A review by nghia
Lion Cross Point by Masatsugu Ono

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.

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.