"Watch the book, it's trying to be stuffed." (Bing translated excerpt from one of the many Thai reviews. I was curious about them but most are nonsensical using an online translator, unfortunately.)
I was excited to read another newish translation by a female Thai author! It is based on the tropes of Thai soap operas, which I know nothing about, but that probably explains the death scenes, relationships, and ghosts. The central story is two sisters and a boy they pull into their family. I struggled a bit with the non linear nature (one character is introduced in his death scene and everything with him moves backwards from that) but enjoyed the details of flora/fauna/food/music/history. The translator note at the beginning is fascinating too. This was not an easy book to translate! But I am glad I got to read it. . This counts for two categories of #readingenvysummerreading - something blue and something translated! Arguably it might almost count for swampy considering that it is set along a river outside Bangkok.
Oh I don't have the words to express how this book made me feel! It's described as being "attuned to the addictive rhythms of a Thai soap opera and written with the consuming intensity of a fever dream" and man it delivers that and then some.
The writing is so lush and gorgeous with countless descriptions of food and fabrics and in the way classical music and flowers are interwoven in the story so that they actually play a role in the characters' development and not just create a mood. The characters experience such overwhelming emotions in true soap opera style but the novel doesn't hesitate to poke fun at it's own melodrama. The book actually reminds me a lot of Arundhati Roy's The God of Small Things because they have a lot of similarities (tragedy stricken parents who pass the numbing grief onto their children, siblings leading broken lives, the vivid prose, non linearity) but Blind Earthworm's melancholy is dazzling while Small Things has a quieter but still intense grief. Reading this book feels like feeling an ache in your heart on a bright summer afternoon because you're hit with nostalgia and a longing for something you can never have again, leaving you wondering about what could've been.
And I loved the little detours it takes! I love it when writers put in tiny stories that could stand as short stories on their own. It's also made me realise that non linear narratives are okay (sometimes). Honestly I'm just so in awe of Kong Rithdee's skill in translating this because neither the story nor the language make it easy.
P.S. happy that they included a playlist at the end!
"That night, the memory of her skin glowing in the late afternoon deprived him of the calm of sleep and almost drove him into a fit of tears over an unfathomable longing he had never felt before."
I can see myself reading this book again someday and slowly drinking in the sweet nectar syrup of its lyrical prose.
"A melodrama of shipwrecked romance." That's how the author herself described the novel, according to the translator, and after reading it, I find it a very accurate description capturing both the theme and the tone or atmosphere of the novel.
The Blind Earthworm really feels like a melodrama, or a soap opera. There's so much melancholy and the characters are always lamenting about heartache, betrayal, loss and death, but most especially heartache. It's very romantic even though the actual romance (between the main pair of love interests, Chareeya and Pran) is weak and boring, in my opinion. I didn't care for their romantic relationship, haha. But it's still very romantic because of the constant sense of heartache-induced melancholy, plus the novel's world is populated by beauty and the arts - Chareeya loves horticulture and classical music, and many descriptions of flowers and plants and references to classical pieces are peppered throughout the novel. The novel is brimming with the characters' passion for these arts.
And not only is the world of the characters lush, the writing is also incredibly lush. I really LOVE the writing, it is gorgeous in a hit me in the feels, made me pause and go wow, kind of way. For the English translation I read, the credit must go to not just the author Veeraporn Nitiprapha, but also the translator, Kong Rithdee. Rithdee says in his Translator's Note that this novel is particularly tough to translate, a large part of it due to Nitiprapha's "free-flowing lyricism and lexical ornamentations." I can see that writing style in the translation. It's definitely lyrical and uses many metaphors and symbolism, but I sometimes struggle with this kind of writing because it can get too abstract and/or pretentious. But in this novel, Nitiprapha's writing is not like that, the lyricism is not excessive nor gratuitous, but knows when to be dramatic and ornamental, and when to be simple. At times the melancholy gets cliched and tiring to me, but I like that the writing is quite self-conscious about the story's melodramatic ways, and even subtly pokes fun of it. Ultimately I find the writing not only readable but also immersive, making me keep wanting to read on to the next page, the next chapter. She's a masterful storyteller too; there are so many little stories told in the novel (the characters kind of hear about them or tell them in brief synopses), myths and fables and superstitions. I think the chapter "The Dancer in the Drizzle" is one of the most amazing chapters I've read in a novel, it could function as a short story by itself. Nitiprapha's latest novel in 2018 also won the SEA Write Award, like this novel did in 2015, and I really hope someone translates that into English too so I can read it!!!
