As a child and young teen, I read many different kinds of books, but my favourites were always those which described exotic adventures steeped in mystery, with brave characters who embarked on fantastic ventures. So when The False Rose fell into my hands, I was beyond excited to read it and get lost in its pages.
The False Rose, translated from the Swedish by Peter Graves and published by Pushkin Press, is the third instalment in the Sally Jones series (the previous ones being The Legend of Sally Jones and The Murderer’s Ape which are also available by Pushkin Press). You can easily follow and enjoy the story even if you haven’t read the previous books. There are several pages at the beginning of the book introducing the characters with wonderful black and white drawings for each one, and there is a mini recap of sorts every time an event or character from a previous book is referenced. So fear not and dive right in this delightful adventure with lovely Sally Jones and her friends.
The story opens in Lisbon, where we are introduced to the protagonist, Sally Jones, an ‘anthropoid ape’ that works as a ship engineer. Along with the Chief, they discover a rose-shaped necklace on their ship, the Hudson Queen, and they become entangled in the mystery surrounding its previous owner. Sally and the Chief embark on a quest to return the necklace to its rightful owner, a quest that leads them to the gloomy and shady parts of Glasgow.
However, nothing is as easy as it seems and the mystery of the necklace isn’t all that straightforward. Sally and the Chief encounter dangerous street gangs and the intimidating smuggler queen Moira, who will do everything in her power to obtain the necklace for herself.
The story is intriguing and gripping until the very end and I was at the edge of my seat with every twist and turn. I grew very attached to Sally Jones, who is also the narrator of the story, thus letting the reader in on her thoughts and feelings, since she cannot really speak in the book (but she can read and write, skills that come in very handy at times!).
I also really loved reading the descriptions of the places Sally and the Chief travel to or find themselves in. Not having been able to travel myself at all the past two years, it was a true delight to embark on a journey through the pages of this book from Lisbon to Glasgow, where the majority of the plot takes place, and later on to the Scottish Highlands and the French countryside. The mystery was also very interesting, although there were various other sub-plots that had to get resolved before the solution was provided at the end.
All in all, The False Rose is a perfect cosy read for those gloomy autumn and winter afternoons. Although it is targeted towards younger readers, it can be read and enjoyed by people of any age, as it has all the ingredients to keep you turning page after page – great writing (and a great translation, I’m sure), an engaging mystery/adventure plot and wonderful characters that will remain with you long after you’ve turned the last page. Reading this book was a thoroughly enjoyable experience that provided me with some much needed escapism and brought me back to my very early teens, when I was reading such gripping page-turners every chance I had.
The False Rose was published by Pushkin Press on 7th October 2021. A copy of the book was very kindly provided to me by the publisher.
Japanese literature, and especially by female authors, has certainly been on the rise these past few years, with authors like Yoshimoto Banana (Kitchen), Kawakami Mieko (Breasts and Eggs, Heaven), Ogawa Yoko (The Memory Police), and Murata Sayaka (Convenience Store Woman, Earthlings) to name just a few, becoming more widely popular. While I’ve read and loved the work of these contemporary authors, I’ve always felt there was a lack of slightly older, more classic female Japanese authors being published in English.
Luckily, there are still some books that can start to satisfy my appetite for more obscure (in English at least) and classic Japanese literature by women, and today’s book, Days & Nights by Hayashi Fumiko and translated by J.D. Wisgo is one such example.
Hayashi Fumiko was born in Japan in 1903, published widely and prolifically throughout her life and is considered one of the most important female writers of 20th century Japan. My first contact with Hayashi’s work was through her story ‘The Accordion and the Fish Town’ (tr. Janice Brown) which is included in The Oxford Book of Japanese Short Stories, edited by Theodore W. Goossen, and I’ve been very curious to read more of her work since.
Days & Nights is a collection of 9 short stories, perfect for those who wish to become acquainted with the author’s work. As the translator very aptly mentions in his introduction, the title, ” “Days and Nights” […] alludes to a theme running through many of these works: long term human relationships than span across months, if not years. Often, those whom we spend our days and nights with we would consider family, at least in some form” (p. ii). Indeed, Hayashi’s stories are largely about human relationships and their complex nature, about characters who are flawed human beings and make questionable choices, and about 20th century Japan in all its dreary glory.
