The first time around (was it March? April?), I was going through a tumultuous period and this book really helped me to calm down. It was a bit of a downer, but I suppose that's just what I needed then. I wouldn't have been able to stand some happy-go-lucky romance flick anyway.
I suppose the fourth treasure is my save-me book, because once again I seek a tranquil refuge within its pages. The atmosphere in my life is smothering right now, but not quite. There is an ever present tension, an anxiety that I can never really discuss without sounding like an over-sensitive drama queen. I feel as though my life is a three-legged table whose third leg was removed: I'm simply watching it, waiting because I know it's about to fall apart.
Obviously, the novel isn't perfect. There are flaws. My biggest problem is how the protagonist, Tina, diverges from her path as a good daughter/student and dabbles in a kinky lifestyle. But perhaps that isn't so much a flaw as it is something I would have preferred not to be reminded of. Falling from the ideal path. Finding out that what you've been aiming for your entire life isn't what you really want. That's real. And that's why I hate it, just a little.
Obviously, the novel isn't perfect. There are flaws. My biggest problem is how the protagonist, Tina, diverges from her path as a good daughter/student and dabbles in a kinky lifestyle. But perhaps that isn't so much a flaw as it is something I would have preferred not to be reminded of. Falling from the ideal path. Finding out that what you've been aiming for your entire life isn't what you really want. That's real. And that's why I hate it, just a little.
A little hypocritical, seeing as my favorite part of the book is the fact that Daizen-sensei and Hanako share something beautiful but don't end up together. I remember reading this line from the novel, and I'll never forget it for the rest of my life. It's like the author had reached into my mind and scooped out the exact sentiments I was feeling at the time:
"As he walked back to the village, he couldn't stop wondering about the sensei and his student: two people who had it all-- one at the top of his art, the other in the upper strata of society. They had tossed away what they had for something that in the end was nothing."
Of course, the official reviews offer much better insight than I can ever hope to give. I was just blown away by one I've just read from the LA times, especially by the flaws it points out at the end:
Old-style novelists, move over? Maybe. But in this intriguing product of a new take on the Renaissance art workshop, a few traditional elements of fiction are much missed. The characters are sketchily drawn and without inward development. For all the dovetailing of a strong plot, the reader feels little emotional impact. And, ironically given the novel's subject and metaphor, there is little honor shown to the "ten thousand strokes" of the discipline of writing. The pervasive dispensing with the past perfect tense fosters confusion, and pronouns and modifying phrases are sometimes haphazardly assigned. Technical details? Perhaps. But in the case of language, essence dwells in style and syntax. A bold experiment, especially, needs the guidance of an old master.Sometimes I hate it, but in this case I love how professionals can so easily elaborate on what you subconsciously noticed but didn't have the skill to bring to the surface.
Anyway, it's 12:15 am; I woke up from my nap about an hour ago and should probably start on my English homework right about now. (Thankfully, I'll finish that in about an hour, so I can get some more sleep!) I thought I might end this with something a little less nerdy. I found this song via my classical music channel on Pandora, and I found it to reflect my mood very well.
"Breathe" by Greg Maroney
It's more cheerful than I am, and it has this sense of adventure that's definitely lacking from my own life, but can you also detect a bit of melancholy there? Perhaps I'm crazy, I don't know. Listening to it again, there's a happy determination and uplifting color to the melody that makes me cross with frustration. In which case, scratch that it reflect my mood at all.
I'll include a few other songs played on my Pandora that resonated with me while typing this blog post:
Schumann's "Impromptu for Piano in A Flat Major, D. 899/4 (Op. 90/4)"
Chopin's "Fantasie Impromptu in C Sharp Minor, Op. 96 CT. 46"
Seeing as I listed all classical music, perhaps I wasn't successful in providing something a little less nerdy, but I think these are all very beautiful pieces and you should listen to them for the sake of listening to them.
Now my sister has a bowl of instant ramen waiting for me, so I will depart. Adieu, minna-chan! Dulces sueños!
