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The Painting
In 1869 Japan, a young woman escapes the confines of her arranged marriage by painting memories of her lover on mulberry paper. She secretly wraps the painting around a ceramic pot that's bound for Europe. In France, a disenchanted young man works as a clerk at an import shop. When he opens the box from Japan, he discovers the brilliant watercolor of two lovers locked in an embrace under a plum tree. He steals the painting and hides it in his room. With each viewing, he sees something different, and gradually the painting transforms him.
Set outside the new capital of Tokyo during the Meiji Restoration and in Paris during the Franco-Prussian War, The Painting is a richly imagined story of four characters whose lives are delicately and powerfully Ayoshi, the painter, pines for her lover as she dutifully attends to her husband; Ayoshi's husband, Hayashi, a government official who's been disfigured in a deadly fire, has his own well of secret yearnings; Jorgen, wounded by the war and by life, buries himself in work at the Paris shop; and the shop owner's sister, Natalia, who shows Jorgen the true message of the painting.
Exquisitely written and utterly spellbinding, The Painting reveals the enduring effect of art in ordinary life and marks the debut of a skilled stylist and first-rate storyteller.
Set outside the new capital of Tokyo during the Meiji Restoration and in Paris during the Franco-Prussian War, The Painting is a richly imagined story of four characters whose lives are delicately and powerfully Ayoshi, the painter, pines for her lover as she dutifully attends to her husband; Ayoshi's husband, Hayashi, a government official who's been disfigured in a deadly fire, has his own well of secret yearnings; Jorgen, wounded by the war and by life, buries himself in work at the Paris shop; and the shop owner's sister, Natalia, who shows Jorgen the true message of the painting.
Exquisitely written and utterly spellbinding, The Painting reveals the enduring effect of art in ordinary life and marks the debut of a skilled stylist and first-rate storyteller.
312 pages, Hardcover
First published October 22, 2004
33 people are currently reading
449 people want to read
About the author
Nina Schuyler
13 books113 followersNina Schuyler's short story collection, IN THIS RAVISHING WORLD, won the PEN Oakland Josephine Miles Literary Award, the W.S. Porter Prize, the Prism Prize for Climate Literature, and was a finalist for the Northern California Book Award.
She's the author of AFTERWORD, winner of the Foreword INDIE Book of the Year Award for Literary and Science Fiction; the PenCraft Seasonal Book Award for Literary-Science Fiction; and a Top 100 Notable Book Unshelved Competition; THE TRANSLATOR, which was a finalist for the William Saroyan International Prize for Writing, and the winner of the Next Generation Indie Book Award, General Fiction; THE PAINTING, a finalist for the Northern California Book Award. Her nonfiction books HOW TO WRITE STUNNING SENTENCES AND STUNNING SENTENCES: A CREATIVE WRITING JOURNAL are bestsellers.
She's the author of AFTERWORD, winner of the Foreword INDIE Book of the Year Award for Literary and Science Fiction; the PenCraft Seasonal Book Award for Literary-Science Fiction; and a Top 100 Notable Book Unshelved Competition; THE TRANSLATOR, which was a finalist for the William Saroyan International Prize for Writing, and the winner of the Next Generation Indie Book Award, General Fiction; THE PAINTING, a finalist for the Northern California Book Award. Her nonfiction books HOW TO WRITE STUNNING SENTENCES AND STUNNING SENTENCES: A CREATIVE WRITING JOURNAL are bestsellers.
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Displaying 1 - 26 of 26 reviews
September 29, 2015
This makes no sense.
I’ve wanted to write a review of this since April, but couldn’t bring myself to do it. I don’t mind the author taking liberties of any kind, even in historical fiction, but the point of historical fiction is that it’s, well, historical. It contains historical facts and/or background. This book has nothing. It’s all wrong.
After finishing the book and picking my jaw from the floor, I read the acknowledgments. The author claims that “many books were important for her in her research” – the story is set in 1870 in Japan and France – and then gives TWO titles about France and TWO about Japan. She also says:
“I also want to thank my Japanese language teacher […] who spent many hours explaining Japanese customs as well as her life in Japan.”
