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watrate's review against another edition
dark
reflective
sad
fast-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? Character
- Strong character development? Yes
- Loveable characters? It's complicated
- Diverse cast of characters? No
- Flaws of characters a main focus? Yes
3.5
k2_hancock's review against another edition
3.0
An interesting look at Japanese existentialism but I feel some of the feeling was missed in the translation. There were some tense parts but for the most part this is a pretty forgettable book. It's a quick read though, not a bad way to spend a couple of hours.
moonbites's review against another edition
4.0
"I didn't care whether it was boring or interesting work. I think I'd be fine as long as I could just edge toward the prospect of letting go, with the possibility of escaping my depressive tendencies." pg 50
Man, this was both depressing and hopeful. As exemplified in the quote above and below.
"I am alive! Against all of your expectations! I have no intention of obeying you. With my own hands, I will defeat whatever obstacles you throw at me." pg 115
It's one of those stream of consciousness books that are a hit or miss. I happened to really enjoy this. It was short enough that I think the stream of conscious writing style wasn't overly tedious or annoying. It was a very gloomy read for the majority of it. I think you need to be in the right head space when you give it a go.
jlmcclean's review against another edition
dark
emotional
sad
slow-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? Character
- Strong character development? It's complicated
- Loveable characters? It's complicated
- Diverse cast of characters? No
- Flaws of characters a main focus? Yes
3.25
Content Warnings
Graphic: Child abuse
aliencatl0rd's review against another edition
Not sure how I feel yet. This is one of those that's a bit hard to follow because the narrator's sanity is questionable.
eml113's review against another edition
challenging
dark
mysterious
reflective
tense
fast-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? Character
- Strong character development? It's complicated
- Loveable characters? It's complicated
- Diverse cast of characters? No
- Flaws of characters a main focus? Yes
5.0
jb93reads's review against another edition
dark
reflective
sad
slow-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? Character
- Strong character development? No
- Loveable characters? No
- Diverse cast of characters? It's complicated
- Flaws of characters a main focus? It's complicated
3.25
emsemsems's review against another edition
5.0
‘I hope it wasn’t a taxi robbery. There’ve been a lot of these lately. Guys with no money steal from the ones who don’t have money either.’
Atmospheric, urban noir; the protagonist’s a taxi driver, and his only friend is a quietly self-destructive alcoholic. The writing reminds me of Natsuo Kirino because I’ve not read enough East Asian ‘noir’, but for me, the buttery smoothness of the prose feels more like a Virginia Woolf novel (but take out the ‘bougie’ and replace that with a gallon of ‘trauma’ and poverty). Some have said that the writing feels Kafka-esque (perhaps the bit with the dogs, and the nightmares?) but for me it’s Woolf except much more fucked up (and definitely about a hundred shades darker – thematically and otherwise). Initially, I’d given it a 4-star rating, but my feelings about it changed overnight; I do think it deserves more than that. Afterall, the boy did win an Akutagawa Prize for this, didn’t he? Also, I almost forgot to add, but Allison Markin Powell did such a fantastic job with the translation. You might remember her from her translation of Hiromi Kawakami's [b:Strange Weather in Tokyo|18283207|Strange Weather in Tokyo|Hiromi Kawakami|https://i.gr-assets.com/images/S/compressed.photo.goodreads.com/books/1375634096l/18283207._SY75_.jpg|2974590].
‘These days, as long as I am working, I can live my life. I am not unhappy, nor at a disadvantage. And when I do think about what happened in that home, the mere fact that I’d survived to the age of twenty-seven made me think that it wasn’t such a big deal.’
The main characters are just two people trying to survive/live – co-exist. Subtle, but (very) dark humour; and again – subtle, but intentional social satire. If you can’t muster a laugh at an absurdly violent fight scene, and/or the irony of a cheap ball-point pen saving someone’s life, then this may not be the book for you. The characters are very conscious and aware of their situation/circumstances (social class; privilege/etc.) despite their self-destructive behaviours. A couple of my favourites bits from the book: the fire at the orphanage, and ‘Toku’ (a very minor but memorable character). The ending was extremely well done – I thoroughly enjoyed it. Subtlety is key in the beauty of this novel. Tender, delicate feelings tangled with a raw passion for living distorted by the gritty exteriors/environments.
‘I’m sure you’re right, but it drives me crazy. Thinking about even a drop of my mother’s or that asshole’s blood in my veins. And I hate that there isn’t a damn thing I can do about it. It’s like I’ve got a lump in the pit of my stomach. As if their genes are living inside of me. Like I’m marked by them and can’t help taking on their qualities. I know that’s just in my head, but their blood really is in my veins, isn’t it? Physiologically, I can’t stand it.’
The protagonist’s friend is no ‘manic-pixie-dream-girl’, and he’s no Superman – and depends on how you see it – the perspective will always be tinged with something bittersweet. A few times, this book made me pause to internally scream into a mental pillow. Haven’t we all destroyed relationships with our (emotional) intimacy issues at some point in our lives? If you’re fed up of the overdone, clichés of Haruki Murakami’s characters/relationships, this one’s really going to hit the spot (disclaimer: no ‘romance’ in this novel, if anything it’s just a hint of it that trails towards the end of the book).
