hardcover, 247 pages
Published Oct. 5, 2020 by Grove Press.
Natsuki isn't like the other girls. She has a wand and a transformation mirror. She might be a witch, or an alien from another planet. Together with her cousin Yuu, Natsuki spends her summers in the wild mountains of Nagano, dreaming of other worlds. When a terrible sequence of events threatens to part the two children forever, they make a promise: survive, no matter what.
Now Natsuki is grown. She lives a quiet life with her asexual husband, surviving as best she can by pretending to be normal. But the demands of Natsuki's family are increasing, her friends wonder why she's still not pregnant, and dark shadows from Natsuki's childhood are pursuing her. Fleeing the suburbs for the mountains of her childhood, Natsuki prepares herself with a reunion with Yuu. Will he still remember their promise? And will he help her keep it?
En oikein osaa sanoa oliko tämä liian absurdi, vai samaan aikaan ei ihan tarpeeksi absurdi. Ei tarpeeksi absurdi siinä mielessä, että kirja ikäänkuin liian myöhään nosti lukijan pois kaiken normaaliuden tuomasta tulkinnasta. Ihan tykkäsinkin, mutta toisaalta aika varovaisesti lähtisin suosittelemaan kenellekään.
Content warning cw: child abuse (incl. sexual), incest, murder, cannibalism
OK. Weirdest thing I've read in a long time. Not really sure how/why I finished it, especially as the first third-or-so, in which Natsuki is eleven, is a distinctly uncomfortable read. The CWs I've listed aren't even all the topics I'd probably mention, but I've forgotten some and others... I'm not even sure how I'd describe them. When you strip out all of the dialled-up-to-eleven weirdness, what you're left with is a novel that might have interesting things to say about how people (particularly Japanese women) deal with societal norms, expectations, and pressure, and about how the construction of a fantasy world can make sense as a way of dealing with childhood trauma. For me, though, it all felt a bit too heavy-handed -- the constant invocation of 'the Factory' felt a bit much after a while. Note: I haven't given a star rating because I just don't know how to rate it.
excellent, raw, uncensored portrait of things and characters. a bit too out there towards the end, to the point where it lost a bit of its seriousness.
Having just finished this it feels like the rawest fucking book I've read in a long time or maybe ever. Murata is a genius and her writing is as engrossing as it is shocking and disturbing and beautiful all at once. This is the work of someone who has something to say and doesn't give a single fuck about subtlety. And is also extremely gifted at telling stories.
Heed the CWs on this one, please I consider myself pretty desensitized to fictional violence and very shitty situations in general and I was having pretty visceral reactions while reading some of the sections in this one.
If you’re interested in Murata’s work, I highly recommend not starting with this one. It’s a difficult book to suggest, honestly, partly because of content that the majority of people would find revolting to look into. Tread lightly.
"My body is not my own."
I'm speechless and my stomach is in knots. The social commentary in this book, about the expectations and pressures society puts on people, and how people put those pressures on each other, is delivered so matter-of-factly and dealt with so aggressively that it heightens disturbing events to a level of disturbing I didn't think was possible. And THAT ENDING, what the hell?! Murata does not hold back.
This novel is so incredibly weird, devastatingly sad, and deeply distressing, and then the ending got gruesome and even WEIRDER. This would make a good pick for the bravest of book clubs, because you would have endless things to talk about, and you're either going to want to talk about those things or run the hell away and hide.
TW: childhood emotional and physical abuse, parentification, molestation, incest, rape, derealization and depersonalization, suicidal ideation, attempted suicide, murder, …
