What you are looking for is in the library by Michiko Aoyama. Report.

Katharine began by speaking about Michiko Aoyama, who was born in 1970 in Aichi Prefecture, Honshu, Japan. After university, Aoyama became a reporter for a Japanese newspaper based in Sydney before moving back to Japan to work as a magazine editor in Tokyo. What You are Looking for is in the Library was shortlisted for the Japan Booksellers' Award and became a Japanese bestseller. Katharine found very little personal information about the author and only one interview from the Hindustan Times even though she has written five books. It seems that the books reveal her own feelings about kindness, believing in yourself, etc. For Katharine, this is a charming, gentle read full of thought-provoking wisdom, perfect for people who are facing a dilemma in choosing a career, starting something new, needing inspiration, or facing fear of missing out due to social media. It revolves around the appeal of libraries, community and friendship. In the interview, Aoyama states: “The library is a place that’s open to anyone and can be visited freely and as often as you like. I think it’s a dream system to be able to borrow books and take them home without exchanging money.”

 

Michiko Aoyama’s novel combines realism with a dash of fantasy. The otherworldly librarian, Sayuri Komachi, seems to act like a kind of magical or spiritual creature, a form of benevolent yokai (supernatural being), or perhaps a goddess, whose book recommendations lead these readers in unexpected directions.  For Katharine, Sayuri Komachi was the only character that felt unexplored, save for a few peeks at her character here and there through her brief interactions with the library users. This was probably done to keep an air of mystique around her character. We discussed whether she came across as overweight (which would seem a bit fattist) or simply larger than life. She’s outsized and has a peculiar voice. Her typing seems super human. She makes her little felt objects and randomly distributes them, but they turn out to be just right for each character. The book suggestions she makes are surprising, but they unlock something in each character. Is she some kind of genie?  The narrative reveals that Sayuri Komachi has been a special needs counsellor before becoming a reference librarian, so there is a rational explanation for her insight, but still her talent remains mysterious. She is hidden behind a screen in the library; only the cute young assistant is visible. Readers compared her to a witch, to a “magical negro” character,  to the Wizard of Oz, or even to Santa (but without the jolly demeanour). Each character has a slightly different way of describing the librarian so that our impression of her builds over the course of the book. Still, much remains mysterious about her.

 

How does the librarian know which book would unblock the character’s life trajectory? She doesn’t really, but the suggestions expand their views by opening up their minds. The fun is in watching these people interpret the "strange book" in their own way and adapt its message to what they needed all along. For example, the sales assistant, Tomoko, is directionless. Someone suggests the community house that provides classes and that leads her to the library. That one visit opens doors. Never could she have imagined the possibilities that she was capable of creating for herself just by revisiting the children’s book recommended by the librarian.

 

Through these five interconnected stories, (of people at five different stages in their lives) the author explores the need for human connection, friendship, community and above all, the fact that change and personal growth are possible at every stage in life. This short novel is an ode to the role of libraries, librarians and the transformative power of books. It is also about the importance of community and building positive, supportive relationships through open communication, trust, and small acts of kindness.

 

Of the five different characters’ stories gathered in the book, Katharine asked which character we liked best. Susan said she liked the first one and even felt disappointed when the book moved on to a new character and the sales assistant disappeared. Agnès wrote in her email that she loved Tomoka's character precisely because she cooks and recipes bring us together. 

 

We discussed Agnès’s mixed feelings about the book: “Is it a children's book, a self help book, what else? Agnès said that when she finished, she found “a little philosophical music in it... The writing is a bit simple and naïve, but there is food for thought afterwards.” Pat agreed that the book had a slight air of self-help manuals. The message seems to be “don’t give up your day job…” Also the book suggests that you can’t solve a problem by yourself. By talking to other people, the characters find ways out of the ruts they are in. They are surprised to find that you can find direction from other than official sources, just by talking to others.

