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Der Schneekimono
»Willst du dein Leben erkennen, musst du es durch die Augen eines anderen sehen.«
Auguste Jovert lebt zurückgezogen in seiner Wohnung in Paris. Eines Tages steht ein Fremder vor seiner Tür, der ihm die Geschichte seines Freundes, des Japaners Katsuo Ikeda, erzählt. Ikeda führte ein bewegtes Leben als Schriftsteller, verliebte sich unsterblich in die schöne Mariko. Doch als er ihr wiederholt ihren Wunsch nach einem Kind ausschlägt, verlässt sie ihn. Er verfällt in tiefe Depressionen, bis er eines Tages die junge Sachiko trifft, die er unbedingt ganz für sich haben will, denn sie erinnert ihn an seine Mariko. Doch als Sachiko schwanger wird und in einem Schneesturm stirbt, muss er sich einer Wahrheit stellen, vor der er bislang die Augen verschlossen hat. Und Auguste Jovert begreift, dass diese Geschichte im fernen Japan mehr mit ihm zu tun hat, als er zunächst ahnte. Denn auch er wird von seiner Vergangenheit eingeholt …
Mark Henshaws atmosphärischer Roman ist ein atemberaubendes Stück Literatur über Erinnerungen, Lebenslügen, die große Liebe, ihren Verlust und das, was uns aneinander bindet. Ein Roman, so klar und poetisch wie ein verschneiter Zen-Garten.
Auguste Jovert lebt zurückgezogen in seiner Wohnung in Paris. Eines Tages steht ein Fremder vor seiner Tür, der ihm die Geschichte seines Freundes, des Japaners Katsuo Ikeda, erzählt. Ikeda führte ein bewegtes Leben als Schriftsteller, verliebte sich unsterblich in die schöne Mariko. Doch als er ihr wiederholt ihren Wunsch nach einem Kind ausschlägt, verlässt sie ihn. Er verfällt in tiefe Depressionen, bis er eines Tages die junge Sachiko trifft, die er unbedingt ganz für sich haben will, denn sie erinnert ihn an seine Mariko. Doch als Sachiko schwanger wird und in einem Schneesturm stirbt, muss er sich einer Wahrheit stellen, vor der er bislang die Augen verschlossen hat. Und Auguste Jovert begreift, dass diese Geschichte im fernen Japan mehr mit ihm zu tun hat, als er zunächst ahnte. Denn auch er wird von seiner Vergangenheit eingeholt …
Mark Henshaws atmosphärischer Roman ist ein atemberaubendes Stück Literatur über Erinnerungen, Lebenslügen, die große Liebe, ihren Verlust und das, was uns aneinander bindet. Ein Roman, so klar und poetisch wie ein verschneiter Zen-Garten.
381 pages, Hardcover
First published August 27, 2014
42 people are currently reading
900 people want to read
About the author
Mark Henshaw
11 books29 followersMark Henshaw was born in Canberra, has studied medicine and music and has lived in France, Germany, Yugoslavia and the United States. He currently lives in Canberra. His first novel, Out of the Line of Fire (1988), won the FAW Barbara Ramsden Award and the National Book Council/Quantas New Writers Award. It was also shortlisted for the Miles Franklin Literary Award and the Age Book of the Year Award. Out of the Line of Fire was one of the biggest selling Australian literary novels of the decade, and is being republished in the Text Classics series. Mark has also published a sequence of meditations, translated into French by Pierre Alien, Last Thoughts of a Dead Man (1990).
In 1989 Mark was awarded a Commonwealth Literary Fellowship, and in 1994 he won the ACT Literary Award. Under the pseudonym J.M.Calder, in collaboration with John Clanchy, he has written two crime novels, If God Sleeps (1996) and And Hope to Die (2007). His work has been widely translated. For many years he was a curator of International Art at the National Gallery of Australia. He recently returned to writing fiction full-time.
In 1989 Mark was awarded a Commonwealth Literary Fellowship, and in 1994 he won the ACT Literary Award. Under the pseudonym J.M.Calder, in collaboration with John Clanchy, he has written two crime novels, If God Sleeps (1996) and And Hope to Die (2007). His work has been widely translated. For many years he was a curator of International Art at the National Gallery of Australia. He recently returned to writing fiction full-time.
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 171 reviews
May 11, 2019
First off I did not enjoy this book like I thought I would it was set in Japan & France the first half I enjoyed but the second not so much The Narrative was told by a Japanese professor Amura Tadashi I was confused to say the least. It was mesmerising atmospheric, it moved at a slow pace which put me off I thought it would be a bit quicker there were a lot of things that didn't work for me not saying it was a bad read but there was too much description involved. 3.5 stars
August 27, 2014
I fell in love with this book on the first page and the first paragraph. ‘There are times in your life when something happens after which you’re be never the same.’ The writing is beautiful and so descriptive that it appealed to the poet in me. For example on one page the writer describes the sky as ‘churlish’ and then goes on to talk of, ’Banks of cloud the colour of egg white hung low and flat on the horizon.’ With a description like that I could picture it exactly. I liked the ‘chairs bent like penitents against the polished rims of the tabletops outside,’ and another; ‘Even at this early hour, traffic is jigsawed to a stop.’ Or this ‘to facture the silence with a single word,’ and ‘Memory is a savage editor. It cuts time's throat. It concertinas life’s slow unfolding into time-less event, sifting the significant from the insignificant in a heartless, hurried way. It unlinks the chain. But how did you know what counted unless you let time pass?’ I could have gone on and on plucking particular phrases, lines and paragraphs out of the book that struck me with their aptness, beauty and vision but that gives you the idea. To begin with I was so caught up in the writing I didn’t even notice the absence of quotation marks for dialogue, but as the book progressed I found at times it would have helped to have a little more clarification.
I thoroughly enjoyed the first half of the book but as it went on I became a little less enchanted with the story. The story, set in 1989 concerns retired inspector Police August Jovert, the former professor of law Tadashi Omura and his friend (and I use the term loosely) Katsuo Ikeda. I disliked the character of Katsuo Ikeda right from the start. I found him calculating and manipulative.
