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Tuvalu
This brilliant novel explores an unbalanced love story between Noah Tuttle, a disillusioned Australian living in Japan, and the exquisite and crafty Mami Kaketa, who becomes the center of Tuttle's universe. Tuttle lives in a cheap, rundown hostel in the seamier margins of Tokyo. He teaches mediocre English to disinterested students, sleeps with his girlfriend, Tilly, when she's around, drinks beer when he can afford it, and generally avoids other people and their expectations. When Tuttle meets the wealthy, captivating, and completely self-absorbed Kaketa, however, his mundane life changes forever. Their jagged romance provides an alluring story of impossibility as Tuttle drifts between two women, two cultures, and two countries.
360 pages, Paperback
First published August 1, 2006
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Displaying 1 - 9 of 9 reviews
August 16, 2009
I normally wouldn't have picked out this book, but some things just happen. It all started when the other day while driving in the city, I overheard someone on the radio reading from a novel (they do this on national radio here). It was just a brief passage somewhere in
the middle of the story, and there was nothing significant going on, but there was something seductive about it -- I guess it was the implied consciousness of the first-person account. A few days later, I looked up the radio schedule on the Internet and found the name of the book: *"Tuvalu"*, by Andrew O'Connor. Then a week or so after that I happened to be in the university book store here, and thought I'd check their fiction shelves. They had a copy of it. Once I started reading it – it's a story about an alienated young Westerner living in Japan – I immediately found myself lured into the same narrative rhythm that had hooked me earlier while listening to the radio.
It didn't let me down, either. This is destined to become a
classic eventually – an absolute must read.
the middle of the story, and there was nothing significant going on, but there was something seductive about it -- I guess it was the implied consciousness of the first-person account. A few days later, I looked up the radio schedule on the Internet and found the name of the book: *"Tuvalu"*, by Andrew O'Connor. Then a week or so after that I happened to be in the university book store here, and thought I'd check their fiction shelves. They had a copy of it. Once I started reading it – it's a story about an alienated young Westerner living in Japan – I immediately found myself lured into the same narrative rhythm that had hooked me earlier while listening to the radio.
It didn't let me down, either. This is destined to become a
classic eventually – an absolute must read.
July 10, 2026
In your mid-twenties you win a 20-thousand-dollar prize for your first novel and get it published by Allen and Unwin. What's left to do after that? Tuvalu, published 20 years ago, and is this author's only novel.
Living in a grimy Tokyo hostel, our Australian protagonist Noah is only 20. The writing tends to the over-descriptive: changes in the weather and rooms get wordy treatments. The plot has some elements which feel forced. However, the inner turmoil of a lost young man is expertly handled. I hope never-heard-of-again author Andrew O'Conner is doing well.
"At home people’s lives had been tucked away inside two-storey forts, but here they hung out over me, carried by coughs or small children crying, by silhouettes passing behind closed curtains—even by blaring TV sets. There were literally thousands of people surrounding me and I wanted to linger, to peer into one lit room after another."
Living in a grimy Tokyo hostel, our Australian protagonist Noah is only 20. The writing tends to the over-descriptive: changes in the weather and rooms get wordy treatments. The plot has some elements which feel forced. However, the inner turmoil of a lost young man is expertly handled. I hope never-heard-of-again author Andrew O'Conner is doing well.
"At home people’s lives had been tucked away inside two-storey forts, but here they hung out over me, carried by coughs or small children crying, by silhouettes passing behind closed curtains—even by blaring TV sets. There were literally thousands of people surrounding me and I wanted to linger, to peer into one lit room after another."
June 12, 2019
Tuvalu may seem to be a misleading title for Andrew O'Connor's 2005 Australian Vogel's Award winning debut novel, given that all of the action takes place in Japan and Australia.
Tuvalu, the South Pacific island nation, is not even mentioned until around 70% of the way into the novel. And whether any of the characters in the novel ever go there remains an open question.
