A haiku is a Japanese poem. It has three lines. And only seventeen
syllables. No more, no less.
Snow is a poem. A poem that falls from the clouds in delicate
This is the beginning of Snow, by Maxence Fermine, a lovely little novel about life, love, and poetry. The story is almost a parable, and almost a poem itself–100 pages of sparse, precisely chosen words.
When Yuko came of age, his father, a Shinto monk, gave him only two choices: become a monk or a warrior. Yuko wanted to become a poet, and particularly wanted to write about snow. The story that follows is his journey toward his art, toward love, and toward ultimately being able to incorporate color into his poetry. It’s an interesting idea and format for a novel.
Along with Snow, French writer Maxence Fermine, wrote two other books which became his “trilogy of colours.” I’m trying to find a copy of The Black Violin, and then The Beekeeper, and hope that they are as unusual and as nicely done as this little novel.
Evidently, there was a film made of Snow, but all I found on it was a web site with some of the music written for it. You can listen to it here.