Rental House by Weike Wang ( Riverhead Books)

On their way to Martha’s Vineyard where they’ll be steps away from the ocean in a cottage that has an extra bedroom for visitors, Nate and Keru have the sort of marriage everyone dreams of. Young professionals who live on Manhattan’s Upper West Side, they’ve emerged from the isolation of the pandemic ready for a vacation. There’s only one glitch--their parents.

Both Nate and Keru are “first-gen” graduates of Yale. Nate is the son of rural parents who marvel that he’s made it “from Appalachia to the Ivy League,” or as Nate puts it “from white trash to the White House.” Keru is the only child of successful parents who immigrated from rural China when she was still a baby and who regard her as their “built-in translator.” While Nate’s parents feel dubious about Keru’s US citizenship, Keru’s parents treat Nate like “the store clerk at their favorite TJ Maxx, a person they recognized and smiled at.” 

Within the framework of this marriage, Weike Wang has created a scathing comedy of manners. Keru’s parents visit with their Chinese cultural standards unassailed by their American lives. Nate is told by his father-in-law that using a dishwasher is fine for him but not for Keru. “To use a dishwasher is to admit defeat.” Keru’s mother, while watching a TV program about upscale real estate transactions, remarks that “they make deals look too easy. Where’s the suffering?” 

When the votes are finally counted in the 2016 election, Nate is crushed by his parents’ choice of candidate while Keru’s mother points out that having a president in office for eight years is nothing compared to “an entire childhood spent under Chairman Mao.” 

When Keru first meets Nate’s parents, it’s at a Yale gathering where almost all of the mothers are garbed in floral print dresses and wearing floppy sun hats. “How do you tell any of them apart?” Keru asks Nate as they approach her future mother-in-law. She’s amazed at “how innocuous the conversation can get” and wonders if all white families chirp at each other “like a set of affable birds.”

As their parents age, Nate and Keru no longer have them as part of their vacation. Instead they meet a couple at an Adirondacks retreat who have come to New York from Romania. An affluent expat, the husband immediately offers up his Brooklyn zip code as a status marker and nods approvingly when Nate provides the one in which he and Keru live. Swiftly the Romanian couple establish their point of view--napping schedules are scrupulously adhered to when the wife is ovulating—and they identify Nate and Keru as DINKs, Double Income No Kids. The epithet becomes an attack on Nate and Keru’s enviable life as the Romanian husband advises them to become expats themselves. “Even a few months will give you a better perspective.”

If Jane Austen were alive in the 21st Century, this is the book that she might well have written. Satirical without carrying a vicious bite, Rental House is a novel that evokes startled laughter on one page and uncomfortable squirming on the next. Under Wang’s lens, marriage, families, race, and class are artfully dissected and recast in a different light, one that’s sometimes uncomfortable but been needed for a very long time.~Janet Brown

Bullet Train by Kotaro Isaka, translated by Sam Melissa (Vintage)

Bullet Train is the third book in Kotaro Isaka’s Hitman series which includes Three Assassins, Mantis (Asia by the Book, Sept.2, 2024), and Hotel Lucky Seven. It was originally published as マリアビートル (Maria Beetle) in 2010 by Kadokawa Shoten. It was adapted into a stage play in Japan in 2018 and also adapted into a major motion picture starring Brad Pitt. 

I had watched the Hollywood movie and was excited to read the book in English which was translated by Sam Melissa who also translated Mantis. I wanted to see how closely the movie adaptation was of Isaka’s book. 

A former hitman boards the Tohoku Shinkansen “Hayate” at Tokyo Station which is bound for Morioko in Iwate Prefecture. He is determined to take revenge against a teenager named Satoshi Oji whose nickname is the Prince.  The Prince had pushed Kimura’s son, Wataru, off the roof of a department just for fun. 

Unknown to Kimura, the Prince has lured him onto the shinkansen knowing full well that Kimura wants to take revenge. Fourteen-year-old Satoshi is no ordinary teenager. He is a sociopath who enjoys manipulating people. Before Kimura can shoot the boy, he is tasered and when he wakes up, he is bound hand and foot. 

The Prince tells Kimura that he has an acquaintance watching over Wataru and if anything should happen to him, Kimura’s son will be in danger. Kimura has no choice but to do the Prince’s bidding. 

On the same train are two professional hitmen, Lemon and Tangerine. Tangerine loves books and is well read while Lemon is obsessed with Thomas the Tank Engine and Friends. They’ve been hired by a ruthless Yakuza boss named Yoshio Minegishi, to rescue his kidnapped son and to bring back the suitcase full of ransom money to Morioka.  

Lemon had stashed the suitcase away but when we went to retrieve it, the suitcase was missing. As Lemon was taking his time coming back to the seat, Tangerine goes to check on his partner. When the pair come back to their seat, they discover Minegishi’s son to be dead!

Also boarding the train is yet another hitman. His name is Nanao but has the codename “Ladybug”. Although his last few assignments have been successful, something always goes awry. His handler, Maria, decided to get him an easy job. All he has to do is steal a suitcase of money and get off at the next station. 

The job seems simple enough. Ladybug finds the suitcase, which happens to be the suitcase that Lemon and Tangerine were to return to Minegishi. Just as he was about to step off the train, he is confronted by another hitman, “The Wolf” who has a vendetta against Ladybug. 

In a scuffle between Ladybug and the Wolf, Ladybug gains the upper hand and has the Wolf in a chokehold. Unfortunately, the train jerks and Ladybug unintentionally breaks the Wolf’s neck. Now he has to hide a dead body and must try to get off at the next station. 

The Prince notices something odd about some of the other passengers and decides to see how he can manipulate them as well. 

Although I enjoyed the Hollywood adaption of the movie, I found the book to have more substance. The movie was one action scene after another, including heavy doses of humor. The book is not only full of action but it’s a psychological thriller as well. Isaka has created one of the most evil characters with Satoshi Oji, the Prince. A very intelligent young boy who is also a total psychopath. 

The book goes into more detail about how Kimura gets acquainted with the Prince and the events that lead to him boarding the train at Tokyo Station with the intent to kill. What really lures in the reader though is trying to decide who is going to survive. The other mystery is why are they all on the same train? Will anybody be left alive by the time the train pulls into Morioka? And who killed Minegishi’s son? You will just have to read the book to find out. ~Ernie Hoyt

My Humorous Japan Part 3 by Brian W. Powle (NHK Shuppan)

Brian W. Powle is a British citizen and teacher who taught at Aoyama Gakuin in Tokyo for many years. He has published a number of textbooks for high schools and universities and has also appeared on NHK radio and television as well as contributing articles to newspapers. He says that he tries to be an entertainer as well as a teacher. It’s his belief that “If students can laugh and enjoy themselves while learning English, so much the better”.

My Humorous Japan Part 3 is Powle’s third book on what he finds amusing and humorous about living in Japan. As much as I would have liked to feature Parts 1 and 2, only Part 3 was available at my local library. 

Part 3 was first published in 1997 so some of the content that was current at the time of publication may seem a bit dated now. However, many of the topics are still relevant today such as school bullying and train pests, more commonly known in Japan as chikan which is usually translated as pervert and refers to people, mostly men, who molest women on crowded trains. 

As a long time resident of Japan myself, I find Powle’s experience quite similar to my own. His first essay in this collection is about the obatalian. The term isn’t used as often now but the actions of the obatalian haven't changed. 

So who and what are obatalians. They’re usually middle-aged women from about forty to elderly women in their eighties and nineties. Powle points out that there are many theories about the origin of the word and how some people think it should be spelt obattalion as the word combines “obasan” (aunt or older woman) and “battalion” and “we get an aggressive middle-aged lady who looks something like a fighting soldier”. 

They’re the kind of woman who rushes on to the train to grab the last available seat. They talk loudly in public complaining about their daughter-in-laws. They often stand and talk to their other obatalian friends in the pool getting in the way of others who actually want to swim. They may also be tight with their husbands’ allowance. Thankfully, my wife doesn’t fit into the description of an obatalian. 

