Yoko Ogawa, a famous Japanese female writer, was born in 1962 and graduated from the Department of Literature and Art, the First Department of Literature of Waseda University, the first private university in Japan.
In 1990, she won the 104th Akutagawa Literary Award for "Pregnancy Calendar". In 2003, he published "The Doctor's Love Equation", which was a huge success, and the novel not only won several awards in Japan, selling 1 million copies, but also caused a strong response in Europe and the United States, and was nominated for the British Independent Foreign Fiction Award. In 2008, she won the Shirley Jackson Award for her English novel collection The Diving Pool. Yoko Ogawa is the most successful Japanese writer in the European and American literary circles after Haruki Murakami and Kenzaburo Oe.
Aria
Yoko Ogawa
Once a year, on February 12th, I always visit my aunt's house. It's been 10 years since I first developed this habit.
Every year as soon as February begins, I quickly draw a circle on the 12th, and if it is not a Sunday, I have to submit a leave slip to the company. On that day, I would wake up earlier than usual, put on my thickest sweater and go back to the foyer to check that the gifts were properly placed in my purse.
It's a three-hour drive north on the Shinkansen from Tokyo, then an hour's taxi ride on the mountainside, and you'll end up in a small village where my aunt lives alone in a house. Although there are ski slopes, villa hotels and amusement parks that are only open in the summer, they are deserted and lifeless. There is only one sizable painting paint factory in the area, and it is the only place in the area that can provide stable work for the villagers. For 20 years, my aunt has been selling cosmetics to female workers in this factory.
The car pulls into the toll road in the mountains, passes through the larch forest, and heads up the mountain. The snow is getting deeper. The sightseeing cars, wooden horses, and airplanes in the closed amusement park were also covered with a layer of snow and frozen there. Soon, painting pigment factories began to appear in the field of vision. Driving past a two-story concrete women's dormitory in front of the factory, and then turning the first corner, I got out of the taxi.
The fork in the woods was covered with snow, and there was no sign of anyone walking recently. As soon as I stepped on my feet, my calves were empty of snow. The taxi drew a U on the snow, and when it turned around and moved away, only the occasional flapping of wings could be heard as the birds passed through the branches. At the end of the trail, my aunt's house loomed. I lifted my feet and walked slowly over there.
"Oh, it's so nice to see you again. ”
My aunt held me in her arms and brushed the snow off my shoulders and trouser legs while stroking around. Then, as if a blind man was anxious to find out if it was really me standing in front of me, my aunt rubbed my cheeks with her hands as if she were a child.
"My face was cold. Oops, come in, please. ”
Every year, this procedure is the same as usual.
There was a fire in the room, and it was very warm. Round table and two wooden chairs, cupboard with glass doors, lamp, sewing machine with foot pedals. The furnishings in the room are the same as a year ago, and they have not been particularly neatly tied, but they have to be tidy, but they are moderately ethereal with a breath of life. Cabinets are littered with direct-mail advertisements and receipts, and cardboard boxes of cosmetics are stacked underneath the sewing machines.
We sat down at the round table and picked up our coffee.
"Still selling cosmetics?"
I asked, looking at the cardboard box containing the cosmetics.
"Those regular customers are enough for me to make ends meet. Going to a strange place to sell, I don't have that spirit anymore. ”
"Don't push yourself, that's pretty much it. ”
"How are you now?"
"My work is also going well. There was a transfer last fall, but the work content remained unchanged, except that the sales section 2 was nominally changed to the 3rd section. In addition, he participated in sports meetings and took a trip to Spain and Portugal during the Christmas break. After that, I lay down for a few days with the flu...... Ah, that's it. ”
"Peace is the most important thing. My aunt said.
On closer inspection, all of my aunt's places are overshadowed by aging. The skin on the neck began to sag, the hair lost its elasticity, and even though I was a makeup expert, I still couldn't cover the dark halo around the eye circles. The tremors that appeared two or three years ago have become more and more severe, and every time she puts the coffee cup into the tray, she makes a slight rattling sound.
