I absolutely adored this book. I was surprised by so many elements as I read, as I wasn't sure what to expect at the start, but have popped this onto my shelf of firm-favourites!

Bits I liked:
- intelligent, human approach to challenging physical and mental struggles
- touching, beautifully written prose with insightful characters, in Ozeki's funny yet peaceful style
- loved the Zen link again, with info and stories, as well as the link with the Kondo cleaning fascination
- relatable, diverse characters with distinct voices
- clever use of multiple POV with a twist

Bits I liked less:
- the version I read didn't have any content warnings, which may be needed considering some of the topics
- can't think of much else, as I really felt like I loved every moment!

A wonderful novel that I know I'll return to, and it's cemented Ozeki as a favourite author of mine. It was relatable yet magical, explored a number of important topics with ease and openness, and kept me thinking about it long after the last page had been turned.

An interesting view of grief and mental health. A little surreal at times but a gentle and poignant story of a mother and son.

I was a little overwhelmed reading this book. I found it slow to get started but eventually I could see how much went into it. It has lots of themes around grief and death that are always a challenge to read. I loved A Tale For The Time Being, this is what drew me to this book, and I didn’t quite enjoy it as much. It was a decent story, well written, and full of plenty of complex characters and concepts. The story feels so realistic, the portrayal of the relationship between mother and son was so important. It’s so hard to gather my thoughts enough to write a decent review. It’s worth giving your time to, even if it will take a while to get through.

A Tale for the Time Being is my favourite book of all time. A big accolade! I was very excited to pick up The Book of Form and Emptiness, and it lived up to the Ozeki hype. It's a poignant coming of age story with a tad of magical realism sprinkled in, and I couldn't put this book down. These characters have stayed with me past the final page, Ozeki does it again.

Not my usual kind of genre but I really enjoyed reading something different, I thought it was a nice read and something I would recommend to my friends and family.

I've always been a huge fan of Ruth Ozeki and this book was no different! It's a bit long, so I was daunted at first but she paces the story very well and I loved her characterization. Truly did not disappoint and I've already ordered my own book copy for my bookshelf!

I really enjoyed this book. It was not what I was expecting but a great read. The characters were so well written it was a joy to read. Highly recommended.

I really liked Ozeki's previous novel, A Tale for the Time Being. I think I like this one even more.
This review is going to be very rambly - it provoked a lot of thoughts; food for thought and books are brain food - and for that I apologise.
This book is many things (as the book itself says, books do exist in more than one state and are different for everyone): a story about a family trying to come to terms with loss and how different people experience and process grief; a meta-meditation on the nature of books, libraries (I think the one I work at isn't yet old or big enough to be haunted but give it time) and readers; an ode to books; a meditation on the state of the world today and an ode to/meditation on things, specifically our struggle with impermenance.
In the book the Bottleman says, we have to learn to love and find poetry in our trash, as it's the only way to love our entire planet. I'm not talking about corporate consumerism/consumer culture, which is a problem, and hoarding has many complex reasons behind it. Yes it feels good to have the odd clearout, doubly so you also do your best to make sure your posessions go to a good home (another thing this book did was really successfully tap into that childhood feeling of objects having a life of their own). But afterwards, new object swill gradually replace them. I've never been a fan of minimalism or the current de-cluttering trend. Consumer culture is not and never has been the only reason people accumulate things. We do so in order to fight against the feelings of impermenace and mortality - humans are largely material and sensual creatures as well as spiritual and cerebral - (side note: I find this to be particularly pertinent with the rise of digital media which, although I do partake in, has the disadvantage that it can be easily changed (censored etc) and/or taken away) but also because they may have sentimental value, and to define ourselves - our likes and interests, our lives. And I think this book acknowledges that. It's OK to have posessions, it's not some kind of (moral?) weakness. Clutter is like everything else: too much of it isn't so good but a little bit is fine.
As the book also says, endings are hard, and this applies to reviews as well. It has a lot (if not more) of the same meta-fictional elements as Tale for the Time Being, so if you liked that there's a good chance you'll enjoy this.
(And for some reason, the description "a flock or rubber duckies" hit me somewhere really tender.)

