I believe it is the trait of great literature to reinvent itself every time we read it. Good books tend to change, transformed into something different when we approach them a second or third time. Of course, it is the reader that transmutes as well. However, it is this inherent quality of good writing, like superior wine in an oak barrel aging patiently until it reaches its peak, then changing magically as we pour it in a glass, and every sip is different than the one before, that comes to mind when I experience it first-hand.
Inheritors opens with a family tree. At first glimpse we realize it covers four generations born from a Japanese couple that married at the end of the 19th century. If we look more attentively, we notice that some ramifications tend to expand more than others. Underneath, there is a listing that corresponds to the thirteen stories that make the book (spread out in seven chapters), all including in parenthesis the year of the particular story. Then, under the names, the years each lived and under that, the story where he or she is featured. I spent several minutes looking at this image, because I realized soon enough, that the family tree represented not only a mapping of the book itself but of the historical context it strived to cover.
Asako Serizawa’s first work of fiction is an intense attempt to explain history, cultural values and the power of family ties. The writing is up to the immense task, and it flowers as each story unfolds; at times giving disguised solutions to what seem at first, unanswered questions. For the most part the narrative is not only intelligent in its aim but perfectly crafted, producing a certain luminosity as the pages go by; quite often I had to pause and reflect, reread to interpret better what was implied, go back to that family tree to find hints and then return to the line I had left to find new and fresh meaning to it. The whole process I can only describe as an exquisite experience of reflection.
The geographical frame constantly shifts, from Japan to the United States and then to China; the same with the temporary structure, which jumps from dates covering a span of around a hundred and fifty years, therefore not following a chronological order. Conceived as a group of short stories, I imagine the work could be labeled a novel as well, since the edifice is constructed based on that diagram in the first page. Last week I read a book by Mircea Cărtărescu that he insists is a novel but to me it is more a collection of stories. I guess labeling is a subjective matter (as well as a publishing maneuver towards marketing and eventually profit).
In my view, the common denominator for all the stories is the quest in which the characters embark, some finding answers right away and others trying to figure out the hollowness of silence: at the end of a lifetime, a sparkle of light may shine. A lost son during the bombing of Tokyo in March of 1945, a husband following his wife to find out what exactly she does at work, a man finding out he was adopted at the end of the war in search for his real parents, a computer geek looking for his longtime deaf friend, a woman opening sealed boxes of papers after his father passed away, an old photograph pinned to a wall next to the bed of a dying man…
Choosing one that perhaps I could call my favorite has to do with a sense of space or abbreviation, otherwise this review could turn into a long (and boring) essay. Pavilion narrates the passionate conversation between two brothers that eruditely dissect and analyze Jorge Luis Borges’ famous story El jardín de senderos que se bifurcan (The Garden of Forking Paths). It’s interesting (for lack of a better word) but lately, Borges has been more than present in everything I read. Likelihood and probability aside, this of course has to do with the place he holds in my pantheon of favorite writers and explains the opening paragraph of the present text. In the Cărtărescu book I referred to earlier, Borges appears particularly in a section that is spiritually linked to The Aleph. Back to Serizawa’s story, the two brothers who have met in strange circumstances, try to find in the short story meaning to their own quest, and appear to be walking the forking paths looking for answers to life’s dilemmas, moving the pieces (the Chinese spy, the sinologist, the illustrious great grandfather and the Irish captain) in different combinations, realizing at one point, that they too, are pieces in the same board. What are the reasons behind each character’s procedure? Is what we call destiny a trap? Are the two murders related? What if there are patterns that we can not escape? Is history a simple repetition of a single script? The fascinating answers they arrive at are at the heart of the book itself. In order to understand who we are, we must trace our past; and as we walk through that marvelous garden, be certain that each path we take is unique, unrepeatable and an integral part of life’s adventure.
Inheritors is a stunning literary work.