So, what exactly is going on in this thoroughly researched piece of literature? I'm actually trying to sort it out... The more important narrative deals with a woman painter named Ayoshi (never seen this name before), married to a potter named Hayashi, befriended by a thoroughly Westernized man named Sato. They live in a village near Tokyo, called Chigasaki, and Sato is staying with them, because he’s visiting his friend, who is – err – a married woman.
“He insisted she come to Europe. And how she read those letters and dreamed of joining him, not as a girlfriend, always as a younger sister; he was eight years older than she and full of advice. Oh, maybe once there was the typical girlish infatuation, but that faded when he left. Here, you can live the way you want, he wrote. In the West, I see young women walking on the streets alone, working at jobs in public places, going to the cafes, smoking and drinking gin at round tables with bright white tablecloths. You would love it here, my friend.
It’s 1869. In Japan, the separation of sexes continued well into the 20th century. But: This book is about an altogether different Japan. It doesn’t have much to do with Feudal Japan, Meiji Japan, Hello Kitty Japan, Dragon Ball Japan, Geisha Japan. Well, it’s sorta supposed to be the second one – most of the old traditions from Edo seem to have disappeared overnight – with reminiscences of the first. There are bits of Cruel Feudal Japan:
“Ever since the Tokugawa shogunate had sent the new feudal lord to Chigasaki, the old woman had treated many burned bodies, along with people dragged from their homes and beaten, men stabbed in the chest or sliced through the neck, rope burns on wrists, on ankles, and nerves poked with needles that left chronic pain.”
The shogunate sends new feudal lords (where from? why? do they breed feudal lords, or what? IT DID NOT WORK THIS WAY) to villages at random, to torture people at random. Makes sense, doesn’t it. But it’s all right, the villagers have a wise woman to treat them. She’s a very high-level wise woman, folks. She not only has medicines in glass bottles on her shelves, but she uses cinnamon and mint. Glass was an absolute luxury in Edo period. And cinnamon and mint – those were either insanely pricey (cinnamon), or considered repulsive (mint) and therefore not used.
People notoriously sit in the kitchen, eat and sip tea there. I know I harped on traditional Japanese kitchens in Western fiction many many times, so maybe it’s time to post a picture. Or not, screw this. Sorry. Please Google “traditional Japanese kitchen”.
Ayoshi, being a painter, has her own studio. She does nothing but paint. A solitary maid (who has no name, of course) is taking care of the whole house. What does Ayoshi paint?
“A woman stands alone under an umbrella in the evening rain. The sky steel metal, and the rain a silvery thick sheet. The woman’s parasol is golden, tinged at the edges with brown, as if faded from harsh light. She wears a black kimono, the kind worn at a funeral. Her glossy hair is pulled up high with engraved ivory chopsticks.”
Japanese ladies wear chopsticks. In their hair. Why don’t French ladies wear knives and forks in their hair, then? (To say nothing about the golden parasol and funereal kimono.)
But do you know who Ayoshi really is? She is a daughter of a feudal lord. Who had married her off to Hayashi – a person with disability, and a potter. Why did he marry her off? Because…
I know, right?
How the hell did they get together? She would almost never be seen in public. How did they talk? They wouldn’t know each other’s language.
THIS IS NOT HOW IT WORKED.
Hayashi is a potter who lives near a temple. He’s just a regular, lowly guy. But then it turns out he had a Western friend, a wandering Dutchman who taught him English and gave him books. Hayashi’s mother “worried the boy might be injured if anyone in the government discovered what he was learning.”
Yeah. It all reads like a bad fan fiction. A government which is interested in a single boy living in a small town? A government, not the secret police or something? A Dutchman wandering freely around Japan, when foreigners were closely guarded, invigilated and accounted for? THIS IS NOT HOW IT WORKED. Oh, and by the way, "the government leaders" have their meetings in Hayashi's house. In the village of Chigasaki. Oh boy.