This story is one of secrets and lies. The back cover calls it an’ intricate psychological thriller.’ Intricate it may be but I would dispute ‘psychological thriller.’ I will agree it is a ’mediation on love and loss, on memory and its deceptions, and the ties that bind us to each other.’ The Snow Kimono is certainly an interesting read, worth persevering with, although there were certain parts of it I could have done without. All in all I was glad I read it, even though I didn’t particularly like or relate to any of the characters.
I thoroughly enjoyed the first half of the book but as it went on I became a little less enchanted with the story. The story, set in 1989 concerns retired inspector Police August Jovert, the former professor of law Tadashi Omura and his friend (and I use the term loosely) Katsuo Ikeda. I disliked the character of Katsuo Ikeda right from the start. I found him calculating and manipulative.
This story is one of secrets and lies. The back cover calls it an’ intricate psychological thriller.’ Intricate it may be but I would dispute ‘psychological thriller.’ I will agree it is a ’mediation on love and loss, on memory and its deceptions, and the ties that bind us to each other.’ The Snow Kimono is certainly an interesting read, worth persevering with, although there were certain parts of it I could have done without. All in all I was glad I read it, even though I didn’t particularly like or relate to any of the characters.
May 1, 2015
To be honest, this is one of those books that I could simply list appropriate adjectives for. This book is poignant, evocative, moving, heartfelt, shocking and, unerringly beautiful in equal measure. Such is the complexity of the writing and plotting, that it almost defies its own inclusion into the crime genre, as its literary credentials are plain to see, and the pace and lyrical intensity of the slowly unfurling plot, take the reader on a wholly mesmeric journey. With each strand of the narrative pivoting between separate characters telling their story, and the shifting location from France to Japan, and the unique characteristics of these two societies, rural and city, weaving in and out of the plot, the reader is constantly kept on the back-foot, and deliciously toyed with as to how the plot will develop. Henshaw cleverly harnesses the haunting simplicity of Japanese fiction, with all the style and impetus redolent of European crime fiction, in this utterly enthralling and highly original novel. Wonderful writing, and a book that I cannot urge you strongly enough to discover for yourselves.
August 26, 2014
“Even at this early hour, traffic is jigsawed to a stop. Battered trucks, hand carts, buses, clog the interstitial spaces. Schools of ancient bicycles swim through the narrow fissures. All around them, a swirling tide of men ebbs and flows, shouldering their wares, heads bent. Near and far, horns bark, men shout. High-pitched whistles shred the air. The bus floats on a shallow sea of dust and diesel fumes.”
The Snow Kimono is the fourth novel by Australian author, Mark Henshaw and the second written under his own name. The narration begins in Paris, 1989, with ex-Inspector of Police, Auguste Jovert discovering he has an adult daughter in Algiers and, shortly thereafter, meeting former Professor of Law at the Imperial University of Japan, Tadashi Omura. At Omura’s insistence, they dine together and Omura begins to talk about his life, telling Jovert “In Japan, we have a saying: If you want to see your life, you have to see it through the eyes of another.” Before long, it becomes apparent that this is really the tale of Omura’s friend, successful novelist Katsuo Ikeda. The man Omura describes seems to be a charismatic parasite who uses his observations of people to further his career. ”Look at people, Tadashi. Just watch them. If you want power over people, you have to get inside them, find out what they are afraid of. Be them. It’s the only way.” Omura begins with the intriguing fact of young Fumiko, the girl who is not his daughter, and launches into the long explanation of why he was bringing her up. Jovert’s own unrelated history is occasionally shared.
With Omura’s narrative, Henshaw achieves a definite Oriental quality. His characters are interesting and his descriptive prose is marvellously evocative: “Her laugh as sharp as darting swallows…” and “The events of the day jostle in her head. They settle for a moment. Then, like a flock of birds at dusk, they take to the air, whirling round and round in the sky above her” and “The streetlamps were lit. Rain still fell in a thin mist. The roads shone. To anybody else it would have been obvious – accidents hovered like hawks in the air” and “Behind me, the mountain peaks blaze like white teeth in the first rays of the sun. Darkness seeps back into the earth. The grey-tiled rooftops of the village, clustered together like sleeping cattle, begin to surface” are but a few examples. Whether it is the muddy, rainy mountainside in Japan or the dusty, noisy street in Algiers, Henshaw renders the atmosphere with consummate ease.
Omura’s description of the traditional Japanese jigsaw puzzle - “Some pieces are small, others large, but all are calculated to deceive, to lead one astray, in order to make the puzzle as difficult, as challenging, as possible. In our tradition, how a puzzle is made, and how it is solved, reveals some greater truth about the world” - could also apply to the novel Henshaw has written. He has crafted his tale with deliberate care and the reader who is patient enough to persist with the slow reveal (and the lack of quotation marks for dialogue) is amply rewarded by both the plot turns and the beautiful prose. This is a novel of passion and obsession, of lies and deception, of adultery and betrayal of trust, of murder and assumed identity. A superb read.
The Snow Kimono is the fourth novel by Australian author, Mark Henshaw and the second written under his own name. The narration begins in Paris, 1989, with ex-Inspector of Police, Auguste Jovert discovering he has an adult daughter in Algiers and, shortly thereafter, meeting former Professor of Law at the Imperial University of Japan, Tadashi Omura. At Omura’s insistence, they dine together and Omura begins to talk about his life, telling Jovert “In Japan, we have a saying: If you want to see your life, you have to see it through the eyes of another.” Before long, it becomes apparent that this is really the tale of Omura’s friend, successful novelist Katsuo Ikeda. The man Omura describes seems to be a charismatic parasite who uses his observations of people to further his career. ”Look at people, Tadashi. Just watch them. If you want power over people, you have to get inside them, find out what they are afraid of. Be them. It’s the only way.” Omura begins with the intriguing fact of young Fumiko, the girl who is not his daughter, and launches into the long explanation of why he was bringing her up. Jovert’s own unrelated history is occasionally shared.
With Omura’s narrative, Henshaw achieves a definite Oriental quality. His characters are interesting and his descriptive prose is marvellously evocative: “Her laugh as sharp as darting swallows…” and “The events of the day jostle in her head. They settle for a moment. Then, like a flock of birds at dusk, they take to the air, whirling round and round in the sky above her” and “The streetlamps were lit. Rain still fell in a thin mist. The roads shone. To anybody else it would have been obvious – accidents hovered like hawks in the air” and “Behind me, the mountain peaks blaze like white teeth in the first rays of the sun. Darkness seeps back into the earth. The grey-tiled rooftops of the village, clustered together like sleeping cattle, begin to surface” are but a few examples. Whether it is the muddy, rainy mountainside in Japan or the dusty, noisy street in Algiers, Henshaw renders the atmosphere with consummate ease.