I loved Ruth Ozeki's A Tale for the Time Being, so when I got offered the chance to read The Book of Form an Emptiness as an ARC I was so excited. I wanted to love this, and in lots of ways I did love it, but in other ways I found this a struggle. I would never usually take 2 months to read a book, I'm more of a book a week type of person, but as I was finding it difficult to read this I just assumed it was the stress of a pandemic that made me disinclined to pick it up. The book is heavy, there's no getting around that, and at time laborious, the choice of language was sometimes hard to read through.

I'm so glad I read it, I'm so glad I persevered, but I am not sure whether this is something I would ever choose to revisit. Ruth Ozeki is an incredible writer and she manages to weave incredible stories.

On an ambitious yet very humane story of loss and growing up, hope and love. I've actually never read any of Ruth Ozeki's earlier novels, and I picked this up as I kept on seeing it in bookstore displays, highlights and so on, I couldn't resist. Glad I did. It wasn't a book I read in one go - in fact, I started in early December and have only finished it yesterday. I think that's probably right as it's one to savour slowly. Although the book broke my heart a number of times whilst reading, the whole reading experience is a rather healing one.⁣
⁣
The story revolves around the life of Benny Oh, a 14-year-old teenager who lost his beloved musician father tragically, and how he begins to hear voices from things in his house. It doesn't help that his mother, Annabelle, seems to struggle from parting with items that have some sentimental meaning to her. You see other characters that Benny encounters, from The Aleph, a girl he has a secret crush to, Slajov the Bottleman, a homeless poet who encourages him to find his voice. ⁣
⁣
I referred to the novel being an ambitious one because of how Ozeki seeks to address consumerism and our attachment to material possessions, climate change and mental illness. Ultimately, I think the books is about love, the love a mother has for her child, and his first love for the girl.⁣
⁣
I knew it was going to be a gook book, an emotionally charged one, as I was reading the very first passage. ⁣
⁣
“A book must start somewhere. One brave letter must volunteer to go first, laying itself on the line in an act of faith, from which a word takes heart and follows, drawing a sentence into its wake. From there, a paragraph amasses, and soon a page, and the book is on its way, finding a voice, calling itself into being.”⁣
⁣
I also really like how the primary narrator is The Book itself. Alright, no more spoiler. Do read it.

I loved this book at the start as it tells the story of a family struggling through grief. The writing is beautiful and I will definitely read Ruth Ozeki again.
I did find my attention dropped in the middle as the story is slow for a book of over 500 pages and it felt overly long at times. The ending was also a little fast and neat considering the length.

It had all the elements of a perfect story for a book lover. It is book centred (even partly book narrated!) and full of the magic and pottery of the printed word and storytelling.

At 14 Benny lives with his mother after a bizarre accident killed his father several years earlier. In a stage turn off events Benny starts to hear voices, some of which urge him to violent acts. In the clamour Benny is diagnosed with a Schizoid disorder and spend some time in a psychiatric hospital. But the truth is stranger than fiction. Benny hears the voices of objects around him. Including books. And one special book, HIS book, narrates the second stand of the story which centres on Benny's mother Annabelle, whose depression and griefstricken hoarding makes her relationship with her son difficult.

This relationship is the real heart of the novel, sorting all the complexity of parent-child love as well as it's many conflicts and misunderstandings. I'm just not sure that the fantasy, magical realism element added anything significant. The Book element never really worked for me and was more of a way of Benny learning about his mother's life and thoughts. The Zen tidying aspect of Annabelle's story was increasingly odd and the introduction of the Marie Kondo-esque author didn't work for me at all.

In the end I would have preferred a straight story of Benny and Annabelle negotiating their difficulties and grief without the elaborate context. The characterisation is brilliant, the storytelling less so.

Wow, what a rollercoaster of emotions. It’s difficult to explain this book coherently. It deals beautifully and sympathetically with the manifestation of and response to mental health issues. Grief is also addressed as is Zen Buddhism, jazz music, art, addiction, ferrets and corvid appreciation. The writing is exquisite. Wonderful stuff that will stay with me.

