A short novel from Australian/Asian writer Au. Set in Japan, where a daughter has arranged a trip with her mother. Dense, layered stories from the present and the past, interwoven.

This was a recommendation in an interview with Anne Michaels, the answer to 'what was the last book you gifted?' ( )

3.5. An unusual little book, made up of scattered moments in the present and past of our narrator, and at times her sister. Each moment had sharp details, like the scent of the tea and the weight and color of the teapot, but the set of experiences is very scattered. One moment we are at a conference in her sister's past, then on a hike, the next as a job while a university student, and the next on a trip to a boyfriend's old family home. All are deeply personal and together they form a framework that gives a feel for the way our slightly neurotic narrator experiences the world. ( )

I read [b:Cold Enough for Snow|58730649|Cold Enough for Snow|Jessica Au|https://i.gr-assets.com/images/S/compressed.photo.goodreads.com/books/1628539813l/58730649._SY75_.jpg|89225823] during a heatwave as the title is wish fulfilment. I very much look forward to such temperatures. However, I don’t think I got the best out from it, as I read at speed while highly caffeinated. This novella is an atmospheric, meandering account of a mother and daughter’s holiday to Japan. The daughter digresses into memories and reflections upon her mother. Au’s writing is polished and elegant, full of insightful observation and subtle feeling. Every little incident is anchored in material details, so the narrative is full of texture:

During the lunch – perhaps because the day was beautiful and the orchard peaceful, and perhaps also because we were all young, drinking and talking and laughing, and because I had my hair tied back with a scarf as blue as the cobalt of Delft tableware – I again had the sensation of seeing us like a still in a film, or a photograph, and the feeling was paired with another one of satisfaction, and rightness.

Although I found the writing polished, the whole seemed somehow insubstantial. Mother and daughter remained enigmatic, despite their dynamic being carefully observed. I don’t think I was in the right frame of mind to properly appreciate this novella while reading. A more meditative, less caffeinated state would suit it better. ( )

[b:Cold Enough for Snow|58730649|Cold Enough for Snow|Jessica Au|https://i.gr-assets.com/images/S/compressed.photo.goodreads.com/books/1628539813l/58730649._SY75_.jpg|89225823] is a quiet novel about a woman and her mother touring Japan. It is so quiet that almost nothing happens, they take trains, go sightseeing, hear music, shop, eat meals, walk and talk--very matter-of-fact. The book has an almost daunting tiny font-size and is only ninety-five pages. Yet, squinting, I read on enjoying the author's perfect, measured writing and calm in this author's reflections.

"I asked my mother what she believed about the soul and she thought for a moment. Then, looking not at me but at the hard, white light before us, she said that she believed that we were all essentially nothing, just series of sensations and desires, none of it lasting. When she was growing up, she said that she had never thought of herself in isolation, but rather as inextricably linked to others. Nowadays, she said, people were hungry to know everything, thinking that they could understand it all, as if enlightenment were just around the corner. But, she said, in fact there was no control, and understanding would not lessen any pain. The best we could do in this life was to pass through it, like smoke through the branches, suffering, until we either reached a state of nothingness, or else suffered elsewhere. She spoke about other tenets, of goodness and giving, the accumulation of kindness like a trove of wealth. She was looking at me then, and I knew that she wanted me to be with her on this, to follow her, but to my shame I found that I could not and worse, that I could not even pretend." ( )

If you asked me to tell you the plot of this book, I could not remember. If you asked me to tell you the names of the characters or the places they visited, I could not remember. All I can tell you is that this book grabbed hold of my heart and did not let go until the end. Beautiful. ( )