Omura’s description of the traditional Japanese jigsaw puzzle - “Some pieces are small, others large, but all are calculated to deceive, to lead one astray, in order to make the puzzle as difficult, as challenging, as possible. In our tradition, how a puzzle is made, and how it is solved, reveals some greater truth about the world” - could also apply to the novel Henshaw has written. He has crafted his tale with deliberate care and the reader who is patient enough to persist with the slow reveal (and the lack of quotation marks for dialogue) is amply rewarded by both the plot turns and the beautiful prose. This is a novel of passion and obsession, of lies and deception, of adultery and betrayal of trust, of murder and assumed identity. A superb read.
March 12, 2019
"In Japan we have a saying. If you want to see your life, you have to see it through the eyes of another. But what if what you see is not what you want to know"
This is a beautifully written, intricate puzzle of a book. The clue, I think, is in the jigsaw puzzle - “Some pieces are small, others large, but all are calculated to deceive, to lead one astray, in order to make the puzzle as difficult, as challenging, as possible. In our tradition, how a puzzle is made, and how it is solved, reveals some greater truth about the world” -
I'm sure it all fits together beautifully and suspect I missed at least as much as I followed. For me, the story was deeply intriguing at first but seemed to lose its way as it went on, becoming tangled in its own cleverness. I'm still not entirely sure what I was meant to take from the experience. I'm still not one hundred per cent on what precisely happened at certain points of the plot and ultimately - as the story grew ever more implausible and coincidental, drawing to a close that wasn't quite an end, and a far from satisfying non-conclusion - I was left thinking, well, so what? I really didn't think the story worked and I really wanted a stronger ending.
But plot is not always everything and the writing is exceptional. Plucking memorable quotes from the pages -
“The events of the day jostle in her head. They settle for a moment. Then, like a flock of birds at dusk, they take to the air, whirling round and round in the sky above her”
“The streetlamps were lit. Rain still fell in a thin mist. The roads shone. To anybody else it would have been obvious – accidents hovered like hawks in the air”
- The Japanese chapters were confusing but exquisite, languid and lacking impetus, but utterly sublime. I was less convinced by the Paris and North African pieces of the puzzle, and the jerky jump from the lyrical, slow and snowy Japanese chapters to the gasoline heat of Algiers or the - frankly tedious - Parisian passages, left me in a bit of a head-spin at times.
I would definitely recommend this to anyone who loves beautiful writing for its own sake, especially Japanese literature: there is a definite and - I think conscious - effort to write like a Murakami or Yoshimoto. But don't bother if you're looking for a contemporary literary crime novel of the Scandinavian type - this is definitely not that.
This is a beautifully written, intricate puzzle of a book. The clue, I think, is in the jigsaw puzzle - “Some pieces are small, others large, but all are calculated to deceive, to lead one astray, in order to make the puzzle as difficult, as challenging, as possible. In our tradition, how a puzzle is made, and how it is solved, reveals some greater truth about the world” -
I'm sure it all fits together beautifully and suspect I missed at least as much as I followed. For me, the story was deeply intriguing at first but seemed to lose its way as it went on, becoming tangled in its own cleverness. I'm still not entirely sure what I was meant to take from the experience. I'm still not one hundred per cent on what precisely happened at certain points of the plot and ultimately - as the story grew ever more implausible and coincidental, drawing to a close that wasn't quite an end, and a far from satisfying non-conclusion - I was left thinking, well, so what? I really didn't think the story worked and I really wanted a stronger ending.
But plot is not always everything and the writing is exceptional. Plucking memorable quotes from the pages -
“The events of the day jostle in her head. They settle for a moment. Then, like a flock of birds at dusk, they take to the air, whirling round and round in the sky above her”
“The streetlamps were lit. Rain still fell in a thin mist. The roads shone. To anybody else it would have been obvious – accidents hovered like hawks in the air”
- The Japanese chapters were confusing but exquisite, languid and lacking impetus, but utterly sublime. I was less convinced by the Paris and North African pieces of the puzzle, and the jerky jump from the lyrical, slow and snowy Japanese chapters to the gasoline heat of Algiers or the - frankly tedious - Parisian passages, left me in a bit of a head-spin at times.
I would definitely recommend this to anyone who loves beautiful writing for its own sake, especially Japanese literature: there is a definite and - I think conscious - effort to write like a Murakami or Yoshimoto. But don't bother if you're looking for a contemporary literary crime novel of the Scandinavian type - this is definitely not that.
May 10, 2015
This is a novel that would be better the second time around; it is a joy to read; a rich narrative and engaging literary style. However, amid all the words and stories told I was left confused and unable to gain any understanding to convey to others what it was about and why it moved me so much.
The problem is in the retelling of stories from the lives of a Japanese professor and retired police inspector Jovert it it hard to piece together a plot or a direction of the book.
Many of the tales related are quite beautiful in imagery; description and sense of place especially the development of the snow kimono story and the childhood joy of witnessing the kite festival at close hand.
Others are dark, sinester and brutal terms of deeds and the destruction of lives.
I guess it is about looking back on one's life and reflecting upon actions and there influence on others; however, there seems little redemption for the sins of one's youth, the manipulation of people and the violence resulting from your will, direction or hand.
I hope I have a future opportunity to return to this wonderful book and trust others reading it with more understanding will forgive the poverty of my review.
The problem is in the retelling of stories from the lives of a Japanese professor and retired police inspector Jovert it it hard to piece together a plot or a direction of the book.
Many of the tales related are quite beautiful in imagery; description and sense of place especially the development of the snow kimono story and the childhood joy of witnessing the kite festival at close hand.
Others are dark, sinester and brutal terms of deeds and the destruction of lives.
I guess it is about looking back on one's life and reflecting upon actions and there influence on others; however, there seems little redemption for the sins of one's youth, the manipulation of people and the violence resulting from your will, direction or hand.
I hope I have a future opportunity to return to this wonderful book and trust others reading it with more understanding will forgive the poverty of my review.