Even though I told myself that my aunt was sixty years old, and that there was no way to do it, whenever I looked at my aunt, I always wanted to explore the aging parts too much.
"Ah, here comes the rabbit. As soon as the first month passes, every day at this hour, I will come here to beg for food. ”
My aunt's voice was so beautiful. She took out what seemed to be a large rectangular loaf of bread, broke it off piece by piece, and scattered it on the snow outside the south window. The cold air slammed in. There are five rabbits in total, two of which are white and three are gray. Around the crumbs, they form a circle, pricking up their ears and twitching their lips. Maybe it's because I'm a stranger, and from time to time he looks at me in an unbelievable way.
Contrary to the aging of her appearance, my aunt's voice is no different from the past. Aware of this, I was relieved. No matter how small the voice is, it seems to gush out from the deepest part of the body. These voices are synthesized by softness and tension, sometimes piercing the heavens high and sometimes resonating in the caverns hidden deep in the throat. Only the expressions that remain in her voice are still testifying to the long past, she was an opera singer.
"For these hares, it's better not to put bait at random. Otherwise, their wild instincts will degenerate. ”
I said to her back.
"Well, don't they just come here to eat until they die? ”
My aunt's answer sounded clear, and at the same time, she pulled off more crumbs.
My aunt, who used to be a singer, never asked about how she later sold cosmetics. Of course, in the human world, even if there are such life changes, there is nothing to make a fuss about. I don't think there's anything wonderful about it, nor do I think there's anything wrong with it. It's just that I have an indifferent premonition that it's better not to ask about things that shouldn't be asked.
When I was just sensible, she, my father's sister, was already a professional singer. After graduating from the University of Music, my aunt went to Italy to study with a famous gentleman (a gentleman with a very long and complex name, the correct pronunciation of which no one among my relatives could pronounce), and who won an award in a concert for which her name was published in the newspapers. Even though she was only one member of the choir, at best a salesman or a maid or something like that, she was standing on the stage after all.
As a child, I was able to understand such detailed facts only after I was a little older. However, it is clear that in the whole family, my aunt is so shining.
In the family lineage, there was no one who was good at music. Not only music, but among all the relatives, there is no talent worth mentioning.
Piano, Vocal Music, Europe, Study Abroad, Opera ...... The foreign words that drowned out my aunt, which I was not accustomed to at the time, easily charmed and exhilarated my father, mother, grandfather, and grandmother. I noticed that when my grandmother went out, she would always wear that fancy scarlet scarf around her neck. Whenever asked (because it wasn't a pleasant color), the grandmother would proudly reply: "This is a daughter sent from Italy, and now she is performing at an opera house in Germany." Even if my aunt is not the protagonist, it doesn't diminish their excitement in the slightest.
"Hey, look! the big gray fat man is so clever with the bread under his ass, but the little white man is beating it from behind. ”
My aunt beckoned to me with her crumb-clipped hands.
We moved to the kitchen table and started our birthday lunch.
"Happy Birthday to you!"
I raised my glass of white wine.
"Thank you!"
The aunt shyly turned her gaze to the wine glass and replied.
"I'm sixty years old. ”
"This stage of life is over. ”
"In the past, I never imagined that I would live to be 60 years old. However, it doesn't seem to be a big deal now. ”
"Alright, let's open the gift!"
I straightened out the slightly wrinkled shape of the gift box and handed it to my aunt. My aunt slowly dismantled the box for a long time, taking care not to tear the wrapper and not let the tip of the ribbon touch the dishes. Perhaps because of the trembling hands, this face looks like a magical ritual.
This year's gift, a pottery buffalo ornament, was found while passing by a grocery store near the company. This buffalo is a medium-sized buffalo that fits in the palms of both hands, and has a slightly rounded shape. It propped up with two beautiful horns, tilted its head slightly, and looked at it with some restraint, as if it wanted to talk.
"How do you always find these things that make me so happy? You're a gift genius!"
My aunt exaggeratedly spread her arms and hugged my shoulders, which were still sitting in the chair.
