Frank
Hello, this is Frank.
Allow me to share my impressions of a brilliant short story, drawing upon a rich and insightful review found at the end of the anthology.
――“From the end of the previous year through January and February, there hadn’t been anything that resembled snow.”
With this opening line, the short piece begins—a quintessential example of Tatsuo Nagai’s craftsmanship, who was widely known as a master of the short story format. The narrative unfolds at the wake of a department chief who died suddenly from a heart-related illness.
What would normally be a somber, black-cloaked affair is reimagined as a snowy night scene. From a seemingly mundane mix-up of shoes, Nagai draws out a deeply human drama. The interplay of white snow and black attire is used with elegant precision to evoke contrast and emotion.
The piece doesn’t explore the battlefield of office life—where the so-called “winners” and “losers” clash—but rather frames that dichotomy through the lens of a funeral, which is a clever and subtle choice.
“Two black objects were tossed out in succession from the window of a car, racing off as if to outrun the snowy wreckage left behind.”
This bleak epilogue leaves a lasting impression. And yet—perhaps it’s my own selfish taste—but I couldn’t help wishing for one more twist, a deeper punch, to round it off more decisively as a short-short story.
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