Japanese books about nothing
I adore Japanese fiction. The Eastern way, where feelings are guarded deeply but explored over internal monologues. There's a resonance there that vibrates deep in my bones.
During my youth's wild, insatiable days, I devoured an incessant diet of animes and mangas, as if they were the antidote for a poisoned existence. And then, I stumbled upon the literary geniuses: Haruki Murakami, Hiromi Kawakami, and the enigmatic Banana Hashimoto.
Their slice-of-life tales, a bizarre dance of nothingness and existential revelations, bestow upon me a tranquility, a respite from the chaotic world that suffocates the spirit. It's a sanctuary, an escape, a place where I find a peace I can't uncover anywhere else.
Selected Works
- The Tatami Galaxy, Tomihiko Morimi
- The Nakano Thrift Shop, Hiromi Kawakami
- The Factory, Hiroko Oyamada
- The Easy Life in Kamusari, Shion Miura
- Convenience Store Woman, Sayaka Murata
- Fune wo Amu (The Great Passage), Shion Miura
- Supermarket: A Novel, Satoshi Azuchi
- Strange Weather in Tokyo, Hiromi Kawakami
- Wind / Pinball, Haruki Murakami