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dream_sequence 's review for:
N.P
by Banana Yoshimoto
While reading NP, this line from a popular pop song, kept emerging in my mind. "You can be addicted to a certain kind of sadness, like resignation to the end always the end."
I suppose to really gain an appreciation of the story you need to suspend conventional notions of morality and have a natural penchant for the melodramatic. The story can appear quite nonsensical and push readers to dismiss it as heretical and therefore of no real substance. Halfway through the book, I, myself, felt inclined to write it off as a product of artistic madness. There was a veil of incomprehension that forbade me to relate to the characters and I wondered more than once: what the hell am I reading right now?
The nonchalance with which the characters discussed the topics of suicide and incestuous relationships, hinted that they may be a little more than off-kilter. However towards the latter half of the book, it became increasingly clear that Sui and Otohiko were more than aware of the gravity of the taboo and were in fact slowly driven to the edge of a metaphorical cliff. But denial works in an odd fashion, it clouds judgment and sedates one's senses.
For me, the plot's key redeeming factor was that no character death actually materialized. The undercurrent of despair slowly dissolved and they emerged on the other side of the tunnel. I was worried that the entire work would be dedicated to glorifying suicide and topped off with a grandiose Romeo and Juliet-esque ending. I'm glad the author settled on a happier note.
Here's my favourite passage from the book:
"J'ai vu un être malmené par le sort, mettre pourtant en oeuvre toute son ingéniosité pour aller au bout de son amour."
I suppose to really gain an appreciation of the story you need to suspend conventional notions of morality and have a natural penchant for the melodramatic. The story can appear quite nonsensical and push readers to dismiss it as heretical and therefore of no real substance. Halfway through the book, I, myself, felt inclined to write it off as a product of artistic madness. There was a veil of incomprehension that forbade me to relate to the characters and I wondered more than once: what the hell am I reading right now?
The nonchalance with which the characters discussed the topics of suicide and incestuous relationships, hinted that they may be a little more than off-kilter. However towards the latter half of the book, it became increasingly clear that Sui and Otohiko were more than aware of the gravity of the taboo and were in fact slowly driven to the edge of a metaphorical cliff. But denial works in an odd fashion, it clouds judgment and sedates one's senses.
For me, the plot's key redeeming factor was that no character death actually materialized. The undercurrent of despair slowly dissolved and they emerged on the other side of the tunnel. I was worried that the entire work would be dedicated to glorifying suicide and topped off with a grandiose Romeo and Juliet-esque ending. I'm glad the author settled on a happier note.
Here's my favourite passage from the book:
"J'ai vu un être malmené par le sort, mettre pourtant en oeuvre toute son ingéniosité pour aller au bout de son amour."