There the old man finds the strength to speak to his late wife and begin to come to terms with his grief.

Technical aplomb permeates the novel, unobtrusive and diligent, like an unseen servant ensuring that the author’s guests are undistracted by that which should not be seen. A relationship filled with devotion but the apprehension that comes with thoughts of betraying the memories of loved ones; Takeshi dealing with feelings for another woman, and Yui attached to a young girl that could have been her daughter. Hearing of the “Phone of The Wind”, Yui makes the long pilgrimage from Tokyo to Otsuki, however once there, she finds herself unable to lift the receiver or speak. Longer chapters are punctuated by shorter ones, some written as lists (“Ten things plus one that Hana and Akiko loved doing together”), others as fragments, a single word, or an in-depth look and what had otherwise seemed like a secondary observation. Ein Buch voller Schmerz, Hoffnung, der Angst und der Notwendigkeit des Loslassens und dem wahren Lauf des Lebens.

Beautifully written, sensitive and evocative, it paints a picture of an inner and outer world that is infused with both tragedy and hope. Quiet, thoughtful and affecting, I think this one will affect everyone differently (always the case with books obviously, but particularly with this one! During a conversation on her radio show, she learns about a disconnected phone located in a garden overlooking the sea where the bereaved go to speak to their lost loved ones.

I would like to thank NetGalley, Bonnier Books UK and the author Laura Imai Messina for my ARC in exchange for an honest review. Through their sorrow and grief, they learn how to let happiness, hope, joy, and laughter reside side by side with their memories of loss. I guess I was expecting something like a blend of Sayaka Murata and Elena Ferrante, but the tone is closer to Cecilia Ahern or Marian Keyes. With four Italian books under her belt, Messina is an established author that I have come across for the first time. The process of death, grief and the afterlife—Yui wonders “if, perhaps, the dead people we remembered in life here, weren’t in fact holding hands over there, if they had ended up getting to know each other, making new memories that the living were completely unaware of”—occupies much of the novel, but Messina deals both with the profound questions as well as the, perhaps, more practical moments.This story of a disconnected phone box in rural Japan where the bereaved go to speak to the dead is based on fact.

Ich konnte das Buch nicht schnell lesen, musste Pausen einlegen, geschriebenes verarbeiten und nachdenken.As an adult her love of reading has only increased and she can always be found with her head in a book.

Yui works at a radio station and hears about a phone box in a garden on a hill in Bell Gardia, where people visit to speak with the departed. An impromptu celebration on the beach at sunset with champagne becomes a weekly touchpoint to their lives as they learn more about each other and themselves. A favourite playlist, a list of flowers pressed between the pages of books by a character's mother, an address, a list of utterances whispered into the phone on one day.Messina shows us that even in the face of a terrible tragedy, such as an earthquake or a loss of a child, the small things – a cup of tea, a proffered hand – can offer a way ahead.