One of my favorite essays of Powles is titled My Strange Experience at a Hot Spring Resort. Japan is famous for its hot springs and ryokans (traditional Japanese inns). There’s nothing better than soaking in a hot bath to get rid of all your anxieties. Some baths may be located near a natural river or waterfall. 

Powle was telling the proprietor of the inn about how much he enjoyed the nice sound of the waterfall that made him fall blissfully asleep. However, the woman told him “that was not the sound of the waterfall. The toilet next door is out of order. The water won’t stop running. That’s what you heard”. Needless to say, Powle could not fall asleep the next evening as his perception of a nice waterfall was replaced by the image of a broken toilet!

Even today, many visitors to Japan are not sure what to make of the Japanese toilet. The old traditional squat toilets have been replaced by washlets, toilets with a computer console that some people find as confusing as the cockpit of an airplane. Imagine if you’re a man and press the button for bidet instead of oshiri (the Japanese term for your backside). 

Aside from the two essays mentioned above, the book includes sixteen other stories of Powles’ experience in Japan with titles like Why Do Foreigners Get Angry in Japanese Barbershops and A Fortune Teller Who Couldn’t Predict Her Own Death. 

It’s very light reading for the Japanophile and will give you a glimpse of what it’s like to live in Japan as seen through the eyes of a foreigner. Also, it’s just entertaining. ~Ernie Hoyt

Koan Khmer by Bunkong Tuon (Northwestern University Press)

A little boy and his extended family make their way out of Pol Pot’s Cambodian horror, go from a refugee camp to life in the U.S. where the boy grows up to become a university professor. This affirms that the American Dream is still possible, right? Not according to Samnang Sok, the leading protagonist of Koan Khmer who asserts at the end of this novel that “my American dream was more of an American nightmare,’ one that didn’t end until he leaves adolescence. 

A child who never knew the date of his true birthday, Samnang’s first memory is of his mother’s death when he was three. Born into a peasant family in a rural village, his Pol Pot years were spent as a naked boy in the woods,” surrounded by the natural world. Although his family were relatively unscathed by the Khmer Rouge, unlike urban, educated Cambodians whose privilege made them targets of the rage of Angkar, Samnang’s uncle and grandparents decided it would be wise to head for the Thai border and the safety of a U.N. refugee camp. The family will live in three different camps before they’re sponsored by an American minister and board a plane for the United States.

At first they’re dazed and delighted by the wonders of a washing machine, a dishwasher, a bathtub, and a television. Then slowly they begin to realize what they’ve lost. Samnang’s uncle is disheartened by the lack of farmland in this small city in Massachusetts. There’s no place for him to fish and he despairs over how he will feed his family. 

When Samnang accepts the minister’s invitation to go with him to church, he begins to realize the difference between his family and the parishioners sitting near him on a pew. When the congregation begins to pray, Samnang mutters curses in Khmer under his breath and is later praised for his piety.

Finding an apartment in an Italian neighborhood, the Sok family finds no welcome there. People whose own origins stemmed from immigrants resent the new inhabitants who evoke memories of the Vietnam War. Other boys attack Samnang for being a “gook” and he takes refuge in his schoolwork, gaining English fluency through ESL classes and TV programs. Skipping a grade, he enters high school before he enters puberty , an accomplishment that guarantees he’ll continue to be a social pariah. He stops caring about academic achievements and then stops caring about anything at all. All that he’s found in America is a state of permanent displacement.

What saves him is a chance to move to Long Beach, a city with a large and established Cambodian community. For the first time since his introduction to the U.S he hears his own language, eats his own food, moves among crowds of people who are Khmer. He walks into a library and discovers the poems of Charles Bukowski. He begins to write his own poetry, mining his own experience, and slowly his education begins, with a hunger to learn everything.

It takes years for him to recover from “growing up Cambodian in the 1980s on the East Coast.”

His story is “based loosely” on the life of Bunkong Tuon and the stories of his family. The details that unfold in Koan Khmer are often cruel and unsparing: the physical examinations before coming to the US when modest Cambodians stand naked before strange doctors, feeling powerless and humiliated; the day Samnang is spat at by a boy while he’s taking a walk with his grandfather who stares in shock at the child’s parents and is met only with a hostile gaze; the terror felt by every Asian in the Los Angeles area when Koreans are attacked during the chaos after the Rodney King verdict. If this is what comes with the American dream, then it’s long past time for us all to wake up.~Janet Brown

Woman of Interest by Tracy O’Neill

Tracy O’Neill grew up Irish a few miles out of  Boston. A frequent refrain throughout her years at home was “I’m your real mother,” stated by a woman who has been Tracy’s parent almost from birth. Knowing that she and her younger brother had both been adopted from Korea has given rise to Tracy’s understandable curiosity about the woman who gave birth to her, but this is crowded out by getting two Master’s degrees and a PhD from Columbia, while learning how to live on her own in Brooklyn.

“I read and I wrote,” she says--but then Covid comes to town. Reading and writing in isolation begins to pall and Tracy starts a serious search for her birth mother.

Armed only with scanty facts from the adoption agency who placed her, Tracy resorts to a 21st Century solution, DNA analysis. She spits in a vial six different times and after the sixth try, she’s matched with a girl who’s her third cousin and is put in contact with that cousin’s father.

“She’s alive,” her uncle tells her. With Covid travel restrictions lifted, Tracy buys a round-trip ticket to Korea that will give her 22 days with her birth mother and her newly-discovered Korean family. Suddenly Tracy has three blood siblings, a sister and two brothers. All four of them, she’s told, have different fathers.

“Don’t give her anything all,” her uncle says of Tracy’s mother. “Never forget,” another man tells her, “These guys are strangers.”  

Armed with Google Translate, she’s met in Korea by her sister, her cousin, and the aunt who witnessed her birth. She’s also faced with ten days of quarantine that she spends in a bedroom of her aunt’s apartment and she begins a life in translation. Every question, every answer is conveyed in the dubious accuracy of telephone apps--Kakao Talk and Navur Papago, as well as the version offered by Google.

Tracy is back in isolation again, in the home of a cousin and an aunt who are obsessed with feeding her. “You’re too skinny,” they tell her on a phone screen.

This is the way facts emerge, skeletal and often contradictory. Her uncle in America tells her she’s being lied to because her relatives want “everyone to be happy.” When Tracy is at last able to meet her birth mother, she hires a phone interpreter to make certain the translations aren’t tarnished by family feelings. However the phone interpreter is as resolute in striving for a happy conclusion as the relatives have been.

Embraced by her mother, she fails to feel “the inimitable bond of mothers and children.” “I was nothing but a stone-cold cardboard cutout,,,in the iron clench of a shuddering old woman.”

When Tracy goes to her mother’s apartment, she is handed a drawstring bag that holds one million won, which is around $8000 U.S dollars. Then she learns she can’t meet her youngest brother because he has never been, nor never will be, told about her existence.

Covid, cultural shock, no common language, and a stay in a foreign country that’s shortened from twenty-two to only seventeen days, ten of which were spent in quarantine--this expedition is doomed from the outset. But Tracy O’Neill is a novelist and she knows how to tell a gripping story. A fan of Raymond Chandler’s Philip Marlowe novels, she cleverly drapes her narrative in noir, even coming up with the requisite hard-boiled PI whom she hires at the beginning of her quest. A man who provides no vital information, he remains part of the plot up to the very end, and real or not, he’s an enticing addition. So is the Serbian boyfriend who speaks in broken English. Another plot device? What’s real? Who knows the true usefulness of a common language?

