Manazuru: A Novel by Hiromi Kawakami (English) Paperback Book

Description: Manazuru by Hiromi Kawakami, Michael Emmerich Both startlingly restless and immaculately compact, Manazuru paints the portrait of a woman on the brink of her own memories and future. FORMAT Paperback LANGUAGE English CONDITION Brand New Publisher Description Startlingly restless and immaculately compact, Manazuru paints the portrait of a woman on the brink of her own memories and future.Twelve years have passed since Keis husband, Rei, disappeared and she was left alone with her three–year–old daughter. Her new relationship with a married man—the antithesis of Rei—has brought her life to a numbing stasis, and her relationships with her mother and daughter have spilled into routine, day after day. Kei begins making repeated trips to the seaside town of Manazuru, a place that jogs her memory to a moment in time she can never quite locate. Her time there by the water encompasses years of unsteady footing and a developing urgency to find something.Through a poetic style embracing the surreal and grotesque, a quiet tenderness emerges from these dark moments. Manazuru is a meditation on memory—a profound, precisely delineated exploration of the relationships between lovers and family members. Author Biography Hiromi Kawakami was born in Tokyo in 1958. Her first book, God (Kamisama) was published in 1994. In 1996, she was awarded the Akutagawa Prize for Tread on a Snake (Hebi o fumu), and in 2001 she won the Tanizaki Prize for her novel Strange Weather in Tokyo (Sensei no kaban), which was an international bestseller. The book was short-listed for the 2012 Man Asian Literary Prize and the 2014 International Foreign Fiction Prize.Allison Markin Powell is a translator, editor, and publishing consultant. In addition to Hiromi Kawakamis Strange Weather in Tokyo, The Nakano Thrift Shop, and The Ten Loves of Nishino, she has translated books by Osamu Dazai and Fuminori Nakamura, and her work has appeared in Words Without Borders and Granta, among other publications. She maintains the database japaneseliteratureinenglish.com. Review Praise for Manazuru "In Kawakamis first novel to be translated into English, a woman fades in and out of the present as she visits the beach town of Manazuru, in the shadow of Mt. Fuji. Keis husband disappeared when their daughter, Momo, was three. Momo is now 12 and lives with Kei and Keis mother in Tokyo. Moments shared among the women are pleasant but awkward, due to three generations of unspoken resentment. Some jarring transitions aside, Kawakamis handling of temporal space feels authentic: as Kei kisses her lover in one time and place, the wetness leaves her lips in another; she sits alone on a bench in Tokyo. The real and the fantastical meld as Kei narrowly avoids disaster (she escapes the typhoon that destroys the restaurant where she was dining). Her memories are startlingly vivid, yet their veracity remains uncertain; are the visions she has of her husband with another woman real or imagined? Kawakami has a remarkable ability to obscure reality, fantasy, and memory, making the desire for love feel hauntingly real." —Publishers Weekly "Its one of those unexpected titles that wear better with time; it needs to sort of sit after reading to fully appreciate." —Smithsonian Asian Pacific American Center "A beautiful and profound story of loss and memory . . . Subtle, poetic . . . Ultimately powerful." —Book Riot"The Manazuru of Kawakamis is a dream state as much as a place, a seaside town visited often by the restless narrator, Kei. Keis husband vanished more than a decade ago, and only now, living in Tokyo with her mother and sullen 16–year–old daughter, is she compelled to put his memory to rest. Kei is haunted not only by her husband but also inexplicably by other shadow–like entities. She is drawn again and again to Manazuru, where she enters a world where time stops, sound evaporates, women hang from trees, boats spark into flame and disappear, and ghosts come and go like smoke. Yet the fantasy has purpose as a manifestation of Keis sense of displacement, and of her estrangement from her daughter and mother. The action convincingly moves in waves between Keis past and present, the surreal and the everyday. Part ghost story, part meditation on life and death, family and self, this slim novel is captivating and suspenseful, and sure to satisfy not only fans of ghost fiction but all readers." —Booklist Praise for Strange Weather in Tokyo (previously published as The Briefcase) "Im hooked on [this] sentimental novel about the friendship, formed over late nights at a sake bar, between a Tokyo woman in her late thirties and her old high school teacher... I can only imagine what wizardry must have gone into Allison Markin Powells translation." —Lorin Stein, The Paris Review Daily "In quiet, nature–infused prose that stresses both characters solitude, Kawakami subtly captures the cyclic patterns of