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A review by korrick
The Diving Pool by Yōko Ogawa
3.0
2.5/5
This isn't my first Ogawa read, and after this second, I'll have to resign myself to the fact that this author's not for me. Despite the praise from Mantel of all people, Ogawa's more famous [b:The Housekeeper and the Professor|3181564|The Housekeeper and the Professor|Yōko Ogawa|https://i.gr-assets.com/images/S/compressed.photo.goodreads.com/books/1344313042l/3181564._SX50_.jpg|3214322] didn't touch me as much as it did many others, nor did this trio of novellas horrify me in any particularly lasting fashion. I did appreciate the titular piece the most, as its resolution was a twist that I didn't see coming a mile away. I also relished the ending, and how often can one truly say that in regards to tales of fiction? The second had a lean strength to it, but the third was far too cloying, almost innocent, in its characterization of a disabled person, and in this time when mess media again mewling out for stripping the rights of an already desperately vulnerable sector of population and hand them over, early Nazi style, to prevent future mass shootings, I'm very done with all that tripe (until mass shooters are gender equal, mental illness has nothing to do with it). In any case, this was an extremely quick read, so for all its blasé intimations at terror and disgust, it provided nice contrast for my other reads. I'll have to try for a similar balance in future reads, as being bogged down with future weeks of reading the same stuff from all sides always wears one down eventually.
Starting this off was rather nostalgic, as this book's been on my shelf for some time now, and I've grown accustomed to seeing the distinctive cover style peculiar to this author around, whether in the form of this or THatP. Going in, I had expectations of menace and sadism and all that jazz, and as I said, the first was the strongest in that regard. The fleshing out of the story with themes of pseudo-abandonment in one's own home and youth (including the most disturbing passage of this collection, which involved characterizing the thighs of an infant as "erotic") proved for a thought-provoking trajectory. It also had the strongest ending of the three, likely because it refused to trail off into noncommittal hints at threatening scenarios: here, the threat had already occurred, and all that was left was fallout, even judgment. For the rest, the second came second and the third came third: the protagonist of 'Pregnancy Diary' was simply a more interesting point of view than that of 'The Dormitory', which I suppose goes along with my reoccurring indulgences media involving serial killers. In any case, the concluding narrative was tamely predictable enough for my interest to simmer down a tad. I still rounded this rating up because the work itself is indeed extremely elegantly crafted; it's just that, if I come in being promised tales of cruelty, I expect cruelty, and some amount of creativity, in it, simply put.
This work, I think, marks the end of my journey with Ogawa. Both this and THatP generated overall meh reactions from me, and I have enough works by women in translation squirreled away to last me long enough that I don't need to desperately grasp at their more famous representatives. It's not a popularity I understand, but the extreme shortness of many of the more popular works by women of color in translation makes me more paranoid about the publishing filter I'm being fed than usual. I do my best to counteract such by picking up almost all applicable works that I either don't recognize the author of or know to be criminally underread, but I'm a single person, and I"m not willing to reassert the reading habits that once catapulted me to reasonable popularity on this site. All I can do is keep reading the way I'm reading and hope that I'm bringing some sort of treasure to an unsuspecting reader's way this Women in Translation month, even if I myself don't consider it to be such.
This isn't my first Ogawa read, and after this second, I'll have to resign myself to the fact that this author's not for me. Despite the praise from Mantel of all people, Ogawa's more famous [b:The Housekeeper and the Professor|3181564|The Housekeeper and the Professor|Yōko Ogawa|https://i.gr-assets.com/images/S/compressed.photo.goodreads.com/books/1344313042l/3181564._SX50_.jpg|3214322] didn't touch me as much as it did many others, nor did this trio of novellas horrify me in any particularly lasting fashion. I did appreciate the titular piece the most, as its resolution was a twist that I didn't see coming a mile away. I also relished the ending
Spoiler
involving the downfall of the protagonist's raison d'êtreSpoiler
diabolicalStarting this off was rather nostalgic, as this book's been on my shelf for some time now, and I've grown accustomed to seeing the distinctive cover style peculiar to this author around, whether in the form of this or THatP. Going in, I had expectations of menace and sadism and all that jazz, and as I said, the first was the strongest in that regard. The fleshing out of the story with themes of pseudo-abandonment in one's own home and youth (including the most disturbing passage of this collection, which involved characterizing the thighs of an infant as "erotic") proved for a thought-provoking trajectory. It also had the strongest ending of the three, likely because it refused to trail off into noncommittal hints at threatening scenarios: here, the threat had already occurred, and all that was left was fallout, even judgment. For the rest, the second came second and the third came third: the protagonist of 'Pregnancy Diary' was simply a more interesting point of view than that of 'The Dormitory', which I suppose goes along with my reoccurring indulgences media involving serial killers. In any case, the concluding narrative was tamely predictable enough for my interest to simmer down a tad. I still rounded this rating up because the work itself is indeed extremely elegantly crafted; it's just that, if I come in being promised tales of cruelty, I expect cruelty, and some amount of creativity, in it, simply put.
This work, I think, marks the end of my journey with Ogawa. Both this and THatP generated overall meh reactions from me, and I have enough works by women in translation squirreled away to last me long enough that I don't need to desperately grasp at their more famous representatives. It's not a popularity I understand, but the extreme shortness of many of the more popular works by women of color in translation makes me more paranoid about the publishing filter I'm being fed than usual. I do my best to counteract such by picking up almost all applicable works that I either don't recognize the author of or know to be criminally underread, but I'm a single person, and I"m not willing to reassert the reading habits that once catapulted me to reasonable popularity on this site. All I can do is keep reading the way I'm reading and hope that I'm bringing some sort of treasure to an unsuspecting reader's way this Women in Translation month, even if I myself don't consider it to be such.