A Review of Julie Otsuka’s The Swimmers (Knopf, 2022).
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trihal
Well, Julie Otsuka’s The Swimmers(Knopf, 2022) is a real slow burn, the kind that starts off a little wayward but then hits you right in the gut. As usual, Otsuka brings her lyrical spare prose to a fictional world in which a dynamic storytelling mode will move us forward, inexorably to a poignant conclusion. The official marketing description is here to provide us with some key information: “The swimmers are unknown to one another except through their private routines (slow lane, medium lane, fast lane) and the solace each takes in their morning or afternoon laps. But when a crack appears at the bottom of the pool, they are cast out into an unforgiving world without comfort or relief. One of these swimmers is Alice, who is slowly losing her memory. For Alice, the pool was a final stand against the darkness of her encroaching dementia. Without the fellowship of other swimmers and the routine of her daily laps she is plunged into dislocation and chaos, swept into memories of her childhood and the Japanese American incarceration camp in which she spent the war. Alice's estranged daughter, reentering her mother's life too late, witnesses her stark and devastating decline.”
This description is an interesting one because the novel doesn’t direct us to make this kind of explicit link between what the pool does for Alice specifically and how it relates to her personal history. Part of the issue is that Otsuka uses a first personal plural style that is reminiscent of her last novel The Buddha in the Attic . In this novel’s case, the group of swimmers that Alice is a part of give the early chapters a very impressionistic feel. The pool is in some ways the real protagonist. It is only in the center of the narrative that things shift more specifically to Alice’s perspective. The chapter concerning her mental decline is particularly affecting, and Otsuka wants to draw us into the atemporality that Alice faces, as her memories get jumbled up. This section reminded me of an episode from the series Castle Rock in which Sissy Spacek’s character is facing a similar issue. The ways in which times and places dramatically collapse is part of the brilliance of Otsuka’s delivery here. The section that was most difficult for me to read personally emerged in relation to the section in which we discover that Alice is sent to a long term care facility. Despite what is obviously a high quality institution, you can’t help but feel a sense that Alice has been left to find her way in this facility (as carework becomes exceedingly difficult for the family). Otsuka’s work is particularly devastating here precisely because of the demands placed upon individual families who cannot necessarily engage in these forms of labor. As always, Otsuka’s gorgeous prose propels us forward, despite the bleakness in Alice’s retrogression.
Buy the Book Here
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trihal
Well, Julie Otsuka’s The Swimmers(Knopf, 2022) is a real slow burn, the kind that starts off a little wayward but then hits you right in the gut. As usual, Otsuka brings her lyrical spare prose to a fictional world in which a dynamic storytelling mode will move us forward, inexorably to a poignant conclusion. The official marketing description is here to provide us with some key information: “The swimmers are unknown to one another except through their private routines (slow lane, medium lane, fast lane) and the solace each takes in their morning or afternoon laps. But when a crack appears at the bottom of the pool, they are cast out into an unforgiving world without comfort or relief. One of these swimmers is Alice, who is slowly losing her memory. For Alice, the pool was a final stand against the darkness of her encroaching dementia. Without the fellowship of other swimmers and the routine of her daily laps she is plunged into dislocation and chaos, swept into memories of her childhood and the Japanese American incarceration camp in which she spent the war. Alice's estranged daughter, reentering her mother's life too late, witnesses her stark and devastating decline.”
This description is an interesting one because the novel doesn’t direct us to make this kind of explicit link between what the pool does for Alice specifically and how it relates to her personal history. Part of the issue is that Otsuka uses a first personal plural style that is reminiscent of her last novel The Buddha in the Attic . In this novel’s case, the group of swimmers that Alice is a part of give the early chapters a very impressionistic feel. The pool is in some ways the real protagonist. It is only in the center of the narrative that things shift more specifically to Alice’s perspective. The chapter concerning her mental decline is particularly affecting, and Otsuka wants to draw us into the atemporality that Alice faces, as her memories get jumbled up. This section reminded me of an episode from the series Castle Rock in which Sissy Spacek’s character is facing a similar issue. The ways in which times and places dramatically collapse is part of the brilliance of Otsuka’s delivery here. The section that was most difficult for me to read personally emerged in relation to the section in which we discover that Alice is sent to a long term care facility. Despite what is obviously a high quality institution, you can’t help but feel a sense that Alice has been left to find her way in this facility (as carework becomes exceedingly difficult for the family). Otsuka’s work is particularly devastating here precisely because of the demands placed upon individual families who cannot necessarily engage in these forms of labor. As always, Otsuka’s gorgeous prose propels us forward, despite the bleakness in Alice’s retrogression.
Buy the Book Here
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