Struggled to get through this one and it's such a short book. Maybe I just wasn't in the right mind space. There were so many adjectives/flowery descriptions, and it felt melodramatic and dream like. Although the descriptions are very beautiful, the reading was slowed down by the sheer number of them. Classical music pieces, Thai dishes and Thai horticulture references were strewn everywhere and I don't like having to look everything up, so I just trusted that the 'soundtrack', food and scenery was beautiful. Maybe I'll go back and try some of the dishes myself.
- - - The blind earthworm raises its head, the bird sweeps in; flight is freeing, flight is death - - -
“… But let's not talk of love or chains and things we can't untie” L. Cohen
The prose is so beautiful you want to reach out with your hands and devour it, word by word, as the unsatiated longing hungers for more.
A little about the book; three characters in the labyrinth of life, trying desperately to grasp fistfull of happiness. The interplay of human relationship with sorrow, struggle, loneliness, suffering, death, loss, grief and solitude is so mundane and repetitive that after a while, the human body(emotive receptors) becomes numb towards it. This in turn switches off the reception of little joy, small warmth, love of a stranger, changing of the seasons, golden hues of sunsets, a sip of tea in monsoon.
The impact of events in one's life can drastically change the perception of life, the past events dictate our present and our capability of anticipating the future. Pran’s self esteem is crushed, he cannot speak. Charee’s life is smacked left and right like a ping pong ball. Chalika’s idea of life is turned upside down like an hourglass and time is slipping.
Are we slaves to the events that we didn’t ask for, we didn’t consent to? And how do we make peace with it? And what if we cannot make peace with it? As we succumb to life’s witty transgressions and curve balls, all that remaining of life is swerved into the corner of solitude comforting the loneliest sob.
“In this broken world, Charee, happiness wasn’t meant for us. Everything that you’ve dreamt of, everything you’ve done, that you are, that you see, understand, strive for, seek out, everything that we’ve been through, the price that we’ve paid, the death after death of our hearts, the dreams that keep fallinf apart, the loneliness that can’t be cured, this maddening feeling….Everything. Why wouldn’t I get it, Charee? Why wouldn’t I understand how life could betray you?”
Boy, you can tell this was a tough one to translate. It is so, so dependent on the context of Thailand – the ultra-specific references to tropical flora (pikul blossoms, etc.), the ironic allusions to the lakhon tradition in Thai romantic fiction and soap opera, and for that reason it is a tropical magical realist novel par excellence. I feel like I only got a fraction of the dense web of mirrors and symbols, but even if you haven’t spent much time in this neck of the woods, I think you can just vibe. For that matter, it might even be easier, because you don’t know what you’re “supposed” to be getting.
It's not the style of prose I usually read, but I was completely drawn into this magical and absolutely lyrical world. Nitiprapha paints a world that is almost too full of senses - smells, colours, tastes and sounds. Great translation - I really hope her other books will also be translated some day.
Chareeya y Chalika viven una infancia feliz a pesar de las penas de amor que consumen a sus padres, encontrando un fuerte vínculo entre ellas, que exteriorizan jugando a ser Chang y Eng, los famosos hermanos unidos por el tórax que fueran exhibidos en los circos de EEUU, originarios de Siam (actual Tailandia). Y también en un refugio apropiado: el vértigo para Chareeya y la inmersión en la fantasía de Charika.
Se les unirá Pran, un niño descuidado, condenado a la migración perpetua, y el tío Thanir, que llevará a los huérfanos por el camino de la sensibilidad de la música clásica; y en las sombras, la permanente presencia de Nuang, la niñera-limpiadora-cocinera que tiene cinco hijos y tres maridos, y se ocupa de garantizar la subsistencia material entre tanta espiritualidad. Cada uno, a su manera vive y siente todo de manera muy intensa, como los personajes de un melodrama o una ópera trágica, y sus acciones y reacciones los llevarán a lugares muy solitarios, como la lombriz de tierra, ciega, que come tierra y defeca tierra, atrapada en el laberinto creado por ella misma.
La anécdota sobre como la cartelera de un café abandonado, que se recicló en una banqueta en una parada de taxis, que luego diera nombre a un pasaje, y sobre el cual se tejió el mito de una mujer suicidada por amor, es una divertida e interesante radiografía de la creación de los mitos.
