Penguin Highway
Page 25
I run extremely fast toward the ends of the earth. I run so fast, everyone would be surprised, and no one could catch up with me. The road that leads to the ends of the earth is called the Penguin Highway. I believe that if I follow that road, I can see the lady again. This isn’t a hypothesis. It’s a personal belief.
I did the math today, and there are 3,748 days until I’m a grown-up. Every day I learn more things about the world, becoming better than I was the day before. I can’t imagine how great I will become. I’m sure that I’ll become a great grown-up who doesn’t need to sleep and who has shiny white permanent teeth. I’ll grow much taller and have plenty of muscles. Perhaps lots of girls will ask me to marry them. But I already know who I’m going to marry, so I’ll have to turn them all down.
I’ll be able to stay up all night with the lady and carry her when she falls asleep. If I become important, I’ll be able to do lots of things that impress her. Maybe she’ll say “Wow.” But even if she just says “Hmm,” I won’t mind.
I think I’d like to hear her say “Hmm” again.
This time, we’ll finally take that train and visit the ocean.
I plan to tell her about a lot of things while I’m on the train. I’ll tell her how I ran down the Penguin Highway. About all the places I’m going to have adventures, the people I’m going to meet, the things I’m going to say, and the things I’m going to think about. I’ll tell her how much I’ll grow up before I see her again.
And then I’ll tell her just how much I love her.
How much I want to see her again.
Analysis
Moto Hagio
*This commentary references key points in the story, so if you haven’t read it yet, exercise caution.
How well do we remember being in fourth grade? Half our days spent at school, in classes, in the schoolyard after school, classmates, teachers, school lunches, bells. The sky, rain, and wind. Each day seemed so long that when we were told something would happen a week from now, it felt like an eternity. Every day so dramatic, yet nothing in particular ever happened.
This is a story about a fourth grader named Aoyama and a mysterious older lady.
The town where he lives, the hill nearby, his school and friends, his family and the people around them. He makes a conscious effort to work hard and study on a daily basis, and each day is filled with discoveries and mysteries. He fills notebooks with research goals, explores, and lets his curiosity and enthusiasm broaden his horizons. Thus far, he might sound like any other boy, but this next part is key. This boy is thinking about his future self. He aims to be greater than he was the day before. To not lose to his previous self, to avoid embarrassing himself. There is so much time remaining before he is a grown-up.
Someday, he will represent the human race.
And he already knows who he’s going to marry.
Aoyama is a somewhat unusual child. He’s clever. Too clever.
He decided not to get angry when he was five years old. Really? Can he? He can. When he feels himself getting annoyed, he just thinks about breasts. Effective!
And these are the lady’s breasts. These are a mystery to him, and as the oddly mature boy stares at the lady’s sleeping face, he discovers her beauty and considers where genetics and evolution converge.
Is this what boys are like? Are they all this analytical? I thought boys were more childish, prattling on, simplistic, and direct. Yes, like the bully, Suzuki. Like his target, Uchida. Archetypal boys like Suzuki can be found all over Japanese literature.
But this is the first time I’ve encountered a boy like Aoyama. And yet, I feel like I know him. Imagine Newton as a child. Imagine Galileo as a boy. I bet they had a lot in common. Aoyama is a sci-fi child. A philosopher and a researcher. Aiming to become a strong, silent type, he regrets always talking too much.
Aoyama talks to the lady a lot. Seeing this child philosopher and explorer interact with this unflappable, indifferent lady is a newfound pleasure. Penguins might appear, and bats might start flying around, yet their conversations are restrained and rhythmical. “Hmm.” This rhythm is as cheery as a boy’s footsteps. “Good night.” This oddly mature boy loves the lady while pondering genetics and evolution.
The Coke can morphing into a penguin is like an impossible evolution of species played in fast-forward. When Aoyama describes it as looking like slow motion, I found myself strangely impressed with his eyesight. If you have vision like that, everything your eyes light upon must stimulate your mind. No wonder he became a philosopher in the fourth grade. And he already loved exploring.
He moved to this suburb when he was seven. A house surrounded by vacant lots, looking like a research laboratory built to observe the ends of the earth. He feels duty bound to explore until he finds the ends of the earth. He plans to go to outer space someday. Because he was built this way, he can pursue his research on the lady and the penguins.
Aoyama encounters The Sea in the middle of a clearing. Solving the mystery of this phenomenon will benefit the lady, himself, and the people in town. But The Sea begins to overflow the clearing. Swallowing up the town and the people in it.
The Sea is made of space and time, the product of something broken somewhere. The lady makes penguins to eliminate The Sea. At first, the lady doesn’t know what she’s doing. The lady believes herself to be human. She seems so humanlike. The readers assume she is, too. But this is not the case.
The lady’s role is to fix what has broken. Once she understands her role, she completes her job and vanishes. They have their last conversation at Seaside Café. They talk, knowing they have little time left.
“I’m not human.” She doesn’t know what she really is, either. So she gives the boy a research topic.
“I bet you’ll be able to solve the mysteries around me. You’ll be able to find me and come see me again.”
“I’ll definitely come see you.”
What is The Sea? Who is the lady? The boy and his father talk.
Seeing the ends of the earth can be sad.
Off he goes, running toward the ends of the earth. Following the Penguin Highway so he can find the lady again. So he can grow up and see her once more. So they can go to the coastal town together.
When will that happen? How well do the dreams and loves of humankind ferment and age until our deaths? While retaining the freshness of the moment they were born. I’m sure Aoyama will keep his promise to the lady. When I read the last page of this boy’s story, I wanted to hug both Aoyama and this book.
Aoyama, you may insist that you won’t cry, but I did.
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