loneliness while weighing the definition of love." —Booklist "In its love of the physical, sensual details of living, its emotional directness, and above all in the passion for food, this is somewhat reminiscent of Banana Yoshimotos Kitchen." —INDEPENDENT, (UK) "Each chapter of the book is like a haiku, incorporating seasonal references to the moon, mushroom picking and cherry blossoms. The chapters are whimsical and often melancholy, but humor is never far away.... It is a celebration of friendship, the ordinary and individuality and a rumination on intimacy, love and loneliness. I cannot recommend Strange Weather in Tokyo enough, which is also a testament to the translator who has skillfully retained the poetry and beauty of the original." —The Japan Society "Strange Weather in Tokyo is a tender love story that drifts with the lightness of a leaf on a stream. Subtle and touching, this is a novel about loneliness, assuaged by an unlikely romance, and brought to life by one of Japans most engaging contemporary writers." —Readings (Australia) "A dream–like spell of a novel, full of humor, sadness, warmth and tremendous subtlety. I read this in one sitting and I think it will haunt me for a long time." —Amy Sackville Praise for Record of a Night Too Brief "Baffling, unsettling and haunting, these tales have a dreamlike atmosphere, rather like Salvador Dalis pictures—anything can happen." —The Lady, (UK) Praise for The Nakano Thrift Shop "Subtle, graceful, wise and threaded on a quirky humor, this exploration of the connections and disconnections between people kept me smiling long after the last page." —Julia Rochester, author of The House at the End of the World "The Nakano Thrift Shop is really a love story, albeit a very offbeat one... A gentle book, full of charm [and] radiating leftfield charisma." — Emerald Street "Kawakami has an extraordinarily way of drawing you into her ethereal world where, although nothing really happens, when they do, little transgressions or events cause ripples that spread seamlessly throughout the whole book and stay with you long after the story has finished." —The Reprobate Magazine, (UK) Review Quote Praise for Manazuru "In Kawakamis first novel to be translated into English, a woman fades in and out of the present as she visits the beach town of Manazuru, in the shadow of Mt. Fuji. Keis husband disappeared when their daughter, Momo, was three. Momo is now 12 and lives with Kei and Keis mother in Tokyo. Moments shared among the women are pleasant but awkward, due to three generations of unspoken resentment. Some jarring transitions aside, Kawakamis handling of temporal space feels authentic: as Kei kisses her lover in one time and place, the wetness leaves her lips in another; she sits alone on a bench in Tokyo. The real and the fantastical meld as Kei narrowly avoids disaster (she escapes the typhoon that destroys the restaurant where she was dining). Her memories are startlingly vivid, yet their veracity remains uncertain; are the visions she has of her husband with another woman real or imagined? Kawakami has a remarkable ability to obscure reality, fantasy, and memory, making the desire for love feel hauntingly real." -- Publishers Weekly "The Manazuru of Kawakamis is a dream state as much as a place, a seaside town visited often by the restless narrator, Kei. Keis husband vanished more than a decade ago, and only now, living in Tokyo with her mother and sullen 16-year-old daughter, is she compelled to put his memory to rest. Kei is haunted not only by her husband but also inexplicably by other shadow-like entities. She is drawn again and again to Manazuru, where she enters a world where time stops, sound evaporates, women hang from trees, boats spark into flame and disappear, and ghosts come and go like smoke. Yet the fantasy has purpose as a manifestation of Keis sense of displacement, and of her estrangement from her daughter and mother. The action convincingly moves in waves between Keis past and present, the surreal and the everyday. Part ghost story, part meditation on life and death, family and self, this slim novel is captivating and suspenseful, and sure to satisfy not only fans of ghost fiction but all readers." -- Booklist "Its one of those unexpected titles that wear better with time; it needs to sort of sit after reading to fully appreciate." -- Smithsonian Asian Pacific American Center Praise for Strange Weather in Tokyo (previously published as The Briefcase ) "Im hooked on [this] sentimental novel about the friendship, formed over late nights at a sake bar, between a Tokyo woman in her late thirties and her old high school teacher... I can only imagine what wizardry must have gone into Allison Markin Powells translation." --Lorin Stein, The Paris Review Daily "In quiet, nature-infused prose that stresses both characters solitude, Kawakami subtly captures the cyclic patterns of loneliness while weighing the definition of love." -- Booklist "In