La novela está muy bien narrada y armada, siguiendo la vida de los protagonistas, con muchos saltos en el tiempo, y la aparición de personajes nuevos que contribuyen a la construcción de la historia y su desenlace.
El entorno está impregnado de una atmósfera mágica, en la que los olores y el olfato, como el sentido más primitivo, tendrán implicancias emocionales. No es raro ver y hablar con los muertos, como un formato de realismo mágico oriental, en el que las antiguas creencias se mezclan con el budismo, incluyendo la idea de los destinos encontrados y desencontrados y las vidas pasadas, bien al gusto de algunas corrientes de pensamiento postmodernas.
Abundan las descripciones gastronómicas y botánicas, que contribuyen al clima de exuberancia y de exceso, muy acorde con las características tropicales y lluviosas de Tailandia.
Tal vez, si no se logra conectar con los protagonistas, resulte simplemente un culebrón. Si se logra conectar, en cambio, una novela excelente, de una gran intensidad, emoción y poesía.
Книга прочитана в рамках подборки "Women of the World", посвященной женщинам разных рас и национальностей. 9. Тайланд
Жизнь предала меня!
Эм… Эм… Я даже не знаю с чего начать. Наверное, стоит начать с названия. Согласитесь, “Слепой Червь в Лабиринте” звучит довольно интригующе. Аннотация так и вовсе обещала стеб над клише тайских мыльных сериалов. Ну как тут не клюнуть? Да, я ничего не знаю про тайские лакорны, но этот факт еще сильнее подогревал мой интерес.
Впечатления дико… смешанные. И это если очень мягко выражаться. Честно, я до сих пор не знаю, что я чувствую по поводу этой книги. Не то, чтобы Вирапорн Нитипрапха написала такую уж сложную в плане сюжета историю. Да и посыл тут довольно понятный. И тем не менее, после прочтения в моей голове было исключительно ощущение невероятного конфуза.
У “Слепого Червя в Лабиринте” три главных героя: сестры Чалика и Чария, а также их друг детства Пран. Книга с того, что беременная Чарией мать сестер узнает об измене мужа с преподавательницей народны�� танцев. Сестры становятся сиротами при живых родителях, потому что отец превращается в отшельника, который вообще не выходит из дома, а мать из-за своей маниакальной “любви” к нему, никогда не выпускает мужа из виду. Когда муж умирает, мать медленно начинает чахнуть у его могилы, чтобы он даже после смерти ей не изменял. Очень высокие отношения, как можно понять. Данный опыт по-разному повлиял на героинь.
Чалика очень хочет любви, но она боится превратиться в свою мать. Ей комфортнее читать любовные романы и любить придуманный на их почве образ идеального мужчины, который живет только главной героиней. И тем не менее, герой любовного романа и может жить только в условиях и по логике любовного романа, а значит в реальной жизни такого, к сожалению, не встретишь.
Если Чалика хочет быть главной героиней любовного романа, то ее сестра, Чария, именно таковой и является. У нее есть трагичная предыстория и сама она немного не от мира сего. Чария знает французский, хотя никогда его не учила. Чария умеет готовить странные блюда, хотя ее к плите никогда не подпускали. Чария слушает исключительно классическую музыку от европейских композиторов. Поэтому Чария особенная. Она врезается в память любому, кто ее встречает. Такая вот итерация слов “меня трудно найти, легко потерять и невозможно забыть”. Чария создает видимость человека, которому никто не нужен, и которому комфортно в своем одиночестве. Но это только на первый взгляд, потому что довольно быстро становиться понятно: Чария недалеко ушла от своей матери. “Слепой Червь в Лабиринте” – это не такая уж длинная книга (208 страниц, большая часть которых посвящена детству героев), и тем не менее, г-же Нитипрапхе удалось вставить где-то 4 сцены, где Чария пытается покончить с собой или думает об этом из-за того, что очередной ухажер ее бросил.
Последним, но не по значению, героем является друг детства Чалики и Чарии – Пран, такой же недолюбленный сирота, как и они сами. Пран с отцом постоянно путешествовали, из-за чего он нигде не мог осесть и найти свое место. Все его бросали, чаще всего путем ухода в мир иной. Блуждания Прана продолжаются и во взрослом возрасте: он откровенно не понимает чего хочет от жизни этой, посему перебивается случайными связями и игрой в не шибко популярной музыкальной группе. Ну чем не герой мыльного сериала?
