I had an interesting experience with Jeff Talarigo's The Pearl Diver. Mellow had recommended it and usually I like what Mellow likes, often a whole lot. But with The Pearl Diver I was having trouble. I did my fifty pages and then did fifty more because of the recommendation. Still boring. On page 101 I was trying to think of some way to soften a bad review, I turned to page 102, and the book grabbed me. For about thirty pages I couldn't put it down. After those pages its intensity slacked off and it concluded appropriately, if indeed sadly. But those thirty pages! Wow! That's the section I'll focus on.
The narrator is caught taking part in a rebellion and punished by a new work assignment. I won't describe it in case anyone wants to experience the exquisite pain of reading about it, but I will ask a question. Did any of you know that pregnant women in leper colonies were forced to have abortions? The knowledge horrified me. Now this particular leprosarium was in Japan in the 1940s, and the regulation was reasonable when viewed through the unsympathetic eyes of the doctors who ran the place. They couldn't let these less-than-human creatures reproduce—or have any sort of life a healthy human being could expect. Medical advances are made during the time the book covers, but we all know how long it takes for scientific facts to catch up with what people believe. The writing, as well as the thought, in this section is terrific.
1) "Mrs. Morikawa is in that group of patients that is religious, and that is fine, she has always thought, but it is when they push religion on her that she has trouble with it." (page 102) OMG! I guess, like the poor, they will always be with us.
2) A little levity, even in the bleakest moments, is always appreciated. The narrator has made soap sculptures for two children she sees on the mainland. She finishes them and swims them from the island to the mainland to leave for the children. "To keep the water off the pieces of soap, she wraps them in pieces of plastic and laughs at the irony—keeping soap out of water." (page 104) I smiled. But keep in mind a smile in this book equates to hysterical laughter in many others.
3) About fellow residents: "Not that they don't all have their bad days, but Mr. Nogami seems to have a lifetime of them. He (another resident) tries as much as possible to avoid people like Mr. Nogami because he doesn’t believe he could survive this place were he to allow bitterness to seek shelter within him." (page 107) I think this passage jumped out at me because last Friday I blew up at Barry, my friend who suffers from chronic depression. His position in a discussion was that no one could achieve big-time success in this country unless he was born with money or connections or was willing to be a completely amoral, ruthless son-of-a-bitch. I snapped and responded that I could see why he didn't have many friends, that his outlook was sometimes too bleak to endure. Granted, my response fell into the way-too-blunt category, but—hey—we all have problems. He told me his view was because of his depression. I got angrier; the conversation became more unpleasant. Finally I acknowledged the problem was mine. Since I'm able to ignore my physical limitations and get on with life, I was incapable of understanding how anyone could not control his thinking. He was mollified. His negativity was beyond his control because he suffers with depression. Then I read "… were he to allow bitterness to seek shelter within him," and I'm angry all over again. So I appeal to any philosophers or psychologists out there: if you know anything I could read to help me understand my friend, please let me know what it is.
4) A resident speaks: "We were brought to this damn place because we are sick, but here we are not being helped, just working day in and day out to keep this place alive while we die." (page 108) I remember reading Quo Vadis for some class in high school. The only part that interested me was when some character wound up in a leper colony. I decided then I'd read more about leper colonies and leprosy. Okay. So sometimes it takes me a while to get around to doing things. After The Pearl Driver, I now know the treatment of lepers was as cruel as the scene in Quo Vadis suggested it was.
5) Applause: "A couple claps come from the crowd and then a few more, until what must be half the patients in the room are doing so." (page 109) Extremely effective to show appreciation here—and onstage—much more so than a group of people all starting to applaud at once.
6) Throughout the book urns, used to store the ashes of the dead, are described. The hardest section of the book to read dealt with "A white blank urn" (page 114) and takes place in the room where the abortions are performed.
7) And then on page 119 an eighth-month abortion is performed on a woman the narrator knows. This book is powerful.
8) The narrator sees the little boy and girl on the mainland and they wave back and forth to her. A woman runs up, grabs the children, points at the narrator and is yelling "Words she will never know. Words that she craves and that horrify her." (page 122) An example, IMHO, of how powerful the unspoken can be.
9) There is also IMHO an amazing statement of inhumanity: After time passes the narrator can no longer force herself to show up for work at the clinic. Another resident reports "that she has injured her ankle and can't stand. A feeble excuse, but even more feeble is the response: none. So long as someone can work for her." (page 126)
One touch at the end of The Pearl Driver, the identity of a character, in and of itself makes the book worth reading. I won't tell you more, but it's perfectly prepared for and totally surprising.
