“Look at yourself. You’re still clinging to music, too. And you’re criticizing me for wanting to be something I’m not”
How long can you hold onto a dream before it goes sour and festers? This is the central question driving the propulsive melancholy that dominates the emotional landscape of Blue Giant’s second installment. Here, the brass and bragadoccio of the first novel are stripped away, leaving room for the more quiet, contemplative themes of self-amputated aspirations and the destructive capacity of clinging to a dream far past its expiration date.
Expanding the human dimensions of Sendai with a motley crew of new, interconnected characters, Ishizuki finds himself preoccupied with charting the precise point where dogged persistence of a desire crosses over into public self-flagellation. Observing the quiet rhythm of the town in delicate slice-of-life chapters, we find that most of Sendai falls into the second category. An overwhelming sense of mono no aware builds in the pages of the novel, like a silent tsunami that slowly engulfs the town and reader. Dai’s childhood best friend moves away, never to be seen again. Dai’s enigmatic yet privately supportive mentor is revealed to be a depressive alcoholic mourning the implosion of his own musical career. The high school music teacher privately mourns how there are “So many kids in love with music.. so many kids headed for disappointment. I wonder if I’ve done anything for all the kids I’ve seen come and go.” The fragility of life from the first novel rears its head here as mothers die and dogs are hit by cars. And yet, life continues marching on. It is within this constant experience of loss that Ichizuki shows a more gentle side of dreams, namely their ability to tide us through these feelings of grief. The high school music teacher, despite her outwardly smal life, defined by loneliness and a yearning for a lasting impression on music, achieves the sublime via a duo concert with Dai. Perhaps the message here is that you can find dreams, in the most unexpected place, resting high on a shelf and coated with dust, placed there because the time simply wasn’t right but ready to be cleaned off at a moment’s notice. A dream never dies, but they sometimes leave your life permanently and inexplicably. Like a lonely comet, you can only hope that you can return back to them one day. Until then you must keep on living, dreaming other dreams to patch the void the original left behind