Вы уже чуете в чем тут главный конфликт?Пранс самого детства влюблен в Чарию, но та встречается с очередным козлом (который, естественно, ее не ценит и изменяет ей). Пран с горя начинает спать с Чаликой, а та и рада, потому что он ближе всех соответствует образу ее идеала. Чария в свою очередь мечется между своим козлом и Праном, а также между первой любовью и сестринской верностью.
Звучит-то интересно. И язык у Вирапорн Нитипрапхи довольно красочный, с кучей интересных эпитетов, а также описаний еды и природы. Но, господи, читать это все было тем еще мучением! Если в начале пурпурная проза вызывала трепет и желание записать каждую цитату в какой-нибудь тематический блокнот, то позже она начала конкретно так утомлять. Постоянные отсылки на классическую музыку Моцарта, Шопена и т.д. тоже порядком поднадоели ближе к середине. Временами ощущалось, словно я читаю чей-то горячечный сон, особенно ближе к концу.
Так как это все-таки мелодрама, герои крайне гипертрофировано на все реагируют и постоянно страдают, в особенности Чария. Оно и понятно, это все-таки стеб на клише жанра. Но особо юмора я не увидела. Единственная комедийная сцена, которую я запомнила, это эпизод, в которомЧарияи Пранстоят под дождем, и та драматично велит ему забыть ее, а потом также драматично сбегает, но по дороге врезается в здание.
Собственно, заканчивается эта история также максимально драматично. Без хэппи энда. Это было ожидаемо. И в целом посыл мне понятен. Основная метафора тоже. У червей нет глаз, поэтому они словно в лабиринте. Люди же не решают собственных проблем и создают из них собственные “лабиринты”, из которых потом не могут и не хотят выбраться. Если брать это в расчет, а также буддийский мотив того, что жить – это априори значит страдать, то конец вполне закономерен. Чария, Чалика и Пран не виноваты в том, что они такие. Даже родители сестер не виноваты в своих судьбах. Просто жизнь так сложилась. Жизнь предала их. И тем не менее, мне хотелось чего-то более интересного, нежели "главные герои родились несчастными и одинокими, всю жизнь прожили несчастными и одинокими, а потом все умерли несчастными и одинокими". Моя оценка во многом обусловлена этим моментом, а также тем, что из-за стиля автора в какой-то момент читать “Слепого Червя в Лабиринте” становилось физически тяжело.
The very first sentence of Veeraporn Nitiprapha’s “The Blind Earthworm in the Labyrinth” already gives a sense of how this phenomenal novel will unfold: “Chalika, who was old enough to have a shadow of memory, could recall the time when the house was filled with sounds”. The first what strikes the reader is beautiful use of language. Then, the imagery - rich, fresh, evocative, unforgettable. This is a book like none else I have ever read. I read it slowly, immersing myself into the realm created by the author and not wanting to be pulled out of it.
The multilayered story of sisters Chalika and Chareeya and their childhood friend Pran, told in a non-linear way, is full of melancholia and nostalgia. It’s the story or remembering the good times, the happiness and bliss together but also the story of forgetting: “Forgetfulness is a wonderful defence mechanism. Humankind would have long become extinct were it not for our ability to forget: to forget how pathetic and contemptible we are to have been born alone and naked on this cruel earth, born without claws, tusks, or strength. We would have been long gone had it not been for our ability to disremember, to banish from our hearts the fact that to simply exist is agony and tribulation in itself, to erase from our heads who we are, what we’ve had to feel happy or sad about, or that we ever had anything to remember”.
I was pulled into this novel by its sensuality, so many rich references to Thai flora, music (there is a playlist at the end), food, Buddhist and traditional Thai beliefs, philosophy, lack of Western logic when it comes to events and people’s responses. The narrative diverges, meanders, embraces the reader in other characters’ life stories and that’s absolutely captivating. “The Blind Earthworm in the Labyrinth” resembles films by Weerasethakul and Suwichakornpong, and just like their films seduce the viewer, Nitiprapha seduces the reader with her masterpiece.
I found this to be a quirky read. There are several OCD elements (the music, the cooking, plants). Overall, it is atmospheric, sometimes melodramatic, and generally depressing.
The translated English is clean and makes the reading smooth; and there are many passages that are beautiful (see "highlights"). At times, I was scratching my head trying to follow what happened or more importantly, grasp why it happened...somethings are simply culturally-based perhaps.