A bleak atmosphere permeates most of the stories, as the author perfectly captures the precarious living conditions after the war and the urban working-class life of the time. The second story of the collection, ‘Downfall‘, is definitely the most somber and harrowing one, describing a man’s life right after the war, having lost everything and trying to go through life – it left me with a very heavy feeling on my chest and I am truly amazed at how deftly Hayashi describes these unfortunate moments of one’s life. War and poverty have affected the country as well as its inhabitants, and that is reflected on Hayashi’s characters as they seem to go through life as “in a daze” (p. 85), with “each day [being] like a terrible hangover” (p.20).
Hayashi doesn’t shy away from tackling even feminist themes and sensitive topics or from creating characters that are rife with flaws – illegitimate children, women in extramarital affairs and men that seek a second chance after life has dealt heavy blows on them are only some of the themes and characters that populate Hayashi’s stories.
The author also very skillfully manages to insert musings on life in her stories, such as the following passage from ‘The Tryst‘, a story about a woman who ran away with her lover and is now pregnant with his child, which illuminates the dark side of humans:
“I think that upon seeing a person’s downfall, what can be considered thoughtless misconduct, a surprising number of us would secretly harbor feelings of spiteful delight. For I have seen countless people watching someone suffering in a pit of despair and yet make no effort to toss them a lifeline, only criticize as they please…” (p. 80)
Quite often, the characters in Hayashi’s stories have a deep-rooted desire to escape, to run away and start building a life much better than the one they can imagine themselves in staying at the town or country that they are. ‘Employment‘ is a story about youth and this often inexplicable yearning to get away and make a better life abroad. Unfortunately, not everyone is able to make such a step, and those who are left behind can still harbour sour feelings of disappointment and abandonment. Hayashi manages to express all these complicated feelings so eloquently.
“It wasn’t simply the capriciousness of youth – there was some great surge of emotion compelling his young heart. Rather than stay here in the tiny country that was Japan, clinging to a small chair, he yearned to travel to a distant land and work to his heart’s content.” (p. 60)
Youth is often juxtaposed with old age, as some of the characters in the stories, such as ‘The Master of the Wanderer’s Tavern‘, the very first story in the book, are not at their prime yet they still want to make a fresh start and live the rest of their lives in a satisfactory manner (whether they achieve this or not, though, is something to discover while reading the stories). A quote from this story that particularly struck me is the following about the urgent manner things seem to get as one gets older:
“Young people, brimming with self-confidence, haven’t the slightest fear of unfinished business, but once you reach age fifty the unfinished becomes the ultimate source of anxiety, a vacuum bereft of even the slightest value.” (p. 1)
Overall, there is not a single story in this collection I didn’t like, although I did have my favourites of course (‘The Tale of the Seishukan Guest House‘ was my favourite one, as it combined humour, wit and the follies of youth in equal measure). Some stories might be darker than others, but I believe they all perfectly capture the uncertainty and at times dreariness of 20th century Japan. Hayashi’s writing is a real treat and the translation manages to convey the author’s talent quite successfully, too.
I would definitely recommend trying out Hayashi Fumiko’s works if you’re interested in more classic female authors from Japan, or if you simply enjoy reading about the 20th century in your literature. This particular edition also features some notes about the currencies of the time and some details about Hayashi’s life which might prove very illuminating, especially if you’re not very well acquainted with Japanese culture at the time.
Have you read Hayashi Fumiko or any other classic Japanese female writers? I’d love to hear your thoughts and/or recommendations! 🙂
A copy of this book was very kindly provided to me by the publisher, Arigatai Books.
Written by Éric Faye and translated from the French by Sam Taylor, The Ghost of Frédéric Chopin is the third book in the ‘Walter Presents’ series published by Pushkin Press. Every book in the series is a standalone (so far), so there is no need to have read the others before delving into this one, although I would highly recommend you do if you’re a fan of mysteries from various corners of the world.
