Momo, What Do We Use Time For?

Momo, What Do We Use Time For?

Momo is a book for readers of all ages. It can be read simply as a fairy tale about time for children. But adults can draw much more reflection and self-examination from it. The book’s subtitle is The Strange Story of the Time-Thieves and the Child Who Brought the Stolen Time Back to the People. From the standpoint of attracting readers, that subtitle may be even more intriguing. And indeed, the central plot of the book revolves around Momo and the time thieves, the “Men in Grey.”

Momo is an ordinary little girl in an ordinary city. There is nothing especially remarkable about her, except for one thing: she is very good at listening. Because of this, she has many friends in the city who are willing to come and confide in her. This reminds me of the mute man in The Heart Is a Lonely Hunter: he, too, draws attention and earns respect largely through listening. For most people, a good listener can help open the windows of the heart. Unfortunately, most people are more inclined toward self-expression than toward listening.

On the other side of the story, the time thieves—the Men in Grey—are not like ordinary thieves in fairy tales. They wear suits, carry briefcases, smoke cigars, and drive cars through the streets and alleys of the city. Nor do they sneak into your home to steal your time. Instead, they present themselves like professional consultants from a time bank, offering to help you plan your time. How much time do you have in your whole life? How much have you already used? Of the little time remaining, how much will be wasted on food, clothing, housing, and transportation? What should you do to save time and deposit it into the time bank? Even though this book was published decades ago, the methods of the Men in Grey feel not outdated at all today. On the contrary, they seem even more reasonable and persuasive now. Isn’t that exactly how our world operates? Don’t we ourselves calculate, plan, and save our time in just this way? Is there really anything wrong with that? This is the most essential question and discussion about time in Momo.

In Ende’s view, people often say that “time is life,” but he suggests something deeper: life resides in our hearts. Time that has lost its vitality is meaningless to life. In Momo, the barber, in order to save time, sends his mother to a nursing home, cuts off contact with his disabled girlfriend, and stops chatting with old customers. The restaurant owner, in order to save time, turns his business into something like a fast-food shop, where customers become merely one link in an assembly line. Even Momo’s good friend Gigi, once a carefree young storyteller entertaining everyone, becomes a famous star managed by an agency and assistants, exhausted from rushing between commercial performances. People may save time and may or may not achieve the goals they once hoped for, but in the process they lose ease, lose true and kindred friends, and ultimately lose happiness. They become puppets of the Men in Grey. Are all these sacrifices really worth it?

A similar discussion appears in another fairy tale, The Little Prince: a flower becomes different from all other flowers because you have devoted time to her. The time that seems unproductive and inefficient may in fact be the most important part of life—the part that should be shared with the people who truly matter. And those seemingly effective solutions may only be tools for achieving the goals of the Men in Grey.

In the story, Momo ultimately wins her battle against the time thieves through a beautiful and successful means. But in reality, the outcome may be just the opposite. One by one, we fall—actively or passively—into the trap of the Men in Grey, exchanging the most precious parts of our lives for achievements that may or may not even mean anything. The Men in Grey were once helpless before children, because children understood the true meaning of time most deeply. But now they have learned to claim children as trophies as well, sending them into all kinds of institutions under the names of education and play.

In the face of historical currents, the power of the individual is limited. We must also admit that many of the comforts and conveniences of modern society are bound up with this very system. Most people are not absorbed into it entirely by choice; more often, they have little alternative but to work according to its rhythm. Like old Beppo in the story, we are often powerless. The significance of reading Momo today is not to reject contemporary life wholesale, but to preserve a sense of clarity and vigilance while living within it—to remind ourselves not to forget what truly matters in life. Only by remembering our original heart can the flower of time continue to bloom within us without fading.

When I finished Momo, a long-ago scene seemed to rise before my eyes: a summer dusk at the far end of time, under the eaves of a country house. My grandfather sat leisurely in a rocking chair, gently swaying; my grandmother, as always, busied herself beside him; a large white goose paced across the yard; hens scratched at the grass; and I, in childhood, ran all around the courtyard—as if time could remain forever in that one moment, becoming boundless and endless.