I appreciated the "Translator's Note" for he describes the Thai writing of the author and his own approach in the translation process. (I'm guessing that the translator is a native Thai speaker because he writes for the Bangkok Post.)
Wow, what a journey. This is such a unique book, translated from Thai, following the lives of three people who’s lives are tangled together.
The strongest part of this book was it’s beautiful descriptions. The food was described in such detail I could almost taste it, and the setting of the two houses where most of the book takes place was so vivid. The connection between smell and memory put you in the shoes of these characters, even when they seemed unknowable.
This must be the most lush and sensory reading experience I’ve ever had, breathtaking from beginning to end.
I was gifted this by a friend, and my first encounter with Thai literature has been an exciting one💙 From the moment I first looked at the cover and skimmed through the chapter titles, I got the impression of a rare and soulful creativity. It felt like a breath of fresh air from «general» literature, and I love meeting metaphors, phrases and motives that feel completely new and unfamiliar.
The story follows the sisters Chareeya and Chalika and their childhood friend Pran as they navigate through life’s oddities, turmoils, delights, and hardships. When the sisters are young, they witness the lethal power of passion as it claims both their parents; in response, they fabricate a wondrous fantasy world serving as a shelter for their bruised hearts and souls. The three orphans grow up in a state of lonely disorientation, each a blind earthworm in a labyrinth of their own making, trying to find a path out of isolation.
From early on, the style reminded me of One Hundred Years of Solitude; the scale is different, this one being a more intimate approach than a family saga, but the striking imagery and elements of magical realism create a similar flow and atmosphere. I was also reminded of Murakami’s works in the musical inspiration and style, as well as the quiet portrayal of longing, loneliness, and search for meaning. There are overlaps of similarity, but this novel definitely had its own unique style not captured by either.
Beneath its dreamlike atmosphere and melodrama, the novel has a solid grounding in the reality of modern Thai history. The characters move through a world marked by political turbulence and violence and inherit the generational trauma born from it, showing how a society in pain often produces individuals in pain. As most events are referred to only in passing and not fully processed, a lingering backdrop of unease is created. The lines between national and personal suffering seem to blur as both the characters and Thai society as a whole try to free themselves from their own chains and reach a desired state of calm peace, sometimes resorting to self-destructive measures that might create more wounds than they heal.
The writing style is like an art piece in itself, being full of beautiful and strangely absurd descriptions. The intricate cover illustration perfectly captures the rich and mysterious atmosphere permeating this whole story. It’s melodramatic in an enthralling way, and the somber and sometimes painful passages tug at your heartstrings and draw you into the characters’ deeply felt emotions. Paired with the tailored musical playlist found in the back of the book — featuring underground rock songs and grand pieces of classical music —, the reading experience felt nearly otherworldly.
The very first paragraph is a great example of how the novel plays with sounds, silence and music to mirror the inner lives of its characters. It was enough to draw me in from the first moment, and I’m hoping to convince others:
«Chalika, who was old enough to have a shadow of memory, could recall the time when the house was filled with sounds.
Shards of sounds, barely audible, humming ceaselessly from the nooks and crannies: murmurs, lamentations, garbled whispers, sighing, bawling, howling, weeping. The sobbing in the dark. Footsteps echoing through the night. The whistling of wind spiralling out of water.
It’s hard to tell if those sounds were really sounds or if they were merely signals, imprisoned and ricocheting around the house for years from the day Chareeya was born and Mother caught Father having an affair.»
I have so many more thoughts, but many of them are not easily phrased; ironically, it’s more natural to experience and contemplate this story in solitude. This is definitely a book to be savored rather than rushed, with so much feeling and intensity captured between its pages. I’m definitely returning to this sometime in the future whenever I want to re-experience this mesmerizing opera.
Two sisters in Thailand, Chalika and Chareeya, lose their mother and father after the love between them dissolves and are taken in by their Uncle Thanit. Likewise, Pran is taken by his father around the country, rarely staying in one place for long, after his father learns that Pran's mother has another lover. Soon, the sisters and Pran and grow up and become friends with each other, though deeper feelings arrive. However, love does come easy to them nor do they get to experience true love as they've always wanted. As if caught within a samsara (that constantly turning wheel of life, death, and rebirth in Buddhism) of their own, Chalika, Chareeya, and Pran's lives are filled with wants, longings, and pain. Was is to be their fates?
