japan Archives - The Y Logs

Yzabel / September 27, 2019

Review: The Memory Police

The Memory Police by Yōko Ogawa
My rating: ★★★★☆

Blurb:

Hat, ribbon, bird, rose. To the people on the island, a disappeared thing no longer has any meaning. It can be burned in the garden, thrown in the river or handed over to the Memory Police. Soon enough, the island forgets it ever existed.

When a young novelist discovers that her editor is in danger of being taken away by the Memory Police, she desperately wants to save him. For some reason, he doesn’t forget, and it’s becoming increasingly difficult for him to hide his memories. Who knows what will vanish next?

Review:

[I received a copy through NetGalley, in exchange for an honest review.]

I hadn’t read anything by Ogawa in 10 years or so, and I admit I don’t really remember anymore all the details, but I do remember I tended to like this author. Hence my seizing the opportunity to get and read this one.

It is a strange story in a way, in that, all in all, the characters are not so memorable themselves (their names are never revealed), and yet still leave an impression due to what they are going through. As inhabitants of an island where certain things disappear from memory at random, they are constantly faced with not knowing what the next thing to go will be, with the Memory Police coming to enforce this by making sure people get rid of all traces of the now-forgotten things (including also getting rid of those who are able to remember), and where one question lingers at the back of many minds: will the people themselves be forgotten someday?

The novel follows a woman who writes novels for a living, and whose mother was one of the islanders who retained their memories. While the narrator is affected by the disappearances, and does her best to lie low and be an abiding citizen, she also does uphold a tiny streak of rebellion, up to the day she decides, with the help of an old friend of the family, to hide someone who remembers in a storage space between two floors. As the disappearances increase, and the Memory Police searches more and more homes and arrests more and more people, not only does she have to face the fear of being discovered, but also her fears of what will happen in the end.

This said, the story is less about the dystopian state of the island (the size of the island itself is never specified: it feels like a small island with just one town, and at the same time it must be bigger than that), or even about providing an explanation as to the collective, gradual amnesia taking hold, and more about memories, about how various things are important for us, about exploring what forgetting could mean In time, the inhabitants lose the names of what vanished, and even when presented with a surviving item that escaped the police, said item doesn’t elicit anything in them. And there lies another question: are memories precious in themselves, or only for as long as they feel precious to us? The narrator constantly struggles with this, as another character does their best to help her recover her memories of disappeared things and she’s never sure this can even happen.

Woven into the narrative is also the story the narrator (an author) is working on, that of a typist who’s lost her voice and communicates with her lover by writing on her typing machine. At first, I wondered how this was supposed to tie with the main story, and was a little afraid it was here for flavouring more than anything else—but it does tie with it at some point, and in a very relevant way.

Conclusion: 3.5 to 4 stars. In terms of narrative and of memorable characters, this is not the most striking book ever, but it has the sort of gripping, haunting quality that won’t let go.

Yzabel / September 1, 2019

Review: Before the Coffee Gets Cold

Before the Coffee Gets Cold by Toshikazu Kawaguchi
My rating: ★★☆☆☆

Blurb:

In a small back alley in Tokyo, there is a café which has been serving carefully brewed coffee for more than one hundred years. But this coffee shop offers its customers a unique experience: the chance to travel back in time.

In Before the Coffee Gets Cold, we meet four visitors, each of whom is hoping to make use of the café’s time-travelling offer, in order to: confront the man who left them, receive a letter from their husband whose memory has been taken by early onset Alzheimer’s, to see their sister one last time, and to meet the daughter they never got the chance to know.

But the journey into the past does not come without risks: customers must sit in a particular seat, they cannot leave the café, and finally, they must return to the present before the coffee gets cold…

Review:

[I received a copy through NetGalley, in exchange for an honest review.]

This was a pleasant read overall, but I admit I found the writing style hard to get into, and that downplayed my enjoyment of it.

Perhaps it was the translation, in parts, but not only. For instance, I had trouble with more than one paragraph dealing with one idea, and then suddenly switching to an action that had been started in the previous paragraph—I felt like saying “either finish this action first, or put it in the next paragraph.” I don’t know if it’s just me, if I have a strange sense of how things go together? It was just jarring to me. The time travel rule quickly became redundant, too.