The story is narrated by Noah Tuttle, a young Australian man working in Japan teaching English and struggling to find his way in life. He makes little effort to integrate into Japanese society and achieves only a rudimentary grasp of the local language.
In the cheap apartment where he lives, he meets an Australian girl, Tilly, and the two form a sexual relationship and cohabit.
When Tilly returns to Australia to help her father bring in the crop on his lavender farm in Victoria, Noah meets Mami Kaketa, who is the real 'star' of this yarn.
Mami is a spoiled young Japanese woman, with a wealthy father, who has little regard for the rules and standards of society. She makes a habit of stealing and scamming despite her wealth, and treats relationships in a casual and careless fashion.
Noah is called home by his father , an ex-priest, because his mother has left home and gone to live with an eccentric female Japanese artist, who welds can openers into objects.
Noah visits Tilly on the farm, meets her father, and returns to Japan unsure whether Tilly will follow.
Noah drifts along in Japan, and is led on a dangerous path by his male friends, and when Tilly does return, their relationship fades, until Tilly eventually disappears irrevocably from his life.
Another trip home to Australia enables Noah to find out what became of Tilly, and he toys with the idea of University study, before deciding to return to Japan to seek of Mami.
O'Connor has written his novel in an easy to read, witty and frequently amusing style, and yet there is an underlying sadness and pathos in this tale. None of the relationships are ultimately enduring or fulfilling, and there is an air of cynicism about how people mostly just use each other for temporary need. The young people are all adrift, uncertain what they are even seeking, and all are inclined to hide things they are not willing to share openly, marking a distrust that has infected their egos.
This is a really fine debut effort, one that I enjoyed very much from beginning to end. I can only hope that Noah and Mami find their Tuvalu some day.
Tuvalu, the South Pacific island nation, is not even mentioned until around 70% of the way into the novel. And whether any of the characters in the novel ever go there remains an open question.
The story is narrated by Noah Tuttle, a young Australian man working in Japan teaching English and struggling to find his way in life. He makes little effort to integrate into Japanese society and achieves only a rudimentary grasp of the local language.
In the cheap apartment where he lives, he meets an Australian girl, Tilly, and the two form a sexual relationship and cohabit.
When Tilly returns to Australia to help her father bring in the crop on his lavender farm in Victoria, Noah meets Mami Kaketa, who is the real 'star' of this yarn.
Mami is a spoiled young Japanese woman, with a wealthy father, who has little regard for the rules and standards of society. She makes a habit of stealing and scamming despite her wealth, and treats relationships in a casual and careless fashion.
Noah is called home by his father , an ex-priest, because his mother has left home and gone to live with an eccentric female Japanese artist, who welds can openers into objects.
Noah visits Tilly on the farm, meets her father, and returns to Japan unsure whether Tilly will follow.
Noah drifts along in Japan, and is led on a dangerous path by his male friends, and when Tilly does return, their relationship fades, until Tilly eventually disappears irrevocably from his life.
Another trip home to Australia enables Noah to find out what became of Tilly, and he toys with the idea of University study, before deciding to return to Japan to seek of Mami.
O'Connor has written his novel in an easy to read, witty and frequently amusing style, and yet there is an underlying sadness and pathos in this tale. None of the relationships are ultimately enduring or fulfilling, and there is an air of cynicism about how people mostly just use each other for temporary need. The young people are all adrift, uncertain what they are even seeking, and all are inclined to hide things they are not willing to share openly, marking a distrust that has infected their egos.
This is a really fine debut effort, one that I enjoyed very much from beginning to end. I can only hope that Noah and Mami find their Tuvalu some day.
July 10, 2024
I hated his book for eighteen years without ever having read it. The year it won the Vogel, I entered the competition with a manuscript that the judges wouldn’t have lined a litter tray with for fear it might offend their pet’s faeces. I was jealous of Andrew’s achievement and couldn’t bring myself to read his book.