What is true, Tracy concludes, is this. “I twice met a stranger…” The stranger who was her eomma remains an unexplored enigma to the daughter who was given away and to that daughter’s readers. “I hate endings,” Tracy says and this story remains shrouded in a haunting mist that’s skillfully reported—or perhaps created— in Woman of Interest~Janet Brown 

Cruising the Anime City : An Otaku's Guide to Neo Tokyo by Patrick Macias and Tomohiro Machiyama (Stone Bridge Press)

Any book on pop culture is sure to go out of date almost as soon as it’s published. It is no different with Patrick Macias and Tomohiro Machiyama’s book Cruising the Anime City which was first published twenty years ago. A lot has changed since then. 

Even the word otaku, which was once used as a euphemism for young males who were seriously into games and anime. What we in the States would call “nerds”. Geeky boys who couldn’t get a girl to talk to them if they tried. 

In 1989, Tomohiro Machiyama wrote a book called おたくの本 (Otaku no Hon) and would like to take credit for popularizing the term. Unfortunately、 a young man named Tsutomu Miyazaki was arrested the same year. He kidnapped and raped three little girls. 

Machiyama describes Miyazaki as a “walking worst-case scenario otaku. With messy long hair, a pale face, and geeky glasses”. He was twenty-seven at the time of his arrest and was still living with his parents and was unemployed. 

The police found a large number of anime videos and Lolicon (Lolita Complex) manga. Machiyama also states that “because the case was so sensational, many Japanese people began to wonder what kind of lifestyle had created such a monster. 

Otaku no Hon just came out and people “connected the dots and came to the conclusion that otaku were dangerous perverts”. It would be many years later that the astigmatism attached to otaku would be reversed. 

The change came about due to a former anime creator who became a social critic. He was a self-proclaimed “Ota-king” and would explain otaku culture in layman’s terms to economists and academics. He championed the otaku subculture as it was the otaku who “through their purchasing power, supported technological advances in Japan”. 

Macias and Machiyama’s book on pop culture covers manga, the Japanese comic, toys, idols, anime, games, movies, cosplay (people who dress up like their favorite anime or game character), Comiket (comic market), and pla-mo (plastic models). 

Although manga was still popular when I first moved to Japan in 1995, the market had changed in just a few years. When Macias made his first trip to Japan in 1999, he didn’t see people reading mangas on the trains or the buses. By 2004, when this book came out, people were reading manga on their smartphones. 

That doesn’t mean the manga has lost its popularity. The print production of the omnibus comics may have gone down but manga is alive and well in Japan. Just go to any Mandarake or Yorozuya shops and you will find manga and other manga and anime-related goods for sale. 

The Comiket or Comic Market is still a strong event as ever too. It is held twice a year at Tokyo Big Sight and draws millions of comic and anime fans. It is also an event where you will see many cosplayers as well. 

Another interesting aspect of Japanese pop culture are idols. Idols mostly being cute young girls who dance and sing and are commercialized through merchandise and endorsements by talent agencies. When Cruising the Anime City came out, at the top of the idol chain was a group called Morning Musume. 

Tsunku, the vocalist of Japanese rock band Sharan-Q was looking for a new singer and held auditions on a televised program called [Asayan]. Morning Musume was formed by five of the candidates who were dropped. Tsunku produced a single for them on an independent label and gave them the task of selling 50,000 copies in five days or they would have to go back to their ordinary lives. 

The five members were able to accomplish the mission and debuted on a major label in January of 1998. Their rise to fame was quick and the group grew from five members, to eight, to eleven to who knows how many now. The group is still going strong even today but has been shadowed by another idol group that emerged in 2005, called AKB48. 

Although the subject of the book is quite dated now, it still makes for an entertaining read. I mean, how many of us old-timers remember what it was like to buy our first record or LP, or cassette tape for that matter. If you’ve lived in Japan through the nineties or if you’re just interested in Japanese pop culture of the past, you will be sure to enjoy this nostalgic trip into the past. ~Ernie Hoyt

The Little House by Kyoko Nakajima, translated by Ginny Tapley Takemori (Darf Publishers)

Kyoko Nakajima worked at a publishing firm and as a freelance writer before becoming a novelist in 2003 with her book Futon. Her novel The Little House was originally published as 小さなおうち (Chisai Ouchi) in 2010 by Bungei Shunju and won the 178th Annual Naoki Prize. The book was adapted into a major motion picture in 2014, starring Takako Matsu and directed by Kyoji Yamamoto. The book was translated into English by Ginny Tapley Takemori who also translated Sayaka Murata’s Convenience Store Woman (Asia by the Book, March 31, 2018). 

The Little House is narrated by an elderly woman in her nineties named Taki who lives on her own in Ibaraki Prefecture. Her nephew and his family live nearby and they sometimes have dinner together. She has some savings and has her nephew invest in stocks on her behalf so she’s not hurting for money. She also lives frugally on her pension. 

Taki’s life changed two years ago when the daughter of her former employer’s daughter  introduced her to a publisher she worked for and they produced Granny Taki’s Super Housework Book. Now an editor from the publisher has come to see Taki to discuss Taki’s next book. Taki says from the start that she doesn’t want to write about more household tips as she’s already covered that subject. 

The editor also says that they don’t want her to write about more household tips. She says, “We’d like you to talk about Tokyo in the old days, things that only you know about - your sense of the four seasons, your favorite dishes, social niceties, that sort of thing”. Taki doesn’t think it’s a bad idea, but from Taki’s perspective, “It’s just not quite what I’ve got in mind”. 

Taki feels she has more important things to write about. As a child, she lived in the Tohoku region of Japan, in Yamagata Prefecture. In the spring of 1930, Taki graduated from elementary school and immediately went into the service of a well-renowned author who lived in Tokyo. In the Showa era, it was not unusual for young girls from the country to move to Tokyo to work for people as maids.

Taki was the youngest of five siblings and all her elder sisters had already gone into service somewhere or other, the final destination not always being Tokyo. Although Taki didn’t see eye to eye with the young editor, she decided to keep a note of her experience of working in Tokyo before the outbreak of World War 2

Taki never married and was a maid her whole life. She says her job “was effectively domestic training for young women pre-marriage”. Taki first worked for a well renowned author but her employment with him was rather short-lived. 

Her most vivid memories of working in Tokyo were with the well-to-do Hirai family. She developed a close bond with her employer’s wife, Mistress Tokiko. Taki was also a nursemaid to their little son, Kyoichi.

As Taki continues to write about her time in Tokyo as best as her memory serves her, the book begins to read more like a diary than a personal biography. Most of her memories are happy ones but at times her nephew scoffs at what she writes.

Although she was writing about her experiences for herself, she soon realized that she had a reader - her nephew. She becomes a little embarrassed but decides to continue writing and leaves her notebook where her nephew is bound to find it. 

The core of the story is about Taki’s life in Tokyo as a maid but Kyoko Nakajima makes it more interesting by blending the present with the past. Taki’s nephew seems to think he knows more about the history of pre and post-war Japan than his aunt. The interaction between Taki and her nephew draws the reader in until you are also lost in the nostalgia of the “good old days”. 

There is something comforting about listening to an elderly person speak of Japan at a time that we can only imagine. If only my Japanese skills were as good as they are now when my grandmother on my mother’s side was still alive, I would have loved to hear her stories about living in pre and post-war Japan even though she lived quite a distance away from Tokyo. ~Ernie Hoyt

Between this World and the Next by Praveen Herat (Restless Books)

Song and Sovanna are two halves of an exquisite whole, twin sisters whose beauty is perfectly mirrored in each other’s faces, until a misplaced attack leaves Song with only half of her face unscarred. Disfigured, Song works as an enslaved housemaid in a Phnom Penh guesthouse while Sovanna is imprisoned as a sex slave. 

A war photographer with the nickname of Fearless comes to Phnom Penh at the invitation of an old friend, a man who once was his “fixer” in Bosnia. Recently widowed when his wife died in a car crash, Fearless is certain he has nothing left to lose. His friend Federenko has put him up in a guesthouse, a place where a young housemaid has half of her face deformed by scars. 

