Sensei continued to stare at my arm, all the way down to my palm. His eyes on my palm, he murmured something about me not having any wit lines, even though I had several affair lines. The vertical lines that stick out above your heart line are your wit lines, and your affair lines are the ones that run parallel to your life line, along the base of your thumb. Look, I have many wit lines, he said.
Parade, by Hiromi Kawakami, is a delicate little thing.
Some mischievous sprite nudged this book just so on its shelf at the shop, that I had to investigate it. It's a beautifully designed volume, charmingly illustrated by Takako Yoshitomi.
The wordcount of the reviews is higher than that of the tale itself. I've never read Hiromi Kawakami, but this is billed as a companion piece to her Strange Weather in Tokyo, which I'll be exploring soon.
A folktale of tengu and childhood. Hazy memories. A lazy afternoon just after the rainy season.
Subtle, elegant, whimsical, intimate. Light. I feel touched by sparkles.
Reviews
Open Letters Review: November 2019
Open Letters Review: October 2020
Tony's Reading List
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