Pierre Loti's book is a slim, dream-like account based on his own travels. It reads like a series of vivid journal entries from a man caught between two worlds.

The Story

The narrator, a French officer, returns to Japan after a long absence. He's eager to reconnect with the place and people he remembers, especially Madame Prune, the elderly landlady from his previous stay. But when he finds her, he's shocked. Instead of the old woman he expected, Madame Prune appears to be in the full bloom of youth. She looks just as she did decades ago. There's no magical explanation given, no secret potion. The story simply follows the officer as he navigates this impossible reality, revisiting old haunts and observing a Japan that is itself changing rapidly in the Meiji era. The central 'mystery' of Madame Prune's youth hangs over everything, coloring his every observation with a sense of wonder and dislocation.

Why You Should Read It

This isn't a book you read for a twist or a big reveal. You read it for the mood. Loti is a master of atmosphere. He paints Japan with such delicate, precise strokes—the light on a paper screen, the sound of a samisen, the scent of incense—that you feel completely transported. Madame Prune's impossible youth becomes a symbol for the narrator's own struggle with time and memory. He has aged; his memories have faded. But here is this living piece of his past, unchanged, forcing him to question what is real. It's a deeply personal and melancholic look at how we hold onto the past, and the quiet shock of realizing it never held onto us in the same way.

Final Verdict

This is a perfect book for a thoughtful afternoon. It's for readers who love travel writing with a soul, who don't mind a plot that meanders like a garden path. If you enjoy the subtle, psychological strangeness of authors like Kazuo Ishiguro or the immersive detail of classic travelogues, you'll find a lot to love here. Just don't expect answers about Madame Prune. The beauty is in the question.