Cold Enough for Snow

At times, a beautiful articulating of thoughts on art, family, immigration and unreliable memories, but I also found it hard not to shake the rambling nature of the storytelling.

3.5 rounded down; This book immediately reminded me of [b:Our Wives Under the Sea 58659343 Our Wives Under the Sea Julia Armfield https://i.gr-assets.com/images/S/compressed.photo.goodreads.com/books/1633437192l/58659343.SY75.jpg 92277854] for some reason, maybe because of its quietness and uncertainties throughout the book. There's really no plot, a narrator-mother duo traveling around Japan as the narrator reminisces. I think it threw me off that the memories were beginning to stray, like it started it off with narrator-mother, so I expected its memories to be more connected with them, but it began to be all sorts of things and it immediately disconnected me. I enjoyed the first half, didn't care much for the last half. Beautiful writing though.

reading this book was like sipping a hot tea, cozy, inviting, thought provoking. I really enjoyed it.

I liked this how I like a zoo. A zoo doesn't try to replace a study on wildlife biology or even a class on mammals, but a zoo does expose your five senses to marvelous stuff. Unfortunately, like some zoos, the wonder can get lost in the dallying, but I'd certainly like this author's style to tell some surreal mystery thriller story

Still not sure what to make of this one, even on a second reading. The first time was inclined to wonder Why are we doing this or how does this all fit together, second time was more taking each moment as it's told. Enjoyed the experience of it, which is what matters most.

A daughter takes her mother, originally from Hong Kong, to Japan for a holiday. It alternates between precisely observed details of the present and the daughter's narration of memories from her past, her mother's, sister's and partner's.

“I wanted to walk in the woods and among the trees. I wanted not to speak to anyone, only to see and hear, to feel lonely.”

Lovely. Soft, calm, and reflective. The story follows a young woman travelling to Japan with her mother, as she floats in and out of memories and loses herself deep in thought. It flows so seamlessly and felt exactly like I was drifting in and out of the narrator's mind with her. This would be a perfect book to read on a holiday, a long train ride, or a soft and rainy day.

I resonated with the narrator's desire to engage in deeper conversation but not being able to articulate exactly what it is you want to ask of people. Much of the story is centered around her feelings, which she sometimes struggles to grasp and define, yet I felt as though I understood her sentiments perfectly. What it feels like to be on the brink of an intense feeling or thought that you cannot articulate and passes by in seconds. But she embraces this loneliness she feels among her own thoughts, and emphasises the joy to be found in the simple pleasures of life - being with people you love, listening to a storm in the warmth of your own bed, being in nature.

I admired the way in which the author encapsulated feeling inadequate and out of place. She describes her view of other people as seemingly complete in a way that she isn't, feeling as if there is some bigger understanding or way of being that she is missing but that other people have. However, the narrative goes on with an underlying calmness, wherein the narrator reflects upon her desire to simply experience and observe and “let life happen to [her]”, accepting what she cannot control rather than lamenting about it. That you cannot compare one life to another, and that it is okay to not be sure of what you want.

It was comforting, touching, and meditative. 4 stars because I feel as though it could have been longer and spent more time exploring the relationship between the narrator and her mother - but I feel that perhaps the point is all that was left unsaid between them.

An extremely moving novella - meditative. opaque, and yet full of very precise and beautiful observations; of nature, of everyday objects and scenes, of people, and of art. On the face of it a tale of a young woman and her mother visiting Japan together, it gets less and less clear how much of this story is actually real and how much is imagined.
There's a sentence towards the end almost explicitly warning you not to believe what you're reading, comparing writing to a painter painting over what was previously there:

“It was only in this way that one could go back and change the past, to make things not as they were, but as we wished they had been, or rather as we saw it. I said, for this reason, it was better for her not to trust anything she read.”

Au also manages some wonderful descriptions of Japan, that almost physically took me back there:

“The streets were so small that there were often no footpaths but rather white lines drawn on the asphalt to indicate where you could walk. Occasionally, we'd pass a cluster of convenience stores and small shops and coffee houses, which you could always spot at a distance by their brightly coloured vertical signs.”

And about learning Japanese:

“I thought of learning Japanese, how childlike I still felt in the language, how I was capable only of asking for the simplest things. And yet, I persisted, because I dreamed one day of being able to say more. I thought of the instances when I had been able to converse in a string of sentences, like with the woman at the bookshop, and how good this had felt, how electric.”