The novel is set in Prague in 1995, where Věra Foltýnova, a middle-aged woman claims to be able to see the ghost of Frédéric Chopin, the famed composer, who dictates some new music to her that he didn’t have time to compose himself before his untimely death. What makes Věra’s story even more intriguing is the fact that she has doesn’t have any particular musical education, apart from some piano lessons she used to take as a very young girl, and yet experts claim the music she produces (upon Chopin’s ghost’s dictation) perfectly fits with the rest of the composer’s oeuvre.
This story grabs the attention of everyone in Prague, and so the journalist Ludvík Slaný is commissioned to create a documentary about Věra and her story, although he doesn’t believe her at all. Set to uncover Věra’s purported fraud, the journalist enlists the help of Pavel Černý, a former secret police agent, who secretly follows the middle-aged woman and investigates her and her past. Is this all a very well thought out plot to deceive everyone, or is Věra truly capable of seeing Chopin’s ghost?
The novel is narrated through the point of view of both Ludvík Slaný, the journalist, and Pavel Černý, the police agent, each one of whom recounts their encounters and experience with Věra. Although it sounds completely fantastical, the plot is actually inspired by the true story of Rosemary Brown (1916-2001), an English composer who claimed that the spirits of several composers dictated their new music to her. It is a very atmospheric story, with the author transporting us to picturesque Prague, with its scenic views and mysterious stories, as we learn more about Věra and are led towards the solution of the mystery that surrounds her.
Delving deeper into Věra’s past, the author very eloquently blends her personal story with the history of Czech Republic itself, as the dissolution of the former nation of Czechoslovakia happened only a couple of years prior to the current events of the novel.
“We were all still in shock, I think, caught between euphoria and bafflement, astounded to wake up one fine morning in two countries when we had gone to sleep the night before in one.
Location 905 (Kindle version)
Faye’s prose is beautifully woven and I especially loved his descriptions, as I truly felt like I was strolling down the cobblestoned streets of Prague along with Černý, all while Chopin’s new musical scores resounded in my ears.
Overall, I really enjoyed this atmospheric mystery which transported me to autumnal Prague in a period where I can’t travel there myself. It’s definitely not a fast-paced mystery, but rather a mellower one, in which the journey of investigating takes the reigns and guides the reader through the characters’ lives and secrets.
This book combines a lovely writing style, an intriguing mystery and an encompassing atmosphere, so if you are a fan of any of those in your books, then you should definitely grab a copy as soon as possible.
A copy of this book was very kindly provided to me by the publisher via NetGalley.
We’re only a couple of days away from June (how did half of 2021 pass already?) and that means that it’s time for Cathy’s 20 Books of Summer challenge! Last year I did manage to read 20 books (albeit mostly not from my original TBR, which might happen again this year) but I didn’t manage to review/write about most of them. This year, I’ll try to be more consistent with my reviews and write about each one of the 20 books *fingers crossed*
After agonising about it for the past couple of weeks, this is the TBR I’m going for. I’ve included new books and old books, mostly fiction but also some non-fiction, short stories and poetry, translated fiction, a few ARCs and all my favourite genres:
Fifty Sounds by Polly Barton
The Seven Deaths of Evelyn Hardcastle by Stuart Turton
Toddler Hunting and Other Stories by Taeko Kono (tr. Lucy North and Lucy Lower)
Edinburgh Twilight by Carole Lawrence
His Bloody Project by Graeme Macrae Burnet
Babel: Around the World in 20 Languages by Gaston Dorren
Star by Yukio Mishima (tr. Sam Bett)
Killing Kanoko/Wild Grass on the Riverbank by Hiromi Ito (tr. Jeffrey Angles)
And Then by Natsume Soseki (tr. Norma Moore Field)
A Pale View of Hills by Kazuo Ishiguro
Fingersmith by Sarah Waters
Strange Beasts of China by Yan Ge (tr. Jeremy Tiang)
Things We Say in the Dark by Kirsty Logan
The Iron Age by Arja Kajermo
Voyage of the Basilisk by Marie Brennan
The Secret History by Donna Tartt
The Ghost of Frédéric Chopin by Éric Faye (tr. Sam Taylor)
The Woman in the Purple Skirt by Natsuko Imamura (tr. Lucy North)
The Wrong Goodbye by Toshihiko Yahagi (tr. Alfred Birnbaum)
Rules for Perfect Murders by Peter Swanson
June is my birthday month, and although I’ve already included some of the books I’ve ordered ahead, if the circumstances allow I will be visiting a bookshop near that time, so there might be a few changes in my list (who am I kidding, there will definitely be changes because I can never stick to a list).
