She, in turn, gently tethers him to humanity. The down-to-earth housekeeper is drawn slowly into his orbit of factorials, perfect numbers, Euler and Fermat.
We’re in Oliver Sacks territory here, of mental gifts offsetting mental deficits. Soon he has added one with a sketch of his new housekeeper’s face.ĭamaged and shy, the Professor is still brilliant, spending his time on complex mathematical puzzles for journals. The biggest note reminds him of his memory loss and 80-minute limit. The Professor copes with his condition through handwritten notes attached to his suit. But due to a car accident 17 years ago, his memory is limited: “It’s as if he has a single, eighty-minute videotape inside his head, and when he records anything new, he has to record over the existing memories.” He’s not senile, explains his sister-in-law. The unnamed narrator is sent to work at the cottage of the Professor, who has worn out nine previous housekeepers.
But no one I’ve read has ever demonstrated their congruency as gracefully as Japanese writer Yoko Ogawa does in this slender novel.
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