Song has a single goal, to find her twin and return with her to their home in rural Cambodia. In her attempt to achieve this, she finds an unlikely ally in the guest who has recently arrived. While Fearless agrees to help her, he’s puzzled by Song’s warning, “Don’t tell your friend.”

Fearless has known Federenko since he hired the boy long ago. The two of them have a battle-tested friendship that has bred the kind of trust that lies between brothers. But Song has evidence that this trust is misplaced. She has found a videotape that implicates Federenko in the cruelest form of sexual atrocities and although Fearless tries to deny the evidence, he’s told by his friend’s bodyguard in a veiled hint that Federenko’s help will lead to a trap.

This is not an easy book to read. It begins with a rape, continues with the murder of children, and lapses into torture. “Our ability to exterminate makes us who we are,” Fearless observes at the beginning of this novel and this seems to be the underlying theme. It’s Song who gives the plot a twist that somehow lights it with hope and love which carries through to the end.

Every detail in this intricate story is important. Vicious acts that seem random are all connected in a story that ranges from Cambodia to Liberia and is ensnared in the devious machinations of Dark Money. Characters who are drenched in violence become saviors and friends become enemies. 

Praveen Herat lived in Phnom Penh for years. Plot elements that may seem melodramatic to some readers are ones that are much too true. Parents have sold their daughters in an effort to keep their families from starving to death. Young beauties have had their faces destroyed by jealous wives hurling acid. Methamphetamine addiction is common among those who are exploited and poor in Southeast Asia. Russian mafioso have been a feature in Cambodia for decades with money laundering as one of their essential tools across continents. And Fearless isn’t the only Westerner who “did his best to make the facts do his bidding.” Innocence has been a liability and a danger long before Graham Greene pinpointed that in The Quiet American.

Herat has written a thriller that zeroes in on truths and reveals dark secrets held by those who are irreparably damaged and those who manage to survive. It’s going to hurt you and haunt you. Read it if you dare.~Janet Brown

What you are looking for is in the library by Michiko Aoyama, translated by Alison Watts (Penguin Books)

People go to the library for all sorts of reasons. To work on a research paper, to borrow the latest CD or DVD, to read the latest issue of certain magazines, and of course to check out books to read for pleasure. But what if you can’t find what you’re looking for? What if you don’t know what it is that you’re looking for. To answer those last two questions, you could consult with the resident reference librarian. 

In Michiko Aoyama’s book What you are looking for is in the library is set in in a neighborhood community center called Hattori Community House. It is located next to an elementary school and offers an array of classes and holds a number of events - “shogi, haiku, hula dancing, exercise classes, lots of flower-arranging classes and lectures on different topics”. 

Each chapter introduces the reader to a character who all have one thing in common. They find themselves going to Hattori Community House in Hattori Ward for one reason or another. They will also have one more thing in common. They are all introduced to the resident reference librarian, Sayuri Komachi. 

We are first introduced to Tomoka, a twenty-one year old woman who works as a sales assistant in the womenswear section in a general merchandise store called Eden. She moved to Tokyo from the country. The only reason she’s working at Eden is because it was the only place that accepted her. It wasn’t so much that she wanted to live and work in Tokyo, she just doesn’t want to go back to the country. 

She decides to take a computer class at the Hattori Community House, a community center in the ward where she lives. After class, the instructor tells Tomoko that there are no set books for learning how to use different programs but gives her a list of recommended books to check out. The instructor tells her she might enjoy looking in the library.

Tomoko goes over to the sign that reads “Reference” and peaks around the corner and gets quite a shock! “The librarian is huge…I mean, like, really huge. But huge as in big, not fat. Her skin is super pale and you can’t even see where her chin ends and neck begins”. The librarian’s name is Sayuri Komachi.

We then meet Ryo, a thirty-five-year old accountant whose ambition is to run his own antiques shop. His girlfriend is Hina, she was one of the other students at the computer class who wants to open her own online store. We also meet Natsumi, a former magazine editor. She was a career woman who decided to have a child and thought she would be able to return to her former job and position only to find the reality was much different that what she imagined. 

We also meet Hiroya, a thirty-five-year old NEET (Not in Employment, Education, or Training). In other words, a slacker. And finally there is Masao, a sixty-five year old retired gentleman who doesn’t know what to do with his life now that he has more time on his hands. 

All of these people find their calling at the library with the help of Ms. Komachi. However, Ms. Komachi never takes credit for their successes or happiness. Ms. Komachi seems to have some innate sense of what the people need and she often recommends books that do not seem to have any relation to the reader’s search.  

Libraries and bookstores are two places that I can spend hours in and never get bored. I don’t even have to be looking for anything in particular. Of course the big difference is you can borrow books for free at the library but if you find a title you want to read at the bookstore, you must buy it. 

I think it would be great if there were more people like Ms Komachi. She doesn’t judge anyone, she listens, then she hands the person a list of books that she believes might help them, even if some titles seem totally unrelated to what the person was searching for. 

If you’re an avid reader and love bookstores and libraries, this book will not disappoint. It will make you want to visit your local library at your earliest convenience. You may not find what you’re looking for but perhaps there will be a librarian like Ms. Komachi to guide you to some other worthwhile titles. ~Ernie Hoyt

Dallergut Dream Department Store by Miye Lee, translated by Sandy Joosun Lee (Wildfire)

Miye Lee is a South Korean writer who was born in Busan in 1990. After graduating from university she worked for Samsung Electronics as a semiconductor engineer. Dallergut Dream Department Store is her first novel and was entirely financed by a crowdfunding service in Korea and was translated by Sandy Joosun Lee. 

Lee says and most people know, we spend a third of our lives sleeping. “Dreams of wonder and bizarre events, recurring dreams about a particular person, and dreams of places we’ve never been”. 

Dallergut Dream Department Store is a story about a mysterious shopping village you can only go to when you’re asleep. “It’s full of interesting people and places that capture the hearts of the sleeping customers, like a food truck that sells snacks to ensure a good night’s sleep”. 

Penny has always dreamed of working at the Dallergut Dream Department Store. Her application has passed the screening and she has an interview scheduled for the following week. The DallerGut family is well known in Penny’s town. In fact, “the family is the origin of the city”. 

Penny was interviewed by Mr. DallerGut himself. Although she was unsure of herself, Mr. DallerGut asked Penny if she could start tomorrow. The Dallergut Dream Department Store is five-stories high. Each floor sells different genres of dreams. On her first day, Penny meets a veteran employee named Weather who is also the manager of the first floor. She tells Penny to check in with the manager of each floor before she decides on which floor she wants to work in. 

The first floor sells high-end, popular or limited dreams, Penny discovers that the second floor sells generic dreams and is managed by a man named Vigo Myers.  The third floor manager is a woman named Mogberry. On this floor, the staff sells groundbreaking and fun activity dreams. The fourth floor sells nap-exclusive dreams and is managed by Speedo. The top floor, the fifth floor, only sells leftover dreams from the first, second, third, and fourth floors. She also discovers there is no manager for the fifth floor. 

Mr. DallerGut was talking to Weather when Penny returned from her floor tour. They were discussing the need for a new face to help run the front desk on the first floor. Penny overhears them and when DallerGut asks which floor whe would like to work on, she immediately says that she would like to work at the front desk. 

And so begins Penny’s adventure of working at her dream job in the DallerGut Dream Department Store. A store that sells dreams of all kinds. But Penny also discovers there is an entirely separate business that the department store deals with - the store’s supply of dreams are created by dreammakers. Penny is a fan of many of them who have names like Kick Slumber, Yasnooz Otra, Wawa Sleepland, Doje, and Babynap Rockabye. They all specialize in the type of dreams they make. There are even dreammakers who make nightmares. 

The dreams are bought on a deferred payment system and the currency used is emotion. However, none of the customers remember that they bought their dreams as when they wake up, they forget that they were even in a store. 