Just loved ‘The Book of Form & Emptiness’ by Ruth Ozeki. It is a long novel which gives plenty of time to develop the characters of Annabelle Oh and her son Benny and a handful of quirky characters.
Benny’s life is turned upside down when his father, Kenji, is run over by a chicken truck. Benny starts to hear voices all around including sighs and groans from inanimate objects. When a bird flies into the window at school he hears the glass in his classroom call out. Annabelle struggles with her job, her untidy house and a son that she’s losing contact with. Benny gets diagnosed with different disorders and ends up avoiding school and going to his local library instead.
A compelling novel with so many ideas; storytelling of the highest order.

Poignant, emotional, inventive - I think those words best sum up this reading experience! It has one of the most novel ways of telling the story via 2 narrators! Young Benny who is at the heart of the story, alongside the voice of 'the book'! And Benny hears the book telling his story too which leads to some brilliant exchanges between the two of them and it just makes reading their story even more captivating.

Young Benny is dealing with the sudden death of his father and this trauma leads to him starting to hear voices. And not just any voices, but the thoughts and feelings of everyday items that crowd his mind leading to those around him worry as to what is wrong with him. His mother tries her best to be there for her son, but she's dealing with her own grief and her hoarding starts to spiral out of control. There's a lot of exploration of mental health in this story and the author has approached the subjects with compassion and care.

It is a very difficult book to review as there's so many threads to it, but it all boils down to humans and their fragility. Their strength. Their quirks. And the ways that people find comfort, be that in the pages of a book or through connecting with others.

Your heart just breaks for Benny at times as there's nobody around who understands what he's going through. But he finds a strength somewhere deep down to try and make sense of it on his own, while watching his mother go through her issues. There's a clear message throughout about decluttering/letting go of the past to help clear your mind and this comes across loud and clear in a very creative way.

It's heartbreaking and heartwarming in equal measures and is one of those books where the characters stay with you long after the final page. Wonderful!

stopped reading at 55%

I'm sad but I'll be setting down the Book of Form and Emptiness for now.
After loving For The Time Being I was convinced that this will be at the top of my reading lists this year, but sadly I find this too dense to go through at the moment.
I find myself uninterested and at times triggered because of the content. The plot is slow and despairing, something that I think I will appreciate at a later date. The characters are so fiercely human and I feel so much for them that I found it difficult to read. The book is slow and meandering, which makes it a difficult one to plough through.

The characters are drawn with a keen and sympathetic eye and you feel empathy with their plights. The 'form' sections adds a dynamic layer where the reader is taken into an annex to consider the value of storytelling and story-reading. ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

A heartwarming tale within a story of struggle within a book which makes you reassess the function of literature: this clever, affecting story is a perfect autumnal read for booklovers of all ages. After the unexpected death of his beloved jazz-musician father, grief-stricken Benny Oh is surprised when objects around him start sharing their thoughts and observations: he is slowly overwhelmed by the voices and their constant chatter, eventually skiving school and its challenges to seek solace in the tranquility of the local library where the polite books know how to behave. The novel takes the form of a back-and-forth conversation between Benny and ‘The Book’, where each share their take on events: at times this structure becomes dizzying and genre-defying, yet always with a constant forward motion toward resolution: many sections reminded me of the philosophical conversations in Sophie’s World, the 1991 novel where young Sophie explores systems of belief. Benny’s similar quest for meaning sees him encounter numerous unforgettable characters, including a homeless revolutionary poet/philosopher and an enigmatic artist called the Aleph, who uses the library’s books as their canvas and carries a ferret in their pocket. At home, his unaware mother battles her own grief, physically manifested as clutter generated by her information-recording job, while a tiny book on tidying up tries valiantly to help her see the solution to her deep sadness. If you’re feeling bogged down by clutter – emotional or physical – or struggling to surface through life’s challenges, this book will leave you holding your loved ones tightly, eyeing the objects around you with suspicion and intrigue, and perhaps even lead you to our central library to reconnect with reading.

