Honeybees and Distant Thunder

Japanese readers love HONEYBEES AND DISTANT THUNDER“The novel is a masterpiece. I applaud the author for her power of description. The author’s extraordinary affection for music made this work seem so complete.”“Each character was wonderfully drawn, and I felt moved, as if I were truly hearing each and every musical piece. I also felt the significance of how a competition can create connections between people.”“I felt like I was totally immersed, and there were scenes that brought me to tears.”“This is beyond a reading experience. It felt like some sixth sense was at work. Wonderful.” Entry ThemeWHEN WAS THAT MEMORY FROM? I’m not sure.I’d just learned to walk, so I couldn’t have been much more than a toddler. Of that much I’m certain.Far away, sunlight shone down, covering the world in its glow – cold, dispassionate, unstinting.In that moment, the world to me felt bright, endless, forever trembling and wavering, a sublime yet terrifying place to be.There was a faint, sweet fragrance mixed with the intense smell of greenery found only in nature.A gentle breeze was blowing.My body was enfolded in a rustling sound, gentle and cooling. I didn’t know yet that this was the sound of leaves on the trees brushing against each other.But there was something else.I could see in the air a dense, lively shape that changed from moment to moment, growing smaller and then larger, constantly shifting.I was still too young even to say Mummy or Daddy, yet I felt like I was already searching for a way to express something.The words were in my throat, right there.But first, another sound began to emerge, capturing my attention.Like a sudden downpour.It was powerful, bright.Something – a wave, a vibration – rippled out.As I listened, captivated, I felt as if my very being was immersed in it, and a calm settled on my heart.If I could experience that moment again, I would describe it as the astonishing sound of a swarm of bees buzzing over the top of a hill.A sublime, magisterial music that filled the world! PreludeTHE YOUNG MAN TURNED around at the intersection, startled. But it wasn’t because a car had beeped at him.He was in the middle of a major metropolis.The cosmopolitan city centre of Europe, the number-one tourist destination in the world.The pedestrians were of all nationalities, all shapes and sizes. A mosaic of different races filling the pavements, the mixture of languages waxing and waning like ripples.This boy, who, by coming to a sudden halt, had disrupted the waves of passers-by flowing around him, was of medium build, but gave the impression he would soon shoot up even further. He looked fourteen, perhaps fifteen, and seemed the picture of youthful innocence.He wore a cap, cotton trousers and a khaki-coloured T-shirt, along with a lightweight beige coat. An oversized canvas bag was slung diagonally across his shoulders. At first glance he looked like a typical teen, but there was something strangely free and easy about him.He had an attractive Asian face beneath his cap, but his striking eyes and white skin made him seem, in a way, unplaceable.He was looking up.Oblivious to the traffic, his calm eyes were staring at one fixed point.A small blond boy passing by with his mother followed the young man’s gaze upwards, until his mother tugged him by the hand, dragging him over to the other side of the crossing. The boy looked longingly back at the young man in the dark brown cap, before giving up to docilely follow his mother.The young man, standing stock-still in the middle of the pedestrian crossing, finally realized the lights had changed, and walked swiftly across to the other side.He’d definitely heard something.As he adjusted the bag across his chest, he considered the sound he’d heard at the intersection.The buzzing of honeybees.A sound he’d known since he was a child, a sound he could never mistake.Had they flown over from near the Hôtel de Ville perhaps?He looked around, eyes searching, and when he spotted the large clock on the corner, he realized he was late.I have to keep my promise, he told himself.The young man pulled down his cap and ran off, his stride limber and supple.MIEKO SAGA WAS USED TO being patient, but she realized with a start that she was about to fall asleep.She stared about her, unsure where she was, but when she spotted the grand piano, and the young woman playing, she knew she must be in Paris.Experience had taught her not to suddenly sit bolt upright and look around. Do that and people were sure to know you’d been snoozing. The trick was to gently place a hand to your temple, as if listening intently, and then shuffle a little in your seat, as if tired of holding the same position for so long.But it wasn’t just Mieko who had trouble staying awake. She knew for certain that the other music professors would be feeling exactly the same. Alan Simon, beside her, was a heavy smoker, and to go for so long without a nicotine fix, while listening to such appallingly tedious performances, must be driving him mad. Very soon his fingers would surely start to twitch.On his other side, she knew that Sergei Smirnoff, sour-faced, would be leaning his large frame against the table, not moving a muscle but thinking of when it would all be over and he’d be released to get to the bar for a drink.Mieko was with them on that. She loved music, but also life and all its pleasures – cigarettes and alcohol included. All she wanted was to be set free from this painful trial so that, together, they could have a drink and gossip.Auditions for the Yoshigae International Piano Competition were being held in five cities around the world: in Moscow, Paris, Milan, New York and in the Japanese city of Yoshigae itself. Apart from in Yoshigae, the auditions were all taking place in the concert halls of famous music schools.Mieko was aware there’d been complaints about her and