The second narrative deals with a war veteran Jorgen, from Denmark, who tries to carve out a living for himself in Paris during the Franco-Prussian War, and falls in love with his employer’s sister Natalia, and with one of Ayoshi’s paintings. He’s regularly stealing stuff from his employer – who owns something like a warehouse and deals in curios and luxury items (I’m trying hard to understand what I’d read, here) – and then selling said stuff to rich people. This is how Jorgen encounters Ayoshi’s painting which, if I understand correctly, is going to Change His Life. This narrative is even cruder than the Japanese one.
“These parties, he says, shaking his head, as if he can’t believe what he’s done and seen. What do they call them? Soirees? Lot of rich people who get together and eat and get drunk and sleep together.”
As I said – the level of really bad fan fiction. But hey, this is France, not Japan, no need to be tiptoeing around it… 19th century? Strict societal mores? You don’t say.
“Remember when you danced as a girl, you undid your obi so the bottom of your kimono swirled?”
Undoing your obi is equal to taking off your corset. It’s undressing. Looks like they had soirees in Japan too.
Sometimes there are subtler moments in France, moments when the appreciation for the French culture shows… Like here: Jorgen’s sweetheart Natalia, who is fighting against the Prussians, is starving. The supplies are scarce, she has to do some nasty stuff to get food. But:
“When she returns to camp, there is only the indigestible pâté de foie gras.”
Indigestible.
I’ve wanted to write a review of this since April, but couldn’t bring myself to do it. I don’t mind the author taking liberties of any kind, even in historical fiction, but the point of historical fiction is that it’s, well, historical. It contains historical facts and/or background. This book has nothing. It’s all wrong.
After finishing the book and picking my jaw from the floor, I read the acknowledgments. The author claims that “many books were important for her in her research” – the story is set in 1870 in Japan and France – and then gives TWO titles about France and TWO about Japan. She also says:
“I also want to thank my Japanese language teacher […] who spent many hours explaining Japanese customs as well as her life in Japan.”
So, what exactly is going on in this thoroughly researched piece of literature? I'm actually trying to sort it out... The more important narrative deals with a woman painter named Ayoshi (never seen this name before), married to a potter named Hayashi, befriended by a thoroughly Westernized man named Sato. They live in a village near Tokyo, called Chigasaki, and Sato is staying with them, because he’s visiting his friend, who is – err – a married woman.
“He insisted she come to Europe. And how she read those letters and dreamed of joining him, not as a girlfriend, always as a younger sister; he was eight years older than she and full of advice. Oh, maybe once there was the typical girlish infatuation, but that faded when he left. Here, you can live the way you want, he wrote. In the West, I see young women walking on the streets alone, working at jobs in public places, going to the cafes, smoking and drinking gin at round tables with bright white tablecloths. You would love it here, my friend.
It’s 1869. In Japan, the separation of sexes continued well into the 20th century. But: This book is about an altogether different Japan. It doesn’t have much to do with Feudal Japan, Meiji Japan, Hello Kitty Japan, Dragon Ball Japan, Geisha Japan. Well, it’s sorta supposed to be the second one – most of the old traditions from Edo seem to have disappeared overnight – with reminiscences of the first. There are bits of Cruel Feudal Japan:
“Ever since the Tokugawa shogunate had sent the new feudal lord to Chigasaki, the old woman had treated many burned bodies, along with people dragged from their homes and beaten, men stabbed in the chest or sliced through the neck, rope burns on wrists, on ankles, and nerves poked with needles that left chronic pain.”
The shogunate sends new feudal lords (where from? why? do they breed feudal lords, or what? IT DID NOT WORK THIS WAY) to villages at random, to torture people at random. Makes sense, doesn’t it. But it’s all right, the villagers have a wise woman to treat them. She’s a very high-level wise woman, folks. She not only has medicines in glass bottles on her shelves, but she uses cinnamon and mint. Glass was an absolute luxury in Edo period. And cinnamon and mint – those were either insanely pricey (cinnamon), or considered repulsive (mint) and therefore not used.
People notoriously sit in the kitchen, eat and sip tea there. I know I harped on traditional Japanese kitchens in Western fiction many many times, so maybe it’s time to post a picture. Or not, screw this. Sorry. Please Google “traditional Japanese kitchen”.
