What does it mean to be “normal”? To have “normal” feelings? Are you a monster if you are different than others, or, due to emotional problems, do not feel things as other do? This are the rather serious questions at the heart of the first volume of the Book Girl series.
In Book Girl and the Suicidal Mime, the main characters are a boy named Konoha Inoue, who is a former best-selling romance novelist under a female pseudonym, and his friend and senpai (senior student in Japanese schools), the titular “Book Girl”, Amano Tohko. Tohko is a youkai, or supernatural creature of Japanese folklore, who is strange in that she can only eat “stories”, and also strange in that this seems to be the extent of her supernatural traits. If there is some sort of story on a paper, she can eat it, and is nourished that way. Note, however, that eating paper with words on it is not good enough. It seems to be the concepts on the pages that she eats.
Anyways, early in Konoha's high school career, Tohko discovers that he is a talented writer, and ropes him into joining their school's “literature club”, where every meeting he writes short story “snacks” for her to eat. However, despite his amazing short stories that that she (to be fair, really does) appreciate, Tohko is kind of selfish, and wants more to eat. To that end, she sets up a romance advice and love-letter writing service scheme. They (well, Konoha to be specific) help their new client, Chia Takeda, to win the love of the boy she likes, Shuji, in exchange for a detailed report for Tohko (unbeknownst to Chia) to eat.
At first, this seems a rather light-hearted story, but then the narrative begins to be interspersed with rather dark, despairing monologues from someone who is suffering severe mental disorders due to their lacking any empathy or emotion. Worse yet, the person is considering suicide. As the story goes on, these disparate threads are woven together into a series of revelations that will stun our two protagonists, and change their fun story to a life and death one. Someone may, in fact, die if they don't manage to intervene in time.
What I liked about this story was how it presented, via the use of real-world figures whose works and histories are referred to in the fictional story, the truth of the pain of mental illness and emotional disorders. Feeling different than others, knowing that you really don't feel what most feel, what you ought to feel as a “normal” human being, is truly devastating.
I won't say what I feel, and what my own problems are, but I have issues here too, and I have felt as a monster because of them. I even thought of doing irreparable harm to myself, and that's all I will say about that. Fill in the blanks. Why am I sharing this? Because I want to encourage folks to read this book, see how some of the characters feel, and be cognizant that folks suffer this way in real life.
That said, I fear I may have frightened some off of reading the book due to how I described it. This is not some sad, somber story. It is still, despite some sad parts, fun, comedic, and, in the end, idealistic. It works really well as simply a good, enjoyable yarn, with much in the way of humor. The parts I just sermonized on are merely in addition to the good tale.
One of the best parts of the tale is how Tohko is almost a detective of sorts. She seems to have these, what I will call, “Sherlock moments”. Despite her unusual biology, she is essentially a detective at heart and uses her brains. Which is good, since she has no brawn to speak of, really. I think the story may be one of the better examples of magical realism I have read. What I mean by that is the fact that, besides her unusual diet, there is nothing fantastic in the story. Such examples of isolated magical elements that are unexplained or isolated from the rest of the story would be a definition of magical realism.
This story examines a serious issue, is funny and witty, and a good mystery. Quite varied and well-worth reading.