Territory of Light

I was hypnotized by this book from the very beginning. I don't read many books about mothers -- is that strange? This was constantly tipping back and forth between scenes where I read, set at a comfortable distance from the narrator and her feelings, to scenes where I identified SO INTENSELY that I was awash with sympathetic guilt, exhaustion, anxiety, or quiet awe.

At the beginning of the novel, she separates from her husband and moves into an apartment with her two-year-old daughter. Over the next year and a half, she attempts to make a life for herself and her daughter, while untangling them both from her husband, and figuring out how to be a good parent to a toddler while she herself is struggling. The lack of support she has coupled show more with the judgements she faces from all sides, and her own judgements of herself leave her frequently feeling a bit untethered and adrift -- a stress a child can't help but pick up on. The ways she both accepts and rebels against responsibility for every aspect of her daughter's behavior -- that slides from apathy if not defensive rage to guilt and panic -- cannot help but be relatable to many mothers, whether or not the specific circumstances causing those reactions are familiar.

This was such an impulse purchase for me -- I had seen the cover image over and over on Instagram, but don't think I had even read any of the reviews. I am very glad to have discovered this one. A quiet, deeply empathetic novel. show less

Territory of Light by Yuko Tsushima is a slender volume which is episodic due to its initial release as a serial in a monthly journal. That said, it still holds together as a novel because it takes place over the course of a year, each chapter taking place in subsequent months.

This is the type of novel one can read in a single sitting quite easily, but I wouldn't recommend it. I think this warrants a slower read with time between chapters to think about what happened, what it means, and how the character may have changed. In that sense this might be better read as a collection of related short stories even though it isn't.

At times poignant and tender, at times harsh and almost cruel, Territory of Light illustrates the fluctuations of show more everyday life, especially after a life-altering decision. What seems certain one moment is questionable the next. Plans become merely hopeful predictions while surprises become the new normal. These aspects will speak to all readers. The fact that this is a woman in a very gender-conscious society speaks specifically to any readers who know what it is like to battle not only personal obstacles but societal ones as well.

I highly recommend this for readers who might like to read and think about the day-to-day process of living, flaws and mistakes included. While very specific it also offers multiples avenues into the narrative so that any reader will be able to find something with which to empathize.

Reviewed from a copy made available through Goodreads First Reads. show less

Territory of Light is a short, intense book about one woman's first year after separating from her husband. It's a subtle book; Tsushima never explicitly tell us that the narrator is lonely, isolated, or depressed, but rather lets the reader witness her mental state as she struggles to raise her daughter without her husband. This story is beautiful and heartbreaking.

The territory of light from the title is the woman's new apartment, which is flooded with light from windows on all sides. Her young daughter loves this warm and sunny place, which brings comfort to the narrator, who feels guilty about separating the child from her father. The apartment isn't perfect; there was a flooding incident and the neighbors aren't the friendliness, show more but this is their new home.

"All this while, I had kept hoping that once I settled into the new apartment - about the time I became able to find my way around it with my eyes closed and not bump into things - the normality of a relaxed and reasonably sociable existence like the one I used to have, back when I'd started living with my husband, would be conferred on me. That seems to have been my state of mind in those months. For all the world as though I were studying for an entrance exam, I guess I must have believed that if I did my best I would pass, after which I could coast, feeling proud of myself. I did start out with every intention of jettisoning my starry-eyed expectations and recognizing what I'd failed to see so far, but I didn't yet know what it meant in practice to trim my expectations."

This book broke my heart. Since her husband has left, our narrator only has her daughter and her mundane job. She fantasizes about connecting with the other mothers from her daughter's daycare, but the friendship never materializes. She drinks and has casual sex to fill a void. None of these feelings are ever explicitly stated in the text, but Tsushima's sparse prose nonetheless illustrates these emotions. The matter-of-fact narration is so raw.

The daughter cries herself to sleep at night, which eventually escalates into screaming fits. I'm not a parent, but Tsushima's description of how the narrator reacted felt so true.

"It was not so much hearing her crying as finding myself shouting vile abuse and feeling like smothering her that made me realize for the first time just hat the long days ahead would be like. I longed to have my old life back. But there was no going back now, nor any way out. I couldn't decide whether I'd done this to myself or fallen for a ruse of unknown origin. what I'd failed to see so far, it turned out, was my own cruelty."

Our narrator's journey is long and shadowed by death. People on the sidelines of her life begin to die and she sees funeral after funeral on the street. Out of this death finally comes healing.

"I had the feeling that I finally understood what the series of deaths had been trying to tell me. The light of heat, of energy. My body was fully endowed with heat and energy. I couldn't help but see myself standing there last night, transfixed by the glowing red sky, never sparing the approach of death a thought."

I loved every bit of this book. Tsushima's writing is beautiful, and she uses every word deliberately. There is no excess. I am astounded at the complexity of the narrator's emotions, which are never directly written about, but are nevertheless incredibly vivid.

If you like contemporary Japanese fiction, you will love Territory of Light.

ARC provided by Farrar, Straus & Giroux in exchange for an honest review.

The quotes above were taken from an ARC and are subject to change upon publication. show less

A softer edge than Haruki Murakami, but equal in using words to create evocative imagery. Light & darkness revolve and intertwine in this story of mother & child, of woman finding her way to herself, and of the passage of one year after separating from a husband. Achingly expressed emotions, fears, fantasies, and realities combine to create a sensory and emotional experience for the reader. Every painful step in the separation process rings true! Wonderfully painful novel!

A sparse, realistic depiction of single-motherhood in Japan during the 1970s. Undeniably a relavant text from the time and place, Territory of Light unfortunately lacks the emotional grit necessary to make a lasting impression on contemprary audiences. Despite this, I was particularly enamoured by the author's choice to not share the main character's name nor the real reason for her seperation. The occasional bits of brilliance though could not win me over. I'm completely open to this being a translation issue, as broadly, I felt there was a lack of attention to greater themes in the small details that may be ripe in the original.

Tsushima's approach to the novel was unique in terms of her use of imagery. The twelve chapters, which originally came out in monthly installments in a Japanese periodical, were often built around a single image mentioned in the title. Hence, "The Water's Edge" was centered around the flooding of the apartment roof. The narrative unfolded with the restraint and grace of the elements – light, water, wind, sand dunes, trees, birds, fire. And with light as the dominant, illuminating image, the poetry was evident in the sentences. Geraldine Harcourt, the perennial translator of Tsushima's novels and stories, must have been on point and extra cautious in her selection of words here if she can reproduce sentences like, "The early summer show more leaves were still young; they stirred coolly at the tips of the branches, giving off tiny gleams that flitted like insects", or "The more of those gloomy, cramped apartments I looked at, the further the figure of my husband receded from sight, and while the rooms were invariably dark, I began to sense a gleam in their darkness like that of an animal's eyes. There was something there glaring back at me. Although it scared me, I wanted to approach it."

Full review at: http://booktrek.blogspot.com/2018/03/tsushimas-light-and-darkness.html?m=1 show less

While I have never been a newly-divorced mother of a 3 year old trying to make it on my own in devoutly paternalistic Tokyo society in the 1960s, this novel resonated as a felt experience of losing your mind while you try to re-establish who you are in the world. I had not heard of this author before - glad I did!