Satellite Love | Ferguson, Genki

Lange Beschreibung
A beautifully unconventional debut novel about a girl, a boy, and a satellite and a bittersweet meditation on loneliness, alienation, and what it means to be human. Longlisted for Canada Reads, shortlisted for the Kobo Emerging Writer Prize for Literary Fiction and for Speculative Fiction. Named CBC Radio's Q Book Pick of the Month, a CBC Books Spring Reading List Title, a Shelf Life Books Book of the Month, a Toronto Life and Nikkei Voice summer read recommendation, one of Daily Hive's 10 Essential Reads to Celebrate Asian Canadian Writers, and one of Quill & Quire booksellers' Books of the Year.

On the eve of the new millennium, in a half-forgotten city in southern Japan, sixteen-year-old Anna Obata looks to the stars for solace. An outcast at school, and left to fend for herself and care for her increasingly senile grandfather at home, Anna copes with her loneliness by searching the night sky for answers. But everything changes the evening she falls in love with the Low-Earth Orbit satellite (LEO for short). 

In a desperate act of longing and imagination, Anna calls Leo down to Earth, where he embarks on an extraordinary journey to understand his own humanity as well as the fragile mind of the young woman who conjured him into being. As Anna withdraws further into her own mysterious plans, Leo will be forced to question the limits of his devotion to his creator and the lengths he will go to protect her. 

Marvellously inventive and yet grounded by a profound understanding of the human heart, Satellite Love is a brilliant and deeply moving meditation on loneliness, faith, and the yearning for meaning and connection. It is an unforgettable story about the indomitable power of the imagination and the mind s ability to heal itself, no matter the odds, no matter the cost.

Rezensierung
'Satellite Love is one of those rare and affecting novels that will leave you breathless, charmed, and deeply thoughtful. A beautiful rumination on sentience, imagination, impermanence and friendship, Genki Ferguson has written a story that lives on the precarious and satisfying edge of melancholy and exuberance.' Ruth Ozeki, author A Tale for the Time Being

'A charming, strange and occasionally unsettling story about isolation, obsession, faith and connection that confronts heady questions about consciousness and what it means to be a fully aware, sentient being. . . . An impressively assured debut.' Calgary Herald
 
'A beautiful debut novel. . . .Maybe an unconventional novel about the perils of loneliness is the perfect read for these unconventional, lonely times. Maybe we need the detached musings of a satellite in love, looking outside in, to remind us of what it means to be human especially when our sense of self seems to be slipping from our grasp.' Stacey May Fowles, Open Book
 
'This debut unconventional novel from indie bookseller Genki Ferguson is one of the most tender books I've read recently.' Rupert McNally, bookseller at Ben McNally Books, Toronto Life
 
'A strange, sweet, and heartbreaking story about loneliness, difference, and what it means to be human. . . . It's a tender and beautiful read. . . . Ferguson's debut is truly a bittersweet, and stunning story. A weird and wonderful meditation on the painfully human desire to believe in something greater than us.' SheDoesTheCity
 
'A tender tragedy that highlights the values of connection and being present while asking what it means to truly exist and be real.' Politics and Prose Bookstore Staff Pick
 
'I loved the beautifully realized characters. I loved the interplay between memory and imagination. . . . And the writing was exquisite. Yes, I really loved this book. New favorite author!' Jo Owens, author of A Funny Kind of Paradise

'With themes of loneliness, faith, and connection, Satellite Love is a gorgeous and deeply moving story.' Daily Hive

'A mystical story about loneliness, friendship, and the human need for connection. . . .  The facility with which Ferguson captures the cadence and tone of each [of his characters' voices] allows the prose to trip effortlessly off the page. As a result, the reader is invited to melt into the narrative. Satellite Love tackles the big questions: What does it mean to exist? Do our actions (or inaction) have any impact? Is there life after this life? Is anyone looking out for us? These universal questions lay heavy on the hearts of our characters, and so too for the reader, but Ferguson confronts them head-on through the lens of philosophy, spirituality, and faith with charm, humour, poignancy, and thoughtfulness. This is a lovely debut with a lasting impression.' Prairie Flower Reads

'Heartbreaking, spellbinding, beautiful. Satellite Love is an unusual and moving novel. . . . I found this book to be just breathtaking. It speaks to the devastation that bullying and neglect can cause, while highlighting the mind s capacity to protect itself at all [costs]. . . . A sweet, yet tragic and lyrical novel.' Worn Pages and Ink
 

Buchausschnitt
ANNA


Did you know that most people are hollow?

It s true. You see medical diagrams of the body sometimes, the ones where we re stuffed full with kidneys, gallbladders, lungs, and it s easy to get the impression that there s no space left inside. But those drawings always miss the gaps. For example, I have an empty spot inside my chest, below my sternum, that if I hit just right lets out a soft thump. A personal echo.

I suspect that everyone has their own hollow spot, one that lets out a unique tone when tapped. You just need to find it. Perhaps yours is behind your head, in your lower back, or along your ribs. The problem is, most people don t seem to understand that they re empty, too.

I can pinpoint the moment I realized I was hollow. It was during my first year of high school, and Ms. Tanaka was prattling on in Social Studies class about old gods and ancient tales. Her favourite story was about Amaterasu, the sun goddess, and her brother Susanoo, god of the storms and seas. A long time ago, Susanoo had destroyed some of Amaterasu s rice paddies, and out of anger the sun goddess hid in a cave, casting the world into shadow.

All the other gods became nervous when she wouldn t emerge, realizing that if she hid forever, they would be forced to live an eternity in darkness. Of course, they didn t actually care about her; they just wanted her light. They ended up luring her out with a party, pretending that they had found another, better sun goddess instead, and celebrated loudly enough for her to hear. When Amaterasu got jealous and peeked out to see who this new goddess could be, the other gods pulled her out
from the cave and trapped her.

At this point, the girls who sat behind me started giggling, and I glanced back despite knowing better. All five of them were sitting with their backs completely straight, hands folded on their desks, suddenly model students. I tried to figure out what, exactly, they were laughing at, but they simply looked past me, avoiding any eye contact.

One of the girls, Mina, raised her hand and asked, Why did Anna-terasu want to go to a party she wasn t invited to? Ms. Tanaka corrected her on the name, but then the others started chiming in too, and it became obvious they were mispronouncing Amaterasu deliberately.

Why didn t the other gods like Anna-terasu?

Did Anna-terasu know that she was being annoying?

Why was Anna-terasu so sulky?

I was puzzled at first, but then I clued in that they were giving me a new nickname. I decided this was a good thing. My classmates give me a lot of nicknames, on account of my having the only non-Japanese name in my class. My mom tells me that Anna means graceful or beauty in English. In Japanese, though, it sounds similar to the word ana, meaning hole. A hollow. Compared to that, being called the sun goddess might have been the nicest thing those girls had ever said about me.

Ms. Tanaka had some slides projected at the front of the room, and one of them showed an old woodblock print of Amaterasu.

She was floating in the clouds, enveloped in this holy glow, indifferent to the deities that surrounded her. All the other gods were cowering, arms up, overwhelmed by her light. They admired Amaterasu, or at the very least they feared her.

I ignored my classmates barrage of questions, keeping my eyes on Amaterasu instead, studying her gaze. In those traditional prints, the old gods are all depicted in this uncanny way, with a vacant look in their eyes. Ms. Tanaka said it s an expression of compassion, but I think it s one of contempt. The sun goddess was looking down on us, and for some reason, I felt an affinity to her. The more I stared at her image, the more it seemed