[Baking Typewriter] So Beautiful at Three

Amelie Nothomb's Autobiographical Novel
First Experiences of Joy, Anxiety, and Loss
Told Calmly Through the Eyes of a Three-Year-Old

Jinjin Film

Is it possible to remember anything before the age of three? Where did you come from, who did you meet, what did you see, and what did your first taste of chocolate feel like?

Amelie, the protagonist of "So Beautiful at Three," the autobiographical novel by Amelie Nothomb and the original work behind last year's Cannes Film Festival selection "Little Amelie," remembers every one of these moments. From the primordial sensations of nothingness to the blue of learning to swim in a lake, the secret taste of plum liqueur, and the moment of delight at tasting chocolate for the first time-she recalls it all vividly.

The novel does not begin after birth, but from the state before being born, following the intensely subjective perspective of a three-year-old child. Amelie refers to herself as a "tube"-a being that merely eats, digests, and excretes. In this state of pure function, devoid of desire or emotion, she feels a sense of completeness and considers herself a "god."

So, what is a god? At least for Amelie, godhood is not about omnipotence but about being a being that feels nothing, requiring neither lack nor pleasure. That is, until the arrival of chocolate.

It was a piece of Belgian white chocolate from her grandmother that shattered her peace. The sweetness on her tongue was her first experience of pleasure and shock, and this sensation immediately summoned the sense of "I." With the birth of self, the world opened up. The moment when a god becomes human unfolds as lightly as the steps of a three-year-old child. Amelie's world rapidly expands. Through her Japanese nanny, Nishosan, she learns to empathize with others and, as she acquires language, she begins to view the world. The joys of growth and understanding, along with the accompanying wounds and laughter, anger and anxiety, and loss, all come in succession. Becoming human, it seems, means accepting such pain.

This work neither interprets the past through an adult's eyes nor explains it kindly like a parenting diary. It reveals only what the three-year-old child can understand, shown from the child's eye level. Thus, the narrative feels loose at times, and causality often appears abrupt. Flowers bloom not because of the season, but "because I wanted them to," and a single trivial word can shake the world.

Nothomb's characteristically short and brisk sentences propel the story calmly forward. Even heavy themes such as god, life, and death are presented plainly, without embellishment. "Death-I knew what death was. But I could not be satisfied with merely understanding death. There were countless things I wanted to ask. The problem was, I officially had only six words."

The word "death" coming from the mouth of a three-year-old is shocking. Loss, expressed in the language of a child, is more direct and more painful. The experience of a Belgian family living in Japan, the encounter with the culture of the "other," and the child's way of sensing the world are beautiful yet unfamiliar, intimate yet somehow incomplete. In the time of childhood, when everything is a first, the world is both wondrous and frightening. The author seeks not so much to restore that time, which we can never return to, but to approach it thoughtfully and closely.

One possible answer to the question, "Why do humans become human?" Life truly begins at the moment we leave the state of perfect godhood and choose, despite our imperfections, to feel, desire, and live. "So Beautiful at Three" delves into that very first moment with delicacy and sharp insight.