This was a beautifully written book and the first one I ever read translated from Thai. The translator Kong Rithdee states in his introduction that it was a challenge translation The Blind Earthworm in the Labyrinth and that some of the wordplay that Veeraporn Nitiprapha employed being the most difficult part. I cannot read Thai myself, but what Rithdee has done here is amazing. In English, Nitiprapha's prose is absolutely gorgeous, creating a dreamlike narrative that both lets us into the characters' hearts and minds and highlights the Buddhist influences on the story. There is not a single description that isn't beautiful or makes you wonder things like "Is she really crying amethyst tears?"
Using such beautiful prose is more than proper for a book with love as its focus. Now, I wouldn't say that The Blind Earthworm in the Labyrinth is a romance novel, though there is some (rather bittersweet) romance in the story. Akin to Wuthering Heights, though far less Gothic and grim, though no less melancholic, The Blind Earthworm in the Labyrinth is more of a story about love than a romance novel; in this case, a story about what love could've been and how the characters' desire for love was shaped by those around them, giving them false pretenses. The failed relationship of Chalika and Chareeya's parents definitely left an impression on both girls even though they pretend to ignore the fallout as children. Their father was in love with a dancer and when their mother found out, she made him cut off the relationship though he still wrote unsent letters to her. Their mother hounded their father, even in his death, and in possibly her death too. Chalika thus went on to overidealize love and men from the romance novels she read and Chareeya was constantly looking for love in young men who had fiery spirits. On the other side of things, Pran throughout the book has multiple romantic and sexual conquests, all which leave him feeling empty. He is in love with both of the sisters, but more so Chareeya.
As these characters grow up, you see want more from love and life, but it just doesn't go their way. Uncle Thanit does his best to ground them when he is present, but he is often off wandering the world with his own story and problems. In fact, that's something I notice a lot in this book, a lot of the men in it are off wandering and journeying, while the women stay in their home cities, waiting. Perhaps Nitiprapha is pointing out the differences men and women face when these kinds of things happen. The Blind Earthworm in the Labyrinth is definitely a book that also focuses on change in addition to love. The book takes place over the course of the late 80s, through the 90s, and ending in the early 2000s and their are mentions of certain political strife that happened in Thailand throughout and alongside these events the characters grow, but still remain immured in their who own struggles for their love and wants. There is eventual change toward the end of the book that seems in line with the Buddhist themes; and I won't spoil those but I will say that they are bittersweet and tugged at my heart.
Of all the characters, I think I sympathized with Chareeya the most. She just wanted to be in love, but almost every man she encountered either left her or was a douchebag (looking at you, Natee). The sad part of it is that Chareeya would sometimes fall head over heels with these men and it would be her own undoing. What I took from this is that she wanted to love a spirited man, just like her spirited father loved a spirited woman, albeit cheating on her mother with that woman, but at the same time she feared abandonment like her mother. Her pursuit into love makes her ignore the best relationship she has in the book: with her sister. I also pitied Chalika, so desperate to not suffer the same fate as her parents she turned to romance novels. Sadly, Chalika isn't focused on as much as Chareeya and Pran, but I enjoyed her moments in the book. She has some brief romances, but you can tell she really cares for her sister. There's even a line in the book, I'm paraphrasing, where Chareeya says she hopes to be her sister in the next lifetime too and that just crushed my heart. I felt bad for Pran too, but like Chareeya he goes through great change too. Perhaps he learns that like his father before him, this wandering, although it brings brief clarity and respite, does nothing but distance himself from the ones he loves--again, maybe Nitiprapha doing a bit more commentary there. Again, I won't say anything about what happens between Pran and Chareeya only that it's so beautiful and bittersweet at the same time. Uncle Thanit's own story is quite beautiful on its own too and really brings home the Buddhist themes, particularly of the release from wordily attachments and I think that's the crux of the book overall. Our three main characters, along with many other side ones, are stuck in these samaras and only release from it can bring them peace, but they just don't want to be released either.
Now, what does that title have to do with anything? Well, it's never directly explained. At one point in the book, Chareeya does look for earthworms in the dirt outside of their house who are said to be carving their own labyrinths and I think that's the meaning behind it. Through all this messiness, wandering, love-seeking, denial, and suffering these characters are blind, in a way, and lost in a labyrinth partially of their own making.
Overall, this was such a beautiful novel that pulled at my heartstrings. It made me feel good about love again.