Banana Yoshimoto writes about loss so beautifully and thoughtfully that I am in awe of her introspection. Themes of death, grief and the unstoppable passing of time seem to be the centre of all her writing and I have not come across another author that touches these topics with so much wisdom, so much peace and reflection, or who so deftly addresses the horror and beauty of life simply moving forward, the one thing we all experience and none of us control. I especially love the way she so massively ties the environment of the characters to the story itself, with such beautiful imagery making for a wonderful and tragic reading experience. 

It was at once a miracle and the most natural thing in the world. I held the feeling in my heart; the urge to discuss it died out. There was all the time in the world. In the endless repetition of other nights, other mornings, this moment, too, might become a dream.