Hugging each other at every turn is a long-standing habit of my aunt. As early as I was a child, I thought it was because of the opera, and I thought that my aunt had made this kind of behavior habitual because of her performances in opera.
My aunt then put the buffalo ornament on the shelf on the wall. She made her own shelves, like a special place for my birthday present. On the shelves, all the birthday gifts of the past ten years are arranged in order. Last year, it was a table lamp, the year before it was a glass with a fragrance, before it was an egg-shaped candle, and before that it was a tortoiseshell hairpin...... The earliest was a silver hand mirror.
Reuniting with my aunt, who has not been heard from for 20 years, is a very rare accident. At that time, my engaged girlfriend and I went to the nearby ski resort. At that time, there was no special reason why I chose that ski resort, of course, not because I remembered my aunt, but just got a chance to take a short vacation, so I went on a panicked trip.
On the evening before we were scheduled to return to Tokyo, when we returned from the ski practice area to the villa where we were staying, we saw a middle-aged woman with fluffy perm hair standing there, carrying a large leather bag. She seemed to have been walking outside for a long time, her plastic boots had changed color from the melting snow, and her hands carrying her purse were purple from the cold. The woman who came to sell cosmetics to the innkeeper of the villa was none other than my aunt.
The next day, we changed our plans and let my fiancée go back to Tokyo alone while I stayed to visit my aunt's house. Without any warning, I suddenly realized that it was my aunt's birthday, so I bought a hand mirror as a birthday present when I saw my fiancée off at the station. Because my fiancée suggested to me that people who sell cosmetics must use mirrors regularly.
"It's better to make this shelf. You see, as long as you look at this place, the situation of the birthday in the past ten years suddenly comes to mind. ”
My aunt folded her arms and looked contentedly at the gifts on the shelves for a long time. The shelves seemed to be skewed, and although the candles seemed to be tilted to the left, the gifts were all honestly in their place, and the buffalo who had just joined in was tilting its head next to the lamp.
"Okay, let's start eating, I'm hungry too. ”
Although there were only two people to eat, the food on the table seemed to be enough for ten people. Italian sausages, roast pork, fried cod, cabbage rolls, potato salad, crab butter fried rice...... All the dishes are full.
"You don't have to work so hard to make so many dishes for me. ”
In the beginning, I had tactfully made such suggestions, but no matter how much I tried to persuade them, they didn't change at all from year to year, so I've been silent lately. Maybe it's because I've been living alone for many years, and I'm not used to preparing meals in moderation for entertaining guests.
She said she was hungry, but her aunt didn't eat a single meal, just drank wine vigorously, and only symbolically picked up the fried food and chewed on a piece of lettuce that adhered to it.
My aunt told me about the women workers in the paint factory.
...... A female worker usually buys my new products generously, but recently her husband was involved in a traffic accident. He was unloading in the back of the truck when a sports car burst in, and the driver was thinking about something else and crushed both of her husband's legs. Hey, she doesn't wear any makeup anymore......
...... An eighteen-year-old girl who just entered the factory last year participated in the National College Student Beauty Contest. Actually, she doesn't look very good, but her hands and feet are surprisingly long. Well, I tried my best to teach her how to make up, and I used my business tools one after another. Of course, nothing. Later, it seems that he lost the first qualifier. I quit my job. Didn't even buy a lipstick for me......
It's almost all my aunt talking to herself. I nodded, I smiled, I poured wine into my glass, and I chewed desperately.
Through the window, you can only see the woods, the sky, and the snow.
The sky took on a clear blue, pouring its light from among the branches. At some point, the hare disappeared, leaving only a trail.
She, who chose the hand mirror for me, didn't marry me after all. At that time, we were both busy looking for a place to live, choosing a place to hold the wedding ceremony, and preparing tickets for the wedding trip, when she suddenly told me that she wanted to cancel all this. This happened a few months after the reunion with my aunt at the ski resort. Of course, this has nothing to do with my aunt. But......