 

Another point we found emphasised in the book was its critique of patriarchal society. It describes different sorts of male entitlement: there’s Masao the retiree who can’t do laundry, Hiroya, the son whose mother takes care of him, and the new father who does nothing to help with the baby. The retiree knows very little about his wife even though they’ve been married a long time. The women are the stronger characters—the librarian of course, the retiree’s wife, and the girlfriend Hina who proposes to Ryo. Perhaps through her experience working in Australia, the author learned to see Japan from the outside and to make her very gentle critique of the culture. The book suggests that Japanese culture is changing. It was once closed to outside culture and members of society were not supposed to break out in any way. The librarian figure suggests that it’s alright to be larger than life.

 

Was it a novel in fact or a collection of five short stories? We noticed that though the five stories were separate, the characters’ lives intersected in different ways, not simply through their visits to the library. There were fairly detailed portrayals of each of the five protagonists, although the librarian remained fairly mysterious. Katharine mentioned that the author had worked as a journalist and perhaps the detail she gives came from that training. 

 

Sealia liked the idea that the book finds you. The librarian matches the book to the person. The books helped foster a feeling of community by bringing isolated or alienated individuals back into meaningful contact with others. For example, once the retail worker read the recommended books, she opened to what her co-worker had to say. Selia’s word for the book was “cosy” and a few others in the group agreed that it was like a warm hug.

 

There was a lot of discussion about the foreignness of Japanese culture. Wendy found the characters difficult to relate too, since they all seemed to define themselves principally by their work. Self-criticism and shame about perceived inadequacy seemed to dominate. At the same time, they didn’t seem to have the complex inner lives or distinctive features that we expect in Western literature. The characters seem to be chosen to represent different stages of life, from the recent college graduate bored with her work in the department store, to the new mother, Natsumi, juggling her responsibilities to her child with her need to continue in her career, to the the retiree struggling with his sudden lack of purpose. Pat pointed out that we know people in similar situations. All the same, some of us found their interior dialogues alien. There was a homogeneity to them which may be a feature of the translation. The only one with a sometimes distinctive voice was the 30 year old Manga fan.

 

Wendy mentioned how the problem of translation seemed particularly acute in the last section when the retiree takes up poetry. The poems seem banal and meaningless and repetitive. But this prompted Wendy to do a little research on Japanese poetry and she found that Japanese writing uses three different types of characters, all of which are visually significant in poetry, which means that it’s impossible to translate adequately. Added to that is a poetic tradition where repeated sounds—a kind of music—equate with poetic beauty. So what may sound to us like an infant babbling is aesthetically pleasing to a Japanese reader.

 

We discussed how the collectivity is a primary consideration for the Japanese, whereas individual desire predominates for Westerners. It seems they must fit into society like cogs in a machine and not stand out. The alienated characters have to learn to trust others and accept help from unexpected quarters. Sealia mentioned the concept of  ikigai an ideal in which you harmonise what brings you joy,  what you contribute to society, what you want to do for self-fulfilment, and what you get paid for.

 

Communication is a problem, as we see from the very first interaction between Tomoko and the friend who messages her. Tomoko wants to reply that she’s bored but the automatic response button suggests “Brilliant!” so she sends that. The characters learn to communicate better, which sometimes means communicating through objects. There’s the exchange of rice balls then of the “castella” cakes. There’s the Honeydome cookies and hairpin that reveal the librarian’s love story. These objects contribute to the fairytale quality of the book.

 

We discussed the little that some of us know about Japanese culture. Pat taught Japanese students and mentioned their difficulty in talking about any problems. Hierarchy is very strict and there are rules governing how they interact with different people depending on status: how they offer an object to someone and how low they bow. Japan still has the highest rate of suicide among young people. Also it has a tradition of public self criticism that westerners find disturbing. The Japanese embassy in France has an emergency culture shock section to deal with what they call “the Paris syndrome”—when visitors discover that the capital is not like the TV image of it. We had a brief discussion of Japanese toilets. Evette recommended Perfect Days, the film about the Japanese toilet cleaner by Wim Wenders. 

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Katharine asked whether we thought the book was aimed only at women? In the novel, men read the Pink Plane Tree book. We agreed that people would ask Japanese acquaintances for feedback on this question.