Goth light novel liveblog

[juushika]

Another Tumblr crosspost. This is one of my favorite narratives from one of my favorite authors, Otsuichi. It's also been made into a manga and a film, both of which are good.


Receiving the LN

thobari's birthday gift arrived! It's the next two Ace Attorney games (!!! when working through a series there's something comforting in having more than one in the queue, so series momentum can carry through rather than scrounging for the next game), and Otsuichi's Goth, my favorite novel that I'd never read. I've read the manga and seen the film of Goth about a dozen times, and I've read Calling You (manga and light novel), and Zoo, but Goth is my very favorite and I'd never been able to get my hands on the original light novel.

Goth has a particular atmosphere, pristine and cold but never empty—like Morino's eyes, glittering despite her severity and lack of affect, as she reads a book about serial killers; or the protagonist's sympathetic desires, the way he inherits the compulsions of his subjects, piggybacking his own needs onto theirs. There's an intimacy to it without nicety; in fact, intimacy exists because it's not a friendship, because they can be honest. Except that the protagonist isn't: he rarely lets on to his fascination with Morino, or the remarkable way that deviancy congregates around her. These are themes I love, with an tone I've never seen matched, monochrome but with a heightened contrast, certainly without the accidental dullness that usually accompanies this style.

There was a comfortable disinterest in our relationship that allowed me to express the inhuman and unemotional sides of myself.

Foreword and afterword
Under normal circumstances, I read both introductions and afterwords after the main text, but as I already have Goth pre-memorized, it gets a pass. This edition contains afterwords originally published in the Bunko editions; Otsuichi talks a bit about the title ("I named the book GOTH for the entirely arbitrary reason that the lead female seemed to be sort of Goth-y. [...] It was not a well-considered title."), bless. Also, the inspiration:

"Killer after killer appears, secretly taking lives—and the more I wrote, the more worried I became that these events just seemed terribly unrealistic. In the real world, it's absolutely unthinkable that so many crazy people could live in the same town.

"I was trying to write a dark fantasy like the series Youma Yakou, published by Kodokawa Sneaker Bunko. In that series, each story involves a unique youkai causing trouble, and I was trying to write my own version of that without the consent or permission of Group SNE (the company that created the series). I do apologize, SNE-san! So the killers that appear in GOTH are not human, but youkai. And the male protagonist is also a youkai, with the same power as the enemies, whereas the female lead has the powerful psychic gift that attracts youkai. As I didn't use any items or jargon to suggest that this was not our world, people tend to believe the book is set in reality; but in my mind, it absolutely is not."

The adaptations have less of this, due to compression/distillation—the manga eliminates one storyline and compresses two of the others into one; the film is just one case, although it combines elements from multiple. They're less unbelievable, as result; less in need of explanation. (To be fair, every crime serial falls is victim to this, and none of them are because youkai—they're "because New York" or "because the idea of mind-melding with mushrooms is cool" and you learn to accept it as part of the genre. See this longer rant on the subject.)

I'm still unsure how this word of god influences my thoughts. Protagonist and Morino are always different, subject v. object—and is it problematic that female Morino is the object, a perpetual victim? you betcha. It's circumspect that by any explanation—she's a monster-psychic, that she's reiterating her troubled history—she's creating her own victimization. But it also makes her the narrative focus. Personally, I see both protagonists overlapping realms—which I suppose is the natural result of their connection to one another.

(Also some unformed thinkies about Natsume Yuujinchou and similar shared human/youkai realms.)

Lastly, he talks about Goth winning the Honkaku Mystery Award:

"That bears further explanation. GOTH was originally written as a "light novel." Defining the term "light novel" is fraught with danger, to the point that, at the time I write it, there were no prizes for which light novels could even be considered. In other words, the possibility that GOTH would win an award was absolutely out of the question. All light novelists were writing under the assumption that their work would never win any prizes, and I was just one of those."

So if you were ever wondering if any media ever were exempt from arbitrary judgement about relative worth, the answer is no, and if you were wondering if those judgement have any value, the answer is no, and if you were wondering if they harm their own and related mediums (or genres), the answer is yes.


