Idol Burning

Idol Burning / Rin Usami
trans. from the Japanese by Asa Yoneda
NY: HarperVia, 2022, c2020.
144 p.

Another short novella, from a Japanese author interested in fandom and what it can do to a person's sense of self. I listened to this one, which I think worked really well - there are strings of social media comments included in the storyline and the way that the narrator read them made it seem so fresh and immediate. I know some readers haven't enjoyed this structural addition but as an audiobook I thought it was an interesting element.

The story follows Akari, a socially isolated teen with learning disabilities and difficult relationships. She withdraws from life, and from her family who struggles to help her. Her focus is on her 'oshi', Masaki, a pop idol. She writes a blog about him, scouring the internet and magazines for every detail about him, and has a following whose comments seem to give her the approval she needs. But then Masaki tumbles from his pedestal, accused of hitting a woman who is possibly his girlfriend. 

The way that this intense fandom affects both Masaki and Akari is explored in the narrative - they don't know one another but Akari's need to justify his actions and thus her own, is part of the parasocial fixation she has with him. The book looks at mental health, online fandom & its spaces, loneliness, teen alienation from life and many other similar things, all through the lens of oshi culture. 

I found it a good read, although some of the themes could have used a little more length in the narrative to be fleshed out, for more impact. Akari's life is described quietly, but gives the reader a strong impression of the crisis she's going through. Her isolation, partly self created, is dramatic and she finally has to hit bottom to realize it. I felt like the story mostly communicated this, although the reader has to be committed to the story arc as it does move a little slowly for such a short book. Still, I thought it illuminated a corner of life that I hadn't considered much before, and found lots to think about here. 

 

The Woman Dies

The Woman Dies / Aoka Matsuda
trans. from the Japanese by Polly Barton
NY: Europa, 2025, c2016.
160 p.

This was an entertaining read, a collection of 52 short stories (some only a few sentences long, flash fiction, really) all looking at the pervasive presence of sexism in Japanese society. Matsuda is not holding back, and tells her tales with both sharp edges and black humour.  I really enjoyed this book, there were such clever structural elements to admire, and the stories were a bit off kilter, requiring the reader to stop short and sometimes read over a story again to get the commentary clear. I love a read that both amuses and makes you think about your perceptions. 

I also enjoyed Matsuda's earlier collection of stories inspired by Japanese folklore, which I read in 2021 -- Where the Wild Ladies Are. That's a bit more traditional in format but has the same edge. I really recommend her books if you like a feminist sensibility that is both highly intelligent and sarcastic. 

This collection has a couple of longer pieces but mostly there are brief reflections and observations. The title refers to a piece remarking on the normalization of violence against women in film, which is something still seen in many films. The joy in this book was the structure and writing, for me, which added to the sense of social critique and skewed perspective. I thought the style and the content worked together to create a strong thematic line. Really liked this one, and raced through it, although I will probably go back and sit with some of the stories a bit longer to really reflect on them. After all, there are 52 pieces, one a week would be a good start to any intellectual week! 

Taiwan Travelogue

 

Taiwan Travelogue / Yang Shuang-Zi
trans. from the Mandarin by Lin King
read by Sarah Skaer
Old Saybrook, CT: Tantor, 2025, c2020.

I listened to the audiobook of this recent International Booker prize winner. It was pretty good, although some of the narrator's choices for voices of the different characters grated on me a bit. I got used to it after a while - it's long enough that you can become accustomed! 

It's the story of Aoyama Chizuko, a Japanese journalist and novelist who been invited to Taiwan in 1938,by the ruling Japanese government. She wants to get an understanding of this region so plans to stay for a year to get the real feeling of it. As part of this, she is assigned an interpreter - Chizuro is a young woman about her age, who even shares some of the characters in her name. They both love eating, so travel around the country eating local foods, among the official visits and readings that Aoyama must do as part of her contract there. She is delighted with her interpreter and wants to become close friends with her, but there is something that Chizuro always holds back. It takes until the end of the story for Aoyama to grasp why. 