its love of the physical, sensual details of living, its emotional directness, and above all in the passion for food, this is somewhat reminiscent of Banana Yoshimotos Kitchen ." -- INDEPENDENT , (UK) "Each chapter of the book is like a haiku, incorporating seasonal references to the moon, mushroom picking and cherry blossoms. The chapters are whimsical and often melancholy, but humor is never far away.... It is a celebration of friendship, the ordinary and individuality and a rumination on intimacy, love and loneliness. I cannot recommend Strange Weather in Tokyo enough, which is also a testament to the translator who has skillfully retained the poetry and beauty of the original." --The Japan Society " Strange Weather in Tokyo is a tender love story that drifts with the lightness of a leaf on a stream. Subtle and touching, this is a novel about loneliness, assuaged by an unlikely romance, and brought to life by one of Japans most engaging contemporary writers." -- Readings (Australia) "A dream-like spell of a novel, full of humor, sadness, warmth and tremendous subtlety. I read this in one sitting and I think it will haunt me for a long time." --Amy Sackville Praise for Record of a Night Too Brief "Baffling, unsettling and haunting, these tales have a dreamlike atmosphere, rather like Salvador Dalis pictures--anything can happen." -- The Lady , (UK) Praise for The Nakano Thrift Shop "Subtle, graceful, wise and threaded on a quirky humor, this exploration of the connections and disconnections between people kept me smiling long after the last page." --Julia Rochester, author of The House at the End of the World " The Nakano Thrift Shop is really a love story, albeit a very offbeat one... A gentle book, full of charm [and] radiating leftfield charisma." -- Emerald Street "Kawakami has an extraordinarily way of drawing you into her ethereal world where, although nothing really happens, when they do, little transgressions or events cause ripples that spread seamlessly throughout the whole book and stay with you long after the story has finished." -- The Reprobate Magazine , (UK) Excerpt from Book One I WALKED ON, AND something was following. Enough distance lay between us that I couldnt tell if it was male or female. It made no difference, I ignored it, kept walking. I had set out before noon from the guest house on the inlet, headed for the tip of the cape. I stayed there last night, in that small building set amidst an isolated cluster of private houses, run by a man and woman who, judging from their ages, were mother and son. It was nearly nine when I arrived, two hours on a train from Tokyo, and by then the entrance to the inn was shut. The entrance was unremarkable: a low swinging iron gate like any other; two or three wiry, gnarled pines; nothing to indicate the lodges name but a weathered nameplate, ink on wood, bearing the name "SUNA." Suna meaning sand . "Unusual name, isnt it?" I asked. "Suna?" "There are a few in the area," the mother replied. Her sons hair was graying, though he looked my age, forty-five or so. When he asked what time I wanted breakfast, it was as if I knew his voice. And yet it was obvious we had never met. Perhaps his voice reminded me of an acquaintance, only I couldnt think who. It wasnt the voice itself, it was a tremor in its depths that I recognized. I dont need breakfast, I answered, and he emerged from behind the counter to lead the way. My room was at the end of the hall. Ill come back to spread the futon, he announced dryly, the bath is downstairs. When he was gone, I drew the thin curtain aside and saw the sea before me. I could hear the waves. There was no moon. I strained my eyes, peering out into the darkness, trying to make out the waves, without success. The room felt warm, stuffy, as if it had been readied long in advance. I slid the window open and let the cool air flow in. THE BATH WAS dim. Condensation dripped, slowly, from the ceiling. I let my thoughts turn to Seiji. Ill have to stay at the office to-night, hed said. Back in Tokyo. He had described the nap rooms there for me more than once, but I could never picture them in detail. Its just a small, cramped room with a bed, thats all. We have three of them. If the door is locked, you know someone is sleeping inside, he tells me. Never having worked at a company, I picture a hospital room--thats the best I can do. A pipe-frame bed with a beige blanket, enclosed by a curtain; a pair of slippers set out on a floor made of a material that amplifies the sound of footsteps; at the head of the bed, a help button and a temperature chart. No, its not like that--just an ordinary, low-ceilinged room. Maybe a magazine lying on the floor that someone left behind. Ordinary. Seiji purses his lips. He never laughs aloud. When he smiles, it shows in his cheeks. This used to puzzle me; now I am used to it. Whenever I stay in those rooms, he says, by the time I fall asleep, the night is paling. Toward dawn, it