Penny also learns that Mr. DallerGut doesn’t sell dreams to just anybody and everybody. He always has a reason why he does or doesn’t sell a dream to a customer. Mr. DallerGut tells Penny it is only with time and experience to learn all the nuances of selling a dream. 

Lee’s story is a nice escape from reality. If we really could buy our dreams, I’m sure many of us would do so at a moment’s notice - a dream about becoming rich and famous, a dream about meeting a lost love and rekindling a relationship. It makes you think as well, what kind of dream would you buy? Readers will also be happy to know that a sequel has already been published as well. ~Ernie Hoyt

The Border by Erika Fatland, translated by Kari Dickson (Pegasus Books)

Erika Fatland begins her 584-page tome in a spritely fashion that’s as alluring as it is deceptive. Starting at the end of her 259-day journey around the edges of Russia, one that she spread out over the course of three years, she’s at the edge of Eurasia, where Alaska is only about 50 miles away. She’s concluding a mammoth odyssey along Russia’s border, the longest in the world, extending for almost 38,000 miles along the edge of fourteen countries. 

Propelled by the question of what does it mean to have the world’s largest country as your neighbor, Fatland’s concluding journey is on an old Soviet research vessel that will take her through the Northeast Passage. For four weeks she is in the company of 47 other passengers, “a bevy of wrinkly stooped men and women,” all of whom have paid $20,000 to notch up yet another exotic destination on their bucket lists. Their conversations consist of travel talk and Fatlander soon learns she’s the only one who hasn’t been to Antarctica. When she tells an 85-year-old Dutchwoman that she’s excited to make a trip in a Zodiac (a rigid, inflatable boat used in rough seas), the response she receives is “Why?’ Her aged companion has been on hundreds of Zodiac excursions and this is a matter of routine for her.

Tracing the journey of the fur trade that gave Russia a firm toehold on the Western part of the US, Fatland vividly recreates the history of explorers and Cossacks while experiencing dismay at the condition of the islands she visits--”so much rubbish” creating environmental catastrophes. In a hut on one of their ports of call, an abandoned cabin bears evidence of a recent occupation. “Mammoth tusk collectors,” she’s told by her guide, “There is a lot of money to be made--we’re talking millions.”

This is the last portion of The Border to reveal humor or any form of delight. Moving swiftly into her time in North Korea, Fatland finds obfuscation, bleakness, and eerie contradictions. In Pyongyang, apartment buildings routinely soar to 20 storeys or more but their elevators are so flawed that residents clamor for spots near the ground floor. A hotel that’s over 1000 feet high dominates the city skyline but has never been opened. Her guides all carry expensive Chinese mobile phones in a place where coverage to other countries is only available on mountain tops. The DMZ at the division line between North and South Korea holds no human residents while providing “a haven for threatened species.” The beaches in the North are “as beautiful as Vietnam’s” but remain untouristed.

On a tour of Chernobyl at one point of her journey, Flatland is disconcerted that it feels “like a package holiday.” Thirty years after the disaster, people still come to a local hospital with dire after-effects. “It takes time for the isotopes to break down,” a senior staff member says.

Fatland is a historian and this is the focus of The Border. As she makes her way through Asia, the Caucasus, and Europe, there are only vague hints of the current relationship between Russia and its fourteen neighbors. It feels as if this is two separate books, a skimpy travel narrative and an overwhelming torrent of history from past centuries. When she ends her book with time in Ukraine, Poland, Finland, and her native country, Norway, history has fully taken over. Not even a camping trip to the final borderline with her father cuts through Erika’s daunting knowledge of the past.

Does she find the answer to her question of what effects come with being a neighbor to Russia? Perhaps, but if she did, it’s lost in translation.~Janet Brown

Lost Cities of Asia by Wim Swaan (Elek London, out of print)

Once upon a time, travel was a luxury and Asia was an unexplored continent for many Westerners. The very wealthy might go to Tokyo or Hong Kong but Beijing was still Peking, with the entire city forbidden to tourists. Southeast Asia teetered in and out of being a war zone and Korea was a bad memory to most of the Western world. In those days, even European travel was still beyond the reach of many unless they submitted to package tours--”If this is Tuesday, it must be Belgium.” It wasn’t until the late 1960s that Iceland Air introduced the concept of budget flights to the masses and Lonely Planet launched the era of the backpacker.

It seems vaguely ludicrous now to open a book called Lost Cities of Asia and find one of its topics is Angkor Wat, which is now one of the heavily visited sites on our planet. But the age of this book is obvious when readers find another “lost” region is called Ceylon, not Sri Lanka. Of the three corners of the world that are explored by the South African writer, Wim Swaan, the only one which now might be considered “lost” is Pagan, which still remains off the tourist circuit.

Although Swaan was also known as a photographer, the more than a hundred plates that fill this coffee-table book seem almost crude by 21st Century standards. Most of them are black and white, while the ones that are in color lack depth and look like antique postcards.Many of the black and white photographs are marred by heavy shadows, taken by a man who was unused to working in tropical sunlight. However since there were few glimpses of Ceylon, Pagan, and Angkor Wat in 1966, when this book was published, few people would criticize Swaan’s technique. They would have been fascinated by the flawed images that showed places few people had ever seen.

It’s Swaan’s scholarship that makes this book a valuable resource half a century after it was first published. The man was not a travel writer and there are no lyrical descriptions or charming anecdotes. The most diverting passages are ones he quotes from travelers who viewed these places in distant centuries. Swaan instead employs his academic expertise as an architect and a historian which makes this book heavy going for the casual reader. It’s unfortunate that it’s literally too heavy to accompany the casual traveler as they explore the sites upon which he elucidates, because Swaan’s knowledge would expand what they see.

Since Swaan’s early background was far from Europe or America, this may have given him a perspective unshared by writers from these continents who were his contemporaries. While most accounts of Southeast Asian sites that were written in the mid-20th Century compare them to “the glory that was Greece and the splendor that was Rome,” Swaan immediately pinpoints India as the primary influence upon Southeast Asia, one that influenced its architecture, its irrigation techniques that enabled the existence of its legendary cities, and its religion. Long before China exacted tribute from this part of the world, India shaped it.

However the process of “Hinduization” often clashed heavily with the indigenous cultures of the region. In the kingdom of Angkor, “both descent and inheritance were in the female line…so deeply ingrained that the subjugation of women prescribed by Hindu custom was flatly rejected.” At Pagan, the ancient gods, the Nats, were joined by the Buddha, not supplanted by him. 

Although India has placed its stamp firmly upon Southeast Asia, (to the point that Pico Iyer took his mother to visit Angkor Wat, she viewed it as an ancient Indian colony) its past history has been written by Chinese monks and merchants, whose quoted accounts bring life to Lost Cities of Asia. Perhaps one of the most invaluable portions of Swaan’s book is its bibliography which provides a springboard for future exploration. Yet even so, he offers a time capsule that evokes not only Asian history, but our own.~Janet Brown

Fish Swimming in Dappled Sunlight by Riku Onda, translated by Alison Watts (Bitter Lemon Press)

Riku Onda is the pen name for Nanae Kumagai, a Japanese writer whose novels The Aosawa Murders (Asia by the Book, January 12, 2023) and Honeybees and Distant Thunder (Asia by the Book, July 4, 2024) have been published in English in 2020 and 2023, respectively. 

Fish Swimming in Dappled Sunlight was originally published in the Japanese language with the title 木漏れ日に泳ぐ魚 (Komorebi ni Oyagu Sakana) in 2007 by Chuo-Koron Shinsha. It is a psychological thriller. The book was translated by Alison Watts who also translated her novel The Aosawa Murders. Watts has also translated Spark (Asia by the Book, April 15, 2021) by Naoki Matayoshi and The Boy and the Dog (Asia by the Book, January 22, 2024) by Seishu Hase. 

Fish Swimming in Dappled Sunlight is set in a small apartment in Tokyo over the course of one night. The main characters, Aki and Hiro, have decided to spend one last night together before going their separate ways. Their relationship had been going on a downhill slide since an incident that happened one year ago. They talk about it as if there is someone else listening to their thoughts and worries, as if they’re telling their stories directly to the reader. 