Dog

"Dog" was the only Goth story with which I was not already familiar; I can understand why it doesn't condense well, and think it's no great tragedy that adaptations don't include it. Up until the last 10 pages I didn't care for it, but, here, let me spoil the whole story:

My annoyance with animal narratives is always "animal doesn't work that way." I'm picky about my fictional representations about animals, particularly cats but my annoyance knows no bounds and this easily, frequently kills my immersion. "Dog"'s dog didn't feel the least like a dog; by the time the dog started crying I went from exasperated from outright confused. Twist endings like this—it wasn't a dog! it was the girl, all along!—are always gimmicks, but I enjoy them when knowing the twist allows you to reflect back on the preceding narrative and see all the clues that lead up to this revelation. It redeemed this chapter.

And I love the protagonist's parallel development: he insists on trying to pull Morino in, despite her disinterest; he involves himself almost directly. Both of these arcs—his fascination with her, his personal relationship with murder—are clearest in this the light novel. Otsuichi may have envisioned the killers as youkai, and the protagonist as one of their number—but while the protagonist overlaps their traits and identity, even he can see his own ongoing evolution into their kind; it's not as clear cut as monster/human(/monster-attuned psychic human).


Memory/Twins

The conversation about Morino's sister in "Memory/Twins" is the very most perfect thing I could ever imagine.

The difference between original and adaptations: Morino's story is told. To do it any other way removes the intimacy of Morino talking to the protagonist, which the novel narrative emphasizes in small details like the passing cars, the setting sun: the length and stillness of this conversation.

Morino and protagonist share a strange intimacy. There's no nicety, but there's a certain degree of kindness—as when the protagonist pretends to believe Morino when she says she's not afraid of dogs. They only discuss topics of shared interest, and show no care for each other's personal lives—but the protagonist has an awareness of Morino, studying both her physical appearance and her affect. (He notices she's unwell; he doesn't inquire into her health; he learns about it, anyway.) And they share a startling honesty, not just in their taboo shared interests but in conversations like this one. This is the most personal story that Morino could tell, not only because it created who she is but because it will appeal directly to the protagonist. She doesn't know that he's solved every murder case which has fascinating him—if anything, the only oversight, both because that particular element gets repetitive and because there's no sense that Morino is overlooking anything, here—but she knows that this changes their relationship: not two people with the same fascination, but one person now fascinated with the other. And yet it is as monochrome as all their conversations, impersonal, unaffected, ending without a goodbye.

All the adaptations have this tone overall, but that the novel has it, so strongly, in this conversation, is important. This moment is definitive, moving emphasis from episodic into overarching, to the ongoing development of the relationship between Morino and protagonist, and the growth of protagonist as murderer.

#Juu reads #Goth (Otsuichi) #spoilers be ye warned #in a book of favorite moments this was my singular favorite moment #everything I love about Goth resides in this single scene #it also makes good followup to Dog specifically for the contrast between lying about/pretending to believe re: fear of dogs #and the near-honesty of this conversation #when they put aside social mores they also put aside the ethics of honesty; it doesn't effect the intimacy here #(but Dog proved that Morino is a shitty liar—how convincing is she as she omits details of her sister's death?)


Further Memory/Twins

From later in the chapter:

Morino looked very sad. "When you said you'd ‘figured out a number of things about Morino Yuu,' I knew you'd caught me."

I nodded.

and the degree to which I called it is intense. Morino's relative cluelessness is overplayed in the first two stories, and unnecessary, even out of character; she is as bright as him (which we also see, especially in the first chapter), but differently focused; also as able to read him as he her, also as able to predict the fallout of their shared fascination and shared intimacy; I'd even say she tells him this not as an oversight but because "it must have been hard to go nine years without telling anyone," because he she can tell, because he is the only one capable, therefore worthy of, putting the pieces together.

ETA:

"I thought you might be the first to call me by my name."

Goth as light novel is as good as Fate/Zero as light novel.

No wait you don't understand just how important that statement is, lemme explain.

I love (love love) the Fate/Zero anime, and I'm used to forcing myself not to prefer the first version of a story that I'm exposed to—even if my first exposure is an adaptation, original/other versions feel a bit off. But the Fate/Zero anime is incredibly faithful, sometimes condensed but almost entirely unaltered. What the novel offers is the same experience in more depth, so that everything forced to function as subtext is bought back to the forefront in explicit detail*—which is necessary in a story with such complex interpersonal and philosophical politics. The anime is fantastic; the light novel was a life-changing experience.

