Full Review

The swimming pool is underground, and the swimmers go there every day, or three times a week, or only on Thursdays, to swim their laps. There are rules, about showering, how to pass others, wearing caps. One day, the pool develops a crack. The crack develops into other cracks. The pool is closed down permanently.

One of the swimmers, Alice, is in the early stages of dementia. She remembers some things – the combination of her first bicycle lock, the day she met her husband – but forgets more and more. She goes to live in an assisted living facility. Her daughter has memories, and regrets that they weren’t closer, as she visits her mother and her disease progresses.

I clearly didn’t read the blurb for this book because I had no idea it was about dementia. I was enjoying the first section, about the swimming pool, and its amusing portrait of humanity, including Alice, and then was surprised that the story focused in on her. The next part, about what Alice could and could not remember, was touching. The portrait of the nursing home and its many rules and charges was darkly ironic. Then Alice’s decline and her daughter’s experience of this, and her regrets, was deeply touching. The novel is told in a simple way – no overwrought emotion – but it is very affecting. Very well written. I think I will need a cheerful palate cleanser after this one, though.

Verdict: a touching portrait of life and memory loss.

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Title: The Swimmers

Author: Julie Otsuka

Cover: Still looking for those details! (I listened to the audiobook.)

First published: Penguin, 2023

Length: 192 pages

ISBN: 9780241994283

Awards: Winner – 2023 Andrew Carnegie Medal for Excellence in Fiction

Genre: literary fiction

Representation: the author and her main characters are Japanese-American

Suitability: years 11-12.

>>> Click here for content warnings (potential minor spoilers)

brief reported groping; Japanese internment during WW2; dementia; nursing homes; illness in general; regret; death

Themes: life, memory, family relationships, regret

Literary features/tropes: the whole first section, about the swimming pool, symbolises normal life, with its rules, routines and enjoyments – with the tiny initial crack that becomes many and eventually closes the pool symbolising dementia. The first person plural perspective “we” in the initial section helps build a picture of humanity. The chapter ‘Diem Perdidi’ (I have lost the day), about what Alice does and does not remember is told in long, non-chronological, anaphoric lists: “She remembers her name. She remembers the name of the president. … She does not remember how she got the bruises on her arms…”, mimicking her patchy recall, and her daughter’s attention to it. A mosaic of Alice’s life is created. The other sections have literary features like the darkly ironic description of Belavista, in a confronting second person perspective (“you”). The second person perspective at the end is also highly effective at creating a tone of regret. In general: understated poetic prose, made up of tiny, detailed moments and observations. The ending is tonally perfect.

Cover notes: A beautiful cover which conveys the pool and the swimmer, with a hint of the author’s Japanese heritage in its inclusion of the traditional Japanese wave/water pattern. Screams ‘literary fiction’.

Audio narrator: Traci Kato-Kiriyama – great job, well narrated. I’ll never get over the US pronunciation of ‘buoy’, though (boo-ey?!). A short listen – four hours.

NSW syllabus: For a good year 12 English Advanced student, this would make an interesting related text for Texts and Human Experiences. It might also make a suitable related text for 12 English Extension 1, if studying Literary Mindscapes.

If you like this, try: other short literary fiction, e.g. How to Make an American Quilt by Whitney Otto. Other books about mother-daughter relationships, e.g. I’m Glad My Mom Died by Jennette McCurdy. Other books about Japanese-American experiences, e.g. Snow Falling on Cedars by David Guterson, or other books about these (historical fiction) that are also by Julie Otsuka: The Buddha in the Attic and When the Emperor Was Divine.

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Images are used on this blog post under the “Fair dealing for criticism or review” provision of the Commonwealth Copyright Act, 1968.