Take, for instance, the episode with the dead body that preoccupies the last quarter of the book. The episode begins with Mole--the hermit-like protagonist--getting his foot stuck in a high-pressured toilet; it ends with an explosion, a flood, and a brigade of old men lusting over lost junior high school girls. In between Abe treats us to a discussion on what to do with a dismembered body (which we never see) and a series of increasingly uncomfortable descriptions of the pain that Mole feels in his trapped leg.
If this sounds like fun to you, then by all means pick up The Ark Sakura and read it. But if you're less than impressed by such happenings, avoid The Ark Sakura.
In a way, the style and narrative of The Ark Sakura remind me of a play that I wrote in high school. The play starred a platypus and an aardvark; the aardvark was stuck in a hole in the dessert, and the pair talked variously about baseball, porcupines, and the meaning of life. At one point a cactus became sentient and repudiated one of their claims, then sank back into its previous torpor. I believe that a tumbleweed also played an important role. The play was clever, self-aware, and internally consistent; at five pages, it was also an incredible bore.
That basically sums up what I think of Abe's book.
But, to give a fuller account: The Ark Sakura starts off strong. Mole's quirks quickly become apparent, and an early episode in a flea market with an unusual (and seemingly fictional) insect called eupcaccia left me with good first impressions. Mole's descriptions of all the traps he had set in his ark also led me to make the connection between this book and The Wasp Factory--a flattering comparison, given my opinion about that book.
But things quickly go downhill. Petty, pointless conversations soon begin to dominate the narrative; at one point, for instance, two characters randomly get into an overly technical debate about how to classify a gun. The style of the dialogues also becomes increasingly stilted and awkward. Truly random events pop up out of nowhere (the Broom Brigade? the hooligans?). Characters hardly stay still: at first you think you've nailed down one character, then he/she promptly goes and does something completely against the grain. Bizarre chapters spend pages and pages on things that make no sense (when you get to the spanking, you'll know what I mean). Abe spends a ridiculous amount of time lingering on saliva and gross bodily movements, especially around the mouth (burping, slurping, giggling, etc.). And even at the end, when I actually started feeling some interest in the plot, Mole suddenly changes his attitude toward one of the characters and then barrels headfirst into stupidity.
What is the point of all of this? Why waste such a splendid premise on such ridiculous events? Perhaps it's my fault that I don't understand absurdism. But it seems to me that if I really want to read random stuff happening, I can write it myself. After all, I'd much rather read about a platypus than a Mole.
Copyright © 2002 Steven Wu 