Thankfully Cathy’s challenge is as flexible as it gets! 😉
Are you participating in 20 Books of Summer (or 10, or 15?) this year? If yes, I’d love to know what you’ll be reading during those three scorching months 🙂
Lonely Castle in the Mirror (かがみの孤城), written by the Japanese author Mizuki Tsujimura and translated to English by Philip Gabriel, is a magical and moving coming-of-age story that was published by Doubleday only a couple of weeks ago. The novel won the Japan Booksellers’ Award in 2018 and has been lauded and praised by many since. I was planning on reading it as soon as I heard about it, so when the English translation was announced I was over the moon with joy.
Before we get on with the story and my thoughts on it, it’s worth mentioning that this is a YA novel and its protagonists are junior high schoolers and not adults. It has already been likened with the quirky tales of Sayaka Murata (author of Convenience Store Woman and Earthlings), while the Guardian has called it “the offspring of The Wind Up Bird Chronicle and The Virgin Suicides” (cannot find a link, but this quote is all over the internet), but I feel both those comparisons don’t do the book any justice and only serve to mislead and possibly disappoint the reader who comes expecting something along the lines of the aforementioned books. As long as you know what sort of story this is, you will be able to truly enjoy it for what it is.
Lonely Castle in the Mirror borrows many western fairy tale elements and creates a whimsical and enchanting story that will certainly tag the heartstrings of many readers. If I had to compare it to another novel, that would definitely be The Chronicles of Narnia by C.S. Lewis, although Lonely Castle goes in an entirely different direction.
Set in modern day Tokyo, the novel recounts the story of Kokoro (meaning ‘heart’ in Japanese) Anzai, a 13 year-old girl who, after a rather traumatic event that has left her unwilling to go to school, one day discovers that the mirror in her room is shining in a peculiar way. Upon examining the mirror, she gets transported through it to a castle, where she meets six more children around her age, as well as the Wolf Queen, who seems to be the person in charge. The Wolf Queen gives them about a year to find a key which will grant only one of them a wish. However, after the wish is granted, all of them will forget about the castle, the moments they have spent there and one another. The children can enter the castle through their mirrors at any moment they want, but they are forbidden to spend the night there, although they each have their own rooms in the castle. If they overstay, then the wolf will come out and devour them.
As the story progresses, we learn more about each teenager, all of whom refuse to go to school for their own reasons, and we follow them as they get to know one another and discover that they are not alone in whatever they are going through. The narration is in third person, but we follow Kokoro’s point of view as she reveals more and more about the incidents that made her unable to go to school, and as she unravels the mystery of the castle along with her new friends.
I really loved the fairy tale elements and the magical atmosphere that Tsujimura creates, as well as the way she uses those fantastic elements to talk about real-life problems that many of us will have also experienced as teenagers. Through the themes of friendship, bullying, losing people close to you, social insecurity etc., Tsujimura explores what it is like to be an outsider, to not be able to fit it and to find friendship and meaningful connections even when you least expect it.
There is also the underlying mystery of the castle and its goings-on, which I also found quite interesting (can never resist a good mystery!), although I was able to figure out most of its solution pretty early on. It definitely gave the novel a unique flair, though, engaging the reader and keeping them eager to uncover the mystery. I also really liked the seven teenagers, I thought they were all unique and I was eager to know more about their specific circumstances and what led them to be invited to the castle.
Lonely Castle in the Mirror is almost a 400-page novel, and I have to admit that it does drag on at times, especially during the middle. The writing is simple, as is the case with many Japanese novels, so if you’re looking for flowery and poetic language, this book is not for you. The translation is very well done (as is to be expected by a renowned translator like Gabriel), but there are still some nuances and cultural differences that readers may need to be aware of when reading. For example, in many scenes we see Kokoro or the other children staying silent and not talking back when scolded or reprimanded, even if they are not in the wrong. Although this attitude isn’t very common in the western world, it is quite common in Japan.
