Tower of the Sun

I was so lucky to have unintentionally read “Tower of the Sun” just before Christmas season, as its story follows the misadventures of a twentysomething year old student in Kyoto just before this famous holiday. However, unlike the jolly, merry atmosphere that families and lovers indulge themselves in during that time, the mood of the protagonist and his male compatriots couldn’t be further from it. They are rather lonely, live in a constant state of gloominess, self-loathing, all while having a superiority complex on their own, declaring war against the tackiness of love and the so-called “Christmas fascism”, all while craving, from the bottom of their hearts, simple happiness.

The protagonist spends his days in a small room, only occasionally interrupted by trips to a grocery store, various book stores, video shop (to tame his inner beast) and most importantly, to stalk his ex (he vigorously fights back against the label of the stalker though and calls it “a research project”). He hasn’t set foot at any lecture halls at his university campus in months. The only productive thing he’s involved in is the occasional shift at a local sushi restaurant. In the eyes of society he’s certainly considered a failure, but in his own eyes, his genius, greatness and the mind of the visionary terrify an average person.

The brilliance of the novel comes from the fact that despite the obvious shortcomings of the protagonist and his way of thinking, he really is a good guy, and anyone who has ever been heartbroken or struggled during the early adulthood can find a reflection of themselves in the man. Personally, I am still going through something uncannily similar and I could portray myself in the many wayward thoughts of his, all while having no hope for the state of the matters to improve. “Tower of the Sun” resonates with me at a deep level, it makes me feel understood. Despite all doom and gloom, however, there might be hope in life, both for the protagonist and the reader.

Leaving the story aside, I could not conclude this review without mentioning the absolutely incredible style of Tomihiko Morimi’s writing and the way it’s been translated into English. Oh how many times have I laughed from the bottom of my heart at the passages that often, despite their mundaneness or absurdness, were written in such a humorous and euphemistic manner. How often I felt transported onto the streets of Kyoto and Osaka, with their detailed and vibrant descriptions. Sprinkle a thin layer of magic and mystery on top and you get a perfect literary mixture. I don’t think there is any other author who comes close.

Wholeheartedly recommended.