The first, and so far only, Japanese novel I’ve ever read. Somehow I don’t
feel the need to read much from the Far East (yet another display of my
limitations as a Euro/American-centred reader). That said, when I was six I did
buy a book of Banana Yoshimoto for my mom for Christmas, but that was just
because I liked her name (show me a six-year old who wouldn’t)…
I have read countless novels about homosexual identity, and loved a good
bunch of them, but I probably struggled to find interesting a story about a
society that is so far away from my own (despite the fact that Japan in the
inter-war period obviously had some striking similarities with Fascist Italy).
Yes, I agree with Kochan that everyone wears a mask, at least in certain
situations, but isn’t that, nowadays, something really rather trite and
banal?!?
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