March 10, 2015
Inspector Jovert, recently retired, receives a letter from a woman claiming to be his daughter. This prompts him to reflect on his life, especially his work as an interrogator for the French forces in Algiers in the 1950s, and about what happened to his wife and son. At the same time he finds waiting on his doorstep one night a Japanese professor Tadashi Omura who proceeds to relate his own life story. It’s never explained why Omura has sought him out, nor do the two stories intersect in any meaningful way, and I found this ultimately unsatisfying. The writing is both lyrical and often poetic, but the plots within plots, which never seem to resolve, made me soon impatient. Too many twists and turns, too many sub-plots, too many characters, too many symbols, all make for a crowded rather convoluted narrative which I felt was rather too clever for its own good. I remain unpersuaded that there is any great depth to this meditation on loss and love, loyalty and betrayal. If anything it seemed to me to be rather banal. However, I must say that the imagery and descriptions have stayed with me – even if I found the characterisation ultimately unconvincing.
April 3, 2015
The Snow Kimono, by Mark Henshaw, was described by the Sydney Morning Herald as ‘a thriller of the intellect.’ That being the case I suspect that I am not intellectual enough to appreciate the nuances of plot and complexities of interwoven character development. Put simply, I finished this book without understanding what the author was trying to say.
There are two main threads to the tale. First we have the Japanese story which revolves around Katsuo Ikeda, an apparently brilliant young author who also happens to be a narcissist and possible sociopath.
“he seemed to suck the light out of things”
His story is told during conversations held in a Paris apartment between his old friend, Tadashi Omura, and Auguste Jovert, a recently retired Inspector of Police who has his own story to tell.
This second tale forms the parallel thread. In his younger days Auguste worked in Algiers where he lived a double life as an undercover government operative. I found this strand particularly confusing. I did not pick up on how he ended up as Inspector of Police in Paris.
I harboured an expectation that at some point the stories would merge, or at least exhibit some similarities. If this happened then I missed it. Both men had difficult upbringings, numerous relationships and distanced children but these are hardly unusual life events. Their stories seemed to be building to more. The tangled threads contained many knots which I struggled to undo.
I suspect that one of the reasons for my confusion was the proliferation of unfamiliar names. I lost track of exactly who the many women with whom Katsuo became involved were. Likewise, the Algerian women became muddled together in my mind. To me this book resembled a mathematical puzzle that required note taking and relationship maps to enable the reader to keep track and understand key events. I could not simply read and enjoy.
The first chapter failed to grab my attention but by the end of the second chapter I was appreciating the quality of the writing, the imagery and the potential for a mystery to be developed and solved. That I got to the end without understanding left me feeling dissatisfied. Elements were explained, the Mariko, Sachiko, Fumiko strand being the most straightforward. The links between Auguste’s numerous relationships remained unclear.
That this book did not work for me need not mean that it will not work for other readers. The language, structure and phrasing are nicely done but, for this reader, the raison d’être remained obfuscated.
My copy of this book was provided gratis by the publisher, Tinder Press.
There are two main threads to the tale. First we have the Japanese story which revolves around Katsuo Ikeda, an apparently brilliant young author who also happens to be a narcissist and possible sociopath.
“he seemed to suck the light out of things”
His story is told during conversations held in a Paris apartment between his old friend, Tadashi Omura, and Auguste Jovert, a recently retired Inspector of Police who has his own story to tell.
This second tale forms the parallel thread. In his younger days Auguste worked in Algiers where he lived a double life as an undercover government operative. I found this strand particularly confusing. I did not pick up on how he ended up as Inspector of Police in Paris.
I harboured an expectation that at some point the stories would merge, or at least exhibit some similarities. If this happened then I missed it. Both men had difficult upbringings, numerous relationships and distanced children but these are hardly unusual life events. Their stories seemed to be building to more. The tangled threads contained many knots which I struggled to undo.
I suspect that one of the reasons for my confusion was the proliferation of unfamiliar names. I lost track of exactly who the many women with whom Katsuo became involved were. Likewise, the Algerian women became muddled together in my mind. To me this book resembled a mathematical puzzle that required note taking and relationship maps to enable the reader to keep track and understand key events. I could not simply read and enjoy.
The first chapter failed to grab my attention but by the end of the second chapter I was appreciating the quality of the writing, the imagery and the potential for a mystery to be developed and solved. That I got to the end without understanding left me feeling dissatisfied. Elements were explained, the Mariko, Sachiko, Fumiko strand being the most straightforward. The links between Auguste’s numerous relationships remained unclear.
That this book did not work for me need not mean that it will not work for other readers. The language, structure and phrasing are nicely done but, for this reader, the raison d’être remained obfuscated.
My copy of this book was provided gratis by the publisher, Tinder Press.
March 31, 2015
The Snow Kimono is a strangely wonderful and poetic read, honestly I found a lot of it a bit odd but beautiful and very compelling.
It is quite difficult to say what it is about - the narrative follows a tale being told, to a person who is not sure why he is hearing it. It is a complex and elegantly woven story, a puzzle within a puzzle that twists and turns its way towards understanding for the reader.
There is a journey made up of memories here, a gentle unfolding of lives with a very clever construct that makes it highly addictive even as a slow burner. Despite being unsure where it is taking you, you will know that you absolutely want to get there - indeed as you head into the final chapters you may find it very hard to put aside.
Absolutely gorgeous prose, often giving a creepy and unsettling feeling, what I call a chilly read, one that will stay with you long after finishing. A really really good read.
"In Japan we have a saying. If you want to see your life, you have to see it through the eyes of another. But what if what you see is not what you want to know"
What will be seen in The Snow Kimono? I would recommend you find out.
Happy Reading Folks!
It is quite difficult to say what it is about - the narrative follows a tale being told, to a person who is not sure why he is hearing it. It is a complex and elegantly woven story, a puzzle within a puzzle that twists and turns its way towards understanding for the reader.
There is a journey made up of memories here, a gentle unfolding of lives with a very clever construct that makes it highly addictive even as a slow burner. Despite being unsure where it is taking you, you will know that you absolutely want to get there - indeed as you head into the final chapters you may find it very hard to put aside.
Absolutely gorgeous prose, often giving a creepy and unsettling feeling, what I call a chilly read, one that will stay with you long after finishing. A really really good read.
