books – MYMJ

Walking by the headstones in the graveyard with Rufus, Mateo says, “I hope reincarnation is real” (216). To the readers, he reflects, “I’m already finding that this one day to get everything right isn’t enough. This one life wasn’t enough” (216).

Adam Silvera’s book explores a question that I think everyone wonders about at least once in their lives: What if you knew when you would die? How would you spend your last day?

Full disclosure: As you may have guessed from the title, there are two main characters in this book, Mateo and Rufus, and they find out that they are going to die. They have 24 hours left to live.

I read the book, curious as to how the author would explore its premise. After finishing the novel, I am relieved that Silvera made Mateo and Rufus meet, albeit on the last day of their lives, and helped fulfill each other’s happiness on the day that, perhaps, mattered most. In the end, that’s the bottom line, isn’t it? You live life with the people you love, and your happiness derives from being happy with your loved ones. I mean, it’s not as simple as it sounds, but I think that is one of the universal ways of achieving a meaningful life.

If you knew you had 24 hours left to live, what would you do? Who would you see? Where would you go? Would you share the news with your loved ones?

There was one part of the book that left me feeling puzzled. See, Mateo lived most of his life inside his apartment (he confesses this earlier in the book), afraid of the possibility of death that he may or may not encounter if he were to step outside his door. He spent years that way, but during his last day, he finally decides to explore the world like he has never done before. The decision leads him to meet Rufus, and as I mentioned earlier, his one and final day with Rufus ends up becoming a big portion of his life.

In a way, Mateo’s last day on earth makes up for the days where he didn’t let himself live fully. To me, this has always been a conundrum: it baffles me how, no matter how hard you try, there is no right way to live life. There is a chance that I may be doing things completely wrong, or maybe completely correctly, and I can always do things differently. It’s like walking blindly in a dark room where I can’t see where I am going, how far I have walked, or how big the room is to begin with.

Mateo believes it is fate that brought him and Rufus together. He tells Rufus, “If you can believe in two afterlives, you can believe in the universe playing puppet master. Can’t you?” (222). Mateo’s words resonated with me because I also believe in fate. It may be my way of consoling myself when things don’t work out, but it also gets me going when things work out in ways that I never imagined.

Lidia, Mateo’s best friend, realizes that her best friend in the whole entire world is about to die. She asks him, “What am I going to do without you?” (322), and Mateo doesn’t know how to answer her. He reflects:

This loaded question is the reason I didn’t want anyone to know I was dying. There are questions I can’t answer. I cannot tell you how you will survive without me. I cannot tell you how to mourn me. I cannot convince you to not feel guilty if you forget the anniversary of my death, or if you realize days or weeks or months have gone by without thinking about me.

I just want you to live. (322-323)

Mateo’s reflection resonated with me because, really, what else could you want from the ones you are leaving behind? Those who are leaving do not want the ones left behind to completely pause their lives to mourn. Parents want their children to continue living their lives to be happy, for example. And the similar belief applies to other relationships, I think. We live from the love that connects us, and we want our loved ones to continue to be happy.

In the end, Mateo found his Rufus, and I hope I will too.

“I don’t think much of dreams that are stripped bare of pleasure. Dreams, or pleasure? If I have to choose one, I’ll take the latter. That said, my heart still flutters at the word dream. A life without dreams is as dry as a life without tears” (252) – Yeongju to Minjun.

We live in a busy, chaotic world. When it comes to our jobs, if we are fortunate to have one, it is very rare for us to have the option to choose what we want to do. Speaking for myself, my career choice has always been shaped by familial and societal standards. This book made me reflect on my choices and how I would have felt if I had made different decisions. And Yeongju takes an action that goes against what she was taught – she gives up a stable job and marriage to open her own bookshop. She does the unimaginable to pursue a goal that makes her happy.

