Japan — Literary Fiction — Dinaburg Writes

Walk On is a book in four acts, each with a bifurcated narration: the female protagonist and the male “pebble by the wayside” who is chasing her around, attempting to ask her out on a date. She’s sort of Goku-level blithely delightful, initiating her bipedal robot dance in moments of joy, collecting various trinkets on her adventures, stepping into main character roles constantly while uttering increasingly uwu portmanteaus like “funteresting”.

It was a bit of a challenge to get past the first act where she is openly groped by an old man–this type of thing is not my type of thing, and Walk On talks about physical objects of a prurient nature more than anything I’ve ever read–but outside the uncomfortably sanguine sexual assault, the book is pretty silly.

David DinaburgJanuary 7, 2025Japan, Romance, coincidence, magical realism

More Days at the Morisaki Bookshop

Anyway, there is simply no way you’re reading More Days without having read the first Morisaki–though I bet you could, and it might even be fun, but I find it so incredibly unlikely that anyone reading Morisaki 2 didn’t like the first one. Why would you even pick it up? Gosh, I would really hate trying to market sequels—you know exactly what you’re getting from reading the previous book, unless it’s wildly divergent, and then fans of the original would probably be displeased. But this book was a nice way to close out my summer of fiction–what, you don’t make yourself personal, overarching reading themes?—and it it felt like autumn, felt like a transitional text:

“I don’t have that many books yet. I don’t worry much about holding on to them, so I tend to gather them up and sell them.”
“I see.” Tomo fell quiet. “I’d better start selling more, or I’ll be in trouble. But once I like a book, I just can’t let go of it.”

David DinaburgSeptember 29, 2024fiction, Japan, Bookstore

What you are looking for is in the library

What you are looking for is in the library falls directly into the path of “cozy” by way of social-structural integration. It is a delightful collection of interdependent stories, each one focusing on a character that “betters” themself through a quirky recommendation from an insightful buddha-esque librarian:

"Is being a sales assistant in a department store really not such a great job?”
I don’t know what to say. Ms. Komachi waits patiently for my reply.
“Well, I mean…Anybody can do it. It’s not like its was my dream job or anything I desperately wanted to do. I just kind of fell into it. But I live on my own, so I have to work to support myself.”

Each chapter, I found myself rooting for the character to find happiness. Each time, they did. The book is joyful, within the metes and bounds of proscriptive, achievable success. It is formalistic in a non-derogatory sense of that word: in the library overflows with comfortable and expected rhythms.

David DinaburgJanuary 3, 2024cozy, library, Fiction, Japan

Days at the Morisaki Bookshop

A wish fulfilled for fiction lovers–unlimited time with unlimited books. Outside of that singular moment with the spooky TV, I was never again outside of the pages; the book completely, and seemingly effortlessly, brought me into someone else’s life. Even though nothing particularly profound seemed to happen, the experience was pleasant enough.

David DinaburgNovember 9, 2023Fiction, Japan, Bookstore

Strange Weather in Tokyo

Right, so, cue this this book called Strange Weather in Tokyo. There’s a woman who is just sort of faffing about, working a job and existing in the normal—but not literary—sense. If she was just a person you knew, she’d be fine: a job, a home, stuff to eat, hobbies, etc etc. But if you’re reading about her, well, it seems a little flat. Something’s gotta happen, right?

David DinaburgFebruary 11, 2022Literary Fiction, Translated, Japan, Love, It Girl

The Memory Police

When something is slippery, when you can’t quite hold it in your mind exactly the way you believe you ought to be able, that is how something burrows in. Weirdness holds you askance; interpolated meanings wrap your mind like so much fallen foliage covering the dead earth. To understand something completely—or believe that you can—leaves nothing to puzzle over.

David DinaburgMay 20, 2020Fiction, Japan