"In Japan we have a saying. If you want to see your life, you have to see it through the eyes of another. But what if what you see is not what you want to know"
What will be seen in The Snow Kimono? I would recommend you find out.
Happy Reading Folks!
April 2, 2015
The first thing to say is that this is beautifully written, the language is lovely. Its key characters are a retired French policeman and an elderly Japanese professor. It is rare that I read a book and end up unsure quite what I make of it however this is definitely one of them. There are set piece stories some of which are interesting and I felt engaged with. However frequently I found myself puzzled about where the story was trying to take me. There seemed to me to be a lack of coherence and continuity in places.
I did find the story relating to the French detective's past engaging when it finally emerged and I felt that aspect of the book was well worked. However other characters I found less engaging and had less depth maybe. I would certainly understand opinions being split on this book. It is beautifully written and creative however, for me, it did not draw me in in the way I had hoped it would.
Disclosure - I received an advance copy of this book from the publisher.
I did find the story relating to the French detective's past engaging when it finally emerged and I felt that aspect of the book was well worked. However other characters I found less engaging and had less depth maybe. I would certainly understand opinions being split on this book. It is beautifully written and creative however, for me, it did not draw me in in the way I had hoped it would.
Disclosure - I received an advance copy of this book from the publisher.
December 8, 2016
Another example of why I should avoid books which have won literary awards. Like so many of them, this book was so self-consciously "literary" and "poetic", I barely understood what it was about.
To begin with, I admired the slow, hypnotic style of writing as Mr Omura told the tale of himself and Fumiko. But once the story moved on from that, it quickly lost me. The Goodreads intro says, "What's brought him to Jovert's doorstep is not clear", and it never becomes clear. I was expecting their two storylines to intersect somehow but they never did. In fact not very much is clear at all. Most of the book told the story of a brilliant but nasty writer Katsuo and how he mistreated various women, but I never worked out why I was supposed to care about that story.
Jovert's story may well have been more interesting but by that time I couldn't face ploughing through more beautiful language where nothing much happened.
To begin with, I admired the slow, hypnotic style of writing as Mr Omura told the tale of himself and Fumiko. But once the story moved on from that, it quickly lost me. The Goodreads intro says, "What's brought him to Jovert's doorstep is not clear", and it never becomes clear. I was expecting their two storylines to intersect somehow but they never did. In fact not very much is clear at all. Most of the book told the story of a brilliant but nasty writer Katsuo and how he mistreated various women, but I never worked out why I was supposed to care about that story.
Jovert's story may well have been more interesting but by that time I couldn't face ploughing through more beautiful language where nothing much happened.
September 6, 2015
Disappointing. I am a 'reader' so I'm not fazed by complicated plots and/or beautiful, carefully crafted prose. I'm pleased for the author that The Snow Kimono is so successful and so glowingly reviewed however I can understand why it was knocked back 39 (or however many) times before finally finding a publisher.
The prose is so self-conscious, the story so long-winded and ultimately tedious that I lost interest halfway through. I persevered out of respect for the author but by the time I was nearing the end I was skimming through page after page of cluttered short sentences wondering why the novel hadn't ended long ago.
Rather than sweeping me away The Snow Kimono was, ultimately, irritating. More story less writing.
The prose is so self-conscious, the story so long-winded and ultimately tedious that I lost interest halfway through. I persevered out of respect for the author but by the time I was nearing the end I was skimming through page after page of cluttered short sentences wondering why the novel hadn't ended long ago.
Rather than sweeping me away The Snow Kimono was, ultimately, irritating. More story less writing.
May 21, 2015
This book was rejected 32 times before it was published. It recently won the NSW Premiers Literary Award. I can see the reasoning for both.
The writing is beautiful but very slow, and there are some wonderful ideas, concepts and plot points. However the jigsaw narrative structure didn't quite get there. After long and patient build ups, the narrative would shift just as it finally unfolded. It was unclear if it would return - often it didn't. I guessed at a few too many of the surprises, but only because the build up was so long that my mind wandered. The sequencing felt over planned and over ambitious, and I felt this book had great content but no energy.
The writing is beautiful but very slow, and there are some wonderful ideas, concepts and plot points. However the jigsaw narrative structure didn't quite get there. After long and patient build ups, the narrative would shift just as it finally unfolded. It was unclear if it would return - often it didn't. I guessed at a few too many of the surprises, but only because the build up was so long that my mind wandered. The sequencing felt over planned and over ambitious, and I felt this book had great content but no energy.
February 27, 2017
Auguste Jovert comes across a stranger,Professor Omura one day near his Paris apartment.
One of the stories Omura relates is about his father, who, fanatical about jigsaw puzzles, to fulfil one of his dreams, embarks upon a western one of 5000 pieces. He is distraught to discover that unlike Japanese ones where each piece and each puzzle they comprise are unique crafted, that the Western one is mass produced with a representation of the finished article on the box. The journey of discovery is therefore undermined when the destination is already pre-ordained.
This novel is like the Japanese puzzle. As Omura tells his stories to Jovert, and Jovert relates his, you become completely engrossed and captivated by these tales of love, life and death. Like the Japanese puzzle, the destination may be uncertain, but the journey is incredible.
A beautiful, gentle and unusual book. Five stars for taking my breath away
One of the stories Omura relates is about his father, who, fanatical about jigsaw puzzles, to fulfil one of his dreams, embarks upon a western one of 5000 pieces. He is distraught to discover that unlike Japanese ones where each piece and each puzzle they comprise are unique crafted, that the Western one is mass produced with a representation of the finished article on the box. The journey of discovery is therefore undermined when the destination is already pre-ordained.
This novel is like the Japanese puzzle. As Omura tells his stories to Jovert, and Jovert relates his, you become completely engrossed and captivated by these tales of love, life and death. Like the Japanese puzzle, the destination may be uncertain, but the journey is incredible.
A beautiful, gentle and unusual book. Five stars for taking my breath away
February 16, 2019
I became transfixed by the characters in this story. It flits back and forth from Paris and Japan with a short detour in Algiers. The writing is ethereally beautiful and has a haunting quality as the doomed characters play out their life.
October 1, 2015
Mark Henshaw published his first novel in 1988; it was willfully metafictional (it was the '80s, and he is Australian), but beautifully written and great fun.
