Mina's Matchbox by Yoko Ogawa

 

This was about as radical a change of pace from last night's novel as I could plausibly manage. I wouldn't say it's not dark at all, but the darkness is very much lurking in the background, a sense that the narrator is recounting people she has lost, experiences she can never really get back to, perhaps a self she can never be again. It's a charming novel on the surface, all the characters here are remarkably likeable, if perhaps sometimes exaggeratedly quirky, even those se later see as deeply flawed or maybe worse (though I think actually evil isn't in the range, here). The language is crystalline, the alchemy of translation has done good work, here. The dialogue all rings true. The ending, the actual falling apart of things, unfolds really late and kinda suddenly, though there are ample precursors. It's a really bittersweet novel, almost as nostalgic as some of Bradbury's; I have a sense there's some intended thematic point, but I'm not really sure what it might be, other than apparently perfect surfaces hiding very imperfect depths. There are a lot of things I'm really not sure about, about this book, but that's very plausibly me. Beautifully written, if kinda puzzling.