Can a retired husband and father be the protagonist of a coming-of-age story? Do some people grow old before they grow up? Mr. Katō’s cranky privations wrap like rope around his hardened heart. His marriage has declined since retirement--they may as well live on different planets now. He silently blames her for petty woes, such as where she puts his tattered, broken, or smelly old things (a broken radio, his father’s old, worn slippers) or how she preps his meal when he takes his dilatory walks. And she hasn’t removed the threads that close the pockets of his pants! He inwardly criticizes her for his own flaws, and he grumbles about her lively new dance course. He’s convinced he wants a Pomeranian dog but decides she would bark at that, too. His frustrations are her fault, in his intractable mind. But what if he could reinvent himself, over and over, if just for a few hours at a time? Would that help dissolve the walls between him and his wife? “…the only thing binding them together, was the distance between them.” Could it alter his life for the better?
With select individuals, Mr. Katō is quick to show empathy or engage in lively discourse. A taxi driver—a literal stranger—opens Mr. Katō’s cheerful and talkative side, and a homeless man he sees frequently on his walks keeps him absorbed. He contemplates his former colleagues, but usually tries to avoid them. One day, he is walking in the cemetery and impulsively propels forward and upward, as if his fingertips are touching the clouds. A mystery woman named Mie is cheerfully observing him, applauds and strikes up a dialogue. She subsequently offers him a part-time gig--to assume other identities for clients who request a stand-in actor. He’s to play a brief but significant one-time role in their lives. He accepts, after listening to a tape--like the flip side of Mission Impossible.
On one occasion, Katō pretends to be an estranged grandfather, and was delighted by the young boy, Jordan, and his devoted mother. On another job, he’s a silent and clueless husband for a woman who needs to vent. In their roles, she takes him down a peg with a whammy of a demand at the end. At another event, he officiates a wedding, which includes a tender, heartbreaking bride.
Readers, sometimes you will chuckle, or want to bitch slap Katō and his RHS—"retired husband syndrome.” At other times, well, you’ll have some sympathy. My only complaint is struggling to empathize with him. His role-playing bolstered his benevolence for the families he stood in for, but his participation sometimes bordered on saccharine. In his first assignment, I felt that his empathy for the biracial boy was tokenized by the author and shoehorned in for Mr. Katō. However, when he played the silent husband, his natural affinity for the part felt genuine, as did his gig as the wedding officiate. But his takeaway often seemed a bit superficial, or perhaps it hasn’t really deepened for him yet.
The sardonic voice and lightly piercing prose readily underscored each other. Milena Michicko Flašar is a remarkable writer—I would follow her passages anywhere. Translated from the German, Caroline Froh made its meaning soar. The writing exemplified Katō‘s repression, and the inconspicuous, austere sketch of Katō’s wife provided her with, ironically, more definition, set against her husband’s caustic and ignorant criticisms.
Does the playacting improve Katō’s rapport with his family? Is he more attentive? Sensitive? Evolved? Will he finally take her on the trip to Paris he’s been musing about for years, but stubbornly forgetting? Will he get that Pomeranian he so desperately says he wants? Flašar is superb at controlling moral tension within the pacing, and incorporating a bit of surrealism to shake things up. At the close of the book, I’m still pondering the outcome.
Many thank to Forge Books for sending me an ARC to read and review.