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A review by monalyisha
The Book of Form and Emptiness by Ruth Ozeki
challenging
dark
emotional
funny
hopeful
reflective
sad
tense
medium-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? Character
- Strong character development? Yes
- Loveable characters? It's complicated
- Diverse cast of characters? Yes
- Flaws of characters a main focus? Yes
4.0
I stayed up reading until 1am. I couldn’t help it! Ozeki is a singular writer; her imagination is vast and she’s so well read: everything from Jorge Luis Borges; to the eclectic German-Jewish philosopher and theorist Walter Benjamin; to Marie Kondo. She knows about jazz, religion, politics, and current events. The dual nature of this (both sprawling and specific) can be overwhelming. Don’t be daunted. Pursue what you want and let the rest wash over you.
In this tale, Benjamin Oh, a boy on the cusp of adolescence, begins to hear the voices of inanimate objects after his father dies in a tragicomic accident. This oddity is exacerbated by his mother’s grief-fueled hoarding. In the hospital and at the public library, Benny meets an intimate cast of characters, unhoused artists and revolutionaries, who become his found-family.
I understand the justified critique that the plot is hard to find. Ozeki’s writing isn’t one thing. Though, if pressed, I’d say the “one thing” she’s focused on here is tenderly exploring grief. Unexpectedly, she incorporates the grief, anger, and joy of objects as one family works through it to discover what must be tidied and what must remain essentially messy. For me, this is metafiction at its finest: watch the writer writing — but also *feel.*
I couldn’t wait to read this when it was published. And then I did wait. For three years. I think I was afraid because I loved A Tale for the Time Being so much. This one won’t occupy the *same* space on my shelves, in my esteem, or in my heart. It hasn’t become one of my Favorite Books. But I still think it’s a work of art.
In this tale, Benjamin Oh, a boy on the cusp of adolescence, begins to hear the voices of inanimate objects after his father dies in a tragicomic accident. This oddity is exacerbated by his mother’s grief-fueled hoarding. In the hospital and at the public library, Benny meets an intimate cast of characters, unhoused artists and revolutionaries, who become his found-family.
I understand the justified critique that the plot is hard to find. Ozeki’s writing isn’t one thing. Though, if pressed, I’d say the “one thing” she’s focused on here is tenderly exploring grief. Unexpectedly, she incorporates the grief, anger, and joy of objects as one family works through it to discover what must be tidied and what must remain essentially messy. For me, this is metafiction at its finest: watch the writer writing — but also *feel.*
I couldn’t wait to read this when it was published. And then I did wait. For three years. I think I was afraid because I loved A Tale for the Time Being so much. This one won’t occupy the *same* space on my shelves, in my esteem, or in my heart. It hasn’t become one of my Favorite Books. But I still think it’s a work of art.