Title Clues in Yoko Ogawa's Novel

Last week I read 'The Housekeeper + The Professor' by Yoko Ogawa. If you look closely at the image of the cover I've scanned in - and it is only in writing this that I paid attention to this detail myself - you can see that it was bought at LifeLine . Should I note the coincidence, that the characters in the story each are a lifeline to each other, though, naturally this should be the case in any good novel. The plus sign, instead of the more usual word 'and' or the ampersand '&' on the title page is also telling, Much of the connectivity in Ogawa's novel turns on the surprisingly properties of numbers, how they contain and reflect on each other. The number property that is the central metaphor in the first chapter is so wonderful, that, and perhaps I am a little susceptible to the eloquence of numbers, it bought tears to my eyes. In case you haven't read it I will not spoil it for you by explaining here. This is a just about perfect novel for me, understated, rich in mathematical metaphors, with a sense of realisation without any of the obvious tying up of ends that lesser writers resort to end a book.

My only quibble is I feel slightly guilty that in buying it second hand I have deprived Yoko Ogawa of royalties. Perhaps CAL should consider this problem and create an option to donate royalties for writers?

As a child I thought there was a jewel box hidden in my parent's house, I imagined there was a cache of pink cut glass rings - the ones with adjustable soft metal sizing - laid out in pink foam in the nailed tight plyboard box in my brothers' walk-in robe.

Years later, I realised the box was really the back of the bathroom cabinet. I got a lot of enjoyment out of those pink glass jewels that weren't there. Imaginery treasures are curiously satisfying.

Here is a central point where someone who might be interetested can see what bits of words, some links to work published in journals and ezines, and images that I have made.

Absent Knowledge

We are talking about knowing certain facts,

and he says, I know all that or used to,

it is only that I can’t remember.

Is this not knowing or forgetting

what you know? Perhaps the head holds

a trace of what was there,

perhaps it is there but can’t find

the way out; maybe it was there but left,

or there was a rumour that it was coming

but never did,

like the promised holiday ,

in Pennant Hills. At eight years old

I would lie in bed at night a hardly contained

precipice of anticipation that time

would take me to Pennant Hills and a big house

with a swimming pool. I can see

the façade of the house, the curve

of suburban street, where that house

I never went to might be - or even was.

Though I know I never went, maybe

somewhere, there is an unborn memory

of being there, and I am thwarted by absent knowledge

from enjoying what I did not do.

Carol Jenkins

From Voices from the Meadow Wollongong Workshop Anthology 2007 ( Five Islands Press)

Bambiraptor

The Going Down Swinging # 25 -special double CD edition has at last unwrappped itself in Sydney, with a lauch at the Last Bastion of Civilisation last Wednseday 25 September. I still don't know what is in this CD it apart from my spoken word poem Bambiraptor as I was incarcarated in an invention called Good Mummydom. I hope every one else had a good time at the launch party.

The fossil Bambiraptor’s importance in the evolutional of dexterity and the dissonant name gave me this rave by Blanche (Street Car Named Desire) - here she makes a play for Bambiraptor believing his tough and powerful persona is lined with tenderness, like Stanley. This poem is one of my bids to get fossils to colonise and take over the myth as the substratum of literature.

Show Me The Treasure

Title Clues in Yoko Ogawa's Novel

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