Featured in Book Club in the October 2021 issue of Cambridge Edition magazine

Ruth Ozeki’s third novel, A Tale for The Time Being, was not only one of my favourite reads of 2013, but one of my favourite ten books of the decade (2010-19); her debut novel, My Year of Meats, which I came to late, was one of my favourite reads of 2020. It’s such a shame, therefore, to admit that I really did not like her latest book, the 500+ page doorstopper The Book of Form and Emptiness. The basic story at the heart of it isn’t even a bad one; teenage Benny is dropping in and out of school after being diagnosed with a mental health condition, while his widowed mother Annabelle struggles with hoarding and mourns the senseless death of his father, Kenji. All three characters (even though Kenji is dead and doesn’t get much page-time even in flashbacks) are memorable creations, especially Annabelle, who is simultaneously sympathetic and deeply frustrating, a difficult balance for a writer to pull off. (I particularly enjoyed Annabelle’s correspondence with a Marie-Kondo-like figure who wrote a bestselling Zen guide to our relationship with things, Tidy Magic).

And yet, this story, which could have made a good novel half the length of this one, is totally buried in twee narration from ‘The Book’ and saccharine asides about the life of books in general. (‘Books don’t have eyes or hands, it’s true, but when a book and a reader are meant for each other, both of them know it.’). I am really allergic to this way of talking about books, especially within fiction itself, and I’m ready to admit that I may be more annoyed about these cutesy sentences than is truly fair. However, there are other problems with The Book of Form and Emptiness that link to the childishness of its style; it veers off on a pointless tangent with a group of irritatingly quirky misfits, Benny’s ability to hear the voices of inanimate objects goes nowhere, and the end is so ridiculously rushed and unbelievable that I started searching for a meta explanation for it (did The Book make it up?), even though, as far as I can tell, there’s no textual evidence for this. If you really, really adored Marcus Zusak’s The Book Thief, you’ll probably like this; otherwise, my best advice is to read A Tale for the Time Being.

A shaggy book story: Subject, What Is Real, Interconnected Everything

Ruth Ozeki, as is known, is a Buddhist priest. Her novels playfully, compassionately, lightly – and intensely soulfully – are absolutely about taking ‘concepts’ into a felt sense of what they are about. In the same way Zen presents teasing stories or aphorisms which snag the mind into a focus which becomes wider and wider.

The narrative of this story very much inhabits both transitions – life/death, childhood/adulthood, and, primarily what we mean by mental health. The lens for all of this is the relationship between a mother and child, lives blasted by a tragedy. Annabel was married to Kenji, a Buddhist, a jazz musician, and someone who had drifted into use of mind altering substances. Annabel, who loved books, had been training to be a librarian. Libraries order things. Jazz freeflows and breaks out. Another dynamic tension. Annabel gives up her training, and finds another kind of job, which gives some economic stability, when she becomes pregnant. Benny, their little boy, Annabel and Kenji, have a more or less happy life, until Kenji dies in an unexpected, shocking, undignified accident.

A kind of tsunami has hit. There are other instances of profound and shocking earthquakes, volcanoes, tsunamis, cracks in the illusion of safety. Annabel is trapped in memory, and begins to try to cushion herself against the despair of feeling, by hoarding

Benny is a hypersensitive little boy, later a hypersensitive adolescent. The world, and objects, speak some story to him. Everything comes from somewhere, and atoms and molecules may have ‘memory’ of what they came from. Does a pencil hold the memory of the tree? Of other trees in the forest, of the insects, the birds, the walking humans in that forest. The interconnectedness of everything. We are all, stardust – can we remember?

And there are also books, some of which have been written, and are in libraries, and some which are waiting to be written. The conceit that we each have our own – we are after all, narrating, patterning creatures, and are always weaving stories for ourselves – and of course reading other stories, which we weave into our own.

Ozeki brings us to all of this – and more – but through the playful concrete of story, of pageturning

I loved this, it made my head spin, at times it overwhelmed with sadness, but its humour, its kindness and its surprising characters, both human, animal and inanimate offered affirmation.