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Mina's Matchbox
From the award-winning, psychologically astute author of The Memory Police, here is a hypnotic, introspective novel about an affluent Japanese family navigating buried secrets, and their young house guest who uncovers them.
In the spring of 1972, twelve-year-old Tomoko leaves her mother behind in Tokyo and boards a train alone for Ashiya, a coastal town in Japan, to stay with her aunt’s family. Tomoko’s aunt is an enigma and an outlier in her working-class family, and her magnificent home—and handsome, foreign husband, the president of a soft drink company—are symbols of that status. The seventeen rooms are filled with German-made furnishings; there are sprawling gardens, and even an old zoo where the family’s pygmy hippopotamus resides. The family is just as beguiling as their mansion—Tomoko’s dignified and devoted aunt, her German grandmother, and her dashing, charming uncle who confidently sits as the family’s patriarch. At the center of the family is Tomoko’s cousin Mina, a precocious, asthmatic girl of thirteen who draws Tomoko into an intoxicating world full of secret crushes and elaborate storytelling.
In this elegant jewel box of a book, Yoko Ogawa invites us to witness a powerful and formative interlude in Tomoko’s life, which she looks back on briefly from adulthood at the novel’s end. Behind the family’s sophistication are complications that Tomoko struggles to understand—her uncle’s mysterious absences, her German grandmother’s experience of the second world war, her aunt’s misery. Rich with the magic and mystery of youthful experience, Mina’s Matchbox is an evocative snapshot of a moment frozen in time—and a striking depiction of a family on the edge of collapse.
In the spring of 1972, twelve-year-old Tomoko leaves her mother behind in Tokyo and boards a train alone for Ashiya, a coastal town in Japan, to stay with her aunt’s family. Tomoko’s aunt is an enigma and an outlier in her working-class family, and her magnificent home—and handsome, foreign husband, the president of a soft drink company—are symbols of that status. The seventeen rooms are filled with German-made furnishings; there are sprawling gardens, and even an old zoo where the family’s pygmy hippopotamus resides. The family is just as beguiling as their mansion—Tomoko’s dignified and devoted aunt, her German grandmother, and her dashing, charming uncle who confidently sits as the family’s patriarch. At the center of the family is Tomoko’s cousin Mina, a precocious, asthmatic girl of thirteen who draws Tomoko into an intoxicating world full of secret crushes and elaborate storytelling.
In this elegant jewel box of a book, Yoko Ogawa invites us to witness a powerful and formative interlude in Tomoko’s life, which she looks back on briefly from adulthood at the novel’s end. Behind the family’s sophistication are complications that Tomoko struggles to understand—her uncle’s mysterious absences, her German grandmother’s experience of the second world war, her aunt’s misery. Rich with the magic and mystery of youthful experience, Mina’s Matchbox is an evocative snapshot of a moment frozen in time—and a striking depiction of a family on the edge of collapse.
288 pages, Hardcover
First published April 1, 2006
About the author
Yōko Ogawa
143 books4,564 followersYōko Ogawa (小川 洋子) was born in Okayama, Okayama Prefecture, graduated from Waseda University, and lives in Ashiya. Since 1988, she has published more than twenty works of fiction and nonfiction. Her novel The Professor and his Beloved Equation has been made into a movie. In 2006 she co-authored „An Introduction to the World's Most Elegant Mathematics“ with Masahiko Fujiwara, a mathematician, as a dialogue on the extraordinary beauty of numbers.
A film in French, "L'Annulaire“ (The Ringfinger), directed by Diane Bertrand, starring Olga Kurylenko and Marc Barbé, was released in France in June 2005 and subsequently made the rounds of the international film festivals; the film, some of which is filmed in the Hamburg docks, is based in part on Ogawa's "Kusuriyubi no hyōhon“ (薬指の標本), translated into French as "L'Annulaire“ (by Rose-Marie Makino-Fayolle who has translated numerous works by Ogawa, as well as works by Akira Yoshimura and by Ranpo Edogawa, into French).
Kenzaburō Ōe has said, 'Yōko Ogawa is able to give expression to the most subtle workings of human psychology in prose that is gentle yet penetrating.' The subtlety in part lies in the fact that Ogawa's characters often seem not to know why they are doing what they are doing. She works by accumulation of detail, a technique that is perhaps more successful in her shorter works; the slow pace of development in the longer works requires something of a deus ex machina to end them. The reader is presented with an acute description of what the protagonists, mostly but not always female, observe and feel and their somewhat alienated self-observations, some of which is a reflection of Japanese society and especially women's roles within in it. The tone of her works varies, across the works and sometimes within the longer works, from the surreal, through the grotesque and the--sometimes grotesquely--humorous, to the psychologically ambiguous and even disturbing.
A film in French, "L'Annulaire“ (The Ringfinger), directed by Diane Bertrand, starring Olga Kurylenko and Marc Barbé, was released in France in June 2005 and subsequently made the rounds of the international film festivals; the film, some of which is filmed in the Hamburg docks, is based in part on Ogawa's "Kusuriyubi no hyōhon“ (薬指の標本), translated into French as "L'Annulaire“ (by Rose-Marie Makino-Fayolle who has translated numerous works by Ogawa, as well as works by Akira Yoshimura and by Ranpo Edogawa, into French).
Kenzaburō Ōe has said, 'Yōko Ogawa is able to give expression to the most subtle workings of human psychology in prose that is gentle yet penetrating.' The subtlety in part lies in the fact that Ogawa's characters often seem not to know why they are doing what they are doing. She works by accumulation of detail, a technique that is perhaps more successful in her shorter works; the slow pace of development in the longer works requires something of a deus ex machina to end them. The reader is presented with an acute description of what the protagonists, mostly but not always female, observe and feel and their somewhat alienated self-observations, some of which is a reflection of Japanese society and especially women's roles within in it. The tone of her works varies, across the works and sometimes within the longer works, from the surreal, through the grotesque and the--sometimes grotesquely--humorous, to the psychologically ambiguous and even disturbing.
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 489 reviews
October 3, 2024
i love gossip. that's why i read books about buried secrets
(review to come / thanks to the publisher for the e-arc)
(review to come / thanks to the publisher for the e-arc)
March 20, 2024
Winner of the 2006 Tanizaki prize, Yōko Ogawa’s exquisitely-drawn exploration of impermanence deals with familiar themes - from the transient nature of existence to the loss of childhood innocence - but manages to render them fresh and vivid. The scenario at the centre of Ogawa’s variation on a coming-of-age novel is equally familiar: the outsider suddenly plunged into an entirely alien environment. Her novel’s narrated by Tomoko who’s recalling incidents from her childhood over 30 years earlier; reassuring recollections abruptly intermingled with more traumatic ones starting with the death of her father in 1966 - the first in a series of deaths that surface throughout Ogawa’s novel. Broader reflections on mortality and the fleeting nature of all things are underlined by the structure of Ogawa’s narrative which, like many Japanese stories, is organised by the passing of the seasons. All of this might give the impression this is a deeply serious, sombre piece – at times it is – but it can also be charming and funny as well as sinister and slightly surreal, laced with bursts of startling imagery.
The core of the novel opens in spring, time of new beginnings, it’s March 1972 and 12-year-old Tomoko is leaving her home in Okayama – where Ogawa grew up. Tomoko’s going to spend a year with her aunt’s family in Ashiya while her mother attempts to improve her employment prospects by studying in Tokyo. Tomoko’s aunt’s the family member who attracts the most gossip, married to the wealthy head of a beverage company, her half-German husband is considered a foreigner. But when Tomoko arrives in Ashiya she feels as if she’s entered an enchanted space. Her aunt and uncle live in a grand, Western-style mansion along with her younger cousin Mina, Mina’s German grandmother Rosa, cook Yoneda-san and gardener Kobayashi-san. Kobayashi-san has an unusual responsibility, he tends to the family pet a pygmy hippo known as Pochiko the last survivor of a zoo closed since WW2. Pochiko’s a key figure here, member of a species threatened with extinction, remnant of the past - his moods, his melancholy, his isolation mirror aspects of the family’s situation. Pochiko’s also been trained to carry fragile Mina to school and back, a task that confirms her family’s underlying eccentricity.
