Tag: Yoko Ogawa

I do not suppose what Ogawa wrote is unrealistic.  At times, we read in the news about some women who are victims of domestic violence but yet, they have a tendency to return to the very same man who bestows such violence upon them.  I have read the story of Natascha Kampusch and had a glimpse of the kind of sick things some men do behind closed doors.  I have also read that some couples enjoy S&M and derives extreme pleasure from extreme pain. Mixing these together, we have “Hotel Iris” – almost.

A young girl who works at the front desk of a hotel is seduced by a much older man who appears to be mostly timid and loving outside his house, and someone quite the opposite when he is alone.  The love affair has then turned into a strange game of S&M.  How can a young girl be seduced by such a monster and be convinced that this is OK and that she is shamelessly ugly?  Ogawa has indeed taken a brave move and she presents to the readers the psychological and emotional journey of a young girl in first person view: Her longing to be away from her demanding job at the hotel, her longing to see this old man who does strange things to her body while showering her with words of love and tenderness, and her plunging into the point of no return.  Ogawa’s writing style is neat and elegant.  Deployed to this rather dark and ugly topic, the story reads almost too beautiful.  I must say, it was a strange feeling reading “Hotel Iris”.

Like one reader has pointed out, “Hotel Iris” is very different from “The Housekeeper and the Professor“.  Had I read these two books without knowing who wrote them, very likely I would not have thought that they come from the same author.  The writing style is the same though.  Since I like Ogawa’s writing style, I enjoy reading the two book just the same.  I look forward to reading more of hers.

“The Housekeeper and the Professor” tells a beautiful story between a professor who only has 80 minutes worth of short-term memory due to an accident, a young housekeeper who has been a single mother since 18, and her son whom the mathematic professor has nicknamed as Root because his hairstyle reminds the professor of the square root symbol.  It is a beautiful story because it is a story of memory and relationship down to very daily routines.  It is beautiful because seldom have I come across a novel with so much mathematics within and yet, engaging.  Let me elaborate.

To explain, say, the unique characteristic of ‘amicable numbers’ – a pair of numbers that the sums of their factors equal to each other (such as 220 and 284), the author makes use of the housekeeper’s birthday (Feb 20) and the prize number as engraved onto the professor’s watch (any other means the professor would have forgotten).  And since the numbers are ‘amicable’, so should the relationship between the two.  The professor then further explains to the housekeeper the beauty of prime numbers, the rarity of twin primes, the alternative means in arriving to the same, and mathematics is indeed the notebooks of God (I have heard this association from one of my friends who studied mathematics in university).  The housekeeper, on the other hand, does not mind the repeated lessons because she left school when young.  Soon, upon the professor’s request (and he seems to have the same request every time his memory is erased), the housekeeper’s son should be with his mother after school instead of staying alone at home.  Beyond the relationship of the three, there is this professor’s mysterious sister-in-law who engages the housekeeping service on behalf of the professor.  She lives nearby but seldom appears in his life.  And there is the agency that the housekeeper works in.  For those who are familiar to Japanese movies or drama series, how this story develops and ends should come as no surprise.  It is an emotional read.  And the ending is poetic.  I love almost every bit of the book except baseball.  Baseball is a sport full of statistics, so it seems.  Hence it blends well with the book.  I am not a fan of baseball.  However, having said that, Ogawa has done a good job in presenting the sport to me in a bearable manner.

How much does memory play a part in our relationship with others?  In the book where all the families are broken, do we have this fundamental desire to be part of a family?  I suppose there is a time when memory permanently breaks a relationship and there is a time when memory sustains and grows a relationship.  In the absence of long term memory, relationship appears to be perpetually in an exploration stage.  Is it at all meaningful and fulfilling?  Does it even lead to happiness?  The book seems to suggest so.  Should we then stop holding onto the unpleasant memories in the past (like the mysterious relationship between the professor and his sister-in-law) and focus on building relationships for the present, which may or may not be relevant in the future?  The book seems to suggest so.

For those who still remember what Euler’s equation means, here is an excerpt as the housekeeper researches based on the professor’s note: e^πi + 1 = 0.

To begin with, what was “natural” about this “natural logarithm”?  Wasn’t it utterly unnatural to take such a number as your base – a number that could only be expressed by a sign: this tiny e seemed to extend to infinity, falling off even the largest sheet of paper.  I could not begin to understand this never-ending number.  It seemed as chaotic and random as a line of marching ants or a baby’s alphabet blocks, and yet it obeyed its own inner sort of logic.  Perhaps there was no fathoming God’s notebooks after all.  In the entire universe there were only a handful of especially gifted human beings able to understand a tiny part of this order, and then there were the rest of us, who could barely appreciate their discoveries.

How does such a formula stop an argument between the professor and his sister-in-law, the housekeeper and his son, Root?  Is it as simple as the professor’s pure way to express his love to children using something as unchangeable and true as the Euler’s formula?  And why do all the characters in this book have no name?  The more I think about the story, the more unanswered questions I have.