Number9Dream: A Novel

I think the most powerful poison is the malicious word. Its effects may last a lifetime and there is no serum. Forgiveness may soothe the inflammation later, sure, but there is no actual serum.

I wonder how I would have fared in the war. Could I have calmly stayed in an iron whale cruising toward my death? I am the same age as my great-uncle when he died. I guess I would not have been “I.” I would have been another “I.” A weird thought, that—I am not made by me, or my parents, but by the Japan that did come into being. Subaru Tsukiyama wa

“Buntaro, I—” “I was watching a baby video earlier. Maternity is . . . beyond belief. Ever wondered if embryos get thirsty? They do! So they drink up the amniotic fluid, and then pee it out again! The same as being hooked up to a never-ending supply of Budweiser. Except amniotic fluid tastes better. Waiting to be born must be nine months of bliss,

“Dreams are shores where the ocean of spirit meets the land of matter. Dreams are beaches where the yet-to-be, the once-were, the will-never-be may walk awhile with the still-are. You believe I am an old woman hoary with superstition, and possibly deranged to boot.” I could not have put it that well. “If I were not deranged, how else could I know w

After the head of the thunder god vanishes into the ocean, I skirt the ridge above my grandmother’s house. No light is on. An autumn morning, when rain is always ten minutes away. I climb. Waterfalls without names, waxy leaves, berries in jade pools. I climb. Boughs sag, ferns fan, roots trip. I climb. I eat peanuts and oranges, to make sure I can

He did not mention his insomnia: not even to his best friend, Pithecanthropus, and certainly not to Mrs. Comb, who was sure to prescribe a curative bitterer than the complaint.

“I honestly think they would have been happier if I had done a two-year course in applied cosmetics at a women’s college, married the family dentist’s son, and spawned a hive of babies. Music. You eat it, but it eats you, too.”

Voorman laughs until his bed squeaks. “I rendered an entire country nonexistent, Doctor! What more evidence do you need?” “Then what is God doing straitjacketed in the PanOpticon?” Voorman yawns in a well-fed way. “Honolulu gets boring, Doctor. Golf is tedious when you can guarantee holes-in-one. Existence starts to drag. I put myself into prison f

“A car bomber struck last week. There is a war on.” “But surely people need to buy and sell food?” “What food? We are under siege, if you hadn’t noticed!” “A siege?” “They call them ‘sanctions’ these days.” “Fancy . . . and who is the war between?” “No idea.” “But surely you can tell, when the soldiers fight one another?” “The soldiers? Are you cra