‘I knew just what she meant. Yet still, I wondered why I had pushed the conversation to the point where it hurt her…I lit another cigarette, and imagined there was a lump in the pit of my own stomach. It felt creepy to think about a complete stranger’s information being embedded within me. I wondered if there were minute twitches, like threads strung throughout my body, that exerted an imperceptible influence on me, on my decisions and my actions.’
Unlike Murakami’s novels where the protagonists are usually insensitive, starry-eyed romantics (with a tendency to make everything the women’s fault – too ugly, too distant, too powerful, too witty, etc.), Nakamura’s characters are more ‘humane’, sensitive and self-aware. They also remind me of Wes Anderson’s characters, and I’m mostly thinking of ‘Moonlight Kingdom’ and ‘The Royal Tenenbaums’. They share a similar ambiguity, social strangeness, and are very much affected by their environment and family/background; and each deal with a muffled internal conflict like some fluorescent yellow bile that pushes the plot forward through the nocturnal, city landscapes.
‘I emerged from the tunnel, but the scenery was unchanged. The moon that Sayuko and I had tried not to see was still shining against the surrounding clouds, the same way it was last night. I went back to the car and started the engine. On the radio, a report about the war was being replayed on the air.’
The most common complaint about this book was of the ‘tone’/narrative voice – of how it feels like he doesn’t give a fuck about anything/everything. But having read the book, I must stubbornly disagree. Surely the protagonist can’t empathise with the common fear of losing ‘clout’, ‘a house’, or even something minor like anniversary gift diamond earrings or whatever a regular ‘Karen’ or ‘Joe’ is afraid of losing. He does not even have the mental/physical energy to think about placing his hands on the social ladder; he’s just trying his best to keep his sanity while trying to ‘live’ (and/but he thinks about how he might prematurely stop existing oft – as it that might feel like an easier option). The narrator’s tone was extremely appropriate considering his circumstances. The depletion/dryness of his emotional/mental energy may be tiring to read (not for me), but it works brilliantly in terms of characterisation/the writing in general. This isn’t a Marvel film so don’t expect it to be dramatic; and the ending’s not going to be clear-cut/straight-up sunshine in a shot glass. If this was written in any other way, it would feel like one was merely ‘spectating violence’, and less like a friend telling you something personal. Might as well just watch the fucking news if you’re hungry for the former.
‘No matter what kinds of tragedies occurred, the world kept spinning—perhaps it was the natural order of things. The news ended, a pop song came on, and there was a plug for the latest movie. Amongst the laughter, a dispassionate sorrow glimmers, a guest commentator intoned about the film.’
I’m usually too much of a coward to go for a book with a rating that falls on the lower end of a 3-star rating, but then I’m reminded of all the Natsuo Kirinos that I had enjoyed; and all those weird, experimental; and/or more messed up books that are understandably less palatable to most. From the reviews, I thought this was going to be a a bad fuck-up in terms of using violent scenes unnecessarily (so much so that it just overwhelming and ‘too much’), but I was well surprised. It's not what I'd imagined at all, but it's definitely adequately fucked up, and/but only so when and where it worked for the plot/character development not as cheap material to a badly built ‘shock factor’/used for a desperate kind of shock value. The writing was very well-controlled, and the story flowed very smoothly – one could easily finish this in one go.
‘The sultry heat was stifling. I cast an eye over my surroundings as I walked along, thinking I would try to distract myself from my deteriorating mood. The intense moonlight formed a circle behind the thin and uneven cloud cover, its pale bluish-gray color gleaming hazily. I came out of a narrow passageway between brick condominiums, turned alongside a row house, and came out onto a wide road with cars on it. As I turned my attention to the light from a convenience store, a tall woman came out with a crying child in tow.’
The ‘vibes’ (and the gritty East Asian urban setting) of the book alone reminds me a lot of Wong Kar Wai’s ‘Fallen Angels’ – esp. the ending scene (one of the best ending scenes, I must argue). The nocturnal urban landscapes, the mood, the ‘fight scenes’, and so many more. I don’t compare/make this statement lightly because Wong Kar Wai films are some of the very few things that I hold dear with a lot of strange attachment/affection. Overall, it’s a rather straightforward novel that leaves a strange and lingering aftertaste. I imagine this book would work brilliantly as a film adaptation. Nakamura throws around bloody imagery/scenes quite heavily though (a late trigger warning perhaps)? But not enough to borderline a horror/thriller (genre); just enough to make a regular novel stink of rusted metals.
‘I have truly been saved by literature. If I hadn’t met with stories that dive deep into the nature of society and humanity, stories that press on and attempt to reveal our true nature, I’m sure my life would have turned out differently. Literature is still precious to me. It provides me with the sustenance I need to go on living. Even now, having come to write books myself, that hasn’t changed in the slightest.’ – Afterword, Fuminori Nakamura
I’m only able to come up with tiny playlists when the writing/books really ‘hit the spot’/made me feel something substantial/significant. With too little affection, the tiny playlist would feel so forced, and almost – offensive. I don’t know why I’m so committed to these tiny playlists but here I am – powering on, regardless of the reasons why:
Don’t – eAeon ft. RM
If You’re Going to Break Yourself – Unknown Mortal Orchestra
There Must Be More Than Blood – Car Seat Headrest
‘Violence became easier to commit the more one wielded it. I no longer hoped to escape—what I longed for was a respite. An existence in which, for even just a brief span of time, I would not be attacked, where I could sleep peacefully.’