Kaya Suzuki's ethical ambivalence toward the corruptive nature of interpersonal relationships has marked him as a vicious stoic by his early high-school years. For Kaya, goodness is a predictable corollary of convenience. The presumed arrogance of youth and the presumed certainty of adulthood are flagrantly unjustifiable vestiges of the human imagination. That is to say, people playact in a manner that comforts them to defy whatever it is they fear or to steal or obtain whatever they desire. Kaya Suzuki is not wrong.
I WILL FORGET THIS FEELING SOMEDAY is an intriguing work, if modestly undercut by the author's curious decision to staple a 127-page addendum to the book. Kaya sees through the miasma of optimism that typically plagues others his age: folksy camaraderie is unnecessary, adolescent relational dynamics are ephemeral, and the professional violence owned by supposedly mature adults amounts to nothing more than a game. In Kaya's rural town, it doesn't matter if he's mindful of neighborhood gossip and it doesn't matter if he listens to news stories about an approaching war. Humanity is endlessly selfish, so why bother?
"Most of us live and die without ever being special," Kaya says. "It's such an obvious truth, but most people don't seem to realize it — at least the people around me. But if you say something like that aloud, people get upset with you and act like it's an insult" (page 121).
And that's when he meets Chika.
In spite of the villainous truths that mar human pragmatism, Kaya meets Chika, accidentally, and through a kind of happenstance that forcefully occupies his mind for months at a time. At an abandoned bus stop, at the edge of his rural town, roughly half an hour before midnight, Kaya encounters a pair of glowing eyes. Shock and surprise (e.g., Ghost? Phantom?) give way to wild panic (e.g., Not alone?), which gives way to curiosity (e.g., How is it we can interact? Where are you from?), which gives way to restless enthusiasm (e.g., Our worlds are linked, but how?).
I WILL FORGET THIS FEELING SOMEDAY, at least the first 68% of it, is an excellent journey toward the precipice of low sci-fi, with a hint of philosophical rumination. Kaya and Chika's realms are bound; events occur in both worlds but wield asymmetrical reciprocity (e.g., seasonal weather occurs simultaneously yet unevenly; an injured pet in one world could equate to an injured person in another; a destroyed building in one world could equate to a broken window in another). Kaya and Chika's curiosity about one another, as well as one another's worlds, alleviates Kaya's boredom and stirs Chika's sincerity.
How does one learn about another world or realm when one cannot interact with that realm or its occupants? Why don't the reciprocal actions linking these realms line up? Why is Kaya the only one who can sort-of see, hear, and touch this otherworldly person? All good questions. All unanswerable. For a young man who regularly sees through the vanities his world offers, the possibility that he's not worthy of learning the truth of a universe beyond his tiny town in the sticks may prove interminably devastating.
All Kaya has for a guide is a floating pair of eyes and a patient, raspy voice. As such, the young man grows increasingly desperate for answers, occasionally pressing for violence and criminal behavior to validate his frustrations. Kaya wants to know Chika, wants to know more about her world; he also wants to protect her, his bond with her, and his perception of his bond with her, no matter the cost.
Chika is bright, affable, and inquisitive. But she is also painfully naïve. I WILL FORGET THIS FEELING SOMEDAY doesn't give her much depth beyond the role of a sounding board, a mirror for all of Kaya's basest inclinations, but the young woman serves up a meaningful warning when she says: "It might be impossible to avoid hurting others when you've really put your heart behind something, but if you go around intentionally causing people harm, someday you're going to end up hurting the things that you treasure, the beliefs you're trying to protect" (page 234).
Kaya may have convinced himself that he has fallen in love with a person he cannot see and whose personal life he has trouble visualizing. Kaya may also have convinced himself he can artfully sidestep the "mistake" of believing himself special in lieu of merely being fortunate. But "human relationships were built on the knowledge that one day, whether it's tomorrow or decades from now, one [is] always destined to betray the other" (page 97), and it would appear vicious stoics are no exception to this rule.
I WILL FORGET THIS FEELING SOMEDAY takes place primarily in the protagonist's dull high-school years. Kaya makes friends, loses friends, alienates family members, breaks the law, and more. The young man's fascination with forming a bond with an otherworlder drives him constantly. But what happens if Chika leaves? What if Chika gets injured or harmed? What if Kaya proves too foolish to manage a romance that he himself refuses to name?
The latter 32% of the book muddles any sensible answer to these questions. Following a handful of time-skips, the author takes readers on into the life of a thirtysomething office worker who clings to a semblance of past emotions to survive each day.
As a child, Kaya Suzuki was not wrong when he spied the prickly gamesmanship and messy ennui that colored most people's mediocre lives. As an adult, some of that sharpness has been rubbed down and chipped away. And it isn't until Kaya-the-adult runs into an old acquaintance that his simple, selfish quest to be forgiven (and to forgive himself) can be remotely attended to.
For readers familiar with Sumino's previous works, this novel carries the emotional truculence of I Want to Eat Your Pancreas and At Night, I Become a Monster, with flashes of the Third Act of I Am Blue, in Pain, and Fragile. To clarify, topics of suicide, the irrelevance of youth, the death of kindness, and the ironic insolence of being pragmatic carry this novel's thematic weight from start to finish. Understanding other people is impossible, and the fragments of truth one gains by experiencing the greatest moments of one's life are often rendered obsolete the instant that wind of fascination blows by. Contentment is an illusion.
I WILL FORGET THIS FEELING SOMEDAY is not about daring to doubt that love can exist; this book is about steeling oneself for the painful reality that emerges when one dares to doubt the concept of love at all.