At first Tomoko feels as if she's a princess in a fairy tale. Outside Japan’s going through a particularly turbulent phase but the house seems part of some other, lost world. But as time passes Tomoko notices her handsome, hospitable uncle’s hardly ever around and the women rarely go out. Locked away in the house they read voraciously, inhabiting separate fictional realms. Each of them harbours secrets from Mina’s horde of vintage matchboxes and the unsettling stories she weaves around them to the uncle’s disappearances and what happened to Rosa’s sister left behind in Germany. Only Tomoko has any grounding in reality. But there are moments when the outside breaks through: the Munich Olympics and “Black September” connect Mina and Tomoko to an imagined community of TV viewers; news of Kawabata’s suicide plunges the household into mourning leading to a strange encounter with a librarian who somewhat perversely persuades Tomoko to borrow The House of the Sleeping Beauties.
As a writer Ogawa values visual images and a sense of place over plot. Ogawa’s chosen setting of Ashiya builds on personal knowledge of the area: the house’s based on a former local landmark; minor characters on people she knows there; Mina travelling on Pochiko’s back links to local stories about a private zoo and a boy who went to school by donkey. But it also allows Ogawa to play on associations conjured by Ashiya and its surrounds: its connections to a particular generation of bourgeois Japanese families and Hanshinkan modernism, and its fame as home to writer Jun'ichirō Tanizaki. Ashiya features in Tanizaki’s best-known work The Makioka Sisters. There are echoes of Tanizaki’s novel in Ogawa’s particularly his interest in declining cultures and the delicate interplay between individuals and wider historical events. But Tanizaki’s not the only influence on display here: Kawabata’s Snow Country, Anne Frank, Katherine Mansfield’s portraits of family life, and even Anne of Green Gables all have a part to play. Like a number of Japanese novels this started out in serial form so it’s fairly episodic and I won't claim Ogawa’s narrative doesn't have weaker moments - elements of Ogawa’s symbolism were a little too obvious and I wasn’t totally comfortable with her use of animals. But even so I was totally swept away by it. Translated by Stephen Snyder.
Thanks to Netgalley and publisher Harvill Secker for an ARC
The core of the novel opens in spring, time of new beginnings, it’s March 1972 and 12-year-old Tomoko is leaving her home in Okayama – where Ogawa grew up. Tomoko’s going to spend a year with her aunt’s family in Ashiya while her mother attempts to improve her employment prospects by studying in Tokyo. Tomoko’s aunt’s the family member who attracts the most gossip, married to the wealthy head of a beverage company, her half-German husband is considered a foreigner. But when Tomoko arrives in Ashiya she feels as if she’s entered an enchanted space. Her aunt and uncle live in a grand, Western-style mansion along with her younger cousin Mina, Mina’s German grandmother Rosa, cook Yoneda-san and gardener Kobayashi-san. Kobayashi-san has an unusual responsibility, he tends to the family pet a pygmy hippo known as Pochiko the last survivor of a zoo closed since WW2. Pochiko’s a key figure here, member of a species threatened with extinction, remnant of the past - his moods, his melancholy, his isolation mirror aspects of the family’s situation. Pochiko’s also been trained to carry fragile Mina to school and back, a task that confirms her family’s underlying eccentricity.
At first Tomoko feels as if she's a princess in a fairy tale. Outside Japan’s going through a particularly turbulent phase but the house seems part of some other, lost world. But as time passes Tomoko notices her handsome, hospitable uncle’s hardly ever around and the women rarely go out. Locked away in the house they read voraciously, inhabiting separate fictional realms. Each of them harbours secrets from Mina’s horde of vintage matchboxes and the unsettling stories she weaves around them to the uncle’s disappearances and what happened to Rosa’s sister left behind in Germany. Only Tomoko has any grounding in reality. But there are moments when the outside breaks through: the Munich Olympics and “Black September” connect Mina and Tomoko to an imagined community of TV viewers; news of Kawabata’s suicide plunges the household into mourning leading to a strange encounter with a librarian who somewhat perversely persuades Tomoko to borrow The House of the Sleeping Beauties.
As a writer Ogawa values visual images and a sense of place over plot. Ogawa’s chosen setting of Ashiya builds on personal knowledge of the area: the house’s based on a former local landmark; minor characters on people she knows there; Mina travelling on Pochiko’s back links to local stories about a private zoo and a boy who went to school by donkey. But it also allows Ogawa to play on associations conjured by Ashiya and its surrounds: its connections to a particular generation of bourgeois Japanese families and Hanshinkan modernism, and its fame as home to writer Jun'ichirō Tanizaki. Ashiya features in Tanizaki’s best-known work The Makioka Sisters. There are echoes of Tanizaki’s novel in Ogawa’s particularly his interest in declining cultures and the delicate interplay between individuals and wider historical events. But Tanizaki’s not the only influence on display here: Kawabata’s Snow Country, Anne Frank, Katherine Mansfield’s portraits of family life, and even Anne of Green Gables all have a part to play. Like a number of Japanese novels this started out in serial form so it’s fairly episodic and I won't claim Ogawa’s narrative doesn't have weaker moments - elements of Ogawa’s symbolism were a little too obvious and I wasn’t totally comfortable with her use of animals. But even so I was totally swept away by it. Translated by Stephen Snyder.
Thanks to Netgalley and publisher Harvill Secker for an ARC
July 20, 2024
You know when you do a deep clean of your bedroom and find random objects from years ago, even as far back as childhood, that immediately put you back in that time and place? And in some ways you are wistful for that period of your life, but also kind of sad because you realize how long ago it was and that so much has changed since then? That's the vibe that this book brings to the table.
The story is recounted to us by Tomoko nearly three decades later as she reflects on her experiences. She views various photographs and objects that call up memories and she pieces it together for us in a simple but moving narrative.
In 1972, 12-year-old Tomoko is sent to live with her aunt's family for a year while her single mother completes an education course to pursue a better career. Tomoko moves a few hours away to a palatial home filled with antique furniture, books and even a pygmy hippopotamus; a stark contrast to her humble life with her mother. Populating the house are: her aunt (her mother's sister), her handsome uncle who is the president of a soft drink company, Yoneda-san who manages the home, Kobayashi-san the groundskeeper, her great aunt Rosa, and her sickly cousin Mina—and of course Pochiko, the previously mentioned hippo.
There's nothing super dramatic or showy about this book. Once Tomoko arrived at the house, I kept waiting for something big to happen to kick off the narrative, but then realized the story itself was the big thing. For Tomoko, everything she's experiencing is new and exciting, and you begin to feel that novelty with her. Something as seemingly small as getting a library card in a new city she will only live in for a year feels like one of her first mature, adult experiences. Getting professionally tailored clothes for her new school uniform makes her feel sophisticated and out of place at the same time. As her bond with Mina grows, she begins to see the subtle and special ways that bonds between people, observed in various relationships around her, make a strong impact.
I thought the entire cast of characters was compelling and well established in the narrative. You don't always get the full picture of them since we only know as much as Tomoko knows (in both 1972 and the present as she narrates). Just like life, especially from a child's perspective, you sometimes only see the tip of the iceberg, but as you grow up you can begin to discover what's under the surface, or at least make assumptions that alter your perception of previously held beliefs. But what's most impactful is Tomoko's specific connections to each character over the course of the year she's staying with her family. The pieces of them we get to see through her are profound and beautiful because of their singularity.
I would also like to call out, especially, the translation by Stephen Snyder. He's once again done an excellent job, from what I can tell, translating not just the words but the emotions in between the lines. Thanks to the publisher for an early review copy!
The story is recounted to us by Tomoko nearly three decades later as she reflects on her experiences. She views various photographs and objects that call up memories and she pieces it together for us in a simple but moving narrative.
In 1972, 12-year-old Tomoko is sent to live with her aunt's family for a year while her single mother completes an education course to pursue a better career. Tomoko moves a few hours away to a palatial home filled with antique furniture, books and even a pygmy hippopotamus; a stark contrast to her humble life with her mother. Populating the house are: her aunt (her mother's sister), her handsome uncle who is the president of a soft drink company, Yoneda-san who manages the home, Kobayashi-san the groundskeeper, her great aunt Rosa, and her sickly cousin Mina—and of course Pochiko, the previously mentioned hippo.
