Janáček’s Sinfonietta—probably
Telling people her name was always a bother. As soon as the name left her lips, the other person looked puzzled or confused. “Miss Aomame?” “Yes. Just like ‘green peas.’ ” Employers required her to have business cards printed, which only made things worse. People would stare at the card as if she had thrust a letter at them bearing bad news. When she announced her name on the telephone, she would often hear suppressed laughter. In waiting rooms at the doctor’s or at public offices, people would look up at the sound of her name, curious to see what someone called “Green Peas”...
thirty years had she heard the same remarks, the same feeble jokes about her name? My life might have been totally different if I hadn’t been born with this name. If I had had an ordinary name like Sato or Tanaka or Suzuki, I could have lived a slightly more relaxed life or looked at people with somewhat more forgiving eyes. Perhaps.
“There is always, as I said, only one reality,”