ALMOST NOTHING, YET EVERYTHING

In a spare text, this Japanese import explores the functions, properties, and inherent contradictions of water.

Two small humans leave home and set out in a rowboat. Water, reads the narration of this follow-up to Every Color of Light (2020), is “only oxygen and hydrogen, simple as can be,” yet it sustains life. This statement is accompanied by a full-bleed spread in which readers see the two humans row along a wave of stars next to the Earth. Water, however, is also paradoxical in nature: “It has no color, but can be any color,” for instance. It has no shape but can take on various shapes, and you can touch it but not actually hold it. The musings are sometimes metaphorical (“like the mother of us all, it creates life”) and often ethereal. In a dramatic shift in tone, the narration then states: “It is the pee of life.” Here, the voice, which has hitherto spoken of you and we, shifts to a first-person-singular one, and the narrator acknowledges a child asking if water is the “pee-pee of the gods.” (This will undoubtedly delight the youngest of readers.) Dense textures, a palette with a stunning use of light, and panoramic landscapes establish a sweeping, grandiose tone that pays its respects to Mother Nature. Resplendent yellows and rich shades of blues and greens are the stars of the show. The book closes on a metafictive note: After referencing the child who asks about gods, the narrator states on the final page: “And then, I wrote this poem.” (This book was reviewed digitally.)

Wondrous.