There's nothing super dramatic or showy about this book. Once Tomoko arrived at the house, I kept waiting for something big to happen to kick off the narrative, but then realized the story itself was the big thing. For Tomoko, everything she's experiencing is new and exciting, and you begin to feel that novelty with her. Something as seemingly small as getting a library card in a new city she will only live in for a year feels like one of her first mature, adult experiences. Getting professionally tailored clothes for her new school uniform makes her feel sophisticated and out of place at the same time. As her bond with Mina grows, she begins to see the subtle and special ways that bonds between people, observed in various relationships around her, make a strong impact.
I thought the entire cast of characters was compelling and well established in the narrative. You don't always get the full picture of them since we only know as much as Tomoko knows (in both 1972 and the present as she narrates). Just like life, especially from a child's perspective, you sometimes only see the tip of the iceberg, but as you grow up you can begin to discover what's under the surface, or at least make assumptions that alter your perception of previously held beliefs. But what's most impactful is Tomoko's specific connections to each character over the course of the year she's staying with her family. The pieces of them we get to see through her are profound and beautiful because of their singularity.
I would also like to call out, especially, the translation by Stephen Snyder. He's once again done an excellent job, from what I can tell, translating not just the words but the emotions in between the lines. Thanks to the publisher for an early review copy!
March 19, 2024
When I think back to my time in Ashiya, the day Mina showed me her boxes of matchboxes stands out as the day she really took me into her confidence. Of course, we’d been on good terms before then, but the boxes of boxes opened the final door to our friendship. I was the only one among her friends or family who knew her secret. In that enormous house in Ashiya, she and I were the only ones who knew what was hidden away in those little boxes.
A beautiful coming of age story — set in 1972 suburban Japan — Mina’s Matchbox follows two cousins as they bond over first loves, literature, and a pygmy hippopotamus named Pochiko. Translated from the Japanese original, there’s a slightly stiff formality to the writing, but author Yōko Ogawa paints a vivid picture of the time and place, and by the novel’s end, I felt totally immersed and emotionally invested. Ogawa captures something true and universal about this transitional time of life and I believed everything she writes about the long-term effects of childhood experiences, family ties, and being disappointed by the ones we most admire. I loved this, rounding up to five stars. (Note: I read an ARC through NetGalley and passages quoted may not be in their final forms.)
Whenever I return there in my memory, their voices are as lively as ever, their smiling faces full of warmth. Grandmother Rosa, seated before the makeup mirror she brought from Germany as part of her trousseau, carefully rubbing her face with beauty cream. My aunt in the smoking room, tirelessly hunting for typographical errors. My uncle, impeccably dressed, even at home, endlessly tossing off his quips and jokes. The staff, Yoneda-san and Kobayashi-san, working hard in their respective domains; the family pet, Pochiko, relaxing in the garden. And my cousin Mina reading a book. We always knew when she was about from the rustling of the box of matches she kept in her pocket. The matchboxes were her precious possessions, her talismans.
Looking back thirty years later, Tomoko remembers fondly the year that she spent living with her maternal aunt’s family (as Tomoko’s widowed mother upgraded her own education in Tokyo). Tomoko remembers her initial surprise at just how large and luxurious their family home was, how handsome and charming her uncle, and how frail and beautiful her cousin, Mina: one year younger but years ahead in knowledge and sophistication. Mina’s paternal grandmother had been born in Germany, and it added a fascinating dimension to have this ageing and elegant character — still somewhat struggling to speak and read Japanese after forty years in the country — who completely accepted (the technically unrelated Tomoko) into her heart, and whose closest friend is the family housekeeper, Yoneda-san (the pair harmonise beautifully when singing duets in both German and Japanese). It was also interesting to watch the girls excitedly follow the Japanese national men’s volleyball team as they prepared for the Munich Olympics — with the German grandmother happily cheering on both the Japanese and German teams — and then seeing the Black September terrorist attack play out (). Also interesting: the hippopotamus was the only surviving animal from a zoo that Mina’s grandfather had opened on their property (the zoo becoming another victim of WWII), and everything about the pre- and post-war experience of this German-Japanese family was intriguing to me. All of this, and more, is just what’s going on in the background as Tomoko and Mina undergo an intense year of friendship: sharing new experiences, sharing secrets, and Tomoko eventually learning that a big house doesn’t guarantee a happy home.
With the passage of time, even as the distance has increased, the memories of the days I spent with Mina in Ashiya have grown more vivid and dense, have taken root deep in my heart. You might even say they’ve become the very foundation of my memory. The matchboxes from Mina, my card from the Ashiya Public Library, the family photo taken in the garden — they’re always with me. On sleepless nights, I open the matchbox and reread the story of the girl who gathered shooting stars. I remember that Sunday adventure, when I went alone to the Fressy factory, received a matchbox from a batlike man, and found the Ezaka Royal Mansion. And when I recall those things, I feel somehow that the past is still alive, still watching over me.
The strongest point that Ogawa makes is how impressionable we are at that transitional time into the teenage years, and the experiences and influences we have during that period can build the foundations of who we eventually become. Looking back thirty years later, Tomoko shows where these seeds were planted in her own life, and I thought the whole was pulled off with a deft and subtle touch. Loved it; I will need to get to The Memory Police.
September 1, 2024
I’m afraid I don’t have anything good to say about the book. It was probably the most “YA” book I’ve read in years, and I’ve read many “Kids’” books that were more exciting. Considering how much I loved The Housekeeper and the Professor, I found it hard to believe it was written by the same author! Of course, no one should be surprised that—being the animal lover I am—Pochiko, the pygmy hippo, was the best part of the book for me.🦛🩵🐾
I regret feeling this way, but I have to be honest.😟 I found the book quite boring, and the girls cloyingly immature. I was anxious for it to end as I could tell early on that the story wouldn’t amount to much. I’m usually fairly sure I’m going to love a book even before I buy it, and I felt that way about Mina’s Matchbox. But, boy, was I wrong!🤦♀️
2 “You-can’t-love-them-all” stars ⭐⭐
I regret feeling this way, but I have to be honest.😟 I found the book quite boring, and the girls cloyingly immature. I was anxious for it to end as I could tell early on that the story wouldn’t amount to much. I’m usually fairly sure I’m going to love a book even before I buy it, and I felt that way about Mina’s Matchbox. But, boy, was I wrong!🤦♀️
2 “You-can’t-love-them-all” stars ⭐⭐
March 2, 2024
Het lezen van de herinneringen van Tomoko doet me denken aan het kijken naar een zonsondergang boven zee.
De verstilde schoonheid van het gebeuren, zonder toeters en bellen noch strijkorkest, de kleuren nooit schreeuwerig, het tempo gezapig.
Niet zichtbaar maar aanwezig de verraderlijke stromingen onder de golven.
4,5*
De verstilde schoonheid van het gebeuren, zonder toeters en bellen noch strijkorkest, de kleuren nooit schreeuwerig, het tempo gezapig.
Niet zichtbaar maar aanwezig de verraderlijke stromingen onder de golven.
4,5*
March 16, 2024
Mina's Matchbox is literary fiction at it's finest. The story is about one year in the life of a young girl, Tomoko, who is sent to live with her wealthy Aunt and Uncle. While this is not an action packed, quick paced story, it is full of discovery and bittersweet moments meant to be savoured slowly, a bit at a time.
Thank you to Netgalley for the opportunity to read and review this book.
Thank you to Netgalley for the opportunity to read and review this book.
August 19, 2024
I really enjoyed this book and it was really wholesome. It was about a girl who stays with her uncle, cousins and grandmother for a year in their huge house and becomes really good friends with her cousin Mina who collects matchboxes. Mina also rides to school on their pet hippo and reads really interesting books from the library, so she broadens the narrators mind and the two cousins bond over their shared love of volleyball and learning.
I’ve not read much Ogawa but I feel like she is always writing really different and unique every time she publishes something new. I love her writing style though and I find her work so pleasant and easy to read.