In general, I also felt that this would fare better as a movie. The four vignettes’ endings were all in all easy to foresee, the characters are fairly cookie-cutter and sometimes have exaggerated gestures, and when some of them have downplayed reactions (such as Nagare not really expressing his feelings), we don’t get privy to their internal life much either, so the writing medium didn’t really bring much in that regard either.

This said, as mentioned above, I still liked the story. It had a certain atmosphere, a ‘locked room’ feeling since the action only happened in the café, but not in an oppressive way—more like an intimate, slice-of-life moment, that had its own charm.

Yzabel / August 19, 2018

Review: If Cats Disappeared from the World

If Cats Disappeared from the World by Genki Kawamura

My rating: [rating=3]

Blurb:

Our narrator’s days are numbered. Estranged from his family, living alone with only his cat Cabbage for company, he was unprepared for the doctor’s diagnosis that he has only months to live. But before he can set about tackling his bucket list, the Devil appears with a special offer: in exchange for making one thing in the world disappear, he can have one extra day of life. And so begins a very bizarre week . . . Because how do you decide what makes life worth living? How do you separate out what you can do without from what you hold dear? In dealing with the Devil our narrator will take himself – and his beloved cat – to the brink.

Review:

[I received a copy of this book through NetGalley, in exchange for an honest review.]

An enjoyable read with an important message about the value we give to life, what we do with our lives, and what we’d be ready to sacrifice to extend them. Confronted to the prospect of dying very soon, in the next few months if not the next few days, the narrator is offered a bargain by the Devil itself, and a tempting one at that: for each thing he erases from the world, he gets to live one more day. Which quickly raises a lot of questions and conundrums, because if it’s worth earning more life time, it has to be a sacrifice… but if we sacrifice too much, is it worth keeping on living?

The chapter with the talking cat was well done, too: first because of the cat’s voice, second because he was very… feline (those bipeds never understand anything to cats, do they?), and third due to his selective memory, something that was sad, but also a reminder that we don’t know how animals think, and what we take for granted may not be what is important to them.

I did find the story too predictable, though, in that the message was obvious from the beginning, and completely expected considering the type of stories it usually goes with. There’s no real twist, nothing I didn’t see coming, and no ‘revelation’ either, if this makes sense—other novels on a similar theme already did it, and this one doesn’t go far enough with the associated tropes to rise above them all. (I also think that the Devil imposing choices about what to make disappear removed the possibility of things going awry because of the narrator: ‘he made me do it, so it’s not my fault’. I prefer when my protagonists make their own mistakes, and then atone for / learn from them.)

3.5 stars.

Yzabel / February 13, 2017

Review: The Emperor In Shadow

Yamada Monogatari: The Emperor in Shadow by Richard Parks

My rating: [rating=3]

Blurb:

Lord Yamada is called away―one last time―from his newly restored estates in Kamakura to help Prince Kanemore ensure that Princess Teiko’s son, Takahito, inherits the Chrysanthemum Throne. Unfortunately, assuming the throne proves to be the easy part. Yamada must then help Takahito renounce that throne in such a way as to hobble the power of the Fujiwara clan forever!

Rating:

[I received a copy of this novel through NetGalley.]

First, please note this is not a standalone novel, contrary to what I thought when I requested it, but part of a series (and very likely the last volume). However, I didn’t find it difficult to follow the story and understand the characters: when the narrator alludes to events of the past or people he had previously met, he always adds a couple of sentences, nothing too long, just enough for a reader to understand the context. So this was good with me.

The setting here is that of feudal Japan (the Emperor and his court, bushi, military governors, geisha and courtesans) with a dash of supernatural: ghosts and youkai are common knowledge, and onmyôji and priestesses have actual power. In this world, Yamada and his faithful friend Kenji are confronted to attempted murder and political intrigue, from the Ise temple to the capital and the Emperor’s court; I found the mystery decent enough, not too complicated (my guesses about a few things turned out to be right) yet not too easy either for the characters to understand, without convenient deus ex machina bringing the answers (Yamada deducted those).

