This is my first book by the author. His previous novel A Man was hugely successful in Japan and has since been made into a movie and translated into English. After reading At The End Of The Matinee, which is his second book to be translated to English, I thought the same thing – it would be a drama series. I have since learned it was made into a movie. As for the novel as a novel, I have mixed feelings.
One of the reasons I find this story both relatable and jarring, was my personal familiarity of the world events playing out in the background. Most fictional books I read are a bit older, of a different time. Whereas, in Matinee I can picture exactly where I was for each major event mentioned: the war in Iraq, financial crisis of ’07, the tsunami of ’11. And I say background for a lack of better word – the events impede the lovers who are both, independently, trying to get back to one another. The story uses these very concrete global events to accentuate the lovers’ characters, and their ideals.
The lovers – Yoko and Makino, are both proud stubborn perfectionists. Intellectuals with wonderful emotional capacity and highly moralistic. As far as Japanese writers go, Hirano is very generous with sharing the ins and outs of his characters with his readers; the emotional turmoil is written – not assumed by descriptions of subtle gestures. The abstract conversations between the lovers are not just there so Hirano can showcase his philosophical acumen; it serves a purpose, in that the reader understands why the pair share such love, and at the same time why they would keep missing each other.
So why the misgiving? Perhaps it comes down to preference on what to highlight: circumstance or choice. I happen to read Ishiguro’s Klara and the Sun after, and it served as a stark contrast in philosophy. In Matinee, real life events were highlighted to showcase the moral compass of the pair, which dictated their plight as lovers. Simply put, circumstance drove the plot. And while there are individual trials to overcome, morals were not challenged. There is zero growth. It is as if the pair needed five years to pass before the world allowed them to be together. In Klara however, the reader is only afforded clues as to when and where. It can be anywhere, in the not -so-distant future. The characters are made to decide what to believe in, their morals are challenged and even forsaken, for love. And it is their choices that dictate the story’s path. And precisely because it was so familiar in time, and because I too, like Yoko, grew up as a half-Japanese educated overseas, it only stressed the difference between the author’s and my own perspective. Because I am not a product of circumstance alone. Because I have learned, that being highly moralistic to macro events can cost your own micro happiness. Nevertheless, I did root for the lovers. They are impossible to live up to, and yet entirely loveable, most likely, because they remind me of my younger self. In short – a fairy-tale for the divorced.
And they lived happily ever after.
She stood erect before him, making herself vulnerable, prepared to make an even greater leap if he but sought it. His heart quivered at the sight of her standing and waiting, offering her very existence to him. So this was her way of loving a person – of loving him. Seeing her transfixed by the leap she had taken, from deep within he felt a surge of swelling happiness and took her in his arms.
JohannaAirth 