The Goth light novel isn't flawless (see: my complaints about what Morino does or doesn't know), but it does that same magic of taking something I already love the one necessary step further. In part, it's that all the dynamics—the protagonist's personal growth, the changing nature of his relationship with Morino, the changes in Morino's identity—are at their most delineated here, less chaotic than the manga, less simplistic than the film, forming strong balance against the episodic plot. But most of it is that aesthetic that I have such a hard time describing.

Some of the best moments of the film version are like this scene (Morino reenacing wrist-cut in the water): these moments of precise and cold beauty, small physical details against a stark color palette, pointedly themed. They're played against cold but cutting dialog, that honesty without sympathy that the protagonists give one another. And what amazes me about the adaptations is that all of this came from the original work; that it's strongest, there. Otsuichi has flawless grasp of details, the sound of nearby students a distant echo behind these unnatural conversations, the texture and refraction of red rope, black hair, glowing skin; it both grounds the narrative and makes it surreal, adjacent to but not human, too stark, too beautiful; abnormal, but in a way that draws the reader as the macabre draws these characters. When I recommend Goth, it's this atmosphere that I recommend it for as much as protagonist/Morino dynamic. I've seen little quite like it, except other versions of the story. And none has it as strongly, definitively, as this original.

* Ryuunosuke feels, or: here's an example.


Grave

What the protagonist does at the end of "Grave" is so quiet that it's easy to overlook: this is the first direct death he's caused. He's moved from acknowledging the possible side-effects of his inaction, to providing the tools for other killers to operate, to this, less than murder but more than assisted suicide—it's the boyfriend's choice, but one he only makes because of the situation that the protagonist has created. (This growth is so much clearer in the LN than it is anywhere else.)

And yet there's a kindness that underlies his actions: in "Dog," the killer he supports is certainly sympathetic; here, he gives the couple back proof of their bond which Saeki believes he has shattered. (Think back to the surprising gentleness of "Memory/Twins," especially the ending.) Even the murderer in "Wrist-cut" gets a sort of comeuppance; the only one exception is the killer in "Goth"—and never is there a sense that the protagonist isn't a kindred spirit: he doesn't have morality—but he has a sort of softness, a sideways compassion.


timegoddessrose replied to your post: What the protagonist does at the end of "Grave" is...

YOU'RE MAKING ME WANNA READ THIS AND I STILL DON'T EVEN REALLY KNOW WHAT IT IS BESIDES AWESOME :D

Join me in Goth hell! No seriously please join me, I'm so lonely by myself.

Goth is about a pair of high school students who become acquainted because they share a fascination with local murderers, and follows the crimes they investigate (most versions are fairly episodic, with overarching character development). In genre it's effectively psychological horror, with an austere, cold tone. It was a light novel, then manga, then live action film. The novel is—I may have mentioned this before—the very most best version, but the adaptations are also fantastic. The light novel's pretty obscure to find in translation unless you order online. The manga's just one volume; it's been licensed and I don't know how hard it is to find a physical copy (it's easy to read online if you're into that sort of thing). The film was briefly on Netflix but sadly is no longer, but it looks like Amazon has it. Any of them would make a great starting place! I started with the manga.


Voice

There's so much going on in "Voice." The trick of the narrative is heavy handed, even confusing, too sudden in resolution. But I like what it achieves. We see the protagonist as a full-fledged murderer, then scale him down to justified killer; the relief is so great that it almost hides the fact that he does kill someone: this is his first entirely direct murder, and with it his arc from observer to murderer is continuing. But it's not the type of murder that intrigues him, murder-as-compulsion, -as-pleasure, -as-fetish. We now have a clear view of him as that sort of murderer—but here the narrative leaves off: his further evolution is a lingering threat, as of yet unfulfilled but surprisingly concrete.

That narrative hedging—not turning him into a "real" killer before our eyes—is necessary. Go too far in that direction and you lose the seduction of the macabre and the reader's sympathy. But there's no doubt that the protagonist will go there, just—not yet.

What's unique to the light novel is Morino's response to this case, which we don't get in any version where she takes the place of the prospective victim. The protagonist smiles with nothing at all inside, and she's the reverse, everything inside, nothing outside: here is the clearest delineation between their characters and an admission of Morino's real identity, that she is not like him, that she's actually human (as he, more and more, is not), that she deserves our sympathy, not this apparently-kind future murderer.

Good news folks, just the bonus novella left and then you are free from Goth hell.


