The Sanctuary

There is nothing better then curling up with an engrossing book that you can read in one sitting. I did that with Julie Otsuka's delightful novel, The Swimmers (2002).

At an underground pool, unrelated swimmers methodically take their laps. The slow lanes features the water walkers, learners and those who swim to relax. The fast lanes are for the committed speedsters who plough through the water with determination. In the middle are lanes for those who swim for the solace, escaping their life above ground, rhythmically perfecting their preferred strokes. The swimmers do not really know each other but know each other's routines. 

One day a crack appears at the bottom of the pool. The swimmers theorise about the cause and consequences. Is it some dark malevolent force? Subsidence? Earthquake? Regardless, the swimmers know that at some point the pool will close for investigation and repair. What will the swimmers do without their daily plunge? Where else will they find such sanctuary?

The Swimmers is narrated by the daughter of an elderly swimmer, Alice. Alice's dementia is worsening and bringing back memories of her childhood and when she was placed in a Japanese internment camp during WW2. Outside the pool, Alice and her daughter recast their relationship.

Otsuka is a poetical writer. The first section of the book is written in first person plural as the swimmers speak collectively. It is lively and engaging, humorous and clever. The second half, is more serious, exploring the mother/daughter relationship in the face of a debilitating illness. 

At less than 200 pages, Otsuka's novel is surprisingly deep. It is a loving testament to finding beauty and meaning in our day-to-day lives and adapting to the cracks that disrupt them.