One thing I was a bit confused at was the random almost Israel sympathising in the middle? It was totally strange? The grandmother just starts talking about how the Jewish people ‘created’ Israel and it was a bit like ummm? I just wasn’t sure why it was in there and haven’t seen anyone else mention it.
I’ve not read much Ogawa but I feel like she is always writing really different and unique every time she publishes something new. I love her writing style though and I find her work so pleasant and easy to read.
One thing I was a bit confused at was the random almost Israel sympathising in the middle? It was totally strange? The grandmother just starts talking about how the Jewish people ‘created’ Israel and it was a bit like ummm? I just wasn’t sure why it was in there and haven’t seen anyone else mention it.
August 12, 2024
Yoko Ogawa is an author who can make the simple sublime through the magic of her language. Her other works The Housekeeper and The Professor and The Memory Police were exquisitely crafted stories that struck a deep chord with me. This ability to bring a certain lyrical, enchanting beauty to the everyday continues in Mina's Matchbox.
Translated by Stephen Snyder into English from the original Japanese, Mina's Matchbox is part coming of age narrative, part chronicle of a time, place, family and part reflection on the little things that stay with us forever no matter where life takes us. We follow a young girl Tomoko as she goes to stay at her mother's sister's house for just over a year after the death of her father because her mother is working in Tokyo and cannot afford a place for both of them right away. Mina is Tomoko's aunt's daughter and they form a bond of friendship and understanding as they spend time together and grow up in the same household for a while. Tomoko also bonds with all the other members of the household including a delightful non-human (slightly unconventional) Pochiko.
Much like in Ogawa's The Housekeeper and The Professor, it is not so much what happens as to how it is conveyed. The days go by, we get a sense of how the different members of the household interact and go about their lives. We spend time with Mina, Tomoko and Pochiko and see Mina give flight to her imagination through stories which she constructs taking inspiration from the images on matchboxes she collects. It is almost a motif for how through observation, the ordinary can metamorphose into something special and leave a lasting impression in our hearts for Tomoko always cherishes the time spent at her aunt's house.
A gentle, beautiful, often humorous novel and as is often the case with Ogawa's works, tinged with a slight sadness. I was transported to the world that Ogawa describes and completely immersed throughout the novel. When it ended, I was left with a wistful sense of something beautiful coming to a close. At the same time, Ogawa's writing (translated so beautifully by Snyder) brought me peace.
Mina's Matchbox is a quietly wondrous book. I recommend this to any reader interested in a slice of life narrative or a story with immense heart.
Many thanks to NetGalley and the publishers Knopf, Pantheon, and Vintage for the eARC. All opinions expressed in this review are my own.
Translated by Stephen Snyder into English from the original Japanese, Mina's Matchbox is part coming of age narrative, part chronicle of a time, place, family and part reflection on the little things that stay with us forever no matter where life takes us. We follow a young girl Tomoko as she goes to stay at her mother's sister's house for just over a year after the death of her father because her mother is working in Tokyo and cannot afford a place for both of them right away. Mina is Tomoko's aunt's daughter and they form a bond of friendship and understanding as they spend time together and grow up in the same household for a while. Tomoko also bonds with all the other members of the household including a delightful non-human (slightly unconventional) Pochiko.
Much like in Ogawa's The Housekeeper and The Professor, it is not so much what happens as to how it is conveyed. The days go by, we get a sense of how the different members of the household interact and go about their lives. We spend time with Mina, Tomoko and Pochiko and see Mina give flight to her imagination through stories which she constructs taking inspiration from the images on matchboxes she collects. It is almost a motif for how through observation, the ordinary can metamorphose into something special and leave a lasting impression in our hearts for Tomoko always cherishes the time spent at her aunt's house.
A gentle, beautiful, often humorous novel and as is often the case with Ogawa's works, tinged with a slight sadness. I was transported to the world that Ogawa describes and completely immersed throughout the novel. When it ended, I was left with a wistful sense of something beautiful coming to a close. At the same time, Ogawa's writing (translated so beautifully by Snyder) brought me peace.
Mina's Matchbox is a quietly wondrous book. I recommend this to any reader interested in a slice of life narrative or a story with immense heart.
Many thanks to NetGalley and the publishers Knopf, Pantheon, and Vintage for the eARC. All opinions expressed in this review are my own.
August 31, 2024
Yoko Ogawa is a sorcerer, not only magically transporting her readers to different worlds but also conjuring different levels of reality. That’s a tricky feat to pull off, and her mastery never ceases to amaze me.
Case in point: in The Housekeeper and the Professor, she weaves a tale of a professor whose short-term memory only lasts 80 minutes, although his mind is still alive with elegant equations from the past. Each morning, he and his housekeeper are introduced to each other anew. In her dystopian Memory Police, ordinary objects begin to disappear, both physically and through collective consciousness – hats, ribbons, birds, roses – and overnight wipe them from collective consciousness. In Revenge: Eleven Dark Tales, sinister tales are chained together in unexpected ways.
This may be saying that I expect the unusual from Yoko Ogawa and her flights of imagination. Mina’s Matchbook is a different sort of book. It’s far more introspective, guileless, and evocative. Although this author’s trademarks – the suspense, the presentation of the unusual (a pygmy hippopotamus?), the eye for detail – it seems like a departure from her previous works.
Which is not to say it isn’t enjoyable. It’s more of a coming-of-age book, centering on a 12-year-old girl named Tomoko, who goes to live with her mother’s sister and family: her elegant half-German uncle who heads a soft-drink conglomerate, her absent male cousin who is off at university, and Mina, a slightly younger, asthmatic cousin who cherishes her hidden collection of matchboxes.
The year is 1972 and it’s a time of life when everything is happening and yet nothing is happening.
The family is secretive but well-meaning. The environment? Close to idyllic for a young girl. Yet there are hints that the world itself isn’t entirely as innocent (the premature death of a cherished Japanese volleyball champ and the massacre of Israeli athletes at the Munich Olympics). The author suggests that life is filled with stories, some poignant, some unsettling, and several that are fictional (Tomoko’s excursions to the local library to forage for library books for Mina and her crush on the librarian is a vital sub-story).
For those who love quiet and whimsical books that capture a transformative slice of time and touch your heart, Mina’s Matchbox checks all the boxes. Yoko Ogawa’s long-time translator, Stephen B. Snyder, does another superb job. I am grateful to Pantheon Books for enabling me to be an early reader in exchange for an honest review.
Case in point: in The Housekeeper and the Professor, she weaves a tale of a professor whose short-term memory only lasts 80 minutes, although his mind is still alive with elegant equations from the past. Each morning, he and his housekeeper are introduced to each other anew. In her dystopian Memory Police, ordinary objects begin to disappear, both physically and through collective consciousness – hats, ribbons, birds, roses – and overnight wipe them from collective consciousness. In Revenge: Eleven Dark Tales, sinister tales are chained together in unexpected ways.
This may be saying that I expect the unusual from Yoko Ogawa and her flights of imagination. Mina’s Matchbook is a different sort of book. It’s far more introspective, guileless, and evocative. Although this author’s trademarks – the suspense, the presentation of the unusual (a pygmy hippopotamus?), the eye for detail – it seems like a departure from her previous works.
Which is not to say it isn’t enjoyable. It’s more of a coming-of-age book, centering on a 12-year-old girl named Tomoko, who goes to live with her mother’s sister and family: her elegant half-German uncle who heads a soft-drink conglomerate, her absent male cousin who is off at university, and Mina, a slightly younger, asthmatic cousin who cherishes her hidden collection of matchboxes.
The year is 1972 and it’s a time of life when everything is happening and yet nothing is happening.
The family is secretive but well-meaning. The environment? Close to idyllic for a young girl. Yet there are hints that the world itself isn’t entirely as innocent (the premature death of a cherished Japanese volleyball champ and the massacre of Israeli athletes at the Munich Olympics). The author suggests that life is filled with stories, some poignant, some unsettling, and several that are fictional (Tomoko’s excursions to the local library to forage for library books for Mina and her crush on the librarian is a vital sub-story).