This book was published in Mandarin, presenting itself as a translation of an old Japanese book. This is a clever way to distance the political climate of current Taiwan from Chinese politics but still make a strong point about colonialism and autonomy. It also shows clearly that colonialism is not only political or 'big picture' but that it affects intimate relationships just as much. 

So much for the ideas behind the book. What was my experience reading it? I felt it was a slow burn -- there is so much about food that I found myself getting bored. I think you have to be a real foodie to follow along with Aoyama's culinary experiments with excitement. However, there was enough other detail in the story that I knew there would be a payoff, so continued. I'm glad I did. The last couple of chapters made it all worth it. I can understand how food and regional cooking are also reflections of colonialism, and a visceral, daily way to show its effects. But the lengthy descriptions of food are just not highly interesting to me personally. 

Still, the characters and the relationships were worth following, and the book as a whole was a good read. Glad I was able to find this one to listen to this month! 

Translation Thursday

  

It's Translation Thursday! Each Thursday this month I'm going to share the translation I'm currently reading plus a few more on my reading list. Here's today's list:

Currently Reading:

The Woman Dies / Aoko Matsuda
trans. from the Japanese by Polly Barton

To Read: 

Five Blessings for a Wedding / Maiko Seo
trans. from the Japanese by Laurel Taylor

Sakura / Kanako Nishi 
trans. from the Japanese by Allison Markin Powell

How to Use 3,000 Yen / Hika Harada
trans. from the Japanese by Alison Watts

Letters From Klara

 

Letters from Klara / Tove Jansson
trans. from the Swedish by Thomas Teal
read by Indira Varma
Copenhagen: Saga Egmont, 2024, c1991.

I like Tove Jansson's writing, and found this collection of short stories that I hadn't yet read; I'm glad I picked it up because I really enjoyed it. It contains 13 stories, and they are reflective of Jansson's concerns and style. 

The stories tackle the awkwardness of relationships and of existing in the world - something I feel like she's particularly good at. I think it's her clear unsentimental look at people's weakness, foibles, and inner lives that I always appreciate. She can be sardonic and hard in some ways, but also has an eye for the wry humour of life, and never mocks her characters. 

I thought all these stories were strong, with characters to draw you in, even though there was no strong thematic line to the collection. The settings are mainly in Finland but there a few which range across Europe, depending on the story. There are artists, mothers and daughters, old women who are still insisting on being a person, young men with existential crises, old schoolmates reuniting (with resulting cringe), and more. Each story was compelling but there were a couple that really stood out to me. 

The title story was fun, although light - if you've read Virginia Evan's hit The Correspondent you'll appreciate this little story alongside that one. "Party Games" follows a group of women who reunite when one of them finds out that their girls school is closing - it's a handful of their classmates having tea at one person's apartment and it is as awkward as you might imagine, with, as Jansson puts it, "do you remembers" taking over a lot of the conversation. But their girlhood likes and dislikes also reappear. So understandable! "Trip to the Riviera" follows a cantankerous older woman and her daughter, who've gone on vacation to a cheap pension on the Riviera, where they are definitely fish out of water, but the older woman is determined to be herself. 

"Emmelina" was the one that I was most drawn into. In this one, a strange young woman inherits a flat from a woman who has just died. The man living below her is having a crisis and befriends Emmelina, although she seems to be there just as a receptacle for all his angst. But when he finally decides to move on from his depression and face life again, Emmelina leaves, telling him she won't be back for a long time. She's uncanny and this story was a delight, with the side characters being some of the best parts. 

There are never heavy plots to these stories, they are more about people just living a bit, vignette style. I enjoy this a lot, and this collection delivered. If you like more contemplative stories looking at a slice of life, often without any real conclusions to be drawn, you'll like this too. 

