Review by Booklist Review
Imai Messina (The Phone Booth at the Edge of the World, 2021) returns with another moving and tender novel, once again translated from the Italian by Lucy Rand. Author and illustrator Shūichi has been tasked with cleaning and renovating his late mother's house. When he notices that his mother's belongings are disappearing from the garage, he installs a camera. The thief is eight-year-old Kenta, who says he wants mementos from Shūichi's mother. Kenta is grieving her as much as Shūichi is, and Shūichi strives to learn why his mother and Kenta had such a bond. The boy begins coming to the house after school, as he did when Shūichi's mother was still alive. The Heartbeat Library of the title is a faraway place, an art installation collecting recordings of many people's heartbeats and the goal of a journey Shūichi has not yet taken. Shūichi's own heart has been broken over and over from an enduring cardiac condition as well as from stories he reveals throughout the book. This summary is not enough to contain all the layers in Imai Messina's fascinating novel, which is a beautiful meditation on grief and healing. A devastating must-read.
From Booklist, Copyright (c) American Library Association. Used with permission.
Review by Publisher's Weekly Review
A grieving man forges an unexpected friendship with a young boy in this gentle novel from Messina (The Phone Booth at the Edge of the World). Picture book illustrator Maeda Shūichi returns from Tokyo to Kamakura after his mother's death to prepare her house for sale. There, he catches eight-year-old Kenta rummaging through his mother's things, and learns the boy spent his afternoons with Shūichi's mother to escape his tense home life. Shūichi agrees to let Kenta keep visiting the house and protects him from bullies. Meanwhile, Kenta shares with Shūichi glimpses of a livelier side to his mother, who overprotected him as a boy due to his heart murmur. On a trip to Tokyo with Kenta, Shūichi reveals to Sayaka, a mortician he keeps bumping into around town and feels a spark with, that his own son drowned two years before and that his marriage fell apart as a result. Shūichi and Kenta then visit an art installation in Naoshima called the Archives of Heartbeats, which collects recordings of people's heartbeats. There, Shūichi is met with a surprise, prompting him to offer Kenta a more meaningful role in his life. The story is a bit simplistic, but Messina's light touch allows for genuine moments of connection between the characters. This brims with feeling. (Oct.)
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Review by Kirkus Book Review
A 40-year-old children's book author and illustrator returns to Kamakura from his home in Tokyo to clear out his mother's house--and decides to stay. About a year before his mother died, Shūichi shut himself off from all emotions in order to survive, for reasons that don't become clear until later. After her death, he sets about methodically clearing out her house, hiring a workman to help make the process less personal. But then he discovers that a small boy has been stealing items that are being temporarily stored in the garage: a watering can, a stained apron, a chipped cup--nothing of true value. The unexpected oddity of it intrigues Shūichi, and he begins to observe the boy. From this small beginning, a friendship blossoms between 8-year-old Kenta--who had been spending his afternoons with Shūichi's mother while his parents worked--and Shūichi, who decides to stay in his mother's house after all. This story, told in chapters as well as small snippets, unfolds much like origami: There's Shūichi's separation from Aya, his former wife; his growing relationship with Sayaka, who prepared his mother for burial; and his inability to deal with the devastating event that originally caused him to suppress his emotions. But in closing himself off from pain, he has also closed himself off from joy. This is a masterful second book by Messina, author ofThe Phone Booth at the End of the World (2021); from the richly drawn characters to the slow unveiling of the story to the constant presence of the ocean, nature, and the steep hill that Shūichi lives on--reading this lovingly drawn story is an immersive experience. A powerful, unforgettable tale of love that is made more poignant by the loss that preceded it. Copyright (c) Kirkus Reviews, used with permission.
Copyright (c) Kirkus Reviews, used with permission.