I asked why, but she just kept crying, and the answer was quite to the point. I even thought that if it was really so painful, I might as well not break the marriage. However, she doesn't seem to like me anymore.
"If I still love you so much, there is no need to cry like this. ”
She said coldly and aggrievedly.
I'm still alone.
My aunt had been married once, and it seemed to be a future composer she had met in Milan, and I don't know the details, because I had never met that person. When my aunt returned from Italy, they were divorced.
Looking back, my aunt was still the most beautiful when she left for Italy. It's not just because of your youth, but also because of your circumstances, your talents, the atmosphere that surrounds you, your future, and so on, all of which shine brightly.
That year, at the age of five, I joined the rest of my family at the airport to see my aunt off. My mother and grandmother were dressed up much more beautiful than usual, and I wore a checkered bow tie around my neck and held a bouquet of flowers. The adults said that when they broke up with their aunt, they would give her this bouquet of flowers. I'm not used to that bow tie. I felt so suffocated that I couldn't breathe because of the neck restraint, and I was about to take the time to untie it, but my mother found out and reprimanded me.
At that time, my aunt was far plumper than she is now, her face was shiny, and her body was covered with large ornaments. She was surrounded by teachers and friends from the University of Music, laughing and laughing. The laughter seemed to burst out on the canopy of the airport, flickering like glass and falling on us.
Grandfathers and grandmothers were busy greeting people, as if looking for an opportunity to have a few words with their daughter. My father took a lot of pictures of my sister, and my mother stood next to my father and muttered to herself, "What kind of place is that?"
To put it bluntly, I was suffering from the bow tie, and I was not as elated as everyone else, but looked around at the decorative model airplane that attracted me in the shop, and was amazed at the color of the hair and eyes of the foreigner I saw for the first time.
When it was finally time to board the plane, my aunt used her usual movements to hug and say goodbye to everyone who saw her off. She held me to her chest and pressed her cheek against my face. I felt the smell of perfume. Please write to me! Don't drink raw water! Notify me when the performance is decided! Don't be in a hurry...... Everyone was talking about something, but Grandmother was the only one who bowed her head and sobbed.
"Hurry up, give flowers to my aunt!"
Mother whispered to me.
"Ahh
I swallowed what I had to say, remembering that I had forgotten the flowers in the monorail.
"Where did you put the flowers? Didn't you just hold them?"
Father glanced around.
"Alas, what a useless child! Didn't I tell you that I wanted you to hold it well? This is specially prepared by my mother!"
My mother forgot her last goodbye and only vented her dissatisfaction with me.
My aunt didn't notice this little incident, and waved her hand away. I looked at my free hands at some point, wondering what would happen to the bouquet now.
"Another bottle?"
As soon as the words fell, the aunt twitched the corners of her mouth in agreement. I took the wine out of the fridge and uncorked the bottle.
Before you know it, the wind is getting stronger and the clouds are starting to flow. From the depths of the woods, there was a strange sound of the wind whirling.
"You'd better eat something good. ”
I poured crab butter fried rice on my aunt's plate.
"Thank you!"
As she spoke, my aunt picked out the green peas from the fried rice and sent one to her mouth every once in a while. She then turned the conversation to another female worker. The female worker paid a large sum of money to the fortune teller to retrieve the missing dog.
When my aunt returned from Italy, she lost most of her brilliance. I was ten years old at the time, and I could feel the subtle change in the tone of my family's voice when they talked about my aunt. At that time, her father was the only one who went to the airport to greet her.
It seems to me that my aunt has not changed, she still feels so well puffed up, the ornaments are the same as before, and the laughter is still so beautiful and moving. However, it seems to be an indisputable fact that her talents did not bear the fruit as everyone expected.
Nevertheless, to celebrate the return of the country, a concert was held in the concert hall of the University of Music. She stood in front of the orchestra and sang many arias. I remember that day very clearly. Because, witnessing her standing on the stage and singing, that was the first and last chance.
"After the show starts, don't go out halfway, listen honestly!"
