Ren Ishida’s sister Keiko is dead. She was murdered in a distant town, and her own parents refused to attend her funeral. No close friends and no lovers—in the end, there was only her younger brother Ren. But how could that be? Such a lovely, vivacious woman could not have been viciously murdered for no reason, and Ren intends to discover that reason. But he’s no detective; he’s a graduate student in literature. And worse, as he comes to discover, he may not even be an expert on his beloved sister’s life. She had many secrets and strange relationships. And some of those secrets force Ren closer and closer to his own secrets that he himself doesn’t want to understand.
The prose is very reminiscent of Murakami, as are some of the major elements of the plot. The opening, with a man in transit and a nostalgic song, is very Norwegian Wood. There’s a passive male narrator to whom a lot of strange things happen, an attractive but oddball teenage girl, a penchant for jazz, and like Sputnik Sweetheart, it ends with an unresolved phone call.
But what this specifically reminds me of is the moment in The Wind-Up Bird Chronicle in which Nutmeg relates the story of her husband’s murder. That mystery was never solved, and none of the characters expressed interest in solving it. Rainbirds is like the answer to that moment in particular: what on earth happened, and why? Murakami’s books are, to some extent, about how the world is irreducibly unknowable. Goenawan’s books are about finding out.
Also, just because it’s Murakami-esque doesn’t mean it’s an imitation. Goenawan has a strong voice and thoughtful presence all her own, and she’s not here to copy anyone. Her male characters may resemble the first-person narrators of books like A Wild Sheep Chase, but her female characters are not reduced to fetishised body parts or personifications of strange urges. Often in Murakami’s novels, the female characters are cyphers for the male narrator, there to elucidate (or befuddle) parts of his narrative. Goenawan’s women are their own people, and it’s their secrets, and their motivations, that are the focus.
Keiko is the heart of this story, but many other female characters flesh out the world. They have sick grandmothers, mentally unwell sisters, and missing wives; in other words, all kinds of serious situations just like Ren is experiencing. As he’s drawn into their lives for one reason or another, he begins to understand that the world is bigger and fuller than he let himself believe. When he lets their unique stories stand beside his own instead of dismissing them as disposable and interchangeable, he also finally begins to learn more about Keiko’s actual life, rather than the one she presented to him.
Ren is not a wholly likeable character. He treats women badly and is reluctant to examine his own failings. But as with recent discussion about the “likeability” of female characters, I don’t think it’s necessary for male characters to be likeable either. What’s more important is that Ren is trying. Grieving, confused, and nursing old hurts from his upbringing, he doesn’t always make the best decisions. But he wants to do the right thing for his sister. He wants to be there for her in death in a way he couldn’t be there for her in life. That makes him compelling, a much more essential trait for a main character than likeability.
The prose is also so likeable that it carries us past any of Ren’s shortcomings. It’s effortless, as smooth and swift as flowing water. It doesn’t call attention to itself with any splashy purple prose. It’s subtle and, like Ren himself, completely engaging. It draws together very disparate elements and combines them quite naturally, making for a very full narrative. The intermingled stories of all the people in Akakawa and Ren’s central journey to discover his sister’s life via her death make for a beautiful elegy and a promise of hope all in one.
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Synopsis | Goodreads
Clarissa Goenawan’s dark, spellbinding literary debut opens with a murder and shines a spotlight onto life in fictional small-town Japan.
Ren Ishida is nearly finished with graduate school when he receives news of his sister Keiko’s sudden death. She was viciously stabbed one rainy night on her way home, and there are no leads. Ren heads to Akakawa to conclude his sister’s affairs, still failing to understand why she chose to abandon the family and Tokyo for this desolate town years ago.
But Ren soon finds himself picking up where Keiko left off, accepting both her teaching position at a local cram school and the bizarre arrangement of free lodging at a wealthy politician’s mansion in exchange for reading to the man’s catatonic wife.
As he comes to know the figures in Akakawa, from the enigmatic politician to his fellow teachers and a rebellious, alluring student named Rio, Ren delves into his shared childhood with Keiko and what followed, trying to piece together what happened the night of her death. Haunted in his dreams by a young girl who is desperately trying to tell him something, Ren struggles to find solace in the void his sister has left behind.
