"By and by she cleared out her room, the same way she had cleared out her house. Or she walked between things never touching them. Only sometimes did she stop midway and had a notion of what she was missing. The things she then searched for were in eerie disproportion to the things she had actually lost.
I had assumed that my mother's personality would always stay the same until the very end."
from Okaasan. Meine unbekannte Mutter ("Okaasan. My unknown Mother") by Milena Michiko Flašar (2010, Residenz Verla; my translation)
Milena Michiko Flašar *1980
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| I called him Necktie |
Milena has been one of the many authors present at the Writers Unlimited Festival in Den Haag this year. Quietly and very politely listening to her colleagues she did not stand out immediately. But the things she had to say left an imprint on me to get at least curious. As Milena is Austrian and writes in German, I bought the original title of I called him Necktie = Ich nannte ihn Krawatte which had been in focus at the festival. A pretty book introducing a Japanese phenomenon called 'hikikomori': someone who withdraws from all social life and tries to live in isolation, mainly young adults still living with their parents. In the book itself, we meet two characters: one withdrawing from his former social life and one going the opposite way. A simple story it seems of two lost souls telling their lives to each other in the course of a few weeks. The narrator is very kind and understanding of the two characters' diverse situations. As a reader you feel all sympathy for the two men. But actually they cannot be trusted. The his-stories behind the characters are cruel, sometimes ugly, heartless and unsympathetic. Yet, as a reader you feel all the sympathy for their doings which leaves one torn between rejection and acceptance. Mainly, because you feel trapped by the conflicts they had to deal with in the past. The actions taken or not taken are so recognisable that one feels reminded of similar situations of one's own past. How much can you forgive yourself and/or the characters? Though the characters are clearly Japanese in their setting, their acts are universal - and with it all the book's perfect use of language and rhythm makes it more than brilliant.
And how come that an Austrian writes about a Japanese phenomenon? Milena was born in St. Pölten, Austria, to a Japanese mother and an Austrian father. That might give us some idea.
Her second book Okaasan. Mein unbekannte Mutter ("Okaasan. My unknown Mother"; not yet translated) is actually focusing on her Japanese mother, though in the book it is only a side track which doesn't stand central. As the title indicates, it is mainly about mothers in general. In the first part we are drawn into the life of the narrator but also learn about various other characters and their, obviously, complicated relationships with their mother. Non is true to the main character: she seems to have (had) a good relationship with her mother. Evidently, that relationship is undergoing massive changes as her mother is 'changing' herself. Also in this book, the author's craft of the use of language is palpable. It has an energy, strength and rhythm which I compared at some stages to David Grossman's book Falling out of Time which is similarly beautiful in its concept and language. Unfortunately, I was a bit at a loss with the second part of the book when the narrator steps on a plane to stay at an ashram in India for some time. There was some logic in it and the end of the story closes a circle but it somehow didn't fit.
Nevertheless, the author, who studied Comparative Literature, German and Romance philology in Vienna and Berlin, is a very promising author with an exceptional craft in the use of language. Probably, because she is bilingually educated and learned to live in at least two concepts of the world and its languages. Additionally, Milena is also trained as a teacher in 'German as a Foreign Language' (DAF) and is very much aware of language structure. All in all, a splendid background supporting her brilliance in language.
Her first novel, [ich bin] ("I Am"; no translation) is similarly intriguing and strong in its language use. Unfortunately, only the latest novel has been translated into English (and Dutch). Time to do some more translation, I should say.
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