Aki and Hiro went on a hiking trip in the Japanese Alps in Nagano Prefecture along with an experienced mountain guide. However, on that trip, the guide mysteriously died. Aki believes that it was Hiro who killed him. Hiro believes that it was Aki who killed him. They are both going to try to get a confession before the night is over. Who is the murderer and why was he killed? 

Each chapter is told in the first person by Aki and Hiro and begins with Hiro talking about a photograph. What he’s about to share “is the story of a photo”. He says it’s also about “the mystery surrounding the death of a certain man, and a mountain tale as well. Plus, there’s the relationship aspect : the break-up of a couple. But the photo is at the heart of it”. 

Aki is also nervous about this evening. Ever since the incident happened, things haven’t been the same with either one of them. As Aki looks back on their life together in this apartment, she says, “That trip, and the death of that man, changed things forever for us”. Aki feels that for the past year, both of them had been walking on eggshells. She shares her thoughts about the two of them. 

“We were so close until that point, but those few days tore us apart”. It’s still hard to decipher why they drifted apart so much. Is it because they both suspect the other of having a hand in killing that man. Or was it something about the man that led them to the predicament they’re in. 

What really keeps the reader interested is the way Onda has Aki and Hiro taking turns talking about the incident. We learn when and where they met, and then we discover something much more surprising than the death of the mountain guide and why the man’s death had led to this evening. ~Ernie Hoyt

Dogs at the Perimeter by Madeleine Thien (W.W. Norton & Company)

Within the devastation that swept over Cambodia during the Pol Pot years, names become irrelevant, hazardous, and disposable. Who cares what name was given at birth when nobody is left alive to remember what it once was? “Names were empty syllables, lost as easily as an entire world.” 

A Red Cross physician becomes Kwan instead of James when that name gives him the only chance to stay alive and find his child. A young boy whose brothers are blown apart by landmines as they draw close to a border of safety only knows his nickname, Nuong, which he will keep for the rest of his life. Another little boy tells his captors he is Rithy, not Sopham, and survives to learn which parts of the human body will yield a confession under interrogation, becoming a killer by the time he’s nine. His sister never tells what her name used to be; she becomes Mei in one of Angkar’s labor camps and then Janie when she’s sent by a refugee organization to the safety of a home in Canada. 

“If you want to be strong,” a boy says in the labor camp, “you have to become someone else. You have to take a new name.” 

“Inside us,” Janie’s mother tells her back in the days when the family lived in peace, “from the beginning, we were entrusted with many lives…we try to carry them until the end.” But thirty years later, Janie discovers she “knows too much” and has “too many selves.” Laden with memories that shadow her present life, she’s haunted by her little brother, Sopham. Not able to maintain her grip on him in the middle of an empty sea, she watched as “the ocean breathed him in.” 

Now her memories endanger her son. She no longer can trust herself to live with her husband and child because when remembered violence engulfs her, she strikes out. When her colleague and mentor disappears in search of his lost brother, James, who vanished in the horror of Cambodia in 1975, Janie seizes a chance that will let her find the man who has become the only parent left to her. She returns to the country where she was born, where people who once were told to rid themselves of “memory sickness” and to forget their past history, live with ghosts who will “never be put to rest.”

“The soul is a slippery thing,” Janie’s mother told her, “but in darkness it can be returned to you.” In the darkness of what remains in Cambodia, Janie’s soul remembers the love and the beauty she once knew, in a time when that was as profuse and ordinary as air or water. She learns the necessity of guarding what’s precious and vital by placing dogs at the perimeter to safeguard what’s essential to keep. When she makes a phone call to her Canadian family, her son begs her, “Promise me. Don’t disappear,” and Janie makes that promise.

“The Khmer Rouge had taught us how to survive, walking alone, carrying nothing in our hands.” Piece by piece, Madeleine Thien shows how the Khmer people lost their names, lost their families, but survived to learn other names, other lives, other ways to love. Her novel recreates terrible damage and the agonizing process of recovery, with images that are unforgettable: ”tiny sequins of snow,” “light [that] spins over us like quiet laughter,” two children adrift at sea who are “caught on broken glass,” a prisoner feeling “his heart solidify in mute fear.” Normalcy and madness, the destruction of war and the confusion of peace, people who have the privilege of longing to keep their memories and those who wish they could lose their own--in an astounding act of literary alchemy, Thien makes these juxtapositions alive and agonizing and ultimately steeped in hope.~Janet Brown

Cannibals by Shinya Tanaka, translated by Kalau Almony (Honford Star)

Shinya Tanaka is a Japanese writer who won Japan’s most prestigious literary prize, the Akutagawa Award for his novel 共食い (Tomogui), which has been translated into English as Cannibals. The story is set in 1989 and the main character, Toma Shinogaki, just turned seventeen. 

He lives with his father Madoka and his father’s partner Kotoko-san. His father is a philanderer, an alcoholic, and often beats the women he has sex with. Toma’s birth mother, Jinko-san, lives close by and runs a fish shop. 

They all live in a community called the Riverside, a place where not much happens and where people down on their luck seemed to have converged. The place also smells of raw sewage as the sewer system has not yet been completed. 

Jinko-san, the fishmonger was almost sixty and her right arm from the wrist down was gone. It was during the war when she lost it. She got pinned under her burning and collapsed house during an air raid. The riverside was an ocean of fire. “I traded one hand to keep my life,” she once told Toma.

The riverside was one of the places that didn’t get developed after the war “and the people who gathered there, intending only to temporarily avoid dire poverty, ended up stuck”. Toma’s father, Madoka, was one of those people.

His father met Kotoko-san at a bar where she worked and she came to live with the Shinogaki’s about a year earlier. It wasn’t until Kotoko-san started living with them that Madoka would start to hit her. 

Toma once asked, “Why don’t you break up with him? You scared of him?”. He was shocked and surprised at her response. She said to him, “He tells me I got a great body, and when he hits me he says it gets even more better. To Toma, she looked like “an incredibly stupid woman”. 

Toma had a girlfriend named Chigusa. At this point in the story, it’s actually hard to tell if Chigusa is really his girlfriend or just some girl that he has sex with. They have known each other since childhood as Chigusa also grew up in the Riverside. 

Lately, Toma has been thinking how much he is like his Dad. She tells him he’s not like his Dad, that he doesn’t hit her. However, Toma responds by saying, “It’s too late if I realize I’m like him after I hit you”. 

Recently, Toma’s father has been searching for a young man as he believes Kotoko-san is being unfaithful to him. The double standard of if’s okay for men to play around but a woman must stand by his man is alive and well in Japan in 1989. 

One day, Kotoko-san tells Toma that she’s pregnant with his father’s baby. This gets Toma thinking about his future. Will his father kick him out so Madoka can live with Kotoko-san and their baby? But Kotoko-san tells Toma that she plans to leave the Riverside. Toma has never thought about leaving and wonders if his father will try to find Kotoko-san if she really does leave. He also wonders if his father will come back. 

Chigusa and Toma also have a falling out after a sex bout where Toma starts choking her before he climaxes. He really believes he’s becoming like his father. Then one day, something happens that changes everything on the Riverside. 

Kotoko-san is gone. Chigusa has been waiting for Toma at the local shrine. And the children run to tell Toma that he must go see her. His father comes home and tells Toma that he’s sorry, that he couldn’t help himself, that he couldn’t find Kotoko-san and Chigusa just happen to be close by and he couldn’t control his urges…

Tanaka brings to life the gritty reality of living near poverty. His characters are far from likable, especially the father and son. The women are all treated as objects to have sex with and hurt. It’s a very disturbing reality but one that’s hard to ignore.

