A nameless, ambitionless office worker finds his small apartment gradually invaded by three other people: all younger than himself, but seemingly no less adrift. The year is 1986, and the strange communal life of this foursome, extending over half a year, from the end of winter to midsummer, makes up the plot, such as it is, of Plainsong, as this ersatz family finds itself growing closer, and life continues—quietly—around them. Part of the generation that grew to prominence following the success of baby boomers like Haruki Murakami, Kazushi Hosaka’s work chronicles the small moments, the moments without conflict, that most novels work to elide. His characters talk, work, exist; their story is one where the tiniest occurrence takes on the proportions of a grand drama.
Dumped by his girlfriend just before they were to move in together, our twentysomething nameless Japanese salaryman hero decides to move into the big apartment he'd already rented for the purpose. He doesn't seem too distraught about the break-up, and enjoys conversations about racehorse gambling and outings to the races with one friend and, separately, with a coworker. He becomes obsessed with feeding and befriending stray cats around his neighborhood. A couple down-on-their-luck filmmakers and one of their girlfriends crash at his place for extended periods of time. Nothing seems to bother or affect him very much. This is a wonderfully written/translated collection of odd, sometimes quietly affecting anecdotes that do not seem to cohere into much of anything. I get that Hosaka is celebrating the nondramatic everyday small moments of life, but these moments were a bit too small for my liking.
In this short novel the narrator, now In his late thirties or early forties, reminisces about a brief period in his life when he was in his early thirties. At that time he had just come off a relationship and had moved to a large apartment. Soon, a group of acquaintances, in their twenties, move in to his place. In the novel the narrator talks about the purposeless conversations he has had with his new flatmates, most of which were about cats. He also talks about his gambling on horse racing when free. There is no plot. Nothing really happens. It was a fairly slow and boring read and I am glad it is over.
No plot. No climax (or perhaps there's a climax when finally three people move in to the nameless character's 2LDK apartment). Some people mighty find the book boring. But this is exactly like what Gonta said in the pages toward the ending. Life is sometimes that simple, everything's passing and sometimes when you try to recall the details, it's blurry and you're not quite sure anymore.
Personally I enjoy the book. As an ambitionless office worker with limited group of friends, I can relate with the main character: the way he sees life (a bit fatalist), the way he interacts with people around him (especially with Ishigami), and the way he fills his days hit closes to home. Some people might get frustrated when reading this book, because well, the ending is typically Japanese; a nostalgic feeling and a shared understanding between people without a clear conclusion.
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
This is my favorite kind of book--one that doesn't have any real plot, and doesn't need one since the characters and their interactions are interesting enough as it is. The conversations and events in the book aren't meant to lead up to anything bigger; they're their own purpose.
For instance, the nameless narrator tries to earn the affection of a cat that he sees around his neighborhood, so he starts putting out food for it. Soon, a friend of his starts helping him out with the task. If you're the person who asks "What's the narrative point of that?" then this book is wrong for you. It's its own point.
This book doesn't need any big climaxes or conflicts to be interesting. The basics of everyday existence are enough.
Random book I picked off the shelf in my uni's Japanese lit aisle. Had no particular expectations for it.
I know the purpose of the story, and the author's intent was to highlight the parts of one's life when all is well, and there is no conflict.
I think that's sweet and lovely. However this just wasn't my cup of tea.
I thought it was interesting however, that at the end of the short novel, there were two instances where the author used his main character to speak this very same idea. (How he saw his film maker friend documenting the uneventful aspects of life) It was almost as if the authorr was attempting to justify his novel.
"But you can't write a novel where nothing happens."
This was the first book I've read that I bought dressed in one of those brown paper bags that gives you the genre but nothing else, and I'm glad I did. This book, I'm sure, brought the new, fat orange cat to my backyard -- maybe it'll bring me luck in the horse races, next.
Absolutely a joyful read. Slow at the beginning but gets weirdly addictive from the middle. Profound meaning hidden obscurely or blatantly obvious. Depends on the reader. Beautiful writing 🤌🏻✨
‘Plainsong’ is an odd little book that glorifies mundanity. It is the account of an office-worker who lives in the Tokyo suburbs and finds that various twentisomethings move into his flat. He accepts this situation placidly and continues to amuse himself with betting on horses (calmly) and searching for a kitten that lives nearby (also calmly). According to the blurb, this novel is an account of the post-Haruki Murakami baby boomer generation. It would seem that this generation take an equanimous and utterly non-competitive attitude to life. I liked this, the tranquillity made a nice change. In Murakami novels mundanity is generally contrasted with weirdness, whereas here there was no magical realism or similar. Just a small group of young-ish people ambling through life. ‘Plainsong’ was gently funny and rather sweet. A palate-cleanser of a novel.
I enjoyed this "laid-back" book narrated by a guy in his 30's in Tokyo in (I think) the late 70's. He doesn't seem a very active sort on the surface, but he starts to pay attention to things, especially to cats, and then to the penniless young people who end up living with him (most of them film-makers except the beautiful Yoko). Together they create a strange kind of family. It's hopeful in a subtle and gentle way without any sentimentality.
Nothing happens at all and yet it's strangely readable. "Pleasant" is the word that comes to mind. Nothing revelatory but fun to hang out with the characters nonetheless. There's definitely a bit at the end that explains that it's plotless on purpose, but it still might not be for everyone. Definitely seems like a book you can only enjoy if you're like twenty-something or younger.
Every single life is a story... It is always more beneficial to look into a story mirroring our own lives to learn from it. But of course, it is much much more exciting to see dramas...