Mizuki Nomura - Book Girl, Vol. 7 (novel)
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- Book:Book Girl, Vol. 7 (novel)
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- Year:2013
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| Book Girl and the Scribe Who Faced God, Part 1 |
| Book Girl [7] |
| Mizuki Nomura |
| Orbit (2013) |
| Young Adultttt Fictionttt Fantasyttt |
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The day before he died, Takumi gave me a little violet-colored bottle.
It was cute, shaped like a heart, with fine silver dust in it.
Its the sleeping powder of Ole Lukje, Takumi whispered, gazing into my eyes.
He said that if I took this, all of my pain and sadness would melt away like snow. I wouldnt feel hatred, doubt, or jealousy. Id be able to sleep untainted, as if cradled in the arms of God.
He said that I could take some, and I could let other people have some, too.
I put the sleeping powder of Ole Lukje that the little violet bottle held within it into a locked jewelry box. Sometimes I take it out and hold it in the light and gaze at it.
I stare through the translucent violet glass, entranced by the tenderly rolling silver dust. I press it to my flushed cheek, and the cool sensation heals me.
As long as I have this vial, I can change my destiny.
Surely I could even pass through the gates of heaven that tower so high and far away.
To whom does this heart in my hand now belong?
To me? To him? To you, Kana?
It doesnt matter who you are. If you want to find God, you have to be alone.
There was a person who told me that in a sisterly tone.
When I started high school, I had at my side a president who looked after me like an older sister.
A book girl with long black braids that reached her waist, who at first glance looked old-fashioned and genteel. And yet she had a pushy way of talking and caused trouble for everyone around her, and when classes had ended for the day, she would come all the way to my first-year classroom to fetch me.
At first I couldnt stand her.
But no matter how much I ignored her, no matter how much I scrunched my face up in annoyance and turned away from her, no matter how bitingly sarcastic I was, she would blubber and sulk, but the next day she would be beaming like a flower and appear in my classroom with a Club time, Konoha!
One summer morning I caught her climbing a tree at school.
Apparently she believed that if you tied a ribbon around a tree branch without anyone seeing you, your wish would come true. It was a girly and totally baseless legend that had been passed down through the generations of our school. Her eyes were focused straight ahead and there was a look of intense concentration on her face as she untied the turquoise ribbon at the front of her uniform. She was just starting to tie it on the end of a branch when she lost her balance and almost fell. That was when she noticed me watching. She turned bright red and got flustered.
A baby bird fell out of its nest, so I was putting it back.
That was the kind of childish excuse she made up.
But I wonder what she was trying to wish for with her turquoise ribbon that day.
She lingers in my memory, joyously flipping through the pages of a book in the cramped clubroom filled with the gentle golden light of sunset.
I wonder who she was.
I wonder what was going through her mind as she sat beside me, constantly wearing her kind smile, while I faced my lined paper.
What had the book girl wished for that day?
This poetry collection by Misuzu Kaneko is like cherry-leaf rice cakes. The coarse, gummy pink cake gently enfolds the sweet bean paste inside.
Tohko whispered with an ecstatic look on her face, gulping down the fragment of the page shed ripped off.
She didnt even have to come to school right now because she was studying for her college exams, and yet she was casually eating books in the clubroom in February. I thought she was crazy, but Tohko had declared, I passed my National Center Test, so Ill be fine! I have to take a little break anyway.
I dont know whether it was out of confidence or carelessness, but she started showing up at the clubroom.
And so, while she was waiting for the improv stories she snacked on to be done, she sat with her feet perched on a fold-up chair next to the window where she expounded on a book enthusiastically while flipping and munching and crunching through the pages of it.
Misuzu Kaneko was a childrens poet from Yamaguchi Prefecture, born on April 11, 1903the thirty-sixth year of the Meiji emperors reign. Her hometown was a port city with plentiful whaling where her family ran a bookstore. She got married and had kids, and she wrote poetry the whole time.
Every one of her poems tastes free and relaxed and cute and gentle.
When it comes to cherry-leaf rice cakes, you have the eastern style from Chomeiji Temple, where the bean paste is sandwiched inside a smooth cake, and the western style of Domyoji Temple, where a mealy cake is wrapped around the bean paste. I think Kanekos poems are definitely mealy. When you bite through a salt-pickled cherry leaf and into the soft cake with cute little bumps in it, the leaf shatters, scattering the fragrance of cherry blossoms everywhere while your white teeth sink slowly into the cake to reach the faint sweetness of the beans! Cmon, youve heard this poem before, havent you, Konoha?
Tohko closed her eyes and recited the poem in a clear voice.
Even when I spread my arms wide,
I cannot soar into the sky, not even for a second,
But the birds who can
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