Thank God that this story is fiction. People like Madoka and Toma are the worst breed of humans. How some women can stay with abusive men is still a problem that plagues society today. In the end, Madoka gets what he deserves and Toma…well, that would be up to the reader to decide. ~Ernie Hoyt

Welcome to the Hyunam-dong Bookshop by Hwang Bo-Reum, translated by Shanna Tan (Bloomsbury)

South Korean writer Hwang Bo-Reum’s Welcome to the Hynam-dong Bookshop is  a book for booklovers and for anybody who has ever had a dream of opening and running their own bookshop. This is her first novel which was originally released in 2023 in her home country. 

The book became an instant bestseller and was translated into several languages the following year, including English. The Japanese translation won the Japan Bookseller’s Award in 2024. 

The main character, Yeongju, did everything she was supposed to do. She went to university, married a nice man, and had a decent paying and well-respected job. She adhered to the principle that if she were to do her best, things would go well for her. 

At her job, she was a contract worker. However, her manager promised her that if she did well before her next evaluation, she would eventually become a permanent employee. She was given an important assignment that she put her blood and guts into, thinking this time, the company will recognize my worth and make me a permanent full-time employee. How shocked she was to find that her manager not only took her name off the project and added an inept co-worker who was then promoted over her. 

So, Yeongju did what only most people dream about doing. She quit her job, she divorced her husband and decided to open a bookshop which was a dream of hers since she was a child. However, she has no experience on how to run a bookshop or how to run a business, but that does not deter her from following her dream. 

She finds a spot in a suburban area of Seoul that she just fell in love with. She thought that if she fills the store with books, people will come. But the reality of the matter was far from what she imagined. After opening the shop, she would ask herself, “if this her first visit, would she have faith in the staff’s recommendations? How does a bookshop earn trust? What makes a good bookshop?”

For the first few months after opening, Yeongju started writing to do lists, prioritizing what needed to be done first. Before opening the shop, her old life was tearing away at her soul. The only thought in her mind was, “I must open a bookshop”. 

The bookshop had a few early regulars but was still nowhere near to being called successful. Even Yeongju herself said, “I must do better than this”. She starts an Instagram account for the shop, decides to hire a barista so people could enjoy coffee while browsing and perhaps buying a book or two. 

The first employee she hires is Minjun, a young man who also seems to have no direction in life as yet. In the beginning Yeongju tells him that the shop will probably be open for two years or so. She still did not have the confidence that she could run a successful and busy independent bookshop. 

But as the years pass, she begins to think differently from when she began. She now wants her bookshop to be more than just a bookshop, she wants it to be a place where people can come and forget about their everyday, stressful lives, and enjoy a cup of coffee and read books they might enjoy. 

As a longtime bookseller myself, I couldn’t help but admire the change in Yeongu’s attitude when starting the shop and how she gains more confidence in believing herself and her small group of friends and employees who make the Hyunamh-dong Bookshop a place I want to go to as well. ~Ernie Hoyt

Asa: The Girl Who Turned into a Pair of Chopsticks by Natsuko Imamura, translated by Lucy North (Faber & Faber)

Natsuko Imamura is a Japanese writer who won the 2019 Akugatagawa Prize for her novel The Woman in the Purple Skirt (Asia by the Book, December 2023) and has also won a number of other literary awards as well. Her latest book to be published in English is Asa : The Girl Who Turned Into a Pair of Chopsticks. Originally published in the Japanese language as 木になった亜沙 (Ki ni Natta Asa) which literally translates to “Asa who turned into a tree”. 

The book is a collection of three short stories. Asa : The Girl Who Turned Into a Pair of Chopsticks is the lead story. It is about a girl named Asa. When she was little she lived with her mother in a small apartment. One day Asa’s mother brought home a bag of sunflower seeds, tossed them in a frying pan and added a little salt. Asa tasted them for the first time and thought they were really delicious so she wanted to take some to share with her friends at daycare.

Asa called over her best friend Rumi and showed her what was in the paper bag she brought. She told Rumi they were sunflower seeds and that you could eat them. She also said they were really delicious. She offered some to Rumi and said to try them, but Rumi refused. Rumi was confused and asked why but Rumi just told her she didn’t want them, then pushed Asa’s hand away and went outside to jump rope. 

Even as Asa grew older, not one person would accept or eat anything that Asa made or offered. Her classmates began to shun her and she went from being totally ignored to becoming a bully. She was sent to a juvenile correctional center when she was still in middle school. She became a model inmate and before being released some of the other inmates talked her into going snowboarding with them. However, the other inmates left her alone at the top of the mountain and since she was a beginner she went off course and hit a tree. 

When she came to, she saw a small raccoon dog and offered it a bit of chocolate that she had in her pocket. The raccoon dog sniffed the morsel but then turned and left. She started laughing at the top of her head and shouted, Nobody has ever accepted my food. Why? Somebody tell me! Why?”. Then she tasted something sweet from the tree. Some kind of fruit. Her last thought before giving out her final breath was “I want to become a tree. Let me become a tree”. If she were a tree that bears fruit, people would eat it. Although Asa did become a tree, she didn’t become a fruit tree, she became a cedar tree and cedar trees don’t bear fruit…

The second story is Nami, Who Wanted to Get Hit (and Eventually Succeeded). The final story is A Night to Remember. As with the first story, they start off quite normally but in Imamura’s world, normal doesn’t last long. Nami was a girl like any other but whenever someone tried to throw something at her - acorns, water balloons, a ball while playing dodgeball, she would never get hit. A Night to Remember centers on a girl who refuses to get up and walk. She thought that being bipedal was a waste of time and was determined to spend as much time as possible not standing up. 

Bizarre, weird, or strange doesn’t come close to explaining any one of these three stories. Imamura has created a world where you may have a hard time distinguishing between reality and fantasy. By the end of the book, you may even question your own reality. ~Ernie Hoyt

The Woman Warrior: Memoirs of a girlhood among ghosts by Maxine Hong Kingston (Knopf)

When Maxine Hong Kingston’s The Woman Warrior was published in 1976, it was a literary phenomenon on several levels. Memoir was a nascent genre, just beginning to be seen as separate from autobiography. Folklore belonged to scholars, not blended into literary works. Most of all, young Chinese Americans had yet to find a footing in the world of best-sellers. Long before Amy Tan became famous for The Joy Luck Club or Jung Chang electrified readers with Wild Swans, Hong Kingston’s first book soared to the top of national best-seller lists and won the National Critics Circle Award. Almost fifty years after it first appeared in bookstores, it’s still selected by book clubs for discussions. It’s become a classic, praised, criticized, and loved.

Cover of the first edition of The Woman Warrior

Although its subtitle proclaims it’s a memoir, Hong Kingston mingles family history with folk tales and enigmatic glimpses of her own life. This isn’t a linear narrative as much as it is a collection of personal essays that range over space and time. 

An ancestor who strayed from her marital vows in a small Chinese village, throwing herself and her newborn illegitimate child into a well, is used by Hong Kingston’s mother as a cautionary example of the need for chastity. Hong Kingston turns the disgraced woman into the leading figure in a vivid piece of fiction and concludes that her suicide was an act of rebellion and warfare, since she drowned herself in the village’s source of drinking water.

An extended folk tale follows the life of a mythic swordswoman whose bravery rivals Mu Lan’s. Much later, the “woman warrior’s” name is given to Hong Kingston’s mother, herself a redoubtable and unvanquished opponent in her daughter’s eyes. Brave Orchid buried two children in China and was trained as a village doctor, a respected professional before she joined her husband to begin a new family and run a laundry business in America. When her sister, Moon Orchid, comes to the U.S., Brave Orchid drives the new arrival into madness by hurling her into the deep end of a new culture. Raising her American-born children in the Chinese fashion, she creates barriers and confusion as her offspring grow up. Not until her most rebellious daughter is near adulthood does Brave Orchid explain that the girl has misunderstood why she had always been called ugly, to confuse predatory spirits who might seize the child if she was acknowledged as beautiful. “My American life,” Hong Kingston says, “ has been such a disappointment…I’m not a bad girl, I would scream." She is being raised to do battle and prevail as a victor.

