Responses
I totally agree with you. You're sharp to point out the metaphor of rural and urban hospitals. For sure, it's in the countryside where Nakamichi lives his life to the fullest.
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I totally agree with you. You're sharp to point out the metaphor of rural and urban hospitals. For sure, it's in the countryside where Nakamichi lives his life to the fullest.
I'm so happy I read this in spite of the slightly lower rating. This was such a thoughtful, powerful story - it made me cry many times. (Spoilers follow.)
What struck me most was how much Nakamichi changed after he transferred to the country hospital; I wonder how happy he truly was before? I feel he'd resigned himself to scraps of stolen happiness - like the cup - but never imagined a lifetime of it. The hospitals themselves seem like metaphors for Nakamichi's mental state: the city hospital is sophisticated but large and confusing. It's so large, the staff doesn't even realize Nakamichi was the one who cared for sensei before he died, just as no one recognized his grief or went to his home to check on him when he was sick.
But the country hospital is simple, friendly, and surrounded by nature. Now that I think about it, Nakamichi and the younger Tsutsumi's relationship is associated with nature and the outdoors, beginning with their moment in the hospital garden when Tsutsumi falls out of a window and then holds Nakamichi as he cries.
In contrast to his father, the younger Tsutsumi is open about his affection for Nakamichi, even crawling into his hospital bed toward the end of the story. And while Nakamichi's relationship with sensei had been utterly secret, in the wonderful final scene, just as Nakamichi has decided to accept the younger Tsutsumi's feelings, someone slides open the door to reveal both of them in the bath. (Nothing malicious; there's a hospital emergency.)
I so appreciate the subtlety of the writing in this story and its exploration of complicated feelings. I look forward to reading more by this mangaka!