It took me a couple of weeks to read, but it definitely wasn’t boring (that was much more a matter of having lots of things to do and needing to prioritise other books in the meantime). The events made sense, the characters were likeable, and even though it’s not my favourite novel ever, it was entertaining and believable.

On the downside, there were instances of Yamada ‘hiding’ things from the reader, which I don’t particularly appreciate in mystery novels, and the female characters, while attaching, didn’t have much to do apart from conveniently be here when a specific piece of information was needed, or wait in their palace for the men to do all the work. Granted, the setting itself doesn’t lend itself to a lot of female freedom (aristocratic constraints, expectations placed on princesses, and so on), but it didn’t help.

Conclusion: Still enjoyable in spite of these flaws.

Yzabel / November 23, 2016

Review: Tôru – Wayfarer Returns

Toru: Wayfarer Returns by Stephanie R. Sorensen

My rating: [rating=2]

Blurb:

Revolutionary young samurai with dirigibles take on Commodore Perry and his Black Ships in this alternate history steampunk technofantasy set in 1850s samurai-era Japan.

In Japan of 1852, the peace imposed by the Tokugawa Shoguns has lasted 250 years. Peace has turned to stagnation, however, as the commoners grow impoverished and their lords restless. Swords rust. Martial values decay. Foreign barbarians circle the island nation’s closed borders like vultures, growing ever more demanding.

Tōru, a shipwrecked young fisherman rescued by American traders and taken to America, defies the Shogun’s ban on returning to Japan, determined to save his homeland from foreign invasion. Can he rouse his countrymen in time? Or will the cruel Shogun carry out his vow to execute all who set foot in Japan after traveling abroad? Armed only with his will, a few books, dirigible plans and dangerous ideas, Tōru must transform the Emperor’s realm before the Black Ships come.

Tōru: Wayfarer Returns is the first book in the Sakura Steam Series, an alternate history of the tumultuous period from the opening of Japan in 1853 to the Meiji Restoration in 1868. This volume covers the year prior to the American Commodore Perry’s arrival in Japan and follows the hero and his young allies as they lead Japan through a massively compressed industrial revolution, dramatically altering that pivotal moment in history.

While Tōru and his dirigibles are fictional, the story unfolds against the backdrop of the “real” Japan of that period, with historical figures and their political environment woven into the tale, staying true to their motivations and agendas even as the alternate history warps their actions, history and a few laws of physics. Underpinning the adventure plot is a young man’s yearning for his father’s approval and an honorable place in his world.

Review:

[I received a copy of this book through NetGalley.]

More an alternate history novel than a truly steampunk one, “Tôru: Wayfarer Returns” deals with late feudal Japan faced with the potential intruding of American civilisation—more specifically, the last years of the Tokugawa bakumatsu, and the arrival of Commander Perry and his “black ships”. The idea: what if, instead of feeling inferior to this technology, Japan at the time had had an industrial revolution of its own, and had been able to withstand such demonstration of power?

Enters Tôru, a young fisherman who, after being shipwrecked, was saved by Americans, and spent two years in their country before coming back to Japan with books, blueprints, and lots, lots of ideas about how to revolutionise his country for the day Westerners come to impose their trade and culture on it. Things aren’t meant to be easy for him, first and foremost because bringing western books and machinery to these lands, and sneaking in at night, are deemed traitorous acts, punishable by death. When Lord Aya catches wind of this, his first reaction is to get the traitor executed. Except that ideas are contagious, and Tôru’s more than others.

This first volume in the “Sakura Steam” series shows how a handful of daimyôs and commoners manage to find common ground to dig the foundations of Japan’s industrialisation: first in secrecy, then by ensuring the support of some of the most powerful coastal lords, to make sure that when the Shôgun hears about this (and he will), they’ll have grounds to argue their case, machines to show off, and engineers to explain how said machines will allow their country to stand strong and proud. These rebels definitely go against the stream in many ways, by also allowing commoners and women to take part in engineering trains and dirigibles. And even though some characters are (understandably, considering their upbringing) against this, they do try and see how this could change the world, and acknowledge that such “unexpected people” will do good and have a place in this new order. Not to mention that Jiro the blacksmith, or Masuyo the noble lady, are pleasant characters to see evolve, and I liked when they had parts to play; even some of the more unpleasant characters, like Lady Tômatsu, had their redeeming features.