For Brave Orchid, America is filled with ghosts--Taxi Ghosts, Police Ghosts, Newsboy Ghosts. In China, she knew how to battle specters. In America, she uses her children to combat these new ghostly figures. Aging in a country that she’s never accepted as her own, she insists “I would still be young if we lived in China,” ignoring her daughter’s insistence that “Time is the same from place to place.” And yet when Moon Orchid arrives, steeped in the behavior of a Chinese lady, Brave Orchid reveals how American she herself has become in her years away from China, shocking her sister as she pushes her into a new world. 

Living in a household dominated by contradictions and traditions that exist only within the walls of their home, Hong Kingston and her siblings learn early on which behaviors to choose. “I want to be a lumberjack,” Hong Kingston says when she’s a little girl. To make sense of the world Brave Orchid lives in, Hong Kingston turns history into fiction and finds answers in folklore.

She writes with the evocative language of a poet, blending it with the unflinching harshness of a child who has been raised to fight, to protect her parents, as a woman warrior.~Janet Brown

Ordinary Disasters by Anne Anlin Cheng (Pantheon Books)

“Give me a child until he is seven and I will show you the man.” This piece of wisdom,, originally spoken by Aristotle,  has been claimed by St. Ignatius of Loyola, founder of those rigorous Catholic educators, the Jesuit order, and by Valdimir Lenin, founder of the Russian Communist Party. This unlikely triumvirate recognized a basic truth: children are irrevocably shaped by their first seven years of life. 

Anne Anlin Cheng lived in Taiwan until she was ten years old. Although she outwardly assimilated within the United States to the point that when her grandparents came from Taiwan for a six-month stay when she was twelve, she had little to say to them. English had outstripped the languages she had spoken with them only two years before, putting “a language barrier between my grandparents and me.”

And yet assimilation, Cheng says, is a matter of covering over differences to fit within another culture, “a shell game.” The “forces of family, of race and culture” that shaped her are Taiwanese, which she realizes most often in her marriage to a white native-born American. Their racial differences are alive “in the pockets of everyday intimacies.” 

America lumps these differences into the category of “Asian. ” Quoting another writer, David Xu Borgonjon, Cheng points out “You can only be Asian outside of Asia.” A “scholar of race and gender,” Cheng attends a meeting at her university that’s held for Asian and Asian American staff “in response to the rise in violence against people of Asian descent.” Within a matter of minutes “ethnic and national differences” take over, showing the artificiality of the “Asian” label.

The common thread uniting people from the continent of Asia is the racism and stereotype that’s been fostered by three centuries of America’s “cultural and legal discrimination.” When this resurfaces during Covid, as virulent as the physical virus, Cheng begins to explore the elements of racism that fill her life.

Shortly before Covid struck, Cheng was diagnosed with cancer.  Slowed by her fight against this disease and by the enforced isolation of the pandemic, she’s confronted with “unabashed racism sweeping our country,” which leads her to examine what she calls “ordinary disasters” and others call microaggressions. She finds them in her everyday life, in her profession, and in her history, exploring what they are and their relentless effects in this collection of personal essays, all of them blazingly smart and mercifully free of academic language. Scathing, tender, funny, and wide-ranging, these pieces turn a harsh magnifying glass on the ways U.S. culture and behavior chips away at what it calls “a model minority.”

An article in the New Yorker entitled Where the Future is Asian and the Asians are Robots leads Cheng to observe the close similarity between the stereotypical “China Doll” and the female cyborgs portrayed in contemporary cinema. When a relative gives her daughter an American Girl doll who is fashioned after a child in colonial Williamsburg, Cheng examines the role that dolls play in reinforcing white supremacy. She links Joan Didion’s essays with their “exquisite study of whiteness” to the Modernist Orientalism of Marie Kondo, pointing out that Didion’s obsession with self-control is closely related to Kondo’s rigid rules of orderliness. Both, she says, elevate efficiency and organization to “the status of Virtue.”

Cheng grew up in Georgia where Atlanta had the aura of “a multiracial heaven.” Her parents made the six-hour drive from Savannah frequently to buy ingredients at a Japanese grocery, eat at a “decent” Chinese restaurant, and browse at a Chinese bookstore. Then in 2021, “that Atlanta happened.” A white man killed six women “of Asian descent” who worked in “Asian-owned spas.” The killer was characterized as a man who “was having a bad day.” The murdered women were commonly and immediately assumed to be sex workers. “Let me name the victims,” Cheng says, and gives their ages. The youngest was 33, the oldest 74, all of them dead because of “racialized misogyny.”

Cheng ends her book with the universality of old age and death. “Aging is itself an incurable illness,” she says, pointing out the irony of “that even as you own more and more of yourself, your body is becoming less and less yours.” Her voice that’s explored the “ordinary disasters” underlying America’s undying racism illuminates the end that comes to us all, with the same strength and clarity that’s identified cancer and racism as “diseases of the most cellular level,” malignant and deadly.~Janet Brown

We Do Not Part by Han Kang, translated by E. Yaewon and Paige Aniyah Morris (Hogarth, Random House, release date 1/21/2025)

Kyungha is a writer who’s dominated by nightmares of black human forms standing in the snow as the tide surges toward them, of massacres that send women and their children down the steep side of a well to escape death, of holding a single flaming match that  could reveal the face of a mass murderer. Engulfed by these phantoms, she struggles to overcome them and to regain her life. 

When a friend summons her to a hospital room, she finds the photographer and filmmaker whom she’s worked with for years, immobilized and crippled by an accident that took place when working in a rural studio. Inseon is from the island of Jeju, where she has lived alone in the company of a caged bird. Pleading with Kyungha to go to her home and give the bird food and water before it’s too late, Inseon persuades her to leave Seoul and travel to Jeju, in spite of an approaching snowstorm that threatens to make the journey impossible. 

Arriving on the last flight before the storm hits, waiting beside a lonely road for the bus that will take her close to Inseon’s house, Kyungha at last begins a walk to safety that instead plummets her into a deep pit. When she emerges, she’s lost her phone and when she enters Inseon’s dark, cold house, she finds the bird is dead.

Suddenly this story slips into the hallucinatory quality of Kyungha’s nightmares. The bird that she buries returns to life. The friend whom she had left in the confinement of a hospital ward suddenly appears in the unheated house and begins to reveal the history that Inseon’s mother lived through and archived, in notebooks, letters, and newspaper articles. The massacres that have haunted Kyungha’s sleep unfold as a tragedy of death and horror, one that was covered up the minute after it took place. Bodies were buried under the runway of Jeju Airport; shot as they waded out to sea where the waves carried off their corpses; dumped into pits where the snow covered and erased them, staying invisible for thirty-four years and remaining forever anonymous.

The dead dominate in this eerie novel. But who is dead? Who’s alive? Perhaps the most vivid character is Inseon’s dead mother, forcing her history upon her daughter and Kyungha, telling her terrible stories in a voice that lives through pieces of saved paper. “Extermination was the goal.”

Extermination is what fills the history and the nightmares, wrapped in the surrealism of snowfall: Snowflakes land on the fronds of palm trees and freezing bright blossoms; snow crystals “swirl wildly as if inside a giant popcorn machine;” snow clouds emerging“like tens of thousands of white-feathered birds flying right along the horizon.” Snow extinguishes the light of a final candle and threatens the life of the one remaining match, held by a woman who may already be a ghost.

We Do Not Part is an unsettling work of art, with each sentence holding a new masterpiece of beautiful and bone-chilling words. It should be read slowly, like poetry, because the narrative is unbearably painful if approached in the way novels are usually consumed. Han Kang combines the supernatural with the inhuman, history with its denial, the living with the dead, as she blurs every boundary line, with the finality of snow.~Janet Brown

Han Kang received the 2024 Nobel Prize for Literature five days after this review was posted.