Ayoshi, being a painter, has her own studio. She does nothing but paint. A solitary maid (who has no name, of course) is taking care of the whole house. What does Ayoshi paint?
“A woman stands alone under an umbrella in the evening rain. The sky steel metal, and the rain a silvery thick sheet. The woman’s parasol is golden, tinged at the edges with brown, as if faded from harsh light. She wears a black kimono, the kind worn at a funeral. Her glossy hair is pulled up high with engraved ivory chopsticks.”
Japanese ladies wear chopsticks. In their hair. Why don’t French ladies wear knives and forks in their hair, then? (To say nothing about the golden parasol and funereal kimono.)
But do you know who Ayoshi really is? She is a daughter of a feudal lord. Who had married her off to Hayashi – a person with disability, and a potter. Why did he marry her off? Because…
I know, right?
How the hell did they get together? She would almost never be seen in public. How did they talk? They wouldn’t know each other’s language.
THIS IS NOT HOW IT WORKED.
Hayashi is a potter who lives near a temple. He’s just a regular, lowly guy. But then it turns out he had a Western friend, a wandering Dutchman who taught him English and gave him books. Hayashi’s mother “worried the boy might be injured if anyone in the government discovered what he was learning.”
Yeah. It all reads like a bad fan fiction. A government which is interested in a single boy living in a small town? A government, not the secret police or something? A Dutchman wandering freely around Japan, when foreigners were closely guarded, invigilated and accounted for? THIS IS NOT HOW IT WORKED. Oh, and by the way, "the government leaders" have their meetings in Hayashi's house. In the village of Chigasaki. Oh boy.
The second narrative deals with a war veteran Jorgen, from Denmark, who tries to carve out a living for himself in Paris during the Franco-Prussian War, and falls in love with his employer’s sister Natalia, and with one of Ayoshi’s paintings. He’s regularly stealing stuff from his employer – who owns something like a warehouse and deals in curios and luxury items (I’m trying hard to understand what I’d read, here) – and then selling said stuff to rich people. This is how Jorgen encounters Ayoshi’s painting which, if I understand correctly, is going to Change His Life. This narrative is even cruder than the Japanese one.
“These parties, he says, shaking his head, as if he can’t believe what he’s done and seen. What do they call them? Soirees? Lot of rich people who get together and eat and get drunk and sleep together.”
As I said – the level of really bad fan fiction. But hey, this is France, not Japan, no need to be tiptoeing around it… 19th century? Strict societal mores? You don’t say.
“Remember when you danced as a girl, you undid your obi so the bottom of your kimono swirled?”
Undoing your obi is equal to taking off your corset. It’s undressing. Looks like they had soirees in Japan too.
Sometimes there are subtler moments in France, moments when the appreciation for the French culture shows… Like here: Jorgen’s sweetheart Natalia, who is fighting against the Prussians, is starving. The supplies are scarce, she has to do some nasty stuff to get food. But:
“When she returns to camp, there is only the indigestible pâté de foie gras.”
Indigestible.
October 4, 2024
Solemnly sultry and artistically agonizing. Two parallel storylines united only by a painting of genuine yearning converge in this novel that depicts life’s unfairness and denial of justice. Indiscriminately human, each character is nearly impossible to empathize with because they each represent the flaws in ourselves that we so desperately try to ignore: lust, entitlement, greed, and pride, to name a few. The author offers a self-guided tour of one’s own shames in comparison to the guilts of the characters, inviting the reader to cast judgements upon each of the characters instead of allowing themself to atone. Its subtle sexiness is spoken in whispers.
November 17, 2011
The fall book for Debra's novel course. An astounding beginning.
We had the final discussion of this book in class yesterday. We found the ending very satisfying. We were interested in the final glimpses the author gives of the various characters. In the case of Pierre, it was somewhat redeeming. We are able to see into the future of Jorgen and Natalia, and the different future of Ayoshi.
We had the final discussion of this book in class yesterday. We found the ending very satisfying. We were interested in the final glimpses the author gives of the various characters. In the case of Pierre, it was somewhat redeeming. We are able to see into the future of Jorgen and Natalia, and the different future of Ayoshi.