However, while this is all very exciting, I could never really shake my suspension of disbelief, because everything happened both much too fast and sometimes too slowly as well:
– The “rebels” should logically have been discovered sooner.
– And, more importantly, building railroad tracks, engines, a fleet of dirigibles, a telegraph network, etc, in secrecy, with the (limited) means of a handful of daimyôs, in less than one year, seemed too far-fetched to be believable. Granted, they had blueprints and all; on the other hand, all those engineers had to learn from scratch, only from those blueprints not even in Japanese, translated and explained only by Tôru who isn’t even an engineer, and… Well. Really, really hard to believe. Had it been done in a few years rather than a few months, I probably would have been, paradoxically, more excited about it.
– At times the narrative devolves into explanations about the political views during the Bakumatsu, the fixed place of samurai vs. commoners—which is interesting, but was dumped in between scenes. It would have been more welcome if better intertwined with the dialogue and action, which in turn would also have left more room to the characters to fully interact, giving us a better feel for them.
– It would’ve been more interesting IMHO to see a different “industrialisation”, and not a mere “westernisation” of Japan. Something that would’ve mixed traditional/feudal ways with modern weaponry, instead of having basically one or the other.
– Minor pet peeve: Tôru’s secret, which he takes great pains to hide, but is much too obvious to the reader, almost from the beginning.

Conclusion: I wish it had been more “believable” in terms of alternate history, and had provided a different path than the expected one.

Enregistrer

Yzabel / December 4, 2015

Review: The Night Parade

The Night Parade by Kathryn Tanquary

My rating: [rating=3]

Blurb:

The last thing Saki Yamamoto wants to do for her summer vacation is trade in exciting Tokyo for the antiquated rituals and bad cell reception of her grandmother’s village. Preparing for the Obon ceremony is boring. Then the local kids take an interest in Saki and she sees an opportunity for some fun, even if it means disrespecting her family’s ancestral shrine on a malicious dare.

But as Saki rings the sacred bell, the darkness shifts. A death curse has been invoked… and Saki has three nights to undo it. With the help of three spirit guides and some unexpected friends, Saki must prove her worth – or say good-bye to the world of the living forever.

Review:

(I received an ARC copy through NetGalley, in exchange for an honest review.)

Although I didn’t find this novel exceptional as far as I am concerned as an adult (simple writing style and predictable character development), I think it would nonetheless make a good read for its intended middle-grade audience.

The story is easy enough to follow. A middle school girl (Saki) forced to spend a few days for a traditional ritual at her grandmother’s, far from her city friends, cell phone and usual activities. Her family’s fairly typical, with her parents and an annoying brother, and Saki immediately comes off as annoying, too, since it’s obvious she’s self-centered and somewhat whiny, and that she associates with people who’re only friends on the surface (out of cowardice more than real nastiness, though: she wants to be popular, and doesn’t dare risk alienating the Queen Bees, so to speak). Not a very likeable character, which however leaves room for growth once she realises that in the country just like in Tōkyō, she needs to cut the crap and stop being such a big baby.

This characterisation is somewhat problematic, in that, as said, Saki’s not very likeable, and possibly difficult for a reader to identify with, because she represents aspects we usually don’t want to acknowledge in ourselves, especially when we’re teenagers: she’s kind of a bully by association, but also weak and ready to do silly things just to avoid being rejected. Her development, in turn, becomes predictable: either she stays like that or she becomes a better person, by learning to pick her friends and stand in the face of the real bullies. (I wasn’t sold on the stereotypical bullies; she’s “friends” with one in the city, then meets another one in her grandmother’s village, and both situations being so similar somewhat made them a bit unbelievable and cliché.)

On the other hand, such an evolution is a positive one, and seeing a character progress and find her own path is always nice. The novel shows how Saki gets to grow up and respect many things she didn’t pay attention to before, including family bonds, through her adventures following the Night Parade. Another good thing is how she’s represented as a young girl/teenager first and foremost, and not as a “look, I’m Japanese” character.