Then, nothing.
And here we have his second novel (not counting two crime novels), a mere twenty-seven years later.
And he's learned a lot from those two crime novels. The metafiction here is buried, but all the more fun for that: we have Inspector Jovert (whom I like to imagine as a particularly grizzled Russell Crowe). We have a novel of love and Japanese university life, involving trips to and from the provinces, and a character called Natsumi (cf: Natsume Soseki, and his Sanshiro). We have echoes of everything you've ever read about the French and the war in Algeria.
He's also learned that readers enjoy suspense, but the suspense here is astonishingly strange, and requires a lot of trust in the author. What we can't wait to find out, in short, is why we're hearing the stories we hear at all. What looks like it will be a policier or noir suddenly turns into one of those "then so and so sat down and told me this story" tales, but with no indication whatsoever why we, or Inspector Jovert, is listening to what he's hearing. Rest assured, dear reader, it is made clear (pace some other reviewers), though it's not at all easy to piece everything together.
The form is by far the best thing about this wonderful book, but there are also some harrowing moments, particularly if, like me, you have a brand new child.
Anyway, despite the rather cheesy opening sentence, you should all go and read this book.
Then, nothing.
And here we have his second novel (not counting two crime novels), a mere twenty-seven years later.
And he's learned a lot from those two crime novels. The metafiction here is buried, but all the more fun for that: we have Inspector Jovert (whom I like to imagine as a particularly grizzled Russell Crowe). We have a novel of love and Japanese university life, involving trips to and from the provinces, and a character called Natsumi (cf: Natsume Soseki, and his Sanshiro). We have echoes of everything you've ever read about the French and the war in Algeria.
He's also learned that readers enjoy suspense, but the suspense here is astonishingly strange, and requires a lot of trust in the author. What we can't wait to find out, in short, is why we're hearing the stories we hear at all. What looks like it will be a policier or noir suddenly turns into one of those "then so and so sat down and told me this story" tales, but with no indication whatsoever why we, or Inspector Jovert, is listening to what he's hearing. Rest assured, dear reader, it is made clear (pace some other reviewers), though it's not at all easy to piece everything together.
The form is by far the best thing about this wonderful book, but there are also some harrowing moments, particularly if, like me, you have a brand new child.
Anyway, despite the rather cheesy opening sentence, you should all go and read this book.
April 28, 2015
the imagery in this book was brilliant and beautiful.
unfortunately I am still confused after having read this book. the book is not linked well and seem to be scenes from many families lives based in multiple countries.
omura was a very interesting character who I think made the book tolerable. he was friendly and seemed to have depth in him.
jovert I never understood and seemed very flat with little to do in the story.
I wish I could rate this better as the imagery was beautiful but there were very big issues with connecting to the reader as well as the stories to the character's that we were dealing with.
unfortunately I am still confused after having read this book. the book is not linked well and seem to be scenes from many families lives based in multiple countries.
omura was a very interesting character who I think made the book tolerable. he was friendly and seemed to have depth in him.
jovert I never understood and seemed very flat with little to do in the story.
I wish I could rate this better as the imagery was beautiful but there were very big issues with connecting to the reader as well as the stories to the character's that we were dealing with.
March 6, 2015
I have been very fortunate to recieve a free copy of this book free from ‘Goodreads First Reads’.
I loved this book. After a slightly slow start I was totally engrossed and couldn’t put it down. The writing was a joy to read and the story so engaging. I love twists with Katsuo, Tadashi and Aususte in the book but never imagined the ending despite the storyline, which in retrospect did lead me there. Very clever writing. I would definitely read more of Mark Henshaw’s books
I loved this book. After a slightly slow start I was totally engrossed and couldn’t put it down. The writing was a joy to read and the story so engaging. I love twists with Katsuo, Tadashi and Aususte in the book but never imagined the ending despite the storyline, which in retrospect did lead me there. Very clever writing. I would definitely read more of Mark Henshaw’s books
July 31, 2016
Henshaw writes a wonderful story in The Snow Kimono. I could not put it down. He weaves an amazing tale that has you trying to pull all the pieces together. Just when you think you've got it all sorted out, he throws in a new twist. His prose is beautiful and if you're a writer there is much to be learned from this book. This is truly a very special book.
January 10, 2024
Disengaged, limp prose. They say it’s like Japanese box puzzles. Sadly once you know the combination of moves it’s monotonous.
April 20, 2018
discussed as a pair with https://www.goodreads.com/review/show...
What a fascinating pair to read back to back. Payment Deferred is a very modern psychological thriller which hooks the reader in from the start: an astonishing work to come up with in the 1920s by a young man at the start of his career. The Snow Kimono might also be defined as a psychological thriller, as long and meandering as Forester's is to the point. And, again in contrast, Henshaw's novel is the first he'd written for 25 years, having a normal career after realising that there would be no money in writing for him.
I suspect that Henshaw is too clever for me. I spent too much time wondering what I was doing. Whereas CS Forester knows exactly what you are doing. Following the journey this simple question takes you on: will the murderer get away with his deed? And despite - or perhaps because of - the implications of the title, the reader is sort of barracking (in the Australian usage of the word) for the petty man who acts on this big idea.
https://alittleteaalittlechat.wordpre...
What a fascinating pair to read back to back. Payment Deferred is a very modern psychological thriller which hooks the reader in from the start: an astonishing work to come up with in the 1920s by a young man at the start of his career. The Snow Kimono might also be defined as a psychological thriller, as long and meandering as Forester's is to the point. And, again in contrast, Henshaw's novel is the first he'd written for 25 years, having a normal career after realising that there would be no money in writing for him.
I suspect that Henshaw is too clever for me. I spent too much time wondering what I was doing. Whereas CS Forester knows exactly what you are doing. Following the journey this simple question takes you on: will the murderer get away with his deed? And despite - or perhaps because of - the implications of the title, the reader is sort of barracking (in the Australian usage of the word) for the petty man who acts on this big idea.
https://alittleteaalittlechat.wordpre...
May 25, 2017
This has beautiful language and is intriguing. Told by a retired French inspector and a Japanese lawyer this story weaves from Paris, Japan and Algiers. Did I understand it? I'm not sure but loved the connecting stories, particularly about the female characters. The descriptions were fabulous and leapt off the pages. The last quarter of the book was the best for me. Love, friendships, betrayal and looking back on one's life keeps the story moving along at an usual pace. I loved the Japanese aspect of the book.