According to the Publisher’s Note at the end of the book, Japanese children’s mental health is second to last among 38 developed and emerging countries, a fact that is shocking and alarming, yet one that makes this book even more important for all the teenagers and young adults that are going through difficult times for one reason or another. No wonder, then, that Tsujimura’s novel resonated with so many young Japanese people, and I’m certain it’s going to equally resonate with many young people outside Japan as well.
Literature has the power to pull you out of the darkness, even momentarily, offer you consolation and company, and show you that most problems have solutions. The castle in the mirror was a much-needed escape for Kokoro and the other six teenagers, a way out of their gloomy daily lives and unbearable circumstances, much like what literature and even more so fantasy literature is to all of us. However, while providing this escapist quality, the castle (and fantasy) equips the children with the necessary means to pluck up their courage, face their fears and dispel what makes their reality unbearable. In the end, this is exactly what this book does, too – it works as an anchor, as a speck of light, as a warm hug that gives its readers the necessary courage to fight their own battles and face their own unpleasant realities, creating their own path in life.
Overall, Lonely Castle in the Mirror is a wonderful and magical tale, deeply rooted in reality despite its fairy tale and fantasy elements. It’s a heart-warming and touching novel that will resonate with many, regardless of their age, as we can all see a part of ourselves in Kokoro, Aki, Rion, Masamune, Ureshino, Subaru or Fuka, the seven students.
This also serves as my first post for this year’s Wyrd & Wonder, the month-long event that runs through May, celebrating fantasy and the fantastic. If you’d like to learn more about it and sign up, head over to this post.
A copy of this book was very kindly provided to me by the publisher via NetGalley.
2021 is just around the corner (how the time flies…) and I’ve decided to start my reading for the new year by participating in two challenges: the European Reading Challenge and the Japanese Literature Challenge 14.
European Reading Challenge 2021
Hosted by Gilion Dumas at rosecityreader.com, the European Reading Challenge runs for its 9th year and is a wonderful way to travel around Europe through our books, until we’re able to physically enjoy the wonders of travel again. The challenge runs from January 1st to January 31st, and there are different levels in which you can sign up and participate. I have 3 books on my TBR for this challenge and 2 backups in case I feel too restrained (admittedly, being a mood reader is not so great during reading challenges):
1973 (or The Wolf and the Watchman as it’s been translated into English by Ebba Segerberg) by Niklas Natt och Dag (Sweden) – (I have the Greek translation by Grigoris Kondylis)
Winter’s Tales by Isak Dinesen (Denmark)
The Perfume of the Lady in Black by Gaston Leroux (France) – (I have the Greek translation by Vangelis Giannisis)
And my 2 backups:
His Bloody Project by Graeme Macrae Burnet (UK/Scotland)
The Infernal World of Branwell Brontë by Daphne du Maurier (UK/England)
I’m still in a mood for wintery reads, mysteries and historical fiction, so I chose my books mostly based on that – plus, they are all books I’ve been meaning to read, so a challenge like this one seems only fitting for me to finally do so 🙂
Japanese Literature Challenge 14
Hosted by Meredith over at DolceBellezza.net, Japanese Literature Challenge runs for its 14th year and it lasts for 3 months, from January to March. For this challenge, I’ve also 3 main books lined up, but since I always have a lot of Japanese literature on the wait and also some reviews to catch up on, I will probably post about more books, and add more books to my TBR as the challenge progresses.
Malice by Keigo Higashino (tr. by Alexander O. Smith with Elye Alexander)
Okamoto Kido: Master of the Uncanny – Selected Short Stories (tr. by Nancy H. Ross)
Fumiko’s Feet (『富美子の足』 tr. into Greek by Panayotis Evangelides)
One of my goals for 2021 is to read more in Japanese, so I will probably read a book or two in Japanese as well, but I don’t think I will post about them here, so I’m not including them in my TBR for the challenge.
