The Housekeeper and the Professor [ペーパーバック]

Yoko Ogawa's "The Housekeeper and the Professor" is the sort of novel publishers release for sheer love of books. It's unlikely to be made into a blockbuster film, it admits no franchise possibility, it has no fist fights or car chases. But it's the kind of book that makes me want to read, and it will enjoy the loyalty of anyone who reads because the word is a joy in itself.

Ogawa creates a world remarkably free of names. The first-person narrator is called only "I," and she keeps house for an invalid genius she only terms "the Professor." These two form a non-traditional family with the Housekeeper's son, nicknamed Root, in "a small city on the Inland Sea." The only proper nouns are prominent mathematicians and Japanese baseball heroes.

In this regard, the novel recalls Expressionistic plays of the early Twentieth Century, peopled by characters with names like "Boss," "Stranger," and "Woman #4." Or perhaps it's more like Aesop's fables. But it clearly signals that these characters relate according to their responsibilities, not their identities.

The Housekeeper and her son build a bond with the Professor based on loyalty and his love of teaching. Their every accomplishment brings effusive praise from the old man they're actually caring for. But the trick is that the Professor has a head injury that has scrambled his limbic system. Nothing entering his head leaves a mark lasting longer than eighty minutes.

The Professor needs someone to care for, while the Housekeeper and Root long for a man in their lives to complete their troubled family. The Professor's yin finds the Housekeeper's yang. Root and the Housekeeper are inspired to be better people by the Professor, and seek after his praise, even knowing as they do that in eighty minutes he won't even remember.

Math, for the Professor, is not a drab science; it's a work of art and a mode of prayer. And it is this love of beauty and spirituality that inspires the Housekeeper and Root. Math is a tool that brings them together as a family and motivates them to reach for something higher.

The story is cerebral and episodic, in the style of many Japanese art novels. It doesn't burst like a string of dynamite. Readers weaned on the cinematic style of paperback American fiction will seek in this novel for sturm und drang which never arrives. But lovers of the magic of language will find this a refreshing rest from breathless American pop fiction.

This novel has a self-selecting audience made up of those who truly love when the magic of words changes the way we look at our world. Stunning, punchy, smart and touching. A book that reminds readers that we read for a reason.

Yoko Ogawa's quiet and insightful story, The Housekeeper and The Professor surprised me in several ways. For starters, I found myself transfixed by a story that relies heavily on two things I normally can't stand: math and baseball. These two subjects serve as metaphors in Ogawa's touching story about a young housekeeper, her memory-impaired professor client, and her 10-year-old son. Far from being cheap literary devices, mathematics - and to a smaller extent, baseball - form the basis of a strong bond between the three principal characters. All three are outcasts in their own way, and each possess some level of naive purity of character, which makes their ultimate friendship all the more touching. They are an unlikely trio, however the relationship that grows between them is as close as any family bond could ever be.

I also didn't expect this little book to be so inspiring and influential. The Housekeeper and the Professor is a haunting, beautifully written tale that will cause the reader to consider what constitutes family and what life's obligations entail. Ogawa's portrayal of the professor is particularly moving. Injured in a car accident in the early 1970s, he has only 80 minutes of short-term memory and must re-learn relationships and basic information on a continual basis. A brilliant mathematician, he uses math as a primary means of communication - he is most comfortable when talking about numbers and has a gift for making the complex seem simple. While lacking in memory, he has a natural and instinctual affinity for children, and bonds instantly with the housekeeper's son. The boy's presence helps to bring the professor out of his insular world - in fact the child is the only thing that the professor seems to care about beside his beloved prime numbers. The two bond over math, and later baseball, and their relationships nurtures and enriches both of their lives, as well as that of the housekeeper.

Ogawa's mastery at creating deep, multi-dimensional characters is all the more fascinating in this story because the reader never actually learns the subject's names (save for a curious nickname given to the boy by the professor). The reader is able to easily get to know the characters and feel empathy for them without knowing their names. The story transcends the need for names - in fact, I didn't notice the lack of given names until I was halfway through the book. Rather than focuses on something as mundane as a name, Ogawa chooses to give her readers a glimpse of her character's psyches. She wants us to ponder why people they act as they do, what motivates their actions and decisions, and to wonder why certain events happen. Ogawa's writing style is subtle, elegant and multidimensional. The story transcends time and geography and is applicable to just about everyone.

The Housekeeper and the Professor is a lovely, intriguing rendering of human relations and emotion that possess a calm dignity. Ogawa, who is well-known in her native Japan, has a gift for subtlety and an understanding of human psychology that allows her to build realistic, full-bodied characters who strike a chord with readers. I wasn't expecting to like this book - but its beauty and compassion won me over despite my fear of math and loathing of baseball.

Note: The book was made into a movie in Japan in 2006.

The trouble with writing a review of this book is that I have just finished reading it but I am certainly not finished thinking about it. The Professor suffered a brain injury which limits his short term memory to 80 minutes. His long term memories end on the day of the auto accident. The Professor thinks nearly exclusively about number theory, the rarely practical, elegant study of numbers themselves and their relationship with one another. The Housekeeper begins as a young mother merely trying to survive and raise her son with dignity. The story, on the surface, is the improbable family that arises, the odd but intense bond that grows between the three. The Professor's emotions are childlike and his love of children is intense. That present, immediate love showers over the Housekeeper's son, called "Root" by the Professor, helps the boy to grow and teaches the Housekeeper how to better love her child. Root and the Professor love baseball even if the team they root for are from different eras, and they form a bond that the lack of common memory cannot impair. The Housekeeper becomes fascinated by the elegance of numbers and by baseball. She is a better mother and a fuller person as a result of both. The characters are changed over time--except perhaps the professor: how can you change if you have no memory?

Like most books by Asian authors I have read, the language and story is beautifully spare, clear and relies on inference. Yoko Ogawa, and her translator, leave a lot of room for readers to reach their own conclusions (how can the Professor's love for the child be personal if he cannot remember the person?) There is discussion of theorems and formulas, with the proofs shown on the page. I am not drawn to number theory but the same spare elegance of the numbers inform the story. The rarity of prime numbers in really big numbers suggests the rarity of perfect moments in the course of a long life. Perhaps the joy of discovering a large prime is analogous to the joy of the rare but perfect moments of our lives. Perhaps I'm full of it, too. But because of what is not said, the reflective reader finds herself staring into the distance, thinking about the book (imagine being a child greeted with new joy and respect daily? What does that do for a child?). The Housekeeper and the Professor invites the reader to become engaged in a broader way than is possible in merely telling a tale.

Another reviewer said this is the sort of book published for the love of good writing and that is not likely to be made into a made for TV movie, and he's right. Its 180 pages goes by very quickly unless you pause to think through some of the formulas as math (I did not)rather than as literature (I did). How can formulas be literature? It's that kind of book, perhaps taking you where you have not been before and blending the authors thoughts with your own. Other readers will ask different questions as a result of reading it. It is very hard to ask more of a book than that.

I loved the book and will read it again. I imagine this book will probably not find a broad audience, but its readership will be devout.