Strange Pictures

Strange Pictures by Uketsu is strange indeed. Even more mysterious is the author’s bio: “UKETSU only ever appears online, wearing a mask and speaking through a voice changer… His innovative ‘sketch mysteries’ challenge readers to discover the hidden clues in a series of sinister drawings… They have sold nearly 3 million copies in Japan since 2021. Uketsu‘s true name and identity remain unknown.”

In my opinion, the author’s premise and marketing strategy are brilliant, but the execution of the plot, not so much. That said, I had to rate it 4 stars because I—slow reader extraordinaire—devoured the book, making quick work of it in 11 days. In places where it became graphically descriptive, I choked a little on the details. Over all it went down smoothly, but undoubtedly will leave me with a bit of heartburn.

The story’s strong start devolved into a jumbled mess of “tell” not “show”, and the pictures lost their relevance by the end. Truthfully, the pictures alone would never have led me to solve the mystery. Luckily, I didn’t need to since it was so intricately spelled out by the author in the second half of the story. Could be that something was Lost in Translation here. In any event, while I find Japanese philosophy fascinating, their literature sure is deranged.

Final score: A+ for originality. C- for implementation. 

The Book of Fire

The Book of Fire by Christy Lefteri held my attention for about a month but clearly didn’t compel me to quickly zip through it to the end. It was kind of a slow burn for me, a leisurely and worthy bedtime companion during the month of January. Maybe it helped me assimilate into the post-holiday bleakness of the coldest winter I've encountered in years.

People magazine aptly describes the book, “A tender depiction of loss and healing that raises questions about guilt and blame in the age of climate change.”

I really liked the authenticity of the characters in this book, especially the sweet wife and mother, Irini Diamandis, who narrates the story. When a devastating fire rips through their village in present-day Greece, Irini is introspective about the many hardships they face as she is called to hold her family together.

The disaster has brought changes to their way of life and Irini ponders the complexities of human response to tragedy. “Was it Aristotle who said that man is a political animal? Not that we are all born to take an active interest in party politics, but it is in our nature to live in a polis, a community.” Deriving assurance from a reliance on social connections, is one of humanity’s greatest gifts.

Before the fire, Irini reflects on the highs and lows of life and the history of her ancestors. “Over the decades and centuries, there were many joys and many losses that could be peeled back like the fine translucent layers of an onion.” After the fire, she works to remain positive in the midst of so much devastation. “Yes, maybe, life will get better. I will focus only on the things still living; I will ignore the darkness and the deadness that surround them.” Most importantly, she uses all of her resources to mend and strengthen her relationships with her husband, Tasso, and daughter, Charo.

When I finished the book, I needed to reread the beginning. It turns out the plot device of shifting from past to present throughout was a bit confusing for me. I did gain better understanding of the events after reading the first few chapters a second time.

Reviewing the portions I highlighted on Goodreads reminded me how much I appreciated the themes of survival and rebirth. There is something deep within this novel about human connections, us-versus-them mentality, and rising above it all to embrace our own strengths and tolerate the differences of others. There is also a genuine respect for the environment, humanity, and cultural and familial bonds. These threads combine to create a pleasant experience inhabiting the inner thoughts of the main character, Irini, whose sincerity and integrity are endearing.

Lefteri also wrote The Beekeeper of Aleppo which is more well known. Maybe next winter I’ll find refuge in this story, immersing myself into the lives of a Syrian beekeeper and his blind wife.