Lauren Simpson // Blog Writer
“It occurred to me that if I were a ghost, this ambiance was what I’d miss most: the ordinary, day-to-day bustle of the living. Ghosts long, I’m sure, for the stupidest, most unremarkable things.”
With a slew of quietly eccentric and fascinating characters, Yoshimoto calmly paints this engaging and mysterious tale. The story follows Chihiro, a semi-recent art school graduate who makes a living painting murals and doing other odd jobs. Chihiro can’t help but notice someone in a neighboring window. Hesitantly, they begin a charming, yet odd, romance. Chihiro untangles the realities of her own past and her grief for her recently deceased mother, while simultaneously pondering the trauma that haunts Nakajima. Clinging to each other for support, these two people try to learn how to move on from their troubled pasts together.
Yoshimoto presents one of her most quietly moving pieces to date in The Lake, drawing readers into the skewed world of two offbeat lovers. Yoshimoto’s familiar writing style is articulate and concise, while conveying complex ideas in a way that seems effortless and understandable. While some writers may beg to impress with expansive vocabulary and indirect approaches to topics and themes, Yoshimoto’s approach is far more direct, and in this way holds an air of increased sincerity. Yoshimoto’s approach strikes readers in a way that feels deeply personal and authentic.
While the story hints at Nakajima’s mysterious and explosive past, the tone of the book still remains melancholic and somewhat slow. While there is a comfort in the calmness of this story, it does run the risk of losing readers’ interest, especially due to the lack of any edge-of-your-seat action. Of course, relying on these more intense moments would be a betrayal to the style that Yoshimoto embodies. Since Yoshimoto takes such a direct approach and has no fear of brevity, the slow pacing brings more life to her works that are, more often than not, very short novels or novellas.
Yoshimoto’s style is so distant from any other author that comes to mind. I would highly recommend her work to anyone that is looking to break away from traditional styles of writing. Her pieces hold an air of comfort that may entice readers, but the pacing may avert some. This book, like much of Yoshimoto’s work, is an exploration of self, of family, and of love. It could be deemed relatable in some capacity to every reader.
This story takes place in Japan but, as a reader that is not entirely familiar with Japanese culture, I did not find the cultural differences infringed upon my understanding or enjoyment of the book.
One warning that must be said to anyone who plans to read this book: do not read the summary on the book cover or on most websites! It spoils the mystery of the book, giving away the only twist.
“When someone tells you something big, it’s like you’re taking money from them, and there’s no way it will ever go back to being the way it was. You have to take responsibility for listening. My mother used to say that. What a stingy way to look at the world, I thought, and yet at the same time I realized it was probably true”.
“There was a real sense of comfort but at the same time it felt oddly tense. The feeling that every little things we said, these conversations, at any moment, they could stop being possible, and so they were precious, it was that feeling, and the sense of the miracle of this shared moment, here and now. Why were we so far apart, even when we were together? It was a nice loneliness, like the sensation of washing your face in cold water.”