually, you found it kind of bullshit because I get that. But this kind of thing is really MY thing. And I really liked it.

*Wikipedia