A 40-year-old children’s book author and illustrator returns to Kamakura from his home in Tokyo to clear out his mother’s house—and decides to stay.
About a year before his mother died, Shūichi shut himself off from all emotions in order to survive, for reasons that don’t become clear until later. After her death, he sets about methodically clearing out her house, hiring a workman to help make the process less personal. But then he discovers that a small boy has been stealing items that are being temporarily stored in the garage: a watering can, a stained apron, a chipped cup—nothing of true value. The unexpected oddity of it intrigues Shūichi, and he begins to observe the boy. From this small beginning, a friendship blossoms between 8-year-old Kenta—who had been spending his afternoons with Shūichi’s mother while his parents worked—and Shūichi, who decides to stay in his mother’s house after all. This story, told in chapters as well as small snippets, unfolds much like origami: There’s Shūichi’s separation from Aya, his former wife; his growing relationship with Sayaka, who prepared his mother for burial; and his inability to deal with the devastating event that originally caused him to suppress his emotions. But in closing himself off from pain, he has also closed himself off from joy. This is a masterful second book by Messina, author of The Phone Booth at the End of the World (2021); from the richly drawn characters to the slow unveiling of the story to the constant presence of the ocean, nature, and the steep hill that Shūichi lives on—reading this lovingly drawn story is an immersive experience.
A powerful, unforgettable tale of love that is made more poignant by the loss that preceded it.