I found the book to be quite reminiscent of a Miyazaki movie (more specifically Sen to Chihiro no Kamikakushi: the outhouse with the Filth Spirit, the girl having to solve problems in the spirit world in order to atone for a mistake committed in the human world…), but the blend in folklore creatures and myths was less harmonious, and too often felt simply described, rather than vivid (and there’s room for vivid here: some scenes were downright scary, and could have had even more of an impact with just the right amount of storytelling). I suspect it will work much better for younger readers, and not for someone who knows more already. Also, some creatures were called by their Japanese names (tengu, kappa…), while others were in English, like the fox and the ogres; I’m not sure about the reasons behind this choice. That said, the spirits Saki meets on her journey through the sanctuary are interesting, and amusing for some (oddly enough, the tengu more than than tanuki, probably because he was so serious and driven that he ended up sounding funny–gallows humour and all that).

The messages carried through this novel were to be expected: how the modern world intrudes on the ancestral, spiritual one; how younger people are glued to technology (cell phones…) and don’t pay attention to traditions anymore; how it’s so easy to let “bad” people influence us just because we don’t feel brave enough to confront them (too bad we don’t get to see how/if Saki confronted Hana in the end!). It was a bit heavy-handed at times, but that was something I could forgive, because all in all, Saki’s progress remained enjoyable to read about: both as a journey to repair what she had rent in the spirit world, and as a journey in learning to solve problems and expand her view of the world and people in general.

Final rating: 3 to 3.5 stars.

Yzabel / August 11, 2015

Review: The Suffering

The Suffering by Rin Chupeco

My rating: [rating=3]

Blurb:

The darkness will find you.

Seventeen-year-old Tark knows what it is to be powerless. But Okiku changed that. A restless spirit who ended life as a victim and started death as an avenger, she’s groomed Tark to destroy the wicked. But when darkness pulls them deep into Aokigahara, known as Japan’s suicide forest, Okiku’s justice becomes blurred, and Tark is the one who will pay the price…

Review:

[I received an ARC of this book through NetGalley, in exchange for an honest review.]

Like the first novel in this series, I find this one hard to rate, as I liked quite a few things in it, while sighing at others. Probably my main issue with it was that it introduced plot lines, but didn’t really follow them. All the while, the main story *was* a grabbing read nonetheless.

This time, the whole narrative is in Tark’s voice, which probably was for the best: I liked the weird prose in the first book, but I’m still not too convinced by 1st-to-3rd person shifts in general, so I tend to prefer when a story sticks to one or the other. Bonus point here. (I’ve written this in more than one review: having one narrator in 1st person and the others in 3rd seems to be The Trend these past years… and I still don’t get why.)

Tark was also much less annoying here. Two years have gone by, he’s matured, he’s been taking things into his own hands, and while aware of his inherent darkness (since he helps Okiku hunting down paedophile killers and rapists), he also accepts it as part of how their relationship has evolved. Of course, everything isn’t perfect, they have their disagreements, and Tark’s starting to wonder where the line is to be drawn—is punishing killers enough, or does one have to start killing them before they actually start killing, as a preventive move?

The thing is, I would’ve liked to see this explored more in the story, as it was a great moral theme. It wasn’t, or not more than just for a couple of scenes. Too bad.

Instead, “The Suffering” goes in another direction. Not necessarily a bad one, just… different. It had its share of darkness and scary scenes as well, playing more on abilities Tark developed over the past two years, exorcising ghosts through dolls. Creepy dolls in America. Wedding dolls in Japan, as he and one of the miko from “The Girl From The Well” find themselves trapped in a nightmarish village where a ritual is waiting to be completed. It doesn’t help that Tark gets swallowed by this place while there are dozens of people around him, and nobody even notices. That kind of scene tends to both creep me and grab my attention (must be my old addiction for anything Silent Hill-like). And the village didn’t lack on the horror side, full of rotting houses, skeletons, old Japanese magic, tragic love stories gone wrong, and murdered girls intent on making trespassers suffer the way they did.