My mother said menacingly, so that when the lights dimmed, a strong terror came over me. I had the feeling that there must be a big man in black uniform blocking there at the exit, not letting anyone escape from there. But what if I wanted to go to the bathroom? While I was thinking, my aunt had already stepped onto the stage.
She wore a long blue women's gown with open arms, the neckline was adorned with artificial feathers for decoration, and her overly full breasts were half hidden. My aunt stood facing the audience and saluted everyone, pulling the hem of her clothes several times nervously.
My grandmother had worked so hard to sell tickets, but the empty seats that could be seen everywhere in the venue were still very conspicuous. The bandmaster's forehead was large, and he looked like a frail man. The members of the orchestra looked as if they were pondering an impossible question, and their faces were sad. At least that's what I think. In the light of the light, the brass instruments shimmered, almost unnaturally bright.
At first, I couldn't believe it was my aunt singing. I even thought that she must be in pain because of her back or chest. I thought the song was similar to the laughter that echoed on the ceiling of the airport, but I was wrong. It was a voice that was suppressed and enclosed—just like me in the audience. As if trying to break free from it, my aunt opened her mouth from time to time. At that time, I was really worried about whether the artificial feathers that had fallen off would be sucked in.
I forgot all the titles, but those impressions were so deep that I don't know if it was formed through some particular technique, or if it was to show the talent that didn't bear fruit. Anyway, by the time my aunt sang the first song, I was already asleep.
For my aunt, that concert was her last moment of glory and a day to show the world that she couldn't live up to the top level. Since then, my aunt has had fewer and fewer opportunities to appear on the opera stage, and soon she completely broke off from music and disappeared from our eyes.
Outside, the sun was setting and snowflakes were starting to fall. As soon as the conversation was interrupted, silence filled the space between the two. There was neither a knock nor a ringing phone. I put down my knife and fork and wiped the corners of my mouth with a napkin.
"Eat more!"
My aunt tried to push the plate closer to me, but the alcohol started to kick in, and the babbling became more and more incomprehensible.
"I've eaten a lot. ”
I corked the bottle with the wine left over and placed it at the very edge of the table where she couldn't reach it.
I looked back at the room and saw that the sink was stacked with pots for cooking. The curtains of the south window were still open, and new snowflakes were gathering again on top of the hare's tracks.
Here, there is nothing that reminds people of music. Musical instruments, sheet music, music stands, stereo, records...... Nothing. There is only infinite silence.
As usual, the buffalo on the shelf turned its gaze to this side, as if to talk to us, with seven gifts on the upper shelf and three gifts on the lower shelf. Suddenly, I wondered, how many more gifts can I put here in the future?!
I heard about my aunt's termination of her career as a singer once from my mother. That was when I was in middle school.
"Speaking of my aunt, it's the man who married her that is not good. He was a very powerful fellow, who loved vanity, and he talked about pomp, and he wanted to use violence when he drank alcohol. Sometimes, when he was drunk, he would beat his aunt desperately, and finally choked her by the neck. ”
"Are you trying to kill your aunt?"
"Where does he have the courage to kill, he just wants to torture his aunt and make her obey. Then, he shredded all of his aunt's clothes with scissors. What a helpless guy!"
How could my mother have never seen the man at all, and how could she tell it so vividly, though I was incredulous about it, but I didn't say it.
"After I was choked in the neck, I couldn't make a sound-"
The mother made a gesture of pinching her neck with both hands, rolled her eyes upward, and gasped sympathetically.
I remembered the bow tie that made me feel depressed when I went to the airport to see me off.
"So, let's try the dessert!"
We returned to the round table in the living room. Desserts are equally generous, with apple crisps, yogurt and eggs, sugar, chocolate and fruit juice, chocolate cream pastries, strawberries, oranges, and candies lined up with a choking sweetness. I tried, trying to finish even one of those plates.
My aunt took the small pot from the stove with her uncertain hand and put the coffee in it. A few drops of coffee spilled onto the chocolate cream snack, and my aunt and I didn't mind. The snow is getting heavier and heavier.
