NISIOISIN’s Hanamonogatari (花物語) is a book that I would love to carry with me everywhere, all the time. It’s a book that I would love to share with every single one of my friends. In fact, even with the next stranger I meet.
As with many books in the author’s Monogatari franchise/universe, 花物語deals with people whose sharp edges make them hurt each other even as they strive for honest connection - with others or with themselves. However, in every Monogatari novel, those sharp edges, flaws or outright neuroses are allowed to take on a visible presence. They become aberrations and oddities. Turning these stories into both compelling spirit-hunting narratives with aspects of urban legends and character studies that dig deep into the souls of their central characters (and ultimately that of the reader).
Usually, in these books, we follow Koyomi Araragi as he deals with the oddities clinging - no … with the oddities several girls he encounters or even himself cling to and can’t let go. In 花物語 though, as with several books from the Second Season, we follow one of the girls, in this case, Suruga Kanbaru.
At the beginning of this book, Kanbaru is struggling with herself. Struggling to know where she has left to go, what she should do now that her seniors have all left town, all the while still struggling with the mark of her past errors still gracing her left arm. An arm in the shape of a devilish ape. The one constant she has left now that everyone is gone and where everything seems to run towards change.
As it is the case for many of us, there were once things typical of her: she used to be the basketball star heading towards stardom till her ape arm put an end to it; she knew where she was and where she was running to. But now, her fixed track has turned into an open field with no clues whatsoever.
Her past gives her no direction anymore, her future even less. All that’s left now are hard incoming choices to make and insistent, contradictory advice from friends, teachers, and family.
In 花物語, Kanbaru constantly receives advice. Advice she remembers her dead mother giving her, telling her to be either medicine or poison, nothing in between. Ougi Oshino, who says she should not worry about her mistakes. Numachi, once a sports rival, proclaiming that if you run away from your worries eventually they will just cease to be worries. Advice from her kinda uncle Kaiki, who just tells her to eat lots of meat and to engage with her problems.
Unsurprisingly, none of that really helps to make her choices, her steps any easier - making choices is, after all, frightening. A choice implies denying whole other realities while embracing entirely different ones. Choices are indirectly tied to your own identity.
NISIOISIN knows that very well.
花物語 is a frightening book in that aspect. When we follow Suruga’s thoughts throughout these pages, she does not remain the only person who has to face the choices that inspire regrets and prompt future anxieties. At some point, Kanbaru even starts worrying that the past may really just be a collection of mistakes and one can’t help but start to wonder if she’s right. It doesn’t help that Numachi adds fuel to the fire by adding the equally disconcerting “all worries are just anxieties about the future”.
If the past at some point becomes just a collection of mistakes and the future is nothing but anxieties, what can possibly guide our actions in the present?
I don’t want to spoil anything more about the book, so I’m not answering this question. I think it would even run counter to NISIOISIN’s intentions. The Monogatari novels are books that allow a lot of personal feelings to run and flow through the pages. Even if at first it doesn’t seem like it; the conversations are long-winded (but always extremely enjoyable), sometimes absurdist, sometimes even hilarious, most of the time its points seem roundabout and confusing to decipher, but once those ideas within said points are deciphered by the characters they suddenly seem ridiculously simple, obvious … and true.
So unbelievably true, that you can’t help and wonder about how your messy feelings could lead you so off the mark of something so painfully, evidently true. But the best thing is it never looks down on you, in fact, it makes you believe that even if you haven’t formulated that conclusion yet, maybe not even actively thought about it, somewhere deep inside you have always known that what the characters have come to realize was something you were realizing as well … beneath the surface of all these messy, very human emotions.
So 花物語 is a powerful, frightening but also tender book about identity.
And, if you really commit to it, it can even be about the person reading it.
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Sidenote: In Japanese, reading a NISIOISIN book is an absolute smooth delight and reads like a stream of consciousness, so much you even forget you’re reading an actual book. He knows how to naturally place the reader directly inside someone’s head. Unfortunately, the English translation isn’t as smooth, sometimes even just a tiny bit clumsy, but, unlike the very early Bakemonogatari translations, 花物語 does a really great job to bring NISIOISIN’s witty, often funny prose to English life.