The scrapping of the Vogel award this year led me (for whatever reason) to finally read Tuvalu. Had I done so all those years ago I may not have been so discouraged at my failure; on the evidence of the writing alone, this book would’ve beaten almost any competition. The talent here is on every page. That Andrew was only 28 at the time of the book’s publication makes the achievement even more impressive.
It’s only a slight exaggeration to say that expat Andrew is Australia’s Christopher Isherwood. The observations and quality of the writing are, at times, up there with the great man’s masterpieces like Goodbye to Berlin. Just a couple of examples:
‘A moment later, somewhere in a room high above me, a woman cried out, not in fear but happily, as if playfighting or lovemaking. It stopped me dead. I wondered if I had even heard it – it was that kind of fleeting, otherworldly sound. At home people’s lives had been tucked away inside two-storey forts, but here they hung out over me, carried by coughs or small children crying, by silhouettes passing behind closed curtains – even by blaring TVs.’
‘The train carriage looked like every other. A few boys tended to their streetwear in darkened windows with the fastidiousness of young women. Ugly salarymen read about computers. Make-up-smeared girls typed messages into mobile phones from which dangled cheap toys and tacky plastic jewelry. A bum rubbed at his hands and explained something to himself. And attractive women scowled as if they would have their looks forever. There were no children.’
And this metaphor:
‘This question was answered by a soft knock and the sound of the metal knob turning in its wood socket. A shaft of light photocopied the carpet: Tilly opening and closing the door.’
Noah (who I’m just going to assume is Andrew) finds his Sally Bowles in Mami, his Otto in Harry. The other characters in this book are equally dazzlingly, right down to an old woman who has escaped from a home. There's no plot here, just amazing characters and observations. It works beautifully.
It baffles me why this book has largely faded into obscurity. There were a few external things working against it from the outset. The Vogel award was poorly designed for a long time, with a format that had the winning author announced one year ahead of the book’s publication, which resulted in all the useful press occurring 12 months too early (they rectified this later). Also, with respect to the book’s cover designer, listed as ‘Committee’, the cover is truly awful; it looks like it actually was designed by a committee, with all the insipidness that comes from collective artistic decision-making – I still have no idea what is happening on the lower quarter of the cover. Am I looking at the underside of a whale? And the title (with sincere apologies to Andrew) is equally terrible; not helped by the palm trees, it makes the book sound like nothing more than a local guidebook for the tiny pacific island. I get the significance of Tuvalu to the story, but this book is about Japan, namely Tokyo. It should have been given a title to reflect that. At the risk of flogging the comparison, if this book was called ‘Goodbye to Tokyo’ it would still be in print.
Enough with that, though: I’m going to drop the pretense now that I’m writing this review for some prospective reader and address the person whom I hope might return here every once in a while to see if his book is still being read. I’m conscious that this is extremely rude but a burning curiosity is stripping me of better judgement.
Dear Andrew,
What ever became of you? How does a writer with so much talent at such a young age not publish another novel (yet)? I see that Meanjin went looking for you in vain a few years ago. They quoted an article that said that you were writing a second novel. Isherwood wrote many good novels, but he talks candidly about getting in such terrible messes with plotting, when his true strength lay in the semi-autobiographical reportage stories. I wonder if the same happened to you? Anyway, this has gone too far: none of this is any of my goddamn business. All that needs to be said is that I’m so glad I finally read your book – it was brilliant.
The scrapping of the Vogel award this year led me (for whatever reason) to finally read Tuvalu. Had I done so all those years ago I may not have been so discouraged at my failure; on the evidence of the writing alone, this book would’ve beaten almost any competition. The talent here is on every page. That Andrew was only 28 at the time of the book’s publication makes the achievement even more impressive.
