Bowakawa, poussé poussé
Just finished reading Number Nine Dream by David Mitchell. I loved everything but the last half of the last page. So much to love! I feel like I've lived in Tokyo now and to make it even more impactful, the Tokyo Olympics are going on right now which added context, visual and emotional.
But with the ending, I'm trying to get what the eff he was trying to do. I mean really. What a rip off. Is resolution just too much to ask from a serious writer? Is it just not art if it doesn't end sad?
Eiji Miyake is one of my favorite young protagonists ever. Compelling and real. I've invested part of life with this kid. I'm pulling for him through everything. I'm loving his grit and determination. I'm feeling his pain, the loss of his his sister. I'm falling in love with Ai and the curve of her neck.
And then, what?! An earthquake kills everyone he loves?
Is life really that arbitrary? Do sense need to make sentences? What's the point? Was the wind god still angry for sawing off his head? (I get the tsunami upon his return.) Is he good friends with the Earthquake God? I mean, really - hasn't this kid been through enough? Tortured nearly to death by the Yokuza. Dead sister. Come the eff on.
And it's such a red herring to have this simple, sweet unconsummated love affair with Ai.
I get that life is a dream and it ends with chapter 9 still needing to be written. That indeed, all of Tokyo was a dream for the author, and maybe cities and stages of our lives and our culture has no more substance than a dream in the mind of of whichever God had too much spicy food last night.
I just listened to the John Lennon song. I didn't realize that song was called Dream Number Nine.
Goodness, these self-involved artists.
Bowakawa, pousse pousse, Indeed.
Anyway, highly recommended reading next time there's a Tokyo Olympics. You'll feel like you're there.