The Swimmers, by Julie Otsuka

I never go on my computer anymore. Who would have thought, right? I work, and the rest of the time I spend with my daughter. When she's asleep, I take out my phone. That's all there is to it.

That's why I'm no longer bothering to review all the books. Only my favorites will, for a while at least, be listed on this site.

And now I'm going to tell you about The Swimmers, by Julie Otsuka. You don't even really need to read the rest.

Summary

In a public pool in the basement, inveterate swimmers do laps one or two hours a day, several days a week, if not every day. It's their way of keeping fit, keeping their spirits up, escaping their homes, thinking, having a purpose in their day, all those answers. They're of all ages, backgrounds and personalities. They say hello, but they're not really friends. They live their own lives.

Among them is Alice, a very friendly and cheerful lady, but who's starting to forget things. She'll be important later.

One day, a crack appears at the bottom of the pool. Hypotheses abound, people oscillate between indifference and panic, the best experts look into the matter, but nobody can figure out where it's coming from. What does this crack mean? Is it harmless and isolated, or could it duplicate itself again and again, until it destroys everything?

Impressions

The book is in four parts, four big chapters. And it was my reaction to the first two chapters that made me decide that this book was among my best reads of the year and that I had to tell you about it.

Over the course of the first chapter, in which we get to know a swimming pool and its visitors, I developed a compelling and highly unusual urge to go for a swim at the municipal pool.

You have to understand, I've never had the slightest desire to do anything like that. I took swimming lessons when I was a kid and I like swimming, but I hate everything that comes with it: bathing suits, wet hair, cold water, showers before and after, sticky jeans, etc. In short, I don't really like it. In short, I don't really like it; in fact, I avoid it. But I swear, as I was reading the chapter, I was so carried away by the description of the almost ecstatic pleasure of swimming that I seriously considered joining a pool, any pool. The rational part of my brain had to work hard to counterbalance this impulse. (When are you planning to do it? it asked reprovingly. Weekends, really? Where? At the municipal pool, a 30-minute walk from your house? Are you sure you'll still want to make the trip? Besides, since when do you like swimming laps? Have you ever done it?)

And then, chapter two: zoom in on Alice, this old lady who begins to forget. We get a list of what she remembers, and what she's forgotten. How I cried!

I read books all the time, but it's so rare that there's one that takes me from one emotional extreme to the other so deftly. I wasn't expecting it at all. But the way it was written, I think I could have taken anything.

This book crept into my life and my thoughts as if nothing had happened. And then poof, it ended. It's not long. But I don't think I'll forget it anytime soon.