Book 837: Fifty Words for Rain – Asha Lemmie

I feel hollow after finishing this book—I’m not sure emotionally drained is the right word because I feel like I have so many emotions going on that they’ve just forced each other out and there’s just nothing.  And when you take in that this is a debut novel, damn.

I’m not sure what I was expecting, but it’s been on my radar since the publisher reached out last year when it was first published but I didn’t get to it until the paperback was recently released.* I really should’ve prioritized it from back then because I feel like Dutton never steers me wrong looking at the books I’ve read from them.

Fifty Words for Rain covers roughly twenty years of the protagonist, Noriko’s life—and they are trying years. I spent most of the novel in awe of Nori’s strength and resilience in the face of everything she faced. It helps that 90% of the novel is told from her perspective, and the few times it’s not it’s because she’s incapacitated for some reason.

As much as the story was about Noriko and her half-brother Akira’s relationship, especially the battle against their grandmother, it really was Nori’s story. We grew up with Nori as she went from being abandoned by her mother to being sold into prostitution, to losing her brother (still pissed about how that happened when it was revealed, but not at all surprised), fleeing her homeland and being tricked back by the afore mentioned evil grandmother.

Lemmie’s writing was stunningly beautiful especially when it came to her descriptions:

She would curl herself onto the couch and listen to him making paintings out of sound. And each piece was a different picture. In her mind’s eye, she could see a garden full of trees with white leaves and a fountain with blush-pink petals floating in the clear water—that was a concerto. The volta: scarlet and plum-colored ribbons winding around each other, battling for dominance. A requiem . . .  a lone horse walking down a dimly lit cobbled road, looking for a rider that died long ago. From these dead white men whose names she was slowly growing accustomed to, Nori was learning what it was to live a thousand lifetimes of joy and sorrow without ever leaving the house. (Chapter 4)

I mean that’s pretty early on in the book and Lemmie’s writing from Nori’s perspective matures as she does so you can only imagine how much more beautiful the latter descriptions are. I will say though, that if I was disappointed in one thing (and maybe it’s included in the published version), it was that all fifty words for rain weren’t listed somewhere! There were definitely at least ten mentioned throughout the book, but not all of them.

Aside from the beautiful descriptions that fill the novel there are definitely scenes that force the reader out of their comfort zone including abuse (emotional and physical) and rape. However, every single scene served a purpose and added to Nori’s reservoir of strength and none of them were included gratuitously

If there’s one part of the book that I’m not happy with, it’s the ending. Don’t get me wrong it was basically perfect, but that doesn’t mean I have to like it. When the time came, I knew Nori’s decision (even if I didn’t agree with it) even though I crossed every finger and toe that Lemmie was going to go the opposite direction, but Nori—like Austen’s Fanny Price from Mansfield Park, I couldn’t help but draw a parallel—was a product of her up-bringing. And even though she has every intention of honoring Akira’s plans and changing the future of their family (with a small start in the nursery) she was made for this role and because she was a survivor with immeasurable steal and grace there was only one way the book could end. I was just glad Lemmie didn’t include an epilogue.

Recommendation: This was a stunningly beautiful debut novel where you can spend hours luxuriating in Lemmie’s descriptions and characters. As the novel drew to a close, I was resigned to what was going to happen. I couldn’t be happy or even satisfied with the ending, it was inevitable, but how beautifully Lemmie wrote it and the one shining glimpse of change/hope you get at the end will stay with me and I’m sure it will become more powerful the further I get away from the book.

*I received a copy of Fifty Words for Rain from the publisher via NetGalley in return for my honest opinion. No goods or money were exchanged.

Opening Line: “The first real memory Nori had was pulling up to that house.”

Closing Line: “And it was these rare moments that she felt it: the burning light of her Kyoto sun.” (Whited out to avoid spoilers, highlight to read.)

Additional Quotes from Fifty Words for Rain
“He was human, and his violin was nothing more than an intricately crafted piece of wood with some  strings attached. But the two of them together transcended mortality to become something divine. She knew it was blasphemy to have such thoughts, and she tried to atone for them in her prayers every night.” (Chapter 4)

“‘I am a pig being fattened for slaughter, nothing more. My rarity, my foreignness, my cultivated isolation is what they will use to sell me like so much—’ She broke off and did not finish.” (Chapter 7)

“Is this what it comes down to in the end, Mother? Do we all end up alone? Dancing figurines in a music box, moving, but never going anywhere at all?” (Chapter 14)

“She had brief snippets where she could see herself through his eyes. And there was so much beauty there it brought her to tears.
All her life she’d felt like an elephant lumbering among delicate things.
But in his honest gaze, she was no longer the elephant. She was the swan.” (Chapter 17)

“You have never met a defeat that you did not rise from, she told herself. Do not be afraid of a dying old woman. Now she is weak and you are strong.” (Chapter 18)