"I'll sing a song here, and I'll make it a gift to you. ”
The aunt said in a solemn tone, got up from the rattling chair, and walked to the middle of the room. I applauded, and my aunt bowed deeply to the applause.
"'There was silence all around' in Rucia of Lagamemore (1). ”
Last year was definitely the "dear name" in Rigoletto (2), and the year before was "Sad Things". And before that...... What is it? It seems to be "The Embroidered Girl" (3) or "The Favorite Girl" (4).
My aunt spread her legs, clasped her hands to her chest as if to offer her blessing, leaned down slightly, and closed her eyes. Perhaps the prelude was running through her mind, and her aunt didn't move.
Once a year, my aunt sings arias just for me. Nothing has changed in 10 years. She stood right in front of me, without a hint of shyness or timidity, singing in her voice, which had been hurt by men.
Without any hints or vocal exercises, my aunt suddenly began her singing. I've never seen an opera before, so I don't know what kind of story it is or what kind of repertoire it is sung on. I just listened intently.
The tone of the opening part is relatively smooth, as if telling a story. Soon, the song gradually reached its climax, and the hands that had been clasped together sometimes swung up and down, sometimes spreading their palms to my side, but her eyes were only cast on a certain point in the air.
When I was ten years old, I mistakenly thought that my aunt was very painful, and now I immediately revived it. Although it seems a little weak and frightened, it is far from the state of pain and self-shame, and the song has penetrated into the deepest body fluids of the eardrum. If my aunt was really in pain, I would do something for her, such as caressing her back, holding her hand, holding her shoulder, looking into her eyes, and so on. But she's singing, and I can't do anything.
I feel like I've been hearing the same songs for ten years, and I can't tell the difference between melodies, rhythms, and atmospheres. I even thought that my aunt might be singing an improvised melody that doesn't exist in this world. However, even if it were, it didn't matter, and there was nothing wrong with it. All I was left with was the memories of the sound.
My aunt tried her best to suck a breath into her already emaciated breasts, spread her legs wide, opened her lips with faded lipstick, and sang one after another. Occasionally, her collarbone can be glimpsed from the neckline of a blouse. The buffalo was listening intently to her singing.
I could sense the air between the two of them trembling. As if I could feel the tremor as if I could reach out my hand, I closed my eyes and tried to lift my left hand slightly. Grandmother's scarlet scarf, the bouquet of flowers withering on the seat of the monorail, me falling asleep in the dimly lit music hall, the women's gown shredded by scissors...... In the midst of the tremors of the air, various scenes emerged one after another, and soon disappeared before my eyes.
When my last breath was all exhaled and silence returned, I opened my eyes and applauded. The aunt lifted the hem of her skirt and bowed gracefully with a slightly shy expression. I still haven't stopped clapping. So, my aunt said:
"I really don't dare to do it!"
After saying that, he bent down and bowed again.
Taxis booked by phone signaled with their headlights at the bend leading to the fork in the road, and it was time to leave. I put on my coat, wrapped my scarf, and put on my satchel.
"Be careful!"
My aunt hugged me tightly. Behind her, the plates with leftovers that were cooling down caught my eye.
"Please cheer up. See you next year!"
I opened the entrance door and walked out into the room, where it was already dark. The freshly accumulated snow is so soft that it glows a striking white even in the dark.
Halfway through, I looked back and saw my aunt snuggling under the south window, staring intently at my side.
"Re-见!"
I waved my hand, and my aunt waved it quietly. And just like that, my February 12th was over.
(1) An opera in three acts by the Italian composer Donizetti (1797-1848), first performed in 1835.
(2) An opera in three acts composed by the Italian composer Verdi (1813 -1901), first performed in 1851, based on Hugo's play "The King's Rigoletto".
(3) An opera in four acts composed by the Italian composer Puccini (1858-1924), also known as The Artist's Life or La Bohème, first performed in 1896.
(4) An opera by the Italian composer Donizetti (1797-1848), first performed in 1840.
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