Those summer evenings were all alike. As Marie-José used to say, we had to make the time pass. Of its own accord, it didn’t, or wouldn’t: the days lingered like overripe fruit, soft and heavily scented, melting into the glaucous dusk. We gathered by the hotel pool, on the cliff top, after suppe…
New Japanese Writing
‘Men believed without a doubt that rape was just a variety of sex. That was the world in which Narumi and her classmates lived.’
Mieko Kawakami, translated by Louise Heal Kawai & Hitomi Yoshio.
People From My Neighbourhood
‘First prize went to the dog school principal, who of course had submitted a cartoon dog.’
Three stories by Hiromi Kawakami, translated by Ted Goossen.
Larger Than the Night
‘Even if the children don’t understand, they know. Everything they managed to forget during the day comes back.’
Masatsugu Ono, translated by David Boyd.
‘Sounds like rain If I go to the window,
it could easily turn into bullets or rabbits.
Which one is right?
Should I go with my eyes or my ears?’
Toshiko Hirata, translated by Eric Hyett and Spencer Thurlow.
‘Hey, Nagaoka, wanna start a new cult with me?’
Sayaka Murata, translated by Ginny Tapley Takemori.