For those who love quiet and whimsical books that capture a transformative slice of time and touch your heart, Mina’s Matchbox checks all the boxes. Yoko Ogawa’s long-time translator, Stephen B. Snyder, does another superb job. I am grateful to Pantheon Books for enabling me to be an early reader in exchange for an honest review.
April 25, 2024
i am full to the brim with so much melancholic childhood whimsy rn you cannot even comprehend. rtc!!!
August 6, 2024
Review to come
September 22, 2024
Yoko Ogawa 2003 m. romanas. Parašytas jau po man laaabai patikusių "Atminties policijos" ir "Begalinės lygties". Net neabejojau, jog patiks. Ir dar toks fainas viršelis - begemotu jojanti mergaitė. O va, nuvylė žiauriai.
Aš likau abejinga tos devynmetės mergaitės brendimo istorijai ir viskam, kas aplink ją. Man pasirodė labai blankiai parašyta. Buvo be galo nuobodu ir net šiek tiek erzino. Ir begemotui čia nebuvo kas veikt.
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Aš likau abejinga tos devynmetės mergaitės brendimo istorijai ir viskam, kas aplink ją. Man pasirodė labai blankiai parašyta. Buvo be galo nuobodu ir net šiek tiek erzino. Ir begemotui čia nebuvo kas veikt.
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Shelved as 'dnfs'
August 8, 2024DNF at 30%
as with so many of the books i DNF, i was bored 🤷♀️ the writing was good and i generally liked the tone but at a certain point the story just lost my interest and reading the book started to feel like a chore. i dont need every book i read to have an intricate plot, but i DO need *a* plot, and i didnt feel like there was much of one here.
as with so many of the books i DNF, i was bored 🤷♀️ the writing was good and i generally liked the tone but at a certain point the story just lost my interest and reading the book started to feel like a chore. i dont need every book i read to have an intricate plot, but i DO need *a* plot, and i didnt feel like there was much of one here.
Read
August 16, 2024Such a lovely little book. A great palate cleanser, get happy book. Also I would fight an actual dragon with my fists for Pochiko.
July 24, 2023
Η Τομόκο, πηγαίνει να ζήσει για ένα περίπου χρόνο με την οικογένεια της θείας της, ώστε να μπορέσει η μητέρα της να μαθητεύσει για να γίνει μοδίστρα. Όλοι την αποδέχονται πολύ θερμά κι ιδιαιτέρως η Μίνα, η μικρότερη φιλάσθενη ξαδέρφη της. Η οικογένεια είναι εγκατεστημμένη σε μια έπαυλη με πολλά δωμάτια και κήπο ο οποίος φιλοξενεί την Ποτσίκο, μια ιπποπόταμο νάνο. Η Τομόκο περιγράφει την καθημερινότητά της οικογένειας, τη σχέση της με τη Μίνα, τις κουβέντες τους, τα ενδιαφέροντά τους.
Σε αυτό το διαφορετικό για εμένα βιβλίο της, η συγγραφέας, με γλυκό και τρυφερό τρόπο περιγράφει τη ζωή και τις ανησυχίες των δυο κοριτσιών, την αγάπη που έχουν για τα ζώα, τη φύση, και το πως η μία από τις δύο μυεί την άλλη στον κόσμο της λογοτεχνίας. Η ασθένεια της Μίνα, αντιμετωπίζεται με στωικότητα απ' όλους, χωρίς να στέκεται εμπόδιο.
Οι περιγραφές της Τομόκο είναι γλαφυρές και πραγματικά σε κάνουν να αισθάνεσαι σαν να βρίσκεσαι δίπλα τους.
Την αγαπώ την Ogawa και το απόλαυσα κι αυτό το βιβλίο της...
"Αν στ'αυτιά σας ακούτε ένα παράξενο θρόισμα, μην τα τρίβετε πάρα πολύ. Γιατί στις περισσότερες περιπτώσεις, αυτό οφείλεται σε αγγέλους που μπαλώνουν τις φτερούγες τους πάνω στους λοβούς σας."
Σε αυτό το διαφορετικό για εμένα βιβλίο της, η συγγραφέας, με γλυκό και τρυφερό τρόπο περιγράφει τη ζωή και τις ανησυχίες των δυο κοριτσιών, την αγάπη που έχουν για τα ζώα, τη φύση, και το πως η μία από τις δύο μυεί την άλλη στον κόσμο της λογοτεχνίας. Η ασθένεια της Μίνα, αντιμετωπίζεται με στωικότητα απ' όλους, χωρίς να στέκεται εμπόδιο.
Οι περιγραφές της Τομόκο είναι γλαφυρές και πραγματικά σε κάνουν να αισθάνεσαι σαν να βρίσκεσαι δίπλα τους.
Την αγαπώ την Ogawa και το απόλαυσα κι αυτό το βιβλίο της...
"Αν στ'αυτιά σας ακούτε ένα παράξενο θρόισμα, μην τα τρίβετε πάρα πολύ. Γιατί στις περισσότερες περιπτώσεις, αυτό οφείλεται σε αγγέλους που μπαλώνουν τις φτερούγες τους πάνω στους λοβούς σας."
September 7, 2023
Wat een boek. De schrijfster neemt je helemaal mee naar het Japan van de jaren zeventig. Je maakt samen met Tomoko kennis met haar familie in Ashiya. Ieder familielid met zijn eigen besognes. Aan de hand van kleine verhalen en anekdotes krijg je steeds meer en meer inzicht in de verschillende personages . De vriendschap tussen Tomoko en haar nichtje Mina. De moeizame relatie tussen tante en oom. Oma Rosa en mevrouw Yoneda. En natuurlijk het mini nijlpaard Pochiko. Je voelt je als lezer innig verbonden met de verschillende personages. Intens en ontroerend geschreven. Een boek over opgroeien, loslaten, dromen najagen . En vooral een ode aan literatuur.
Want to read
March 15, 2024okja? is that you?
April 26, 2024
nature is healing
review to come.
March 18, 2024
This is a slice of life story about a young girl, Tomoko, who moves in with her Uncle and Aunt for a year. She grows close to her cousin - Mina who becomes her best friend and experiences a world very different from the one she grew up living.
The story doesn't have a ton of plot, more just day-to-day anecdotes and if that's your kind of book then this one is for you! I was not in the mood for this sort of story which made me lower the rating but I do think it's a cute story that most would enjoy. There are sweet moments, but I did find that there were a lot of small questions that went unanswered for me. This meandering story is pure vibes and sweetness, not a lot of action.
Thank you to Knopf, Pantheon, Vintage catalog, and NetGalley for the ARC.
The story doesn't have a ton of plot, more just day-to-day anecdotes and if that's your kind of book then this one is for you! I was not in the mood for this sort of story which made me lower the rating but I do think it's a cute story that most would enjoy. There are sweet moments, but I did find that there were a lot of small questions that went unanswered for me. This meandering story is pure vibes and sweetness, not a lot of action.
Thank you to Knopf, Pantheon, Vintage catalog, and NetGalley for the ARC.
July 24, 2020
Este libro es como un cuadro familiar (de alguien que no conoces) en una pared luminosa del pasillo de tu casa. Cada vez que abres las páginas te envuelve una sensación de nostalgia de color de los amaneceres y sabor a una caliente taza de té.
October 3, 2024
2.0 ⭐️
A wholesome but slow novel that focuses upon the mundane. I found it rather monotonous. If I wasn’t listening to the audio on 2x speed, it’s doubtful I’d have finished the physical book. It’s probably best read in small bits, just before bed to help you fall asleep.
A wholesome but slow novel that focuses upon the mundane. I found it rather monotonous. If I wasn’t listening to the audio on 2x speed, it’s doubtful I’d have finished the physical book. It’s probably best read in small bits, just before bed to help you fall asleep.
July 23, 2024
"If you wanted to describe Mina in a few words, you might say she was an asthmatic girl who loved books and rode a pygmy hippopotamus. But if you wanted to distinguish her from everyone else in the world, you'd say that she was a girl who could strike a match more beautifully than anyone."
🇯🇵 Japanese Translated Fiction
🖋 From the author of The Memory Police
🗺 1970s Japan
☄️ Contemporary/Historical fiction
🦛 Family, friendships, and nostalgia
The Memory Police was a brilliant read, so I was very excited to see that author Yoko Ogawa's novel Mina's Matchbox was going to be available in English for the first time. Mina's Matchbox may be a completely different genre, but Yoko Ogawa's wonderful writing captured me once again.