It’s only a slight exaggeration to say that expat Andrew is Australia’s Christopher Isherwood. The observations and quality of the writing are, at times, up there with the great man’s masterpieces like Goodbye to Berlin. Just a couple of examples:
‘A moment later, somewhere in a room high above me, a woman cried out, not in fear but happily, as if playfighting or lovemaking. It stopped me dead. I wondered if I had even heard it – it was that kind of fleeting, otherworldly sound. At home people’s lives had been tucked away inside two-storey forts, but here they hung out over me, carried by coughs or small children crying, by silhouettes passing behind closed curtains – even by blaring TVs.’
‘The train carriage looked like every other. A few boys tended to their streetwear in darkened windows with the fastidiousness of young women. Ugly salarymen read about computers. Make-up-smeared girls typed messages into mobile phones from which dangled cheap toys and tacky plastic jewelry. A bum rubbed at his hands and explained something to himself. And attractive women scowled as if they would have their looks forever. There were no children.’
And this metaphor:
‘This question was answered by a soft knock and the sound of the metal knob turning in its wood socket. A shaft of light photocopied the carpet: Tilly opening and closing the door.’
Noah (who I’m just going to assume is Andrew) finds his Sally Bowles in Mami, his Otto in Harry. The other characters in this book are equally dazzlingly, right down to an old woman who has escaped from a home. There's no plot here, just amazing characters and observations. It works beautifully.
It baffles me why this book has largely faded into obscurity. There were a few external things working against it from the outset. The Vogel award was poorly designed for a long time, with a format that had the winning author announced one year ahead of the book’s publication, which resulted in all the useful press occurring 12 months too early (they rectified this later). Also, with respect to the book’s cover designer, listed as ‘Committee’, the cover is truly awful; it looks like it actually was designed by a committee, with all the insipidness that comes from collective artistic decision-making – I still have no idea what is happening on the lower quarter of the cover. Am I looking at the underside of a whale? And the title (with sincere apologies to Andrew) is equally terrible; not helped by the palm trees, it makes the book sound like nothing more than a local guidebook for the tiny pacific island. I get the significance of Tuvalu to the story, but this book is about Japan, namely Tokyo. It should have been given a title to reflect that. At the risk of flogging the comparison, if this book was called ‘Goodbye to Tokyo’ it would still be in print.
Enough with that, though: I’m going to drop the pretense now that I’m writing this review for some prospective reader and address the person whom I hope might return here every once in a while to see if his book is still being read. I’m conscious that this is extremely rude but a burning curiosity is stripping me of better judgement.
Dear Andrew,
What ever became of you? How does a writer with so much talent at such a young age not publish another novel (yet)? I see that Meanjin went looking for you in vain a few years ago. They quoted an article that said that you were writing a second novel. Isherwood wrote many good novels, but he talks candidly about getting in such terrible messes with plotting, when his true strength lay in the semi-autobiographical reportage stories. I wonder if the same happened to you? Anyway, this has gone too far: none of this is any of my goddamn business. All that needs to be said is that I’m so glad I finally read your book – it was brilliant.
June 29, 2020
3.5 - 4⭐️
September 25, 2007
overall a depressing story, but i still felt glimmers of hope for the main guy. i really enjoyed the detailed observations made from a foreigners point of view living in central Tokyo, especially mentions of the chuo line! I miss Tokyo
November 1, 2015
three and a half stars...I thoroughly enjoyed Tuvalu, the winner of The Australian Vogel Prize in 2005.....mostly set in Japan with journeys back to Australia it is only much later in the book that the reason for the title become apparent...
I loved the ending of this book !
I loved the ending of this book !
July 21, 2026
My favourite book, such a journey of emotions, descriptions, quirky characters and love. I can’t quite explain why this book is my favourite, but there’s something truly unique about it and his author. I would totally read another book by him if he kept writing.
June 11, 2016
See my 2014 review at Lunch at the Raintree Cafe:
Tuvalau
Tuvalau
Displaying 1 - 9 of 9 reviews