"The Swimmers," by Julie Otsuka

It has been about ten years since the second of Julie Otsuka’s two earlier novels was published, so I was very pleased to hear from my friend S. that Otsuka has a new novel just out: “The Swimmers” (Knopf, 2022). I wrote here about “When the Emperor Was Divine” on 12/22/11, and about “The Buddha in the Attic” on 1/15/12. All three novels are short, intense, poetic. The first two focus on Japanese-American characters and certain historical contexts; “The Swimmers” does not; although a main character is Japanese-American, that identity is mentioned only briefly. This novel is divided into two connected parts. The first part tells, in the voice of the whole group as a sort of chorus, about the setting, atmosphere, people, and habitual customs found in a very specific group of swimmers, who form a very specific community, at a very specific public pool. One of the swimmers, Alice, is sliding into dementia, but still manages to swim regularly, and her fellow swimmers, all of whom seem to feel more at home in the pool than almost anywhere else, gently help her out as needed. The second half of the book focuses on Alice, describing her past and her present, including the time when she can no longer swim at the pool, what she remembers, and what she doesn’t. It seems to be a realistic portrayal, showing how hard the situation is, yet fully acknowledging her as a person and not “just” a “person with dementia.” The writing is detailed and concrete, and at the same time conveys the blurriness of Alice’s memory. The past and present mix. Toward the end of the novel, the story seamlessly slips into being told by Alice’s daughter. This story is a thoughtful, respectful, and very human portrayal of this difficult disease. It reminds me of how people I have known who had dementia, including a beloved close relative, still preserved their basic personalities (although I understand that this is not true for everyone who has dementia). The writing is sensitive, poetic, caring, yet not sentimentalized. It mainly does not sugarcoat the disease, although very occasionally it slips a little too close to doing so. This book is exquisitely written, and I am very glad I read it, but I also admit that because of my late dear relative’s dementia, and my beautiful but sad memories of her, there were times when I was reading “The Swimmers” that it was quite painful for me. I do, though, highly recommend the book.