September 5, 2013
this could've been good, almost 4 stars, but the lack of dialogue quotes made me nuts. Ended skimming last 20 pages just to get onto a more interesting book.
October 16, 2014
A lovely story, lyrical and rich. I say that even though war-torn Paris was so dismal and the upheaval in Japan so evil but there is a richness to the descriptions of the paintings and of the food.
I always love stories that go with books and this book has a story. I had to go to the library to get a book by Cary Grant's daughter. I just just read Dyan Cannon's biography of him and wanted his daughter's perspective. We were simply browsing enjoying the tranquility, smells and joys of being in the library when I found this book. It is one of my most favorite things-to happen upon a treasure, a book that sucks you in and takes you to incredible places. It happens much more rarely now because I read so much on my tablet. It was a joy to enjoy the library on this level that humbles me and makes me feel very grateful.
I always love stories that go with books and this book has a story. I had to go to the library to get a book by Cary Grant's daughter. I just just read Dyan Cannon's biography of him and wanted his daughter's perspective. We were simply browsing enjoying the tranquility, smells and joys of being in the library when I found this book. It is one of my most favorite things-to happen upon a treasure, a book that sucks you in and takes you to incredible places. It happens much more rarely now because I read so much on my tablet. It was a joy to enjoy the library on this level that humbles me and makes me feel very grateful.
August 30, 2019
Whenever a novel has two narratives the challenge is to make both equally compelling, and have the connection between the two pay off. The book fails on both of those counts. That said, the book’s portrayal of Japan opening up to the west, and the costs of that openness, is both sensitive and insightful. I’d recommend for those who like historical fiction and want to learn more about Japan during that time, but I’m going to keep looking for more to read about the country during this era.
May 27, 2022
A compelling story, I kept reading in hopes that there might be some happiness. The ending is hopeful, but still so sad, much like the entire book.
Please use quotation marks for speech! It's not artsy, but irritating to have to read and reread so often in order to figure out what is narration and what is spoken.
I enjoyed the art aspects. Art historical fiction is a favorite.
Please use quotation marks for speech! It's not artsy, but irritating to have to read and reread so often in order to figure out what is narration and what is spoken.
I enjoyed the art aspects. Art historical fiction is a favorite.
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
May 15, 2017
Schuyler has a subdued but confident voice. She tells her story between two venues (France and Japan) slowly and lyrically, and allows the reader to make connections between the characters and the painting which they have in common.
August 1, 2021
A book clanging with the sounds of incongruities and cultural misconceptions and historical representatives, I found it hard to follow in many ways. As one reviewer said, the language WAS lyrical, but the story was fantastic and jarringly odd.
July 29, 2013
I like the premise of this book. As other readers have pointed out, it is really two stories set simultaneously in Japan and France in 1870. The beauty and intrigue in the novel comes from the similarities and parallels and differences between the two places.
Both stories pivot around the relationships between one woman and several men; both feature a "broken" man who has significant damage to his lower limbs; both deal with love and loss and war and poverty; both show a remarkable amount of freedom and independence for the women (especially given the time and this feels like a historical inaccuracy to me); both deal with illegitimate pregnancies; both have a "trouble maker" who riles up the powerful man in order to persecute the besotted other.
The stories also highlight the differences between western and eastern cultures. The most prestigious man (out of the main characters) in the Japanese story is the potter, while in the French story it is the merchant (and both stories have merchants); the eastern world is pre-occupied with becoming more western (and this might just be a racial bias because the book is written by a westerner), while the western world simply appreciates the products of the east.
Ultimately, it is the painting that unites these two worlds. The painting with which Jorgan becomes obsessed (seeing it as a talisman for Natalia's return) and with which Ayoshi relives her affair with her former lover. Clearly, she is supposed to be a talented painter (and Sato presses her to commercialize herself), but one wonders if the beauty and power in her work comes from the fact that it is hidden. If she knew that everyone (Hayashi included) would see the work it might not be as powerful.
