Book No. 66 of 2020
There’s a detachment to this book that makes its musings on bodies, reproduction, childhood/parenthood, relationships, and happiness profound and poignant. Kawakami renders scenes with such specific detail that they seem almost surreal. (The scene in which the character dines with a gross, sleazy dude who will not shut up about the motility of his sperm had me gaping at the absurdity.)
Although the book is written in first person, you feel sometimes like the narrator is a vessel for experiencing the thoughts, emotions, and philosophies of auxiliary characters. I thought some of the monologues that other characters deliver were shockingly insightful.
Similar Reads
The quiet, dry absurdity of this book reminded me of Elif Batuman’s The Idiot.
The writing style also reminded me of Sayako Murata’s Convenience Store Woman.
The device of having some of the narrative’s theses delivered by other characters (either directly, or catalyzing the protagonist’s reaction) reminded me of Rachel Cusk’s Outline.