The Book of Form and Emptiness

In this latest work from Booker Prize finalist Ozeki (A Tale for the Time Being), young teenager Benny Oh is coping with the death of his Korean Japanese, jazz clarinet–playing father. As his white mother, Annabelle, descends into clutter, Benny starts hearing things speak—they seem desperate to express themselves. Benny finds quieter voices at the library and also encounters his own Book, which explains to Benny that it doesn’t make him do things but is there to capture his story in all its fullness; this can at times provoke arguments between them. (The Book as protagonist is of course the book we are reading.) The Book also dismisses authors as nothing more than celebrity midwives with fingers. So even as it movingly relates Benny’s struggles to reckon with his voices, helped by homeless Slovenian poet/philosopher Slovaj and a waiflike but tough young outsider calling herself the Aleph, and Annabelle’s struggles to hold onto her son, this is also a story about how stories work. At the same time, the narrative—indeterminately set but with a slight West Coast feel—considers issues from consumerism and environmental disaster, to mental health and our relationship with Made and Unmade objects. Arcing over all is Benny’s big question: How do we know what is real?