A delightful read, full of family, friendship, and nostalgia, narrator Tomoko remembers this formative year of her life in a golden light. I loved the friendships in this book, especially those between Mina and Tomoko, elderly women Grandmother Rosa and Yoneda-san, and everyone's with Pochiko (the pygmy hippopotamus).
Mina's Matchbox has an adorable quirky side; matchboxes that become stories, riding a hippo to school. And a downright worrying one (with hindsight) - guzzling fizzy drinks made with radium. It is infused with love. It is also interwoven with greater depths; German Grandmother Rosa was the only member of her family to survive WWII, watching the 1972 Munich Olympic Games and the unfolding hostage situation there, and Mina's Asthma and the reality of living with a chronic illness.
I do hope to read more Yoko Ogawa soon.
🇯🇵 Japanese Translated Fiction
🖋 From the author of The Memory Police
🗺 1970s Japan
☄️ Contemporary/Historical fiction
🦛 Family, friendships, and nostalgia
The Memory Police was a brilliant read, so I was very excited to see that author Yoko Ogawa's novel Mina's Matchbox was going to be available in English for the first time. Mina's Matchbox may be a completely different genre, but Yoko Ogawa's wonderful writing captured me once again.
A delightful read, full of family, friendship, and nostalgia, narrator Tomoko remembers this formative year of her life in a golden light. I loved the friendships in this book, especially those between Mina and Tomoko, elderly women Grandmother Rosa and Yoneda-san, and everyone's with Pochiko (the pygmy hippopotamus).
Mina's Matchbox has an adorable quirky side; matchboxes that become stories, riding a hippo to school. And a downright worrying one (with hindsight) - guzzling fizzy drinks made with radium. It is infused with love. It is also interwoven with greater depths; German Grandmother Rosa was the only member of her family to survive WWII, watching the 1972 Munich Olympic Games and the unfolding hostage situation there, and Mina's Asthma and the reality of living with a chronic illness.
I do hope to read more Yoko Ogawa soon.
September 17, 2024
"...The book jacket description promises 'a family on the edge of collapse' that the novel doesn’t quite deliver. Yes, Tomoko comes to understand Mina’s family’s dynamics—even participates in bringing the family peace—but Mina’s family drama is really no more and no less exciting than the drama of any other family of her social class. Similarly, a cover featuring little more than Mina riding her pet hippopotamus may create the impression that the novel is much more whimsical than the actual story the pages contain. Mina does ride to school every day on Pochiko’s back, but that’s really the extent of the novel’s caprice.
"Mina’s Matchbox is instead a truly beautiful coming-of-age novel written from a mature adult’s perspective. Tomoko, the narrator, occasionally breaks into the story at a chapter’s opening or close to add the benefit of her wisdom or hindsight. It’s her coming-of-age tale—but it’s Mina’s coming-of-age story, too.
...Like a sepia-toned photograph beginning to curl at the edges, Yoko Ogawa’s Mina’s Matchbox is a wistful story of the blink-and-you-miss-it moment between childhood and adulthood set at an important but easily-overlooked moment in Japanese history. It’s also a gorgeous reminder for any reader of those great lessons of adolescence. Family is complicated. Beauty is not always simple. And the days left behind are never coming back."
Full review in the Asian Review of Books: tinyurl.com/ARBMina
"Mina’s Matchbox is instead a truly beautiful coming-of-age novel written from a mature adult’s perspective. Tomoko, the narrator, occasionally breaks into the story at a chapter’s opening or close to add the benefit of her wisdom or hindsight. It’s her coming-of-age tale—but it’s Mina’s coming-of-age story, too.
...Like a sepia-toned photograph beginning to curl at the edges, Yoko Ogawa’s Mina’s Matchbox is a wistful story of the blink-and-you-miss-it moment between childhood and adulthood set at an important but easily-overlooked moment in Japanese history. It’s also a gorgeous reminder for any reader of those great lessons of adolescence. Family is complicated. Beauty is not always simple. And the days left behind are never coming back."
Full review in the Asian Review of Books: tinyurl.com/ARBMina
May 28, 2024
If you wanted to describe Mina in a few words, you might say she was an asthmatic girl who loved books and rode a pygmy hippopotamus. But if you wanted to distinguish her from everyone else in the world, you’d say that she was a girl who could strike a match more beautifully than anyone.
This book encapsulates much of why I love Japanese literature. The characters’ inner psychological reality meaningfully mingles with the plot in a way that it tends not to in western fiction. Also—this focus is brought down to earth with an eye toward the almost mundane, ordinary aspects of life, at the same time elevating those same concerns. Mina’s Matchbox is a coming-of-age narrative, a snapshot of a year (1971–1972) in the life of our protagonist, Tomoko, when she goes to stay with her fancy cousin, Mina. They are well-off, live in a large house, and have a hint of the foreign, with a German grandmother providing an otherworldly, “exotic” quality to that branch of the family. Yet, all is not as it seems—her uncle has frequent disappearances that no one talks about, her German grandmother has a certain forlorn look when seeing her old pictures, and even Mina seems desperate to experience something of the outside world that she is restricted from due to her health.
The blurb almost does this book a disservice. It sets it up to appear like some tantalizing mystery; but the mystery is not some cliched third act reveal; rather, it is the all too real and infinitely more significant act of a child coming to understand the complexities and nuance inherent in family life, even when material wealth and needs are accounted for. Coming from Tomoko’s position—a family that isn’t particularly well-off, and a newly single mother—it seems like having money and status is the key; but for Tomoko, her year with Mina is a revelation that this is not the case at all.
The plot is told through vignettes of memory: an older Tomoko recollecting and savoring her childhood memories. In this aspect, it reminded me of ‘Only Yesterday’, one of my favorite Ghibli movies. (I watched it when I was the same age as the protagonist, and it had such a tremendous effect on me—the power of examining your childhood, the good and bad altogether, is a fantastic narrative to explore.) Ogawa takes this thematic element and weaves a web of immersive memories. Though I typically prefer plots more structured, in Japanese fiction I’m better able to let go of this need for external structure; the journey, not the destination, is itself satisfactory due to its telling. That is not to discount the individual events—there are few things more poignant than the inclusion of a beloved pet pygmy hippo, for instance. (Pochiko is on the cover of the US edition, which is a great move—kudos to the designer; in some ways, Pochiko is as much as an emblem of that summer in Mina and Tomoko’s lives as any other, and especially an emblem of Mina herself.)
Many of the turns in the story are seen through the simplistic clarity of a child’s eyes, such as the boundless wonder and anticipation for a rare meteor shower, or the merriment in pushing your friend towards their crush, or even the realization that the adults we look up to are not as infallible as we believe; such simple moments take on a certain nostalgia that is a recurring theme in the book. For much of the short novel, this nostalgia almost felt like an omen—surely, there must be some harrowing, inescapable end towards which we are being shuttled; perhaps this is merely another aspect of my western bias. The denouement is there, but it is not a sharp fall from a cliff—rather, it is a gradual unwinding, like the end of a rollercoaster, though not quite so abrupt. It felt like having tea with Tomoko and, before you know it, the time to depart and go home has arrived.
The characters of Mina and her family are surprisingly dynamic, given that this is a memory—Ogawa imparts much depth on them, even in such a short time span. Mina is a precocious preteen with an overwhelming yearning for books and creating stories, and truly, what reader can’t connect with that? It was especially interesting to see how Tomoko and Mina’s interactions are characterized by the former—first, as a kind of admiration, a gratitude for being taken into her confidence; later, it becomes a kind of protectiveness, a desire to help as an older sibling might. This, in turn, normalizes Mina and her ‘otherworldly’ family. There were more relatable moments, like Mina’s mother being obsessed with typos, or Mina and Tomoko getting swept up in the fervor of the 1972 Olympics; these added a unique complexity to what might otherwise be a standard narrative. (I also had never heard of the Munich Massacre/Black September, which seems almost embarrassing to admit now, given current events; it makes me slightly regret not taking care to visit the site of the Olympic Village when I had the chance.)
