The City and Its Uncertain Walls
In a rainy day, I finished reading this last installment of ’s novels filled with cinematic aesthetics. It left me with a mix of emotions: stirred, revisited the first two parts in my mind, and felt teary-eyed as I sipped my . Why was this so warm? autobiographical novels are deeply rooted in human loneliness, albeit without losing material wealth but through profound emotional loss. Unlike the first two books’ , this novel concludes with a thoroughly gentle trustworthy ending, even amidst such an isolating and quiet world. No one truly likes loneliness; it’s just that everyone pursues different thingspeople objects and whatever they seek.
The first part of ’s novels is similar to the fourth volume he wrote when he was starting this middle-sectional novel (this middle-sectional novel was later rewritten into the book we’re reading now). However, its tone feels more eager for reflection and longing than anything else. Despite being written during his mid-twenties, it carries an emotional weight reminiscent of looking at endless unending raindrops hitting the ocean’s undulating surface from a close distance. The first part follows the seventeen-year-old “I” and the sixteen-year-old “you,” who are linked by their relationship (though it might be considered a love story). However, the narrative is centered on the emotional void left behind by the latter’s disappearance, which lingers in the former as an empty feeling. This theme recurs frequently in ’s works. Yet I still feel that “love” is merely an excuse for young people’s restless spirits to find an outlet an exit from their emptiness through a supposed fulfillment. But this escape turns out to be a bottomless pit into which they continuously dig deeper and deeper.
The second part of ’s novels is in the spirit of his typical writing style: He meticulously writes everything related to life and minor details. The protagonist, now in his forties, suffers from emotional emptiness that permeates every aspect of his existence. Due to this, the second part of the novel feels either tedious or expansive for some readers, while others find it refreshing and even inspiring. For me, who spends countless hours each day engaging in self-talk about my mundane self-centered life, this book offers a solace akin to sitting by a still lake and repeatedly taking deep breaths as if throwing a pebble into the water.
This novel lacks any grandiose contradictions realistic conflicts or profound trials. The protagonist and the shadow they share are not opposites but rather complementary counterpartsthey support each other assist one another and form an inseparable bond. The only obstacle is that wall, which was built for real-life reasons but has since faded away in our memories. It remains deeply rooted in people’s souls because it’s inherently unstable like human organs and ever-changing just as the real world is. There’s also no critique of reality or mockery of life in this novel; everything happens on a quiet unpretentious small town surrounded by desolate, seemingly unapproachable villages. All intents point inward, making me realize how deeply self-reflective this novel is. To me, this small town is an escape from realitya place where time has no meaning and the “present” has lost its grip on us.
I particularly adored the third part of ’s novels because I’ve forgotten the endings of his previous works (and even details about the plot). However, this novel’s ending left me with a different sense: It is bold warm, and carries a cinematic quality that differs from the second part. To leave this lost timeless small town isn’t difficult after all, it’s a place where time has no meaning and the “present” is merely an illusion. The walls surrounding it are ever-changing but aren’t meant to stop us. What truly matters is trust. The ending of these few paragraphs is exceptionally well-written. Our souls travel like birds in the sky, free from the walls that supposedly enclose them. We can’t be stopped by their barriers. Everythingpast emotions bodies good and badwill take root in us and grow into us. We are each other’s twin, bound together through our trust. All we need to do is believe. Don’t doubt. Those important things won’t be forgotten.
I also inhale deeply, holding my breath for a few moments. Everything that has happened to me fills my mindevery detail, every scenario. Every meaningful situation I’ve ever encountered. But now, there’s no longer any uncertainty. Perhaps I cant shake this feeling of certainty. As writes in the afterword, just like how we confront our own doubts and fears, this novel also conveys a sense of acceptance. It is as if he’s addressing me directly: “I deeply believe that there are valuable moments in life that deserve to be cherished. I dont want you to fear losing them because theyre truly important.”
I close my eyes, focusing all my strength into one breath and extinguishing the last flicker of light from the wax . The room grows dark. It’s an unimaginably deep extremely soft darkness.
is quoted in the afterword as saying that every writer can only tell a limited number of stories in their lifetime, which are essentially the same themes. We might try to disguise them in many different forms but ultimately succeed in no more than this. I think this novel must be his last work because he talks about these themes so many times and seems to accept it without any hesitation or regret. It makes me realize how truthful this novel is to his own life. In my view, this novel is the most honest and sincere one of ’s works.
I had a hard time putting myself through reading this book because I felt that every time I turned the page it was like losing another part of myself. But what moved me most was that he didnt just tell us about his life; he told us about our lives as well, and he did so in such a way that made us feel we were being addressed directly. The ending is so beautiful and full of meaning.
hitting the ocean's undulating surface