November 14, 2017
Ik las het boek in het Engels en vond de (beschrijvende) schrijfstijl van begin tot eind erg fijn. Interessant om over de Japanse en Algerijnse geschiedenis te lezen.
De cover van het boek dat ik uit de bieb leende, deed denken aan een thriller, wat het niet is. Jammer, want daardoor had ik het boek bijna niet meegenomen.
De cover van het boek dat ik uit de bieb leende, deed denken aan een thriller, wat het niet is. Jammer, want daardoor had ik het boek bijna niet meegenomen.
April 23, 2017
Brilliantly fluid writing that tells an extremely intriguing web of seemingly separate storylines.
October 8, 2024
I enjoyed the language but honestly.. it’s very rare I have to google ‘tell me what happened in the snow kimono like I’m 5’ but here we are
July 16, 2018
Paris in 1989, and retired Police Inspector Auguste Jovert has a very strange day. In the morning he receives a letter from a woman in Algiers, who says she is his daughter. He later ends up on crutches following an accident, and on returning home drops his keys at his front door. Unable to pick them up because of his crutches, he is rescued by the appearance of an enigmatic Japanese, Tadeshi Omura, who hands him his keys, an act that’s probably symbolic in the context of the novel.
Over the next few months Omura tells the Inspector the story of his relationship with his adopted daughter, Fumiko, and his “friendship” with a self-centred writer, Katsuo Ikeda, who has relationships with a succession of beautiful women. I say “friendship” in inverted commas because it’s a one way relationship that reminded me of Holly Martins and Harry Lime.
The writing is deliberately slow and descriptive, so for example we get a paragraph describing the movement of an empty plastic bag being blown by the wind. I’m sure there are lots of messages hidden in the text, though I wasn’t always clear what they were. Ikeda has a house high on a mountainside, with a balcony overlooking the city and port of Osaka. Jovert remembers his time as a policeman in French ruled Algeirs, where the balcony of his apartment overlooked the old port. Memory, and its effect, is a major theme. The author also seems to also work in themes of guilt, family, and second chances. There’s a lot of unhappiness in the novel. Almost all the characters suffer mental anguish to a greater or lesser degree.
In fairness, I didn’t see where the story was headed until the plot reveal near the end, so credit to the author for that. I can understand how many people would enjoy this. Overall though, I found it rather unsatisfying.
Over the next few months Omura tells the Inspector the story of his relationship with his adopted daughter, Fumiko, and his “friendship” with a self-centred writer, Katsuo Ikeda, who has relationships with a succession of beautiful women. I say “friendship” in inverted commas because it’s a one way relationship that reminded me of Holly Martins and Harry Lime.
The writing is deliberately slow and descriptive, so for example we get a paragraph describing the movement of an empty plastic bag being blown by the wind. I’m sure there are lots of messages hidden in the text, though I wasn’t always clear what they were. Ikeda has a house high on a mountainside, with a balcony overlooking the city and port of Osaka. Jovert remembers his time as a policeman in French ruled Algeirs, where the balcony of his apartment overlooked the old port. Memory, and its effect, is a major theme. The author also seems to also work in themes of guilt, family, and second chances. There’s a lot of unhappiness in the novel. Almost all the characters suffer mental anguish to a greater or lesser degree.
In fairness, I didn’t see where the story was headed until the plot reveal near the end, so credit to the author for that. I can understand how many people would enjoy this. Overall though, I found it rather unsatisfying.
March 22, 2017
A month of so ago I started to read "The Snow Kimono" and quite less than a third of the way through the book. Then I read Henshaw's much earlier book "Out of the Line of Fire" (1988), which I was very impressed with. So I gave "The Snow Kimono" another try.
"The Snow Kimono" is a set of independent narratives that two elderly men share with each other. The two narratives alternate, meaning that the reader has to completely suspend one story for long periods while reading the other story. Both stories are fairly complex (one much more than the other) and I found myself continually struggling to remember the details and the characters of each story after being distracted by the other story for a period of time.
Auguste Jovert is a recently retired police inspector in Paris. Not long into his retirement, Jovert receives a letter from a young woman declaring herself to be his daughter. Apparently, Jovert had fallen in love with a woman when he served in the Algerian War.
At the same time, Jovert meets a neighbor in his building, Tadashi Omura, a retired law professor from Japan. As the two men get to know each other they slowly begin to tell the other their story whenever they can get together for a night. Omura tells a story that begins with him raising Fumiko, the child of Katsuo, a brilliant but rather dissolute friend who was serving time in prison. Eventually Katsuo is released and comes for his child. Omura's story meanders on for many years as Katsuo becomes wealthy and encounters a new set of problems. Jovert, in turn, tells the story of his time in Algeria and the woman he loved there.
At the end, as in "Out of the Line of Fire," there is a revelation that entirely changes one of the stories. It's a surprise, but it is not shocking and it is not the caliber of revelation that made "Out of the Line of Fire" so successful. I won't reveal the surprise ending here. But for me it wasn't worth the wait.
"The Snow Kimono" is a set of independent narratives that two elderly men share with each other. The two narratives alternate, meaning that the reader has to completely suspend one story for long periods while reading the other story. Both stories are fairly complex (one much more than the other) and I found myself continually struggling to remember the details and the characters of each story after being distracted by the other story for a period of time.
Auguste Jovert is a recently retired police inspector in Paris. Not long into his retirement, Jovert receives a letter from a young woman declaring herself to be his daughter. Apparently, Jovert had fallen in love with a woman when he served in the Algerian War.
At the same time, Jovert meets a neighbor in his building, Tadashi Omura, a retired law professor from Japan. As the two men get to know each other they slowly begin to tell the other their story whenever they can get together for a night. Omura tells a story that begins with him raising Fumiko, the child of Katsuo, a brilliant but rather dissolute friend who was serving time in prison. Eventually Katsuo is released and comes for his child. Omura's story meanders on for many years as Katsuo becomes wealthy and encounters a new set of problems. Jovert, in turn, tells the story of his time in Algeria and the woman he loved there.
