The Samurai's Garden: A Novel
By: Gail Tsukiyama / Narrated By: David Shih
Length: 8 hrs and 48 mins
P’raps it has its flaws, but I dunno—a gentle, quiet unfolding… PHEW!!!
Juuuust what I was hoping for.
I did NOT read the entirety of the Publisher’s Summary, only the opening which suggested that The Samurai’s Garden by author Gail Tsukiyama would be a quiet contemplation of life… or something or other.
Which was exACTly what I was looking for. Nah, haven’t been hitting the heavier-hitting Listens lately; it’s just that Change, BIG CHANGE, has been the order of the day… er… MONTH… and MORE. So living in a state of near-constant upheaval had me well and truly hankering for nothing convoluted, no beYONd intense emotions. Just? Can I get some simplicity here? Some slow building of respect and affection?
I can, and I did!
Stephen is a very young man (Chinese from Hong Kong) who has been sent away to his late grandfather’s abode in small town Japan as he needs to recover from a debilitating bout of TB. Once there, he truly misses the hustle and bustle of city life, especially as his father, who lives in the family abode there, is pretty much always away on business.
Feeling lonely, Stephen starts pestering… uhm… “making himself known to” Matsu, the man of all work at the house. Matsu is quiet to the point of obstinately refusing to engage, but Stephen slows his needs down and continues persistently to draw the man out. They are separated by class, by culture, by reticence.
What I truly loved about this story was just how slowly Tsukiyama developed the relationship between the two, the work in Matsu’s beloved gardens, the trips to a temple, the meeting of friends, and finally: Matsu trusts Stephen enough to share with him that which is dearest to his heart: His relationship with a 1/2-beautiful woman named Sachi. 1/2-beautiful because Brava! to Tsukiyama for making the heroine of this story a woman ravaged by leprosy and living far away, distanced from those who might deem her a Monster.
The friendship between the three, the friendship between only Stephen and Sachi are a simply lovely unfolding of how affection, trust, are born and developed. And as a matter of fact, everything unfolds one beautiful layer at a time, with the occasional layer being heartfelt and heart-fraught (Think: The revelation of a perceived betrayal that causes a once-lover to lash out, leading to disastrous consequences…).
David Shih does the honors for this story, and I do so love and respect his narrations. There were times when he raised his voice, or it became shrill, and I thought: YIKES! only to discover that that was indeed what the character began feeling and speaking. In other words, Shih acted precisely in the manner he was supposed to, letting us feel right along with the characters as they navigated Life.
Big Sis and I read this together, and one of her musings left me contemplative as well: How could Stephen so freely, with such little angst, accept Sachi, without horror, without fear? At the time, I considered that his own experience with debilitating disease, a weakened body that required assistance and foregoing independence maaaaay’ve made him more open.
But now I wonder? I mean, p’raps it’s just that Tsukiyama crafted good-hearted characters who saw each other struggle, but who also respected them enough to let each travel their own road(s). Matsu, we discover, in helping Sachi as she first contracts leprosy and deals with her own horror and grief, steps back and allows her to choose her own path. A wonderful mother figure in the colony, openly loves, no matter the displaced anger or disgust hurled at her, as tho’ she’s loving and accepting the daughter she had to leave behind. She acts, without expectation. So maybe Stephen was just trundling along, doing his best to stop being lonely, giving from his heart, using his art to build bridges. And basically, he was little more than a big kid, more accepting at that age.
Juxtaposed with Japan’s violent takeover of China, the atrocities only hinted at (Japanese airwaves, you see), there’s the ominous background of two cultures at horrific odds, of a culture about to be cruelly subjugated. And there’s Stephen, worrying about cities falling to the Japanese armies, longing to be back home with his family… -BUT- kinda sorta not. Tsukiyama wrote a compelling place for him to wish to visit longer, characters who open him to a world of trust and affection and generosity of spirit.
I read truly scaaaaathing reviews of this, some insults directed at idiots who actually liked this. But count me amongst the idiots, oh condemning sir. Because this, while okay, maybe not the most glorious metaphorical language used, had a lot of heart, and soul, and spirit, and gentle love in it.
And that, dear sir, can mean the absolute world if you need a calm, quiet, solace-laden pool to dip your toes into…
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