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A review by bookwormpersephone
Kitchen by Banana Yoshimoto
4.0
Do you still remember your days as a kid being around adults as they discuss adult topics your kid brain can't even begin to comprehend? Poilitics, war, the old days, budgeting, poverty, etc.
This is what I felt tackling Banana Yoshimoto's Kitchen.
The novel follows Mikage Sakurai who lost her only living blood relative: her grandmother. She plunges into a state of depression, listelessnes, and a feeling of time stopping all around her. Her mental health and sleeping habits decline, so much so that the only reprieve she has from her nightly struggles is by sleeping beside a refrigerator, inside her kitchen.
One day, a boy who had connected with Mikage's grandmother in the local flowers hop swings by and asks Mikage if she has a place to move in already, to which she replies no. After convincing her to move in with him, a loner who has trouble expressing his feelings and his transgender father (mother) who exuded life and warmth, the story of Mikage's journey in life, filled with love and loss, began.
As someone who had never experienced a significant loss of a loved one before, this story was like looking into someone's home through a window. The scenes were intimate, alien, and most of all: very private. As I read it, I had a distinct feeling that this wasn't meant to be read by me. Like a diary I had unwittingly opened, it spilled forth something I want to understand, but ultimately can't.
However, I am not saying this is a poorly written book. It is phenomenal. If read by someone who wishes to know if someone out there feels their particular taste of loss as well, the book will be beyond 5 stars. For me, someone who has yet to discover how deep the tendrils of loss go, I can only bestow 4 stars out of respect and awe.
This is what I felt tackling Banana Yoshimoto's Kitchen.
The novel follows Mikage Sakurai who lost her only living blood relative: her grandmother. She plunges into a state of depression, listelessnes, and a feeling of time stopping all around her. Her mental health and sleeping habits decline, so much so that the only reprieve she has from her nightly struggles is by sleeping beside a refrigerator, inside her kitchen.
One day, a boy who had connected with Mikage's grandmother in the local flowers hop swings by and asks Mikage if she has a place to move in already, to which she replies no. After convincing her to move in with him, a loner who has trouble expressing his feelings and his transgender father (mother) who exuded life and warmth, the story of Mikage's journey in life, filled with love and loss, began.
As someone who had never experienced a significant loss of a loved one before, this story was like looking into someone's home through a window. The scenes were intimate, alien, and most of all: very private. As I read it, I had a distinct feeling that this wasn't meant to be read by me. Like a diary I had unwittingly opened, it spilled forth something I want to understand, but ultimately can't.
However, I am not saying this is a poorly written book. It is phenomenal. If read by someone who wishes to know if someone out there feels their particular taste of loss as well, the book will be beyond 5 stars. For me, someone who has yet to discover how deep the tendrils of loss go, I can only bestow 4 stars out of respect and awe.