For whatever reason, this book didn’t grab my attention the way some others did in the months leading up to its release. Even though it had a lot of the qualities that often attract me to a book (set in Asia, VIOLINIST CHARACTER!, historical), I kind of forgot it existed.
Stupid, considering that it was compared to two of my all-time favorite books (“Code Name Verity” and “Lovely War”).
Also stupid, considering that when I did pick this up on a whim from the bookstore next to the Rubio’s Coastal Grill where I was waiting for my dinner one random Sunday night, I found myself completely blown away.
SUMMARY
Japan 1945. Taro is a talented violinist and a kamikaze pilot in the days before his first and only mission. He believes he is ready to die for his country . . . until he meets Hana. Hana hasn’t been the same since the day she was buried alive in a collapsed trench during a bomb raid. She wonders if it would have been better to have died that day . . . until she meets Taro.
A song will bring them together. The war will tear them apart. Is it possible to live an entire lifetime in eight short days?
REVIEW
Though it’s not really being used as a comp title, if I had to describe this book’s unique storytelling format, the best example I can come up with is Thanhha Lai’s “Butterfly Yellow.” Both are historical novels told almost in verse, both alternate perspectives between members of the lead couple, and neither really follows a linear timeline. “The Blossom and the Firefly” follows Taro, who’s what we would probably know as a kamikaze pilot, and Hana, a schoolgirl from southern Japan, through the last two years of WWII, as they meet in the week leading up to Taro’s final mission. However, the perspective alternates – Taro’s chapters are written in free-verse-esque prose, Hana’s in traditional first-person narration – and for the first half of the story, the chapters from Taro’s perspective are actually flashbacks to his childhood. That unusual narrative style has the effect of distancing the reader from the story at first – which makes it all the more heart-wrenching when, back in the present, we’re brought closer to the characters. As the two begin to realize what they have left to live for, I found myself pulled in – and dreading what all three of us (myself, Taro, Hana) knew was coming.
That’s part of this story’s magic – Sherri Smith has mastered the art of tension. Because we, and the characters, know from the start that Taro’s entire job is to die, we spend the entire book in a state of preemptive mourning for his too-short existence. Watching as he plays the violin, falls for Hana, befriends fellow pilots who are also destined to die, take on a new degree of heartbreaking in light of his eventual fate. And the romance between Hana and Taro, however subtle, is one of the most gorgeously-written love stories I’ve read in ages. If you’ve ever heard of the Kiss Rule – “if you have to write a kiss for the reader to know that the couple is in love, you’re writing love wrong” – this is the best example of a Kiss Rule-passing book I’ve read in ages. Taro and Hana don’t so much as hold hands on-page, but the way they fall for each other through their musical connection, as they play their respective instruments (violin and koto) for each other, is clear as day with none of the usual hallmarks of love. There’s no kiss, no physical contact whatsoever, no “I love you,” no dramatic confession – but it’s clear as day that these two were made for each other, and it’s heartbreakingly beautiful. Really, everything about “The Blossom and the Firefly” could be described as such: the romance, yes, but also each protagonist’s relationships, and their erstwhile connections to music, and the setting and era – one we all think we know, but which this book makes entirely new. (So much WWII fiction focuses on the European Theater of the war that a Pacific Theater book like this seems pretty rare, although another of those came out recently).
Really, I’m still in awe. I cannot recommend this beautiful, beautiful novel highly enough.
(SPOILER: Taro ends up surviving, but we don’t learn that until nearly the end of the book, and Hana doesn’t learn it until the LAST PAGE, so the impact of his “death” is not lessened in the slightest.)
ENDNOTES:
Favorite Scene: since I can’t say “all of them”: probably the one where Taro is playing in the mess hall on base and Hana begins to dance for the first time since her accident, or the one in which they play together from across town. PEAK FREAKING ROMANCE.
What Made This Book Stand Out: almost everything but particularly the deep and beautiful romance that develops between two flawed, real, lovable characters with little time on-page or IRL, and how convincing that romance is.
One-Sentence Summary: stunningly gorgeous WWII romance will leave you sobbing while listening to Mozart violin sonatas and an absolute mess.
Something that Bugged Me: almost nothing, but the one thing that bugged me EVER so slightly was that it ended before HUUUUGE SPOILER Taro and Hana actually reunite – it ends at “hello,” which is beautiful and a great narrative choice, but dang it, I wanted to see the actual reunion! END HUGE SPOILER
Possibly-Questionable Content: other than two curse words and the inherently disturbing nature of wartime life, none.
Overall Rating: 5/5 Confused Llamas