In conversation with Amy

My first exposure to Goth was the manga, so I never had the chance to imagine the protagonist as genderless, and that saddens me. I'm of mixed feels re: his gender—it has a certain predictability, especially as played against female Morino, but I ultimately like what Otsuichi does with it as a further reversals of expectation: it flirts with "he was a boy, she was a girl, can I make it any more obvious" but intentionally, explicitly doesn't go there because it's not a romantic intimacy, it's a different dynamic altogether.

Otsuichi talks a bit about the overlap between his light novel and the murder mystery genre in the afterword, if your edition has that (if not I can totes type it up sometime), and it's interesting in context here; the murder mystery aspects, the strong plotting and solvable clues, are intentional, but the deviation from genre is equally important; it emphasizes how different these characters and their motivations are.

I know precisely what you mean by media which is what it is to its fullest extent; it's something I look for, too. I think it's a big part of why Goth has stuck with me and why I have such a hard time explaining why I love it; it becomes a lot of handwaving about atmosphere, that unique and intense self-ness that this work has.

OKAY BUT the point is I am really happy you're enjoying this, because I never expect anyone to enjoy a recommendation (because personal taste is a thing), but it's super fantastic when they do.


Morino's Souvenir Photo

I liked "Morino's Souvenir Photo." I love the protagonist's POV so much that I'm always a bit sad to lose it, but by now his character and arc are well-established; it does us good to see him from without, especially from this view, where an established murderer finds the boy more—he sees the kinship between them, but the boy is the more threatening, the more monstrous, despite his relative inaction.

That's no small thing.

Goth begins as a murder mystery, using my favorite genre conventions (the Honkaku Mystery style Otsuichi describes, "focusing on deduction, tricks, and the surprising moment in which the truth is revealed"); by this point is uses the same tools to an different end: the protagonist is both detective and crime, using his deductive ability to solve but also to create cases. It has the same satisfying payoff that a murder mystery does, with a different emotional angle: no longer cathartic or justified, but increasingly ominous.

But: the issue of what Morino knows. I'm not sure who I'm arguing with, if Otsuichi is upholding a failed conceit or if this is the one area where the protagonist is unable to deduce correctly. Morino knows. She knows the energy she attracts; she knows what sort of people she's brushed up against. She as much as identifies it during the car ride when she recognizes the similarity in the gaze of the murder and the protagonist. (And it makes more sense that her cluelessly obeying the protagonist's intuition without even recognizing what he's been alerted to.) Morino's awareness is important. The idea that she's an active victim isn't without problems, but her agency matters; it's part of her growing self-awareness, as in the end of "Voice": she knows what makes her different, that her not-humanness is not the same as the protagonist's at all.

(I love the views of her from without, that her cold affect is compelling but not serene or graceful; a lot of it—again, see "Voice"—is awkward inability. She's not inhuman; she's just really bad at being human.)


In conversation with Amy pt 2

the neuroatypical coding in Goth is strong and (the author is dead, but) totally intentional insofar as the entire narrative is about deviations from normalcy & what we mean when we say "strange"

usual caveat, but I am operating at about 45% efficiency, so what follows is a well-intended Hot Mess™

Morino's affect/personality/etc. is explained in-text as the result of trauma, which absolutely doesn't preclude autism; and while it's never "resolved" as in "cured" it's resolved insofar as it's explained and as we see a path for ... operating within it, solving for it, maybe healing past it

but the message is distinctly not "and then Morino was never fascinated by the macabre again, and we were all better for it!" her special interest isn't the problem—her affect really isn't the problem, except for how others react to it; these things are all desirable, for Otsuichi as for reader—they're the draw.

but there are still Objectively Bad Roadmaps for Strange.

Otusichi does better than most horror writers (even though he achieves it by making Morino a potential victim) at maintaining the tension between the draw and the threat—because he elides both with "strange," because he makes it sympathetic and frightening, because he refuses to come down on one side or the other. even with "actually being murdered" on the table, there's never clear lines drawn in "good affect" and "bad affect," or "sympathetic interests" and "dangerous interests." it benefits the characterization hugely to maintain that ambivalence.

so! I love this reading! because I don't read autism-coding as clearly as you do, so I benefit from seeing it pointed out; because it marries perfectly with these themes. and not least because it does improve the text to see Morino's apparent gullibility in these terms—I always read that character trait as part of the stylization of narrative/characterization, but I like this better.