I was unsure of the historical accuracy of some of the details. First (as mentioned above), it seemed way too forward thinking towards women's rights. I was astounded that Natalia would go to war (I'm assuming there was a female brigade) and glad to see that Pierre was offended by it, but just in general could not quite believe it. I was also astounded that Hayashi would be so accepting of Ayoshi's freedom. I would not think that he would allow her to spend all her time painting and being dismissive of him; I was also surprised that she was allowed to go to town (and then Tokoyo) unchaperoned; and again when she has the discussion with Sato about not being challenged. I just don't believe that these are typical thoughts for 1870. Second, the scene in which the doctor gives Jorgan a prescription for his pain seemed odd. I don't see this as historically accurate; the doctor might have sent him to the apothecary, but the whole image of ripping a paper off his prescription pad and handing it out felt way too modern.
I thought the fact that Jorgan ended up with both Ayoshi's painting and Hayashi's Dutchman's journal a bit too much. Seriously, the fact that he gets two pieces of the Japanese story is just unbelievable. I also thought the ending of the French piece was ridiculous. Completely unbelievable that not only does she see the balloon overhead, but saves Jorgan.
I was annoyed that the monk did not have a name. Yes, I get that he is a symbol for the whole Buddist tradition that is persecuted by the government, however we also get to see how and why he is different from the other monks. The whole point of the story is in his inner fight between his desires and individuality and his struggle to maintain his traditional lifestyle. He should have had a name.
Overall it was a quick and entertaining read, but nothing spectacular.
Both stories pivot around the relationships between one woman and several men; both feature a "broken" man who has significant damage to his lower limbs; both deal with love and loss and war and poverty; both show a remarkable amount of freedom and independence for the women (especially given the time and this feels like a historical inaccuracy to me); both deal with illegitimate pregnancies; both have a "trouble maker" who riles up the powerful man in order to persecute the besotted other.
The stories also highlight the differences between western and eastern cultures. The most prestigious man (out of the main characters) in the Japanese story is the potter, while in the French story it is the merchant (and both stories have merchants); the eastern world is pre-occupied with becoming more western (and this might just be a racial bias because the book is written by a westerner), while the western world simply appreciates the products of the east.
Ultimately, it is the painting that unites these two worlds. The painting with which Jorgan becomes obsessed (seeing it as a talisman for Natalia's return) and with which Ayoshi relives her affair with her former lover. Clearly, she is supposed to be a talented painter (and Sato presses her to commercialize herself), but one wonders if the beauty and power in her work comes from the fact that it is hidden. If she knew that everyone (Hayashi included) would see the work it might not be as powerful.
I was unsure of the historical accuracy of some of the details. First (as mentioned above), it seemed way too forward thinking towards women's rights. I was astounded that Natalia would go to war (I'm assuming there was a female brigade) and glad to see that Pierre was offended by it, but just in general could not quite believe it. I was also astounded that Hayashi would be so accepting of Ayoshi's freedom. I would not think that he would allow her to spend all her time painting and being dismissive of him; I was also surprised that she was allowed to go to town (and then Tokoyo) unchaperoned; and again when she has the discussion with Sato about not being challenged. I just don't believe that these are typical thoughts for 1870. Second, the scene in which the doctor gives Jorgan a prescription for his pain seemed odd. I don't see this as historically accurate; the doctor might have sent him to the apothecary, but the whole image of ripping a paper off his prescription pad and handing it out felt way too modern.
I thought the fact that Jorgan ended up with both Ayoshi's painting and Hayashi's Dutchman's journal a bit too much. Seriously, the fact that he gets two pieces of the Japanese story is just unbelievable. I also thought the ending of the French piece was ridiculous. Completely unbelievable that not only does she see the balloon overhead, but saves Jorgan.
I was annoyed that the monk did not have a name. Yes, I get that he is a symbol for the whole Buddist tradition that is persecuted by the government, however we also get to see how and why he is different from the other monks. The whole point of the story is in his inner fight between his desires and individuality and his struggle to maintain his traditional lifestyle. He should have had a name.
Overall it was a quick and entertaining read, but nothing spectacular.