The setting, the seaside town of Ashiya, was fascinating, if not quite picturesque; much of the plot hinges on Tomoko and Mina being somewhat secluded in her country-house. They are but a short 15–30-minute drive away from the city, but given the uncle’s frequent disappearances, the children end up mostly staying at home, with Tomoko’s occasional trips to the library on the local bus. Ashiya is essentially quite suburban, but Mina’s home, settled on a dramatic cliffside with a view to the mountains, almost feels like a fantasy land—their house even had its own petting zoo for a time, so the atmosphere certainly fits. The setting of the scenes may be the light-bath room or the living room in front of the TV, nothing extraordinary; yet, it still feels magical, tinged in that dreamy style of memory.
Ogawa’s writing style is conversational, given the older Tomoko’s narration; it is also delightfully prosaic. In translation, it can seem somewhat stilted at times, but this is also something I have come across in other translated Japanese fiction—whether it is a style inherent to Japanese literature or merely a quirk of translating it, I can’t determine. In any case, it is a credit to the translator, Stephen Snyder, that the narrative voice of Tomoko still shines through so vividly. It was quite refreshing coming from contemporary western fiction where authors try to cram three similes into a paragraph in an effort to be ‘literary’. Western authors, take note—sometimes less really is more.
The narrative style can seem disjointed at times, but this only further reflects the nature of memory and remembering, with certain elements taking us on tangents and others abruptly fading into wisps. Moments of what were once great sorrow or joy can become weathered over time, like a well-worn lucky stone that is rubbed frequently; but a slight jolt of reminder can revive those emotions to their original strength. I am also envious of how vibrant Tomoko’s memory is—not only the events, but the smells, textures, and colors are all as alive for her as they were when the events happened; as someone with a patchwork memory who can barely remember a year ago, let alone my childhood, I was impressed. Naturally, this power comes from intentional remembrance on Tomoko’s part—she is surprised to realize that her memories of the summer of 1972 were tucked away in a dusty corner, all but forgotten, until she deigned to examine them. Memory necessarily involves acknowledging that the events in question have come and gone, never to be ours again; thus, memory is but a fleeting shadow of the real thing. For humans, time is a linear experience, and we all race towards the natural end—from a child’s perspective, coming to grips with this sentiment is a notable turning point in one’s maturity.
As with The Memory Police, which Ogawa is perhaps better known for in the west, memory and identity are central themes. Tomoko’s memory, of course, is the whole premise—and a remarkable one at that, one so vivid in its retelling as to seem invented. Of course, Tomoko admits as much at points—her recollection is only so powerful, and certain moments or phrases have to be imagined; but this rather adds to the credibility of her memory, rather than detract from it. Every memory we examine has a hint of retelling and embellishing to it, as our brains naturally fill in gaps with what we expect to see. I also loved the references to the literary greatness of Yasunari Kawabata, a fantastic author whom I’ve only recently come to appreciate. The power of stories is another anchoring point—Mina’s titular matchboxes aren’t just sources of flame, but they are inspiration for her stories based on the weird or random art on their covers. (Maybe I’m just too young, but did matchboxes really have such odd covers? Is that a Japanese thing, or a mid-twentieth century thing?)
Moreover, as with any coming-of-age tale, the growth of Tomoko and Mina (as well their relationship) is a large focal point; much of this only comes to fruition toward the end of the novel, but I appreciated how it nevertheless ties everything together from the beginning, much like in ‘Only Yesterday’. We are who we are precisely because we are the culmination of our experiences, the mundane and the extraordinary alike. And much like that film, it has left me with a deeper appreciation for the time I have already spent and will continue to spend, a renewed opportunity to be more mindful of the everyday—the good, the bad, and even the boring—because once this time is gone, it will be gone. This might be a good candidate for a re-read. I would certainly recommend this book to anyone who would enjoy reminiscing over childhood memories or who is obsessed with the moving power of memory or ‘memento mori’, or one who enjoys simple yet powerful narratives about who we are and how seemingly innocuous moments in our lives can nonetheless influence the course of one’s life. I certainly walked away from this book feeling a certain nostalgia and secondhand appreciation for what has passed; I can only hope to bottle up this buoyant feeling in my review like one of Mina’s matchbox stories to enjoy years from now.
Disclaimer: I received this book as an ARC from NetGalley. Thank you to Pantheon Books and the author for the opportunity to read and review this book. My review reflects only my honest opinions.
Quotations are cited from an uncorrected proof and may be revised in the final edition.
Favorite quotes:
※ ‘It made me a little sad to think that even if you were born in a wonderful house like this, you couldn’t just stay there, warm and cozy, for the rest of your life.’
※ ‘Even though we understood none of the words she was saying, it was clear that she had lost none of her German, and the brilliance of her language came through as though the past fifty-six years had never happened. When the door of her memory was opened, she was able to bring back every syllable with perfection, despite having no one around her to speak them to.’
※ ‘I felt the events of that summer in Ashiya return with almost suffocating power. The texture of the carpet we sat on in front of the television, the shape of the scarves worn by the Black September group, the smell of Pochiko’s droppings on the volleyball . . . everything came back to me in an instant, and with it came sadness; much like Nekoda, that summer had disappeared to some faraway place where I’d never be able to find it again.’
※ ‘It’s extraordinary that the human body can express itself in so many ways through a single ball.’
※ ‘So, she thought, a bit relieved, even when you die, you don’t disappear. Matter doesn’t vanish, it transforms. She imagined herself becoming an insect shell or a shooting star when she died, and she had a feeling she’d be able to sleep peacefully now. She snuggled into her bed, on top of the many dead things she’d hidden underneath.’
※ ‘It’s not that we’ve grown apart or lost track of each other, but simply that time has slipped away much more quickly than we could have imagined when we were young. And yet, with the passage of time, even as the distance has increased, the memories of the days I spent with Mina in Ashiya have grown more vivid and dense, have taken root deep in my heart. You might even say they’ve become the very foundation of my memory.’
※ ‘And when I recall those things, I feel somehow that the past is still alive, still watching over me.’
※ ‘Being an agent for translated literature isn’t exactly glamorous, but still it brings me small and often quite amazing pleasures. Today, at a bookstore in town, I saw a young girl buying a picture book I helped publish.’
November 5, 2024
The thing that annoys me the most about Yoko Ogawa, is that every time I read one of her books there’s so much in there that has potential for me and it never gets fulfilled. I really enjoy her style of writing and storytelling, and I think her ideas are quite quirky and engaging, but someone along the line the execution of those things just falls very flat.
It started off a bit weird and wonderful which had me intrigued, but that soon fizzled out and left us with nothing in terms of atmosphere. The whole book felt like it was being set up for something… but it never came. We just sort of stay at a very steady, minimally engaging story, with equally average characters. It just honestly didn't have much substance to it, and it took a more character focused approach yet had pretty dull and uninteresting characters championing it.
This was fine to read, but overall just bland. I don’t really have a lot to say about it, because I’m so indifferent to every aspect. It was just… fine, if a little pointless. The ending was the only bit that briefly had me sucked in and feeling some kind of way, it was quite a sad way to round the book off. I wasn’t entirely sure what the point of having our narrator start the book as an adult reflecting on her childhood, to have that story being told, and then finish off with a rushed little part when she’s an adult again. It didn’t add anything to me, and served only to confuse me. It felt like there was no period of reflection, or any sort of wisdom shared from this shift in time.
There was also a really weird throwaway couple of paragraphs in this book regarding Israeli hostages and Palestinian resistance (described as terrorists) that rubbed me up the wrong way and came across as a pretty zionist take. Take that with a pinch of salt because the book was written in 2006 and our main character is 13, but it was there and had some questionable undertones. It didn’t even really need to be included as it’s mentioned so briefly and then forgotten about again. I can’t tell whether the very small minded commentary was supposed to be an intentional reflection of how naive our main character was as a young person perceiving these events or what, but it didn’t feel right.
Overall fine, if a little lacklustre. This may have solidified that Ogawa isn’t really the author for me, and that’s ok.