Do you have any reading plans for the new year? Are you participating in these or any other reading challenges? Let me know in the comments below! 🙂
The very last day of summer is upon us (where did the time go??) and that brings the 20 Books of Summer event to a close. If you had seen my TBR post for this event back in May, you will (not) be surprised to see that only 4 books out of that list actually made it to this wrap up. I find it very hard to stick to a set TBR list, and I also acquired a few new books for my birthday in June, so the list just re-arranged itself!
Without further ado, the books I read for 20 Books of Summer are the following:
1. The Cat and the City by Nick Bradley
2. The Tea Dragon Tapestry by Katie O’Neill
3. And Then There Were None by Agatha Christie
4. The Majesties by Tiffany Tsao
5. The Killings at Kingfisher Hill by Sophie Hannah
6. Hometown Tales: Glasgow by Kirsty Logan and Paul McQuade
7. Ellery Queen’s Japanese Detective Stories, edited by Ellery Queen
8. The Test by Sylvain Neuvel
9. Silver in the Wood by Emily Tesh
10. Thornyhold by Mary Stewart
11. Shaman King: Red Crimson Volume 2 by Takei Hiroyuki
12. The Yogini by Sangeeta Bandyopadhay, tr. by Arunava Sinha
13. The Good Son by You-jeong Jeong, Greek tr. by Amalia Tzioti
14. Language by Xiaolu Guo
15. Fever Dream by Samanta Schweblin, Greek tr. by Efi Giannopoulou
16. Breasts and Eggs by Mieko Kawakami, tr. by Sam Bett and David Boyd
17. And the Ocean Was Our Sky by Patrick Ness
18. The Fall by Albert Camus, tr. by Justin O’Brien
19. Σώσε Με [Save Me] by Dimitris Simos
20. Hidden Places by Sarah Baxter
Although I did manage to read 20 books during summer, I’m afraid I haven’t been able to keep up with my reviews. I only posted 2 reviews of the above mentioned books, but I do have most of the rest planned, so I’m hoping to catch up during September – so I guess I only managed to complete half the challenge after all!
Since August was #WITMonth, I read 4 books by women authors in translation: The Yogini by Sangeeta Bandyopadhay (India), The Good Son by You-jeong Jeong (Korea), Fever Dream by Samanta Schweblin (Argentina) and Breasts and Eggs by Mieko Kawakami (Japan).
I also read several shorter books such as The Test by Sylvain Neuvel, a novella that offers a very interesting and very scary version of the test immigrants have to pass to become UK citizens. Language by Xiaolu Guo is a Vintage Mini that includes excerpts of the author’s A Concise Chinese-English Dictionary for Lovers, in which she recounts her story as a young Chinese woman relocating to the UK and facing the issues of language barrier and discrimination, but eventually finding solace in love.
There were also some disappointments like And the Ocean Was Our Sky by Patrick Ness, a story inspired by the tale of Moby Dick with a wonderful premise and great messages but sadly sort of poor execution in my opinion.
Hopefully I’ll be able to expand more on some of these books in their respective reviews soon, but all in all I’m very happy with my reading for this year’s 20 Books of Summer 🙂
Those of you who also participated, what books did you read? Did you manage to reach your TBR goal?
Ever since I first heard of The Majesties by Tiffany Tsao, I’ve been intrigued by the novel’s plot and underlying mystery. Published by Pushkin Press and characterised as a ‘riveting tale’ of betrayal, revenge and family bonds, The Majesties is a haunting read about the dark side of wealth and the lengths people with power are willing to go to maintain what they have.
The plot follows two sisters, Gwendolyn and Estella, heiresses to the Sulinados, a wealthy Chinese-Indonesian family and their journey to unravel the deep-seated secrets that their family harbours. The novel begins in quite an eventful and shocking manner, as the entire family has just been poisoned by Estella while attending a wedding. Gwendolyn (affectionately called ‘Doll’ by her older sister) is the sole survivor of this incident and she is currently in a coma, trying to piece together the events that led her sister to commit such a heinous act.
As Gwendolyn lies in the hospital bed, unable to move or speak, she delves deep into her memories taking the reader along, recounting various events such as their university days, her sister’s meeting with her future husband, their aunt’s sudden disappearance, while attempting to understand and reveal Estella’s breaking point that led to this tragedy. Although seemingly perfect and superficial, the sisters’ lives are filled with deception, lies and abuse, and the novel depicts this slow escalation of the events until we reach the day of the incident.