In that regard, this theme was an interesting echo and reflection on what Okiku herself used to be, after her death and her coming back as a vengeful spirit. In this second book, she was calmer, more composed, more attuned to Tark and to what had once made her human. On the one hand, it was good. On the other, she somewhat felt like a side character, in spite of Tark’s longing for her presence even after they had fought (also, this time the dynamics was changed, and he had to be strong as well, because the spirits they faced were of an element against which water—Okiku’s—was weakest). However, again, what could’ve been a thematic mirror wasn’t explored enough to my taste.

And that’s why I can’t bring myself to give 4 full stars her: while reading, I kept balancing between “this is great” and “I wish this had been developed more”. Add to this secondary characters that were nice to look at, but nothing more, especially Callie, who came along to Japan yet wasn’t really involved in anything except for the search & rescue party in the forest. Kendele was an addition I can’t really decide about: a good person, genuinely interested in Tark, yet also a plot device for him to realise what Okiku truly meant to him.

Overall, as a ghost story full of old rituals and beliefs, evil ghosts that all had their reasons to be like that, strange forest with a somber reputation, and traipsing along caves in search of the foul source of all that evil, “The Suffering” was a good read. Nevertheless, I think it missed the mark on a few but important elements.

3 to 3.5 stars.

Yzabel / November 17, 2014

Review: Stormdancer

Stormdancer by Jay Kristoff

My rating: [rating=2]

Summary

One girl and a griffin against an empire.

Griffins are supposed to be extinct. So when Yukiko and her warrior father Masaru are sent to capture one for the Shõgun, they fear that their lives are over – everyone knows what happens to those who fail the Lord of the Shima Isles. But the mission proves less impossible and more deadly than anyone expects. Soon Yukiko finds herself stranded: a young woman alone in her country’s last wilderness, with only a furious, crippled griffin for company. Although she can hear his thoughts, and saved his life, all she knows for certain is he’d rather see her dead than help her. Yet trapped together in the forest, Yukiko and the beast soon discover a bond that neither of them expected.

Meanwhile, the country around them verges on collapse. A toxic fuel is choking the land, the machine-powered Lotus Guild is publicly burning those they deem Impure, and the Shõgun cares for nothing but his own dominion. Authority has always made Yukiko, but her world changes when she meets Kin, a young man with secrets, and the rebel Kagé cabal. She learns the horrifying extent of the Shõgun’s crimes, both against her country and her family.

Returning to the city, Yukiko is determined to make the Shõgun pay – but what can one girl and a flightless griffin do against the might of an empire?

Review:

More like 2.5 stars. Very, very mixed feelings here. I sort of enjoyed it, but…

I liked the second part better, in part because I’m not too fond of treks in the wilderness/mountains, and also because of the more complex political layers I could sense in it. Also, Yukiko had to grow up, from the sulking girl of the beginning to one who finally understood that things weren’t always what they seemed—and grow up she did.

More problematic was the balance when it came to the Japanese influence: I constantly felt it was either too much or too little. The first 100 pages or so contaid a lot of exposition/descriptions, clearly intended for people who don’t know that culture; however, as soon as you know just a little, it’s already too much. It’s worth for the language as well. My knowledge of Japanese is very limited (2 hours/week for, what, two semesters?), but it was enough for me to notice all the glaring mistakes and weird approach. For instance, “shima” means “island” (among other things—you can’t tell without the kanji), so “the Isles of Shima” is, uh, “the Isles of Island”, which is definitely weird. Another example: when characters, who’re supposed to speak “Japanese” (and we’re made to feel like they do, it’s too close in influence to pull the “it’s only inspired by it” card), end up translating expressions. There’s no way Buruu, linked to Yukiko’s mind, would need her to translate an expression like “arashi no ko”. So, for me, it was really troubling, and I’m positive such words could have been translated for the readers without having to resort to such devices.

My other problem with the novel came from some of the secondary characters, who weren’t given enough spotlight, or were given too much for plot-device reasons. First, Aisha, who looked so promising, looked like she could’ve done and been so much more, and then… nothing. Second, Hiro, whose part was important, but whose influence in the firs two thirds of the novel sprung just out of nowhere. I would wonder: “Why is Yukiko thinking of that guy with green eyes? She only talked to him for five seconds at the beginning of the book.” It was like insta-love fuelled by nothing.

