On the outside, the swimmers at the lap pool live bold and different lives – they knit, they ferry children, they act of tv. But inside the pool, they seep into the rhythm of the water and exist as the kind of community that speaks little but respects much. They have a groove. It’s a groove that is ruptured upon the discovery of a physical rupture in the pool itself. Everyone reacts differently to the change in routine, but no one is impacted more profoundly than Alice, who is falling deeper into dementia. Told in three parts, the first is narrated by the collection of swimmers, the second by Alice’s care facility, and the third by Alice’s daughter who is trying to make sense of it all.
So much of pool rules is unwritten and unsaid. The same could be said about friendships and even family. The routine of this environment with few words creates an escape, and when that escape is taken away, plunging you into the real world, it’s easy to struggle. Otsuka’s poetic novel is a reminder that the quotidian is beautiful, if not vital.
4.5 out of 5 stars
Pair with: amaretto sour
Peaches to Apples 