grows quiet. Most of the lights are out on every floor, and once its dark the sounds that echo through the building subside, too. I stretch my exhausted body out on the stiff bed, but Im so on edge, its hard to fall asleep--I dont have any rituals for sleeping, not since I was a kid, but when I started spending nights at the office I took up my childhood practice again. I imagine myself floating in water, not half-submerged as I would be in real life, but lying right on the surface, stretched out perfectly still, First the back of my head and then my back, my bun, my heels, resting on the taut surface of the water, motionless, waiting, and as the parts of my body that come in contact with the water begin, little by little, to grow warm, I fall asleep, Seiji says, and once again purses his lips. I WAS BACK from my bath. Unlike Sein, there was no need for me to sleep, so I didnt go to bed. Only when the sliver of outside color between the curtains began changing from black to blue did I feel tired. Seiji is probably nodding off right now, I told myself as I switched off the light and closed my eyes. It was past nine when I woke, and the room brimmed with light. The roar of the waves was louder than the night before. At the front desk, I asked the way to the cape. The son took a pencil and paper and traced the outline of the promontory; then, in the center, he drew in the roads. It looks like something, doesnt it, this shape? I said. Maybe, I dont know. The sons voice reminded me of someone, but still I couldnt think who. I recognized the shape immediately. It was the spitting image of a dragon: the head, from the neck up. Even the whiskers were there, under the nose. Id say its a bit under an hour to the tip on foot, said the son. Itll take longer if you walk slowly, his mother called out from the hack room. Oh, and--I havent made up my mind yet, but I might want to stay tonight, too, if you have a vacancy? I had seen no sign of other guests, I was the only person there last night, I was sure, so I thought I would only have to ask and they would say, Of course, youre welcome to stay. But the son cocked his head, uncertain. The fishermen come on Fridays. Were usually full up, as long as the waves arent too choppy. Try giving us a call later. I nodded ambiguously, and left. According to the schedule at the bus stop, the next bus wasnt for half an hour. I wanted to leave my bag at the train station. I could make it to the station in half an hour, even on foot. I peered up the steep incline, wavering, then decided to wait. I went down to the shore. The ocean is dull. Nothing but waves tumbling in. I sat on a mid-sized rock and stared out over the sea. The wind blew hard. Every now and then a damp burst of spray reached me. The first day of spring had long since come and gone, but the day was chilly. Sand fleas scuttled out from under the rocks, then retreated. I never planned to come and spend the night here. I had to meet someone at Tokyo Station, we had art early dinner, it was seven when we finished. I was headed for the platform of the Chi:lei line when, unbidden, my feet turned and led me instead to the T Description for Sales People Kawakami is an author known and reviewed around the world Manazuru received great praise when Counterpoint released it in 2010; the book already has reviews by Booklist , the Paris Review Daily , the Independent , and Publishers Weekly . This is a reissue of a quiet, beloved novel by celebrated Japanese author, Hiromi Kawakami (the original 2012 Counterpoint edition was titled The Briefcase , 9781582435992) This reissue will coincide with Europas publication of Kawakamis The Nakano Thrift Shop (9781609453992, June 2017) and Counterpoints re-release of Strange Weather in Tokyo , another lauded Kawakami novel (9781640090163, August 2017) "[In Japan] we have something called palm-of-the-hand stories, brief and strangely evocative pieces of fiction so short they might fit in your palm...conjuring an underlying, unseen world that lies beyond with just a brief description or a few words." --Hiromi Kawakami The two re-released novels complement each other: both are concise, poetic meditations on the cyclic patterns of loneliness and love--one protagonist is in the city, the other is on the seaside Translator Michael Emmerich was a Costen Postdoctoral Fellow at Princeton University Details ISBN1640090185 Author Michael Emmerich Short Title MANAZURU Pages 224 Language English Translator Michael Emmerich ISBN-10 1640090185 ISBN-13 9781640090187 Format Paperback DEWEY FIC Year 2017 Imprint Counterpoint Subtitle A Novel Country of Publication United States AU Release Date 2017-11-14 NZ Release Date 2017-11-14 US Release Date 2017-11-14 UK Release Date 2017-11-14 Place of Publication Berkeley Publisher Counterpoint Publication Date 2017-11-14 Audience General We've got this At The Nile, if you're looking for it, we've got it. 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