On the other hand, there’s ground for a lot of interesting things in terms of world-building, and in how the blood lotus flower and the environmental problems play a part in Shima’s setting. I may pick the second book at some point after all, to see what becomes of this world.

Yzabel / July 20, 2014

Review: The Girl From The Well

The Girl from the Well by Rin Chupeco

My rating: [rating=3]

Summary:

You may think me biased, being murdered myself. But my state of being has nothing to do with the curiosity toward my own species, if we can be called such. We do not go gentle, as your poet encourages, into that good night.

A dead girl walks the streets.

She hunts murderers. Child killers, much like the man who threw her body down a well three hundred years ago.

And when a strange boy bearing stranger tattoos moves into the neighborhood so, she discovers, does something else. And soon both will be drawn into the world of eerie doll rituals and dark Shinto exorcisms that will take them from American suburbia to the remote valleys and shrines of Aomori, Japan.

Because the boy has a terrifying secret – one that would just kill to get out.

The Girl from the Well is A YA Horror novel pitched as “Dexter” meets “The Grudge”, based on a well-loved Japanese ghost story.

Review:

(I got an ARC of this book through Edelweiss, in exchange for an honest review.)

Not so much “terribly scary” for me in the end, in that I don’t scare easily, yet fascinating nonetheless for its depiction of ghosts, the appearance they have after death, and the imagery it conjured. I could fairly easily picture Okiku, the murderers she targeted and got revenge on in place of the dead children, said children literally latched onto those men’s necks and linked to their limbs by spirituals cords… And the woman in black… well, all right, that one I’d definitely attempt to draw someday, although I’m not sure I could do her justice. I think the way the story was told, too, contributed to this: somewhat cold and detached, and special, because it’s a strange mix of omniscient and first person point of view (the story’s told by Okiku herself, who’s able to observe other characters and their reactions, and sense their thoughts and feelings). In any other story, it probably wouldn’t have worked for me; here, it did, because it seemed to fit with the ghost’s paradigm. I don’t know if other readers in general would like it, but as far as I’m concerned, it partook the fascination I had for this novel, through descriptions that were just the right length and just suggestive enough (all the more for the intended YA audience), without falling into the realm of “too much”.

The Girl From The Well is loosely based on a well-known Japanese legend, that of a servant girl who worked for a lord, and was tasked with keeping ten precious plates; she was tricked into believing she had lost one of them, and was put to death for her “carelessness”. As a result, she became a vengeful spirit who drove her former lord to death—and the number 9 sends her spirit into a frenzy. This was nicely reflected in the book, in that Okiku tends to count whatever she sees (people, items…), and the accursed number indeed makes her react violently. Forever detached from both human world and and elusive afterlife, she can only watch, in between enacting revenge throughout the world on people who’ve killed children, but were never punished for their bad deeds. The Smiling Man, especially, was of quite a scary persuasion—I find smiles way more frightening than other expressions whenever such characters are concerned.

However, this isn’t exactly Okiku’s story. Hers was already written, already told, and this is more a “what would happen some three hundred years later, how would such a vengeful spirit evolve with time.” Partly to her own surprise, she finds herself drawn to Tarquin, a boy with strange tattoos, and whose fate is doomed to be a dark one if what plagues him isn’t destroyed in time. (Note: there’s no romance involved—a very welcome element in my opinion. It would just’ve been weird and misplaced in such a story.) Odd things happen around Tark, his own mother has been locked in an institution and has tried to kill him several times, and he just doesn’t understand much to what’s happening. But other people slowly start to notice the presence that haunts him, those people being mostly Okiku and his cousin Callie, and it’s up to them to try and understand what his problem his, and how to solve it, which involves going back to his roots.

