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aaroncbabcock's review against another edition
1.0
I typically have a lot of patience when it comes to odd books, but I couldn’t with this one. It’s possible it is partly the translation (the dialogue is so stilted I wanted to scream), but this book also tries to render every single moment as precious. It’s an aesthetic choice that quickly becomes grating.
kxiong5's review against another edition
5.0
finished this in one sitting and ohhhh wow the way the ending hits was something else. This author does an amazing job of capturing the indecipherability of the world from the POV of a child (but also plays with a third person narration that’s both in and out of the child’s mind? Which is...hella cool?? what the heck???). The uncertainty of memory and of action (maybe Takeru did, maybe he didn’t) and the way that threads rose and fell in Takeru’s mind like waves and ripples felt so fluid and strange. And also: goddamn Takeru, mommy issues T-T and just ugh so much shit this little kid had to carry but also so much he’s lost and so much he’s seen to the point that the world /would/ seen this indecipherable to him, and he so clearly /wants/ and isn’t allowing himself to want, and it’s just. it does feel like a buildup and a fall. Plus the writing is really subtle and beautiful and fluid in this constant motion that forces you forward, like you’re being carried aloft by a stream of people even as you want to turn your head to see if what you saw at the side of the road was really there or if it was a trick of the light. !!!!!!!
mimooo's review against another edition
hopeful
reflective
relaxing
sad
slow-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? Character
- Strong character development? It's complicated
- Loveable characters? Yes
- Diverse cast of characters? Yes
- Flaws of characters a main focus? It's complicated
3.75
edit: im sitting with it a lot as one reviewer said the mind of a child is so precious and so obscure, like a rare pearl…. but im realizing it was also a book about our afterlives. we want to begin again but how can we let go of the pain and love and joy that was in our past lives? the big thing that follows us sometimes with succor sometimes with cruelty. in heaven do i forget the ant that crawled up my brother’s leg, the taste of mochi, my hope of swimming with a dolphin, how could i be happy in heaven when that time existed on earth?
quick sad read, wish for more to it but i think it will grow on me. control of mood and theme and general restraint was quite masterful. really beautiful at times. reminded me of koreeda’s nobody knows. ono is marie ndiaye’s translator so i love that obvi.
quick sad read, wish for more to it but i think it will grow on me. control of mood and theme and general restraint was quite masterful. really beautiful at times. reminded me of koreeda’s nobody knows. ono is marie ndiaye’s translator so i love that obvi.
black_girl_reading's review against another edition
4.0
Lion Cross Point by Masatsugu Ono was very brief, very good, and also vague in the best way. About a young boy slowly adjusting to life in his mother’s rural Japanese fishing community following a traumatic separation from her and his older, severely disabled, brother, this book shows the world through the eyes of a child slowly acclimating to a safe and loving environment while reckoning, with a child’s perspective, the enormous violence, neglect, and trauma he has left behind. There are ghosts, regrets, pain, and also hope in this book. A novella in length, but a novel in depth.
maribelalyssa's review against another edition
dark
emotional
mysterious
reflective
sad
slow-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? A mix
- Strong character development? It's complicated
- Loveable characters? Yes
- Diverse cast of characters? Yes
- Flaws of characters a main focus? Yes
4.0
nghia's review against another edition
4.0
This is a small Japanese book is a beautiful and wrenching tale about the lingering after-effects of domestic violence. What it does exceptionally well is create a sense of overwhelming dread without actually explicitly telling you very much about the trauma. It is strongly implied, from the very beginning, that Takeru's mother and older brother were killed by a violent boyfriend.
A book like this could have very easily dwelled voyeuristically on the violence. But it doesn't. Instead almost all of the book is taken up with the many genuinely decent people that Takeru meets along the way. Of these, the most poignant interlude with with Joel, the Haitian-immigrant who can barely speak Japanese. Joel who is terrified of what might happen to Takeru when he has to leave Japan as his visa expires.
Like real life, there's no sense of closure here. This isn't a story about how Takeru develops friendships around the small little seaside village and those friendships teach him to trust people and find joy in life again. This isn't some Oscar-bait movie. If anything, it is about how long the damage lingers. One small scene that is effective on many levels happens when they're driving back from the airport when Takeru first arrives:
It creates this sense of dread because you know that something horrible is associated with the dolphins. But it also shows how random things can be triggers for the trauma, especially for a child in a world where nothing makes sense.
Takeru didn’t feel confident to answer questions about his brother, but he always expected to be asked. But neither Mitsuko nor anyone else he met in the village ever mentioned him. They occasionally brought up his mother, but never his brother. It was strange. It was almost as if he’d never had a brother. Perhaps he hadn’t. Was that the truth of the matter? He wished it was.
A book like this could have very easily dwelled voyeuristically on the violence. But it doesn't. Instead almost all of the book is taken up with the many genuinely decent people that Takeru meets along the way. Of these, the most poignant interlude with with Joel, the Haitian-immigrant who can barely speak Japanese. Joel who is terrified of what might happen to Takeru when he has to leave Japan as his visa expires.
