Bel Canto

In the liminal space and suspended time of the mansion, there is room for the most unlikely of loves to grow. The relationship between Roxanne and Mr. Hosokawa, impossible but for the situation, blossoms into a full-blown love affair. They are both surprised by it, Roxanne most of all: “She thought of Katsumi Hosokawa sitting by the window, listening while she sang, and wondered how it was possible to love someone you couldn’t even speak to” (238). Love has a language all its own; it is implied. It becomes a kind of voice and exercises its power, helping others even to utilize their own Resonant Sounds: Political Voice and Agency of the Oppressed. This explains the romance between Gen and Carmen as well; their forbidden love—between a hostage and a terrorist—comes about via language lessons, as Gen teaches the illiterate young woman to read and write. After they make love for the first time, Gen thinks that “[i]n the future, he will try to say her name enough, but he never can” (262). In naming her, he imbues her very identity with the imprint of his love. Love as a voice helps erase divisions between people and establishes Like Global Family: Cultural Attachments and Affiliations.

The unwanted, if not unwelcome, declarations of love made by Fyodorov to Roxanne via Gen’s translations are made possible only by such improbable circumstances as well. Gen’s obvious discomfort with his role in the scenario is palpable:

He had never said I love you to either of his parents or his sisters. He had not said it to any of the three women he had slept with in his life or the girls in school with whom he had occasionally walked to class (220).

He is asked to say so as a proxy for the big Russian who gives his heart to a woman who is already in love with someone else: “Now on the first day of his life when it might have been appropriate to speak of love to a woman, he would be declaring it for another man to another woman” (220). Still, the exercise seems to have allowed Gen to be led into the garden by Carmen and allowed him to let himself love her and to express it without embarrassment. Love works as a political voice here, too, and a powerful one at that; it allows for the erasure of cultural borders and the establishment of Like Global Family: Cultural Attachments and Affiliations.

The Russian himself has insights on love and what it means. He knows, before the fact, that Roxanne will not return his love; it is merely a gallant act, a “gift,” as he calls it. He acknowledges the reality of the situation: “In another setting it would be ridiculous, too grand. In another setting it would not happen because you are a famous woman and at best I would shake your famous hand” (221). He considers himself fortunate—just like Carmen, just like Mr. Hosokawa—to be imprisoned in this place where beauty and music animate the mansion on a daily basis. A true Eden is being formed, complete with a garden and unabashed love-making.

Fyodorov’s story also recounts the way in which one is taught to recognize beauty. The art book that his grandmother treasures and that he slowly learns to appreciate represents the way in which the power of beauty overcomes the depredations of war and violence; the book somehow survived the conflagration of World War II when his grandmother allegedly fled France. Fyodorov claims that this book shaped him in foundational ways: “I was taught to love beautiful things. I had a language in which to consider beauty. [. . .] I could see it in people. All of that I attribute to this book” (218). This implies that, to love other people, one must also learn to love beauty—in art, in language, in music. This also underscores the magic of the mansion, wherein time is frozen, the world is held at bay, and every day becomes a celebration of beauty through Kato’s playing and Roxanne’s singing. It is unsurprising that a terrorist takeover turns into a litany of love stories. It is also necessary to emphasize that he learns of beauty and its power through a woman, his grandmother. As he discusses his appreciation for beauty and tells it to Roxanne, reveling in her own power, he points to Beautiful Singing: The Power of Female Music.

Still, the suspension cannot last forever, and Messner grows impatient. While Mr. Hosokawa is reconsidering his entire life, Messner is yearning to return home to his. It dawns on Mr. Hosokawa that “[e]verything that [he] had ever known or suspected about the way life worked had been proven to him incorrect these past months” (228). It is an awakening. Yet, he is also acutely aware that “he would eventually lose every sweetness that had come to him” during this time (228). Messner, on the other hand, understands—he has been through many of these negotiations during his career—that “the governments always won” (233), at least eventually. While watching Ishmael and General Benjamin play chess, he casually comments, “No one moves [. . .]. I’ve never seen such a stalemate” (233). In this way, the chess game becomes a metaphor for the hostage situation itself. It is telling, too, that Messner does not wish harm to these terrorists; in his own way, he has grown fond of this group just as the hostages themselves have. The outside world and its constructs will eventually come in, destroying this isolated utopia. Messner himself is a small piece of this outside world and its evil institutions.

It begins to become increasingly apparent that, aside from Messner and perhaps the Generals, nobody is eager to have this situation resolved too quickly. The terrorists enjoy television and other material comforts otherwise unattainable to them; the hostages escape from the daily grind and rediscover their true interests (like the Vice President caring for his mansion and Simon cooking for the group); and love, as well as friendship, flourishes between several unlikely pairs. It is not only that Mr. Hosokawa and Roxanne, along with Gen and Carmen, have found love, but it is also that the connection between Ishmael and the Vice President, the sisterly bond between Roxanne and Carmen, and the general spirit of cooperation within the group as a whole evokes the atmosphere of a utopian commune. The Eden has been fully formed, as readers see Like Global Family: Cultural Attachments and Affiliations. When Carmen leads Gen outside for the first time, “[i]t did not occur to him to leave” (261). Thus, one wonders whether the hostages are even prisoners anymore at all. The novel suggests that when oppressed groups exercise their voice and it is heard, the world will become a better place, demonstrating Resonant Sounds: Political Voice and Agency of the Oppressed. Carmen learns to read and write, and in turn, she and Gen form a utopian love.