It started off a bit weird and wonderful which had me intrigued, but that soon fizzled out and left us with nothing in terms of atmosphere. The whole book felt like it was being set up for something… but it never came. We just sort of stay at a very steady, minimally engaging story, with equally average characters. It just honestly didn't have much substance to it, and it took a more character focused approach yet had pretty dull and uninteresting characters championing it.
This was fine to read, but overall just bland. I don’t really have a lot to say about it, because I’m so indifferent to every aspect. It was just… fine, if a little pointless. The ending was the only bit that briefly had me sucked in and feeling some kind of way, it was quite a sad way to round the book off. I wasn’t entirely sure what the point of having our narrator start the book as an adult reflecting on her childhood, to have that story being told, and then finish off with a rushed little part when she’s an adult again. It didn’t add anything to me, and served only to confuse me. It felt like there was no period of reflection, or any sort of wisdom shared from this shift in time.
There was also a really weird throwaway couple of paragraphs in this book regarding Israeli hostages and Palestinian resistance (described as terrorists) that rubbed me up the wrong way and came across as a pretty zionist take. Take that with a pinch of salt because the book was written in 2006 and our main character is 13, but it was there and had some questionable undertones. It didn’t even really need to be included as it’s mentioned so briefly and then forgotten about again. I can’t tell whether the very small minded commentary was supposed to be an intentional reflection of how naive our main character was as a young person perceiving these events or what, but it didn’t feel right.
Overall fine, if a little lacklustre. This may have solidified that Ogawa isn’t really the author for me, and that’s ok.
November 14, 2024
Deeply disappointed by Ogawa who chose to publish the translation of the book she wrote about defending israeli occupation of Palestine at a time where israelis are actively genociding Palestinians in Gaza.
She mentions the Munich olympics where a Palestinian group took 9 israeli hostages to free 200 Palestinians detained by israel; and not only did she call them terrorists, but also drew an imagery of how the hostage taking equates putting people in gaz chambers during the holocaust?! Seriously? She goes on to justify the occupation of Palestine as a right for a country for the descendants of the holocaust..
This is the last time I read for Ogawa, I cannot shake the idea of how she spun the story into a zionist propaganda. I stopped reading at chapter 29, and just forwarded ahead to see what happens - which wasn’t much really - I just couldn’t read any further and I stopped giving a damn about the characters anymore.
What a shame!
She mentions the Munich olympics where a Palestinian group took 9 israeli hostages to free 200 Palestinians detained by israel; and not only did she call them terrorists, but also drew an imagery of how the hostage taking equates putting people in gaz chambers during the holocaust?! Seriously? She goes on to justify the occupation of Palestine as a right for a country for the descendants of the holocaust..
This is the last time I read for Ogawa, I cannot shake the idea of how she spun the story into a zionist propaganda. I stopped reading at chapter 29, and just forwarded ahead to see what happens - which wasn’t much really - I just couldn’t read any further and I stopped giving a damn about the characters anymore.
What a shame!
September 24, 2024
Mina's Matchbox evoked sense of nostalgia, melancholy & tinge of fantastical elements in a coming of age story of a girl names Tomoko. With whimsical ala Ghibli-esque vibes, the story mirrored on the naivety & isolation in childhood yet the fascination of this period of our life. Its beautifully written by Yoko Ogawa and wonderfully translated by Stephen Snyder 💖. By the end, I felt a sense of sadness & heartbreak by the losses of the dearest people in the book as well the loss of innocence we once had.
Tomoko was sent to Ashiya to live with her aunt's family, her mother's younger sister as she pursued furthering her study in Tokyo for a better prospect of their family. Her aunt is married to a half-German man, an owner of an established beverage company called Freesy. The family lives in a seventeen bedroom mansion with a beautiful landscape view & a park that was used to be the Freesy Zoo but closed after the animals die except for the pygymy hippotamus, Pochiko. The family consist of Grandmother Rosa, a German old lady who moved out of Germany to marry a Japanese man, the uncle, a handsome man, Tomoko's aunt whom is an enigma herself, Mina, the daughter, Yoneda-san, the housekeeper & Kobayashi-san, the gardener, Ryuichi the elder son whom is studying in Switzerland but his presence was everywhere in the family. They all lived harmoniously as a unit in this mansion.
With each passing seasons throughout one year, we feel alongside Tomoko, as she was welcomed into this affluent, enigmatic family into their home furnished with German furnitures, the uniqueness of each members, secrets & struggles in hushed affairs & the love & affections they all have for the pygmy Pochiko. I was bedazzled & charmed by the story of how eloquently beautfiul this was. Its the simplicity & the ordinariness of daily life seen through the eyes of a 13 years old Tomoko whom learned to have a bigger family than her own mother. There were simple joys & moments to be cherished like her blossoming friendship with Mina, the magnificent matchboxes, aweness of discovering new passion for volleyball, crushes & sweet memories of borrowing books from the library. To sum the story whole in this review felt like a disservice because this book felt like a slow cinematic shot of the period of life of want and nostalgia which I wished I can live in. Once I finished the story, I felt hollow as if I have lost the small part of memories I want to keep forever but at the same time, the spark of enjoying little things experienced in the book will slowly glow like Mina's striking the match from her matchbox. This was such a wonderful read that I will not hesitate to reread it again whenever I need a place to retrace the nostalgia of innocence childhood
Review copy courtesy Times Reads
Tomoko was sent to Ashiya to live with her aunt's family, her mother's younger sister as she pursued furthering her study in Tokyo for a better prospect of their family. Her aunt is married to a half-German man, an owner of an established beverage company called Freesy. The family lives in a seventeen bedroom mansion with a beautiful landscape view & a park that was used to be the Freesy Zoo but closed after the animals die except for the pygymy hippotamus, Pochiko. The family consist of Grandmother Rosa, a German old lady who moved out of Germany to marry a Japanese man, the uncle, a handsome man, Tomoko's aunt whom is an enigma herself, Mina, the daughter, Yoneda-san, the housekeeper & Kobayashi-san, the gardener, Ryuichi the elder son whom is studying in Switzerland but his presence was everywhere in the family. They all lived harmoniously as a unit in this mansion.
With each passing seasons throughout one year, we feel alongside Tomoko, as she was welcomed into this affluent, enigmatic family into their home furnished with German furnitures, the uniqueness of each members, secrets & struggles in hushed affairs & the love & affections they all have for the pygmy Pochiko. I was bedazzled & charmed by the story of how eloquently beautfiul this was. Its the simplicity & the ordinariness of daily life seen through the eyes of a 13 years old Tomoko whom learned to have a bigger family than her own mother. There were simple joys & moments to be cherished like her blossoming friendship with Mina, the magnificent matchboxes, aweness of discovering new passion for volleyball, crushes & sweet memories of borrowing books from the library. To sum the story whole in this review felt like a disservice because this book felt like a slow cinematic shot of the period of life of want and nostalgia which I wished I can live in. Once I finished the story, I felt hollow as if I have lost the small part of memories I want to keep forever but at the same time, the spark of enjoying little things experienced in the book will slowly glow like Mina's striking the match from her matchbox. This was such a wonderful read that I will not hesitate to reread it again whenever I need a place to retrace the nostalgia of innocence childhood
Review copy courtesy Times Reads
September 29, 2024
I really enjoy Ogawa. In Mina, she writes some beautiful scenes, but beautiful scenes does not an interesting novel make. I found this sooo slow to get through. Dang!
September 10, 2024
Yoko Ogawa is one of my favourite authors. Without dramatic theatrical fireworks she can evoke vivid feelings in me. Mina's Matchbox is no different. The sense of nostalgia is palpable.
I had been anticipating the release of this book so keenly. Then when I was in Montreal in Canada for work I saw it in a bookshop released earlier than at home. I felt emotional just seeing it and even though it was a squeeze I was determined to get it home in my luggage. So happy I bought it there as it was incredibly symbolic for me personally.
I had been anticipating the release of this book so keenly. Then when I was in Montreal in Canada for work I saw it in a bookshop released earlier than at home. I felt emotional just seeing it and even though it was a squeeze I was determined to get it home in my luggage. So happy I bought it there as it was incredibly symbolic for me personally.
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