Joel had saved them. But how had he known Kazuhiro was looking for their mother? It all seemed odd to Takeru. But maybe for Joel the situation was quite simple. A young boy sat on the rusty old cast-iron bench reading manga, swinging his legs happily. Suddenly he froze. His face turned pale. He was looking at a man with spiky hair, precious metal adorning his neck and hands—a gangster, obviously. In just a glance Joel would have seen that Takeru was frightened, that he was trying to get away. But why would he want to protect Takeru? What made him do it?
Like real life, there's no sense of closure here. This isn't a story about how Takeru develops friendships around the small little seaside village and those friendships teach him to trust people and find joy in life again. This isn't some Oscar-bait movie. If anything, it is about how long the damage lingers. One small scene that is effective on many levels happens when they're driving back from the airport when Takeru first arrives:
“Ain’t no fish there,” said Hii-chan. “Well, there’s a lot of fish, actually,” he laughed, “but they’re just food for the dolphins. You can feed the dolphins yourself, and touch ’em.”
Takeru suddenly felt breathless. Though the air-conditioning was on, he was very hot. His heart was pounding.
“What’s the matter, Takeru?” asked Mitsuko, sitting next to him in the back seat of the car. She looked into his face anxiously. “Carsick?”
Takeru shook his head. “I’m okay,” he said. His voice was weak. “You can’t swim with the dolphins, can you?” he asked.
“Don’t think so,” said Hii-chan.
Takeru seemed relieved. Something that had been blocking his chest began to shrink.
He forced the air from his lungs, trying to get rid of the blockage altogether. But then Hii-chan changed his mind.
“No. Maybe you can…. Yes. You can if ya make a reservation.”
“Swim with dolphins?” said Takeru. “You can swim with the dolphins?”
The rearview mirror showed Hii-chan’s worried frown.
“What’s wrong, Takeru?” he said. “Why’re you cryin’?”
Mitsuko put her arm gently around Takeru’s quivering shoulders.
It creates this sense of dread because you know that something horrible is associated with the dolphins. But it also shows how random things can be triggers for the trauma, especially for a child in a world where nothing makes sense.
bookishcori's review against another edition
emotional
mysterious
sad
fast-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? Character
- Strong character development? It's complicated
- Loveable characters? Yes
- Diverse cast of characters? No
- Flaws of characters a main focus? No
4.5
Content Warnings
Moderate: Ableism, Abandonment, Child abuse, and Domestic abuse
lene_kretzsch's review
challenging
dark
emotional
mysterious
reflective
sad
medium-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? Character
- Strong character development? It's complicated
- Loveable characters? It's complicated
- Diverse cast of characters? No
- Flaws of characters a main focus? Yes
4.25
Content Warnings
Moderate: Domestic abuse, Child abuse, and Violence
greeniezona's review against another edition
4.0
This book was my introduction to Two Lines Press, bought from their AWP promotion at the start of the pandemic. I read it for January in Japan.
Let's be honest. I bought this book for the octopus on the cover, and tragically, the only octopus in the story gets eaten. But I didn't feel cheated at all. This book reminded me a bit of Ms Ice Sandwich, in that both books have that quiet melancholy feeling that good translated Japanese literature often gives me, and both feature fourth-grade boys as protagonists dealing with, shall we say, sub-optimal home lives (disengaged mothers, absence of father figures). This one take the latter to an extreme, and one of the running themes of the book seems to be: How do you experience care and affection from others when the person who is "supposed" to model that for you gives none?
There is more here, as well, of course. Ghosts, the fallibility of memory, the ways communities do and do not care for the most vulnerable, a possibly magical dolphin.
A strange thought, but it reminds me of the unexpected cultural resonance of the Moomins with the Japanese. It's got some of that same understanding of both the tenderness and the viciousness of childhood.
Anyway, I was swept up in it, and I really enjoyed it.
I do also want to say, as physical books, Two Lines' books are BEAUTIFUL. Arresting cover designs, French flaps, clean interiors. This is pretty much my ideal paperback format, which makes it my ideal book format.
Let's be honest. I bought this book for the octopus on the cover, and tragically, the only octopus in the story gets eaten. But I didn't feel cheated at all. This book reminded me a bit of Ms Ice Sandwich, in that both books have that quiet melancholy feeling that good translated Japanese literature often gives me, and both feature fourth-grade boys as protagonists dealing with, shall we say, sub-optimal home lives (disengaged mothers, absence of father figures). This one take the latter to an extreme, and one of the running themes of the book seems to be: How do you experience care and affection from others when the person who is "supposed" to model that for you gives none?
There is more here, as well, of course. Ghosts, the fallibility of memory, the ways communities do and do not care for the most vulnerable, a possibly magical dolphin.
A strange thought, but it reminds me of the unexpected cultural resonance of the Moomins with the Japanese. It's got some of that same understanding of both the tenderness and the viciousness of childhood.
Anyway, I was swept up in it, and I really enjoyed it.
I do also want to say, as physical books, Two Lines' books are BEAUTIFUL. Arresting cover designs, French flaps, clean interiors. This is pretty much my ideal paperback format, which makes it my ideal book format.