Durian Sukegawa’s Sweet Bean Paste is without a doubt, one of the best books I’ve read this year. It’s heartwarming without being cheesy, inspiring without being preachy and is a stunning exploration of friendship and redemption in a society that has been unforgiving to those who are a part of it.
The story begins with Sentaro, an ex convict who dreams of being a writer, but rarely ever writes. He has no motivation to turn his life around, and often mentions that he doesn’t have a sweet tooth.
Coincidentally, Sentaro works in a Dorayaki shop and spends most of his day making pancakes filled with sweet bean paste between them. He bakes half-heartedly, drinks wholeheartedly and has no clear ambition. He is just working to pay off his dues to the shop owner, whom he owes a loan to. It’s why Sentaro is working there in the first place.
It’s a terrible understatement to say that his life changes when Tokue, an elderly woman with crippled fingers arrives at the shop, looking for a job. Initially, Sentaro is hesitant about hiring her, but on realising that her disfigured hands make the best sweet bean paste he has ever had in his life, Sentaro gives in and hires her.
After many mornings which see the two of them boiling azuki beans to make fresh sweet bean paste, a sort of friendship between Tokue and Sentaro begins. Sentaro soon realises that she’s just as much as an outcast a he is.
Tokue suffered from Hansen’s disease (leprosy) as a teenager and lived over 40 years of her life, forcibly isolated in a sanatorium even after being cured of it. The book brings to light Japan’s regressive laws concerning leprosy, because of which, patients were forced to abandon the world around them and live in leper communities. The law remained unchanged until 1996.
Tokue’s character, a woman who has long learned to live with the prejudice of others is remarkably hopeful for the pain she’s experienced, and has made friends with the world around her. The forests, the moon, and especially the azuki beans that she pays close attention and “listens to”. Tokue helps Sentaro walk on his journey of self-discovery, teaches him to make her sweet bean paste and shows him what it takes to be truly patient. Her wisdom, her friendship with her community and genuine affection for Sentaro is heart-warming.
The author has written an incredibly emotional story against the backdrop of the calming cherry blossoms, and it’s cinematic enough for your mind as a reader, to effortlessly play a visual of it. There were moments where I wept uncontrollably, and it was impossible to understand the depths of Tokue’s despair.
One of the book’s larger themes create a conversation around the Japanese way of life, and that every member of society must find a way to fit in, or discover a way in which they can contribute to it. Sweet Bean Paste however abandons its allegiance to this ideal way of life, and explores the idea that life can be especially meaningful, if spent in the pursuit of perfecting that one thing you feel most reverently connected to.
“We are born in order to see and listen to the world,” Tokue tells Sentaro, and it stays with him for the rest of his life, just as it stays with you.
Sweet Bean Paste takes its time to reel you in and create a sense of empathy in your hearts, for the characters that the author has written within its pages. It’s a slow burn, but its embers are bright.
