The Blossom and the Firefly by Sherri L. Smith
Publisher: G.P. Putnam’s Sons Books for Young Readers
Special thanks to Penguin Books for sending a copy for review.
Summary:
Japan 1945. Taro is a talented violinist and a kamikaze pilot in the days before his first and only mission. He believes he is ready to die for his country . . . until he meets Hana. Hana hasn’t been the same since the day she was buried alive in a collapsed trench during a bomb raid. She wonders if it would have been better to have died that day . . . until she meets Taro.
A song will bring them together. The war will tear them apart. Is it possible to live an entire lifetime in eight short days? (Goodreads).
Thoughts:
This book moved me in ways I didn’t think were possible. The prose, the lyricism, all the metaphors and symbolism, and the subtle angst were top notch. If I could describe this book in two words, it would be achingly beautiful. The social commentary the author wove in throughout was the cherry on top.
The book was a bit slow to start. Much of the beginning detailed Hana’s present day life and Taro’s past without either of them meeting each other. After some time, I understood why the pacing was necessary to build up to the climax. I also felt that there wasn’t enough time spent on showing how Kenji’s death affected Taro, but given the context, I thought that focusing on his own survival could also be a way to move on.
The writing style was one of the best I have ever seen. The book starts out fairly normal, but the gorgeous descriptions of the countryside and the detail with which Hana and Taro’s lives were explained drew me in and refused to let me go. When the angst came in, I knew I had to give this book 5 stars.
‘I lean up against the weathered wood, slick with rain and moss, and wonder if that’s his heart I hear beating, or my own.
“Hana.”
So much in a simple name.
“Taro.”
There is nothing more to say.’
How can anyone not give that a full rating? The poetic tone was fitting for the book while making it unique at the same time.
Secondly, I adored the time the author put into researching material for her writing. At times, I was so immersed that I began to doubt that the author wasn’t Japanese. Everything flowed so smoothly that it felt like I was there watching it happen. The way the author worked in social commentary through the usage of Japanese culture was especially seamless.
Mono no aware is a Japanese concept that means “the fading nature of beauty, the passing nature of delight.” She likened this to kids learning about sorrow and other such emotions at a young age, as Taro achieved this concept in his violin music only after his father left to fight in the war. Another example of this is when Hana and Taro meet again after Taro returns from an unsuccessful mission, and they awkwardly face each other with their feelings for one another on full display. The author compares the scene to a contemporary Kabuki play by linking the exaggeration of Taro and Hana’s actions to the actors on a stage.
I noticed that Taro’s narration was in the past tense and Hana’s was in the present the first time I read it, but the reason for this switch in narration didn’t strike me until much later. My interpretation of this is that Taro was meant to die and Hana was to keep on living, and that Taro had resigned himself to his death, so he was already “dead” and therefore was narrating in past tense. Instances like these keep cropping up in the book, and they truly make you think about things differently.
The way the plot unfolded was a bit underwhelming considering the setting of World War II, but I understand that the author wanted to highlight the softer, more human side of the war. This was done brilliantly throughout the book with the characters. Hana, on her own, is such a strong and resilient character, as is Taro, but in the end, they are both kids. That is what the author emphasized on in their relationship: they are just two kids dealing with their lives during this turbulent time and leaning on each other for support. What I found most moving was the willingness of these two characters to continue their relationship; even though Taro was meant to be sent to his death in a few days. Taro himself was struggling with his feelings between duty to the empire and his desire to stay with Hana, and Hana didn’t want to be hurt again like when her father left, but they both still took the plunge. It is a sobering thought that this was the closest people in that time could get to happiness, and that they had to suffer through unhappiness for much longer after a few brief moments of joy.
Kenji is one of the most refreshing characters I have ever come across with his ability to make light of everything with his surprising insights. He mentioned once to Taro that becoming fighter pilots was “the best worst thing that’s ever happened [to us],” and if there was one sentence to encapsulate the entire book perfectly, this would be it.
The author also used the relationships they had with their parents to show the generational divide between the older and younger generation. Both Hana and Taro felt like they owed it to the empire to carry out their respective duties with Hana as a maid to the Tokko pilots and Taro as a Tokko pilot; however, their mothers insisted that they should not be giving up their childhoods this way. Taro’s mother did not want to lose him to the war because she believed he would not be able to handle being a soldier. Hana’s mother didn’t want her daughter getting hurt from seeing off all the suicide pilots, and she tried to protect Hana from Taro. Both mothers knew they only had a certain level of control over their children, and tried to guide them along rather than clashing with them.
Taro’s relationship with his father was particularly turbulent, and the differing dynamics between Hana and Taro with their parents showcased the many different opinions people had of the times. Taro’s father was disappointed with his son for not sacrificing his life, but at the same time, he loved him to the point where he stopped Taro from leaving the house after Taro convinced himself his father did not want to see him.
The intensity of the plot grew as the story continued, but every so often there would be a small interlude where either Hana or Taro would stop and reflect on the state of affairs, usually in a contrasting location to their racing thoughts, such as the side of a slow river or a peaceful temple. I loved these little pockets of calm not only because they were brought alive by the rich descriptions, but also because it felt like it was reflective of life as a whole. Not everything is completely positive or completely negative all the time, and these pauses showed that there can be peace even during war.
The Blossom and The Firefly was a stunningly written book that offered a glimpse of what life might have been like for young people in the Second World War. The flow of the writing, characters, plot and social commentary were all executed masterfully. Don’t let the book’s slow start fool you; a universe of feelings awaits.
Reviewed by Shifaa H.