Eleven years since her debut in Japan, Banana Yoshimoto has done it again. The Tokyo resident and contemporary author of such previous works as "Kitchen," "N.P," "Lizard" and "Amrita" has only gotten better over time.
Her latest release, "Asleep," takes the reader deep into Japanese culture, as well as the sad, slow world she crafts for her characters. The book's dreamy, imaginative landscape provides the perfect setting for Yoshimoto's unique style. Written in the first-person, and with a realistic and intense conviction, it feels as though Yoshimoto truly is each of her characters.
In typical Yoshimoto fashion, the book is divided into three sections or novellas, each containing its own characters and story. All three illustrate the world of a young girl entranced by an unearthly sleep, in a style that has been described as "Kafkaesque."
Yoshimoto is not known for high-energy, action thrillers. Readers searching for such writing will find nothing here. Her writing is more of an art form; it puts you in an almost surreal state while you read.
If you want to travel to another world, or at least to another dimension, "Asleep" is the perfect medium to get you there.
Yoshimoto's writing invokes deep psychological thought, but slides just past the answers. She allows individuals to discover them for themselves.
The first section, "Night and Night's Travelers," opens when Shibami, a young Japanese girl, writes a letter to Sarah, an American girl who fell for Shibami's brother, Yoshihiro, years ago.
Sarah describes Yoshihiro as a "giant ball of energy ... I'm not talking about some sort of physical energy. The thing I felt was something that came bubbling up from inside him, you know, something that will never run out, something extremely intellectual." After Yoshihiro's death, writing to Sarah is one of the many ways Shibami is able to deal with her pain.
The plot evolves as we meet the young girl's cousin Mari who was also in love with Yoshihiro, though her love for him was kept secret. Her family instructs her to forget about him, and in an emotional whirlwind, she leaves to live with Shibami and her family.
One night, when the two girls are up late, Yoshihiro begins to speak: "Listen, Mari. This has been a strange year for the two of us. It's like we've been living in a space different from the rest of our lives, like we've been sealed off - it's been very quiet. I'm sure that if we look back on all this later it'll have its own unique coloring, it'll be a single separate block." Mari continues, "It'll be this kind of deep blue," she said. "The kind of color that somehow sucks in your eyes and your ears and all your words - the color of a completely closed-in night." The snow kept falling, and we lay with our faces turned up toward the TV screen...."
A mix of emotions, tears and a longing for love lead into the next section, entitled "Love Songs." This section follows another young girl, who is seen just before sleep by an unknown visitor.
Through the help of her boyfriend Tanaka and other eccentric characters, she is able to delve into the bizarre world that one enters just before sleep. This leads her to discover the mystery visitor - a girl she once knew, named Haru.
Throughout years of sharing a lover, the two disliked each other. Only after her death did they realize that there was not only a friendship there, but a deeper understanding of one another. Haru is able to contact her and say things to her in dreams that never would have been possible in their everyday lives.
The third and final section, "Asleep," follows a girl who is captured completely and almost held victim by her sleep.
She says, "Sleep would rush over me like an incoming tide. There was nothing I could do to resist it. And this sleep was infinitely deep ... I'd feel a little lonely when I woke, but only for a moment. Suddenly, the heavy regret I felt, a regret that was almost shame, would be pierced by a cold blade of fear."
She is seeing a man whose wife lies in a coma, and the two share a complex relationship. "The only thing I'd understood right from the very beginning was that our love was supported by loneliness. That neither one of us could haul ourselves up out of the deadly numbness we felt when we lay together, so silent, in darkness so isolating it seemed to shine. This was the edge of night."
Without moving from the hospital, the wife is able to affect the life of this young girl in a most touching way. And it is through the wife that she finally can understand a friend of hers, who now is deceased.
The book's title is extremely appropriate. Sleep is a state that allows one to accept and discover many things that the conscious mind wouldn't.
The stories stress how this knowledge - and the understanding of those around us - often does not occur until after someone has died. The old saying, "You don't know what you've got 'til it's gone," is particularly pertinent.
Through the many sub-plots and twists the three novellas take, readers are left with a strong desire to understand those around them before it's too late.
Yoshimoto has the potential to widen the book's appeal with its universal themes. They cross the barriers of age and location, opening Yoshimoto's works to readers across the globe.
Many critics suggest that 36-year-old Yoshimoto (or perhaps her translator, Michael Emmerich, who did not work on her first books) has lost some of her original style and intensity. But this critic disagrees. Yoshimoto proves she still has the creative talent with which she began her writing career. It has been a while since I read her earlier books, but I could not help becoming engrossed in her latest.