After opening her own bookshop, Yeongju asks herself, “[D]oes [the bookshop] make me feel positive? Can I be whole and uncompromisingly myself? Do I love and treasure myself here?” (Hwang 2). The luxury of being able to ask whether one’s career choice brought a sense of self-fulfilment feels highly unrealistic to me, but I still admire Yeongju for continuously asking. As far as the questions go, narration confirms, “[f]or Yeongju, the bookshop checked all the boxes” (Hwang 2). I know there is a lot more work that is required to become a bookstore owner, but when I read this book, I remembered feeling liberated by Yeongju’s choice. She was the owner of the bookshop. Now she was responsible for hiring staff, maintaining the organizational system for the books, and all the other million details she had to oversee. But Yeongju’s contemplative questions made her new job sound almost idyllic at times (especially when she didn’t have any customers).

Is it an absurdly foolish hope to think one could choose a career that makes them feel positive while also being able to be their authentic self? And does anyone really know what it means to be their “authentic self”? Does society ever allow enough opportunity for us to really explore what that means? Or, given how one is lucky to be in one’s place, should we remember to be grateful for having a job to begin with, swallow all our bitter complaints, and keep our heads down so we can keep on keeping on? We didn’t just pop out of nowhere into this world. There were parents and ancestors before us that we owe our standing to. Well, that’s what I believe. Is it more than selfish to throw away familial and societal expectations to pursue risky dreams that do not even guarantee success and reputation?

Then there is Minjun, who is also dealing with the consequences of his decisions. For him, it was not that he quit a respectable job. Rather, Minjun had followed all the paths, corners, and hills that society had prescribed for young men like him to reach success, only to find that there was no “destination” secured for him at the end of the road. Working as a barista at Yeongju’s shop, he thinks, “He needed courage. The courage not to waver in the face of disappointment from others, the courage to stick to his beliefs and choices” (97). He didn’t mind working at the coffee shop at all, but when he faced others, he imagined their disappointment in him for being a “failure.”

I think it all comes back to saving face. Can you stand by your decision while knowing how it has impacted your family’s reputation for better or worse? I empathize with Minjun because, especially in his parents’ eyes, graduating from a school of his choice should have opened doors for solid jobs for him. Instead, he is working as a part-time barista. It’s not about the job itself, but about how the title of his position looks on paper. The same goes for Yeongju. She may have been able to open her bookshop, but she has a history. This trap of societal judgment is something none of us can escape, right?

Minjun and Yeongju frequently discuss the idea of reaching one’s true happiness. Yeongju points out that that moment doesn’t really exist. Eternal happiness is just not possible. This makes Minjun reflect, “[p]erhaps he was miserable precisely because he was trying to simplify a life that was meant to remain complex” (103). But the problem isn’t that Minjun isn’t happy. It’s that while he feels that his life is in “harmony,” he finds that “everyone else seems to see it as dissonance” (104). Therefore, Minjun needs validation that he is improving his “situation” so that “[h]is efforts” would not have “come to naught” (229).

In her letter to Minjun asking him to continue working with her, she says, “I had thought of work as stairs. Stairs to climb to reach the top. Now, I see work as food. Food that you need every day. Food that makes a difference to my body, my heart, my mental health, and my soul. There is food you just shove down your throat, and food that you eat with care and sincerity. I want to be one who takes great care in eating simple food. Not for anyone, but for myself” (282).

Again, Yeongju’s words gave me hope and courage, but not enough to do what she did. Realistically, I am not in a situation where I can choose a career that makes me happy while also meeting my financial needs. I also cannot choose my working hours. The work-life balance is a difficult challenge, and it is definitely one of the many things I have been working on. As grateful as I am for my job, this book makes me wonder: What if?

In the end, it is not really an actionable question and more of a fantasy. That being said, when I become a millionaire author, I am leaving my day job. Without a second thought.

Hwang, Bo-reum. Welcome to the Hyunam-dong Bookshop. Translated by Shanna Tan, Bloomsbury Publishing, 2024.

Tag: books

“I’ll be brave, and I’ll be okay. I love you from here to there”: They Both Die At The End by Adam Silvera