Killing Stella

Killing Stella / Marlen Haushofer
trans. from the German by Shaun Whiteside
NY: New Directions, 2025, c1958.
88 p.

Another novella which I found through my library! This one was a must read for me since I read The Wall in 2024 and haven't stop thinking about it since. 

This is an earlier story by Haushofer, and it's both shorter and more traditional. So, not quite as much of an impact, but still a lot to think about in such a brief narrative. It feels like a story from the 50s, with its traditional roles of accepting  housewife to a rich, philandering man leading the storyline. 

But it also condemns this self-satisfied pampered life, highlighting the harms caused by self-absorbed rich people keeping their heads down to make their own lives easier. Still timely somehow. 

Anna, the housewife, is the narrator, and so we only have her view of things. She's married to Richard, and they have two children - Annette, who is very much like Richard, and Wolfgang, the son who Anna smothers with her displaced need for affection and companionship. 

Into this household comes Stella, an awkward and naive 19 year old, the daughter of Anna's old friend - actually a frenemy as Anna admits she really can't stand her. Stella needs a place to live while attending school and so moves into their spare room. Anna finds her mousy and retiring, and encourages her to dress more prettily, to become more attractive. And inevitably, Richard takes advantage of this (a question to the reader: does Anna know this will happen? Is she preparing Stella for Richard? As Anna is telling the tale, she of course sounds blameless).

But Richard's attentions are fickle and short-lived, and soon Stella is distraught, unable to say anything to anyone, since Anna is her only confidant. And shortly after that, Stella dies in a traffic accident. Of course it was an accident. 

The story is one long letter of justification, of Anna rewriting the events to explain and understand what happened. She does reflect a little and takes some of the blame, but it's clear throughout that she is defending herself and her decades long patterns of compliance and inaction. And there may be a nod or two the wider effects of both of these habits, in the German setting during the previous decade of wartime (the book was published in 1958). This narrative setup gives a sense of claustrophobia, Anna rarely mentioning anything outside her domestic sphere. 

It's interesting to read this and compare some of the author's themes to her later masterpiece The Wall. Anna being left alone emotionally even in the midst of a household is made more explicit in The Wall, with the main character a woman who is literally alone, the last person in the world as far as she knows. In any case, I did find this read had a lot to dig into and enjoyed reading more by this author. 

 

Dead Weight

Dead Weight / Hildur Knutsdottir
translated from the Icelandic by Mary Robinette Kowal
NY: Tor, 2026, c2025.
152 p.

This was a very unexpected read, a short novel that I found in my library system and grabbed because of WIT Month. It's an Icelandic story but an author who is new to me. 

Sometimes these random discoveries are just the thing! I was shocked and surprised by this one, all in the best ways. For something so short, it really packed a wallop, and the ending was on point. 

Unnur is a solitary woman, happy with her job and single life, but one day a cat appears in her apartment. She puts it out but it appears again. And as it turns out, it's a pregnant cat who gives birth to just one kitten in her bedroom. 

Unnur tries to do the right thing and find the owner, to return this cat who's decided that Unnur's home is a great place to settle into. She discovers that the owner is a young woman, Asta, who desperately wants her cat but thinks it would be safer with Unnur. Why? Asta's home life is unsettled, to say the least. 

Unnur doesn't have many friends, and Asta needs one - they start developing a kind of friendship, with Unnur feeling protective of both Asta and her cat. She starts to realize that Asta's boyfriend is a problem. And in her mind, problems need to be dealt with. 

I didn't predict this storyline, and was genuinely surprised by the plot as it progressed. I really liked the characters - the story is told from Unnur's perspective alone, we are inside her head for the whole book and so things surprise us as much as they do her. This has been called a "cathartic horror story" in publisher blurbs, and I think they got that spot on. The female rage driving the action, and Unnur's no-nonsense reactions feel believable and satisfying. I read this in one go - you can't stop, the story is plainly told but propulsive. It's definitely a one-sitting read. Recommended!