September 26, 2013
There are two stories here, both set in 1870, one in Japan, and one in France. The link between them is the "painting" of the title, created in Japan and then sent to France, but it's a very weak link indeed. The two stories alternate chapters, so that we move from Japan to France, back to Japan, etc. Reading the book felt very herky-jerky, I think partly because the painting somehow doesn't work as a link, and partly because the writing is very dry and abstract.
As an experiment I tried reading alternate chapters to get the Japan story. Not bad, but it seemed like a very thin story. Same thing with France -- lots of internal emoting, but not much depth.
It's a valiant attempt, though. Quite interesting. And I think that the author has promise. I definitely want to read her newest book.
As an experiment I tried reading alternate chapters to get the Japan story. Not bad, but it seemed like a very thin story. Same thing with France -- lots of internal emoting, but not much depth.
It's a valiant attempt, though. Quite interesting. And I think that the author has promise. I definitely want to read her newest book.
April 8, 2011
The first half of this work that was set in Japan was beautiful. It was subtle and lovely. I never liked or could get into the characters or plot set in France. Ironically the ending in France I felt like was poignant (despite the terrible deal of having to read the bit from France to get to the ending) and the entire second half of the book set in Japan lost the essence of the characters and so as a whole the book fell apart. It was sad, because in so many ways the book was really beautiful. Some bits with the main woman in Japan were really breathtaking and came to life marvelously. But as a whole piece of literature, like I said, something about it just fell apart.
November 21, 2008
An interesting read.... torn between just liking and REALLY liking this book. Profound in many ways.... The characters are compelling and believable, the settings beautiful and tragic and extremely richly portrayed. Having lived in Japan, I felt very connected to many of the things the author portrayed although I felt she was not accurate in some of her portrayal of things which just may not have existed yet but which were put in her story.... electric lights in Paris, cellophane, some ways she spoke of the japanese house seemed too western for the period.... but I may be wrong.
December 24, 2012
I loved this book and am only sorry it's on my kindle so I can't loan it out. I thought the two stories, one in Japan, the other in France both taking place in difficult times were handled beautifully. I don't expect historical accuracies in fiction. And the basic facts were right. The language and characters were wonderfully developed.
April 28, 2013
A good book. It's really 2 stories that are intertwined only by a painting and never cross other than that. One occurs in Japan and the other in France (WWI)
Art is a very important theme in this book, as well as color. The ending felt a bit rushed and tiny bit far-fetched for the Paris story.
Art is a very important theme in this book, as well as color. The ending felt a bit rushed and tiny bit far-fetched for the Paris story.
August 1, 2013
The elegantly simple language was not only very evocative, but also a good match for both the Japanese culture and artistic theme. While I don't usually like books that fail to tie up loose plot ends, the untidy ending of this novel was in line with the characters' as developed and their somewhat meandering stories.
December 6, 2013
nice to read, but I felt like the connection between the two stories was tenuous at best, and the parallels the author tried to draw in the stories (example: pigeon vs koi)was a hallow attempt at depth. The two stories were entertaining and the character development was well done, but I think the book would have been better as two stand alone novels or novellas.
September 26, 2010
This book was really two different stories. I failed to see how the lives in Paris were connected to those in Japan other than the obvious painting. Midway through the book it was hard to keep reading. The ending held no redeeming qualities.
February 13, 2012
Felt the book did not flow as a story. I think she could have taken the two time periods and write 2 different stories in one book. The painting really did not play that big a role I felt in the book either. Yes he steals it back and runs away but it all seems forced.
September 22, 2008
maybe a 2.5. . .
January 25, 2009
Picked this up from a friend. It's two stories, equally engaging, about longing and loss.
August 13, 2012
I wish I could give this book 5 stars! Such a beautiful story... but I found it to be poorly structured and loaded with historical inaccuracies.
February 14, 2013
Very pleasant reading. I enjoyed this book
June 10, 2013
Interesting, beautifully written, sad and hopeless at same time. Maybe a little too deep for me.
May 17, 2016
not currently essential
Displaying 1 - 26 of 26 reviews