Tsao has managed to build her plot masterfully and create a steady pace that gradually intensifies as more and more secrets are revealed and the Sulinados’ entire life is being deconstructed. The story starts with the mystery of finding out the reason why Estella resorted to poisoning the nearly 300 members of her family, yet the suspense keeps on building up as we discover more and more about this rich but deeply problematic family. Gwendolyn’s own narration of her recollections start as very simple, coherent and clear, but as the plot moves forward they culminate in a hazy and feverish recounting of the last conversations she had with Estella before the poisoning.
The Majesties combines the elements of a psychological mystery with a literary style, and, along with its fast-paced plot and suspense, it manages to keep the reader at the edge of their seat until the very last page. What initially appears like ‘rich people problems’, superficial worries about mundane things, quickly escalates to much more serious themes of abuse, both physical and psychological, deception, loss of freedom and, eventually, loss of identity.
The premise of two sisters, one of which ends up killing their family (and herself in the process in the case of The Majesties) initially reminded me of Shirley Jackson’s We Have Always Lived in The Castle. Although they are two very different books in their respective plots and eventual execution, Tsao has crafted an equally intriguing psychological mystery, exploring the darkness that resides in one’s heart and the lengths certain people are willing to go to in order to keep up appearances and preserve their supposed image.
Needless to say, I really enjoyed The Majesties and Tsao’s portrayal of the seemingly ideal yet corrupt world of this Asian family, as well as exploring the psychology of both sisters and their attempt to cope with a reality that seems to increasingly suffocate them and entrap them.
A copy of this book was very kindly provided to me by the publisher via NetGalley.
Nick Bradley’s debut novel is a collection of intertwined stories that take place in Tokyo, this fascinating, terrifying, overpopulated and lonely city. Although the stories initially seem separate from one another, the reader will quickly recognise the recurring characters and realise that they are all connected in one way or another. And, of course, there is a calico cat that makes an appearance in every single one of these stories, leaving its mark in the lives of all these struggling characters.
Japanese literature is known for its frequent fascination with cats, and Bradley, having himself lived and worked in Japan, attempted to weave a story of this complicated city where anything and everything seems possible. Instead of an ode to Tokyo and Japan in general, Bradley often seems to view certain events and practices with a critical eye, which is quite refreshing, since most foreigners who write about Japan tend to over-romanticise the country and everything they have experienced whilst there.
I also enjoyed Bradley’s prose and writing style a lot. While I started this book with a certain level of caution and apprehension, I was quickly drawn into the author’s words and found myself reading one story after another, curious to discover which character we are going to follow next and what kind of role the calico cat will play in the story. I also loved how Bradley’s writing seemed to change and shift according to the needs of the story, while some stories surpassed the boundaries of conventional prose as they were enriched with pages of a manga comic one of the characters was writing, the case notes of a detective, etc.
Although my experience reading The Cat and the City is mostly positive, there were a couple of things that I had an issue with. Firstly, there were a number of words that were purposely left in Japanese throughout the text (but especially in the first few stories), although there was no need to. I understand that since the stories are set in Japan and most of the characters are Japanese it seems more natural for them to use certain Japanese words, but when there is an English equivalent (which was often used right after the Japanese word anyway), it seems rather redundant to me to use the Japanese word. Also, although I gather that most of the book’s readers might have an interest in Japan, not all of them will be acquainted with the Japanese language, so it might be quite bothersome and interrupting for them to encounter random Japanese words.
Secondly, even though Bradley created very solid characters and stories that covered a wide spectrum of personalities and interests, I still felt like I was reading Japanese characters written by a non-Japanese person. Of course, I understand that the author is not Japanese and this is to be expected, but I simply couldn’t shake off the feeling that quite often his characters would behave or speak in a way that felt a bit unnatural for a Japanese person.
Still, The Cat and the City is a very entertaining, unique and well-written book that is definitely worth reading, especially if you have an interest in Japan and its culture. As a debut work, it is quite promising and Bradley is definitely a writer I will be looking forward to read more of in the future.
A copy of this book was very kindly provided to me by the publisher via NetGalley.