At the end, as in "Out of the Line of Fire," there is a revelation that entirely changes one of the stories. It's a surprise, but it is not shocking and it is not the caliber of revelation that made "Out of the Line of Fire" so successful. I won't reveal the surprise ending here. But for me it wasn't worth the wait.
June 15, 2015
It is 1989 and retired police inspector, Auguste Jovert, has received a letter from a woman in Algiers claiming to be his daughter. He throws the letter in the trash but then stumbles into the path of a car, breaking his leg and keeping him home bound. Two days later, a new neighbour appears at his door - Tadashi Omura, a former professor of law in Japan who relates to him the story of Katsuo Ikeda, a brilliant but arrogant writer who was once his best friend and the women in his life. Entwined in his tale is Jovert’s own story of the Algerian woman he loved and lost.
The Snow Kimono by author Mark Henshaw is a hard book to categorize or describe. This is a complex tale that seems to unfold in layers – sometimes seemingly unrelated but always bringing the reader closer to the heart of the story. It is, as the narrator describes it, like a Japanese puzzle:
‘Each piece is considered individually. No shape is repeated, unless for some special purpose. Some pieces are small, others large, but all are calculated to deceive, to lead one astray, in order to make the solution of the puzzle as difficult, as challenging, as possible… how a puzzle is made, and how it is solved, reveals some greater truth about the world.’
Suffice it to say that its hauntingly beautiful prose captivates the reader as the various aspects of these different lives unfold. There is a lyrical rhythm to the story that kept me enthralled throughout. It is a book rich with beautifully crafted imagery and sentences that demand to be read out loud. It is also, for me, that rare book that I know I will read and read again and it will never fail to draw me in each and every time.
The Snow Kimono by author Mark Henshaw is a hard book to categorize or describe. This is a complex tale that seems to unfold in layers – sometimes seemingly unrelated but always bringing the reader closer to the heart of the story. It is, as the narrator describes it, like a Japanese puzzle:
‘Each piece is considered individually. No shape is repeated, unless for some special purpose. Some pieces are small, others large, but all are calculated to deceive, to lead one astray, in order to make the solution of the puzzle as difficult, as challenging, as possible… how a puzzle is made, and how it is solved, reveals some greater truth about the world.’
Suffice it to say that its hauntingly beautiful prose captivates the reader as the various aspects of these different lives unfold. There is a lyrical rhythm to the story that kept me enthralled throughout. It is a book rich with beautifully crafted imagery and sentences that demand to be read out loud. It is also, for me, that rare book that I know I will read and read again and it will never fail to draw me in each and every time.
December 31, 2014
What an intriguing novel to finish the year! It is based on an improbable connection between a retired French detective (Jovert)and a retired Japanese lawyer (Omura), who happen to live in the same apartment building in Paris.
Above all, this book is about the importance of story-telling and the way in which our lives become truly present when they are recounted to another. Omura has much to tell Jovert, especially about his charismatic but cruel friend Katsuo, whose father was killed in the Hiroshima blast. Jovert has much to hide (not unlike Hugo's Javert), particularly about his role in the secret service of Algeria during its war of independence. The women and children they have loved or abandoned tell their stories too.
The snow kimono of the title refers to a kimono of a particular design, made by village craftswomen and sold in Osaka, and worn by one of the women characters. It has particular relevance through both plot and the general atmosphere, which is indeed often snowy. This casts a sense of mystery which pervades the novel.
Henshaw has shown remarkable skill in holding together the disparate stories of Omura and Jovert, of Japan, Algeria and France. The introduction of the character Martine towards the end is the only uncertain note. The style of story-telling varies according to the locale and character. I found it magical and compelling.
Above all, this book is about the importance of story-telling and the way in which our lives become truly present when they are recounted to another. Omura has much to tell Jovert, especially about his charismatic but cruel friend Katsuo, whose father was killed in the Hiroshima blast. Jovert has much to hide (not unlike Hugo's Javert), particularly about his role in the secret service of Algeria during its war of independence. The women and children they have loved or abandoned tell their stories too.
The snow kimono of the title refers to a kimono of a particular design, made by village craftswomen and sold in Osaka, and worn by one of the women characters. It has particular relevance through both plot and the general atmosphere, which is indeed often snowy. This casts a sense of mystery which pervades the novel.
Henshaw has shown remarkable skill in holding together the disparate stories of Omura and Jovert, of Japan, Algeria and France. The introduction of the character Martine towards the end is the only uncertain note. The style of story-telling varies according to the locale and character. I found it magical and compelling.
April 6, 2015
The Snow Kimono is a pure brilliant magicial adventure. One of the best I have read in a long while.
In Paris 1989,Inspector Auguste Jovert steps out from his apartment to get his evening paper he was thinking about a letter he had recieved that day. It was from a young woman, someone he had never met before, who made an extraordinary claim. She claimed she was his daughter.
When Inspector Anguste Jovert returns back to his appartment he is introduced to a former Professor of Law Omura Tadashi waiting for him where Omurs tells Auguste Jovert an amazing magical story, which leaves you wondering is this story what Omura is telling Auguste true or something much more magical.
I highly recommend this story with a meditation on love and loss, death and deception, the inscapability of our pasts and the ties that bind us to others.
The Snow Kimono is a brilliant gripping and taut as drum, It is certainly a brilliant literary thriller that unfolds in the most exhilarating satisfying way. I am looking forward to Mark Henshaw publishing his next novel. Review by ireadnovels.wordpress.com
In Paris 1989,Inspector Auguste Jovert steps out from his apartment to get his evening paper he was thinking about a letter he had recieved that day. It was from a young woman, someone he had never met before, who made an extraordinary claim. She claimed she was his daughter.
When Inspector Anguste Jovert returns back to his appartment he is introduced to a former Professor of Law Omura Tadashi waiting for him where Omurs tells Auguste Jovert an amazing magical story, which leaves you wondering is this story what Omura is telling Auguste true or something much more magical.
I highly recommend this story with a meditation on love and loss, death and deception, the inscapability of our pasts and the ties that bind us to others.
The Snow Kimono is a brilliant gripping and taut as drum, It is certainly a brilliant literary thriller that unfolds in the most exhilarating satisfying way. I am looking forward to Mark Henshaw publishing his next novel. Review by ireadnovels.wordpress.com
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