On the downside, I wasn’t too convinced by the characters in general, in that they seemed more driven by the plot than people with their own lives. Okiku’s involvement was also somewhat problematic, since she was mostly a watcher and didn’t act as much as I expected her to. I think I would’ve liked her nature as a vengeful spirit to show through more than it did; for instance, one of the vengeance scenes made me feel like it had been put there as some kind of reminder, and not really as part of the plot. There was also one huge blunder that could’ve been easily avoided if only one of the characters had spoken out loud about a specific event, yet didn’t for… no reason? I don’t mind characters making honest mistakes, but not when the latter are the product of unexplained reasoning.

Overall, I had a hard time putting this book down, and remained fascinated, though with hindsight, those aspects I mentioned prevented me from rating it higher. (3.5 stars)

Yzabel / June 24, 2013

Review: Kojiki

Kojiki by Keith Yatsuhashi

My rating: [rating=4]

Summary:

When eighteen-year-old Keiko Yamada’s father dies unexpectedly, he leaves behind a one way ticket to Japan, an unintelligible death poem about powerful Japanese spirits and their gigantic, beast-like Guardians, and the cryptic words: “Go to Japan in my place. Find the Gate. My camera will show you the way.”

Alone and afraid, Keiko travels to Tokyo, determined to fulfill her father’s dying wish. There, beneath glittering neon signs, her father’s death poem comes to life. Ancient spirits spring from the shadows. Chaos envelops the city, and as Keiko flees its burning streets, her guide, the beautiful Yui Akiko, makes a stunning confession–that she, Yui, is one of a handful of spirits left behind to defend the world against the most powerful among them: a once noble spirit now insane. Keiko must decide if she will honor her father’s heritage and take her rightful place among the gods.

Review:

(Book provided by the author through ARR #1181 in the Making Connections group, in exchange for an honest review.)

“Kojiki” is, in my opinion, quite a visual story, and would be just as suited if turned into a movie. The author wrote vidi descriptions that allowed me to picture whatever was going on clearly enough—and there was a lot going on. You may not like the story as much as I did if you’re not into action-packed plots; if you are, though, then go ahead.

The story may be more geared toward a younger audience, or at least one who is familiar with anime and some of their most popular themes, such as battles between spirits to save the world. However, there’s no dumbing-down here, as it also deals with deeper themes (treason, lost love, trust issues, being torn between saving or killing a friend…). I appreciate when books go that road, and don’t remain stuck to surface feelings and plots, the way things too often are in such works.

There are a couple of things here I’m not too sure about. For instance, Keiko is quickly thrown into the action—she doesn’t spend a third of the book looking for the gate, or getting into the swing of things; part of me was glad about that, while another part thought it may have been a little too abrupt. There are also several characters and points of view to follow; this isn’t a problem for me, but, again, I found those just a tad bit heavy to get into at first (which means that readers who are less familiar than I am with POV switches might have a harder time here). Another thing that may detract readers is the use of Japanese language. Someone like me, who speaks just enough of it to understand the (quite basic) vocabulary and sentence structures used here, won’t feel lost; on the other hand, I can imagine that someone who doesn’t speak the language may not always guess what those words are about (sometimes the context or dialogue provides an explanation… and sometimes not).

On the other hand, I think the whole mythology unfolding in the book should be easy to understand: spirits linked to elements (water, air, nature, earth…), fighting with their guardians (lesser spirits tied to the same elements) to prevent the world from being destroyed. Pretty basic at first sight, except that what could have been your good old black and white morality undergoes a few twists here. While the battle is fought above Japan, the spirits involved aren’t only Japanese, and hint at different cultures—in other words, they’re not anchored in one time and one place, and truly represent something bigger and older than that. At the same time, much like in legends, those spirits have to contend with their personalities and feelings, and aren’t mere concepts: in that regard, they feel like real people, and have depths as characters (which isn’t so easy to achieve when you’re dealing with what are basically Gods). Perhaps the only character I didn’t really get was Lon-Shan; maybe he would have deserved more screen time?

My conclusion: get this book if you’re at ease with 3rd person narration with several points of view, enjoy vivid descriptions of scenes and battles, want to get a clear visual of what’s happpening, and enjoy diving into plots that involve powerful beings who nevertheless have to deal with human-like problems. If you’re into anime on top of it, you’ll likely enjoy it even more.