The Shooting Gallery

by Yūko Tsushima, Geraldine Harcourt (Translator)

The eight powerful stories of The Shooting Gallery examine the lives of single women coping with motherhood, passion, jealousy, and the tug-of-war between responsibility and entrapment. An unwed mother arranges for her children to meet their father, who is a stranger to them. A woman confronts the “other woman” in her lover’s life. A young single mother on an outing to the seaside comes face to face with how much she resents her own children. Another woman tries desperately to hold on to a private life despite her controlling male relatives.

Genres: Short Stories, Fiction, Japan, Japanese Literature, Asia, Short Story Collection, Womens

138 pages, Paperback

First published January 1, 1988

About the author

Yūko Tsushima 津島 佑子 is the pen name of Satoko Tsushima, a contemporary Japanese fiction writer, essayist and critic. She is the daughter of famed novelist Osamu Dazai, who died when she was one year old. She is considered "one of the most important Japanese writers of her generation" (The New York Times).

She has won many major literary prizes, including the Kawabata for "The Silent Traders," one of the stories in The Shooting Gallery, and the Tanizaki for Mountain of Fire. Her early fiction, from which The Shooting Gallery is drawn, was largely based on her experience as a single mother.

Her multilayered narrative techniques have increasingly taken inspiration from the Ainu oral epics (yukar) and the tales of premodern Japan.

When invited to teach Japanese literature to graduate students in Paris, she taught the yukar, and her seminar led to the publication of Tombent, tombent les gouttes d’argent: Chants du peuple aïnou (1996), the first French edition of the epic poems.

Tsushima is active in networks such as the Japan-India Writers’ Caravans and dialogues with Korean and Chinese writers. Recent novels have been set in Taiwan during Japanese colonial rule, among the Kyrgyz, in medieval Nara, and in post-3/11 Tokyo. Her work has been translated into a dozen languages.

Reviews

[Alwynne · Rating 4 out of 5]

Yūko Tsushima is one of my all-time favourite writers, and this collection from the 1970s and early 80s reinforced my admiration for her work. Her stories are deceptively simple yet marvellously intricate. On the surface wistful, slice of life narratives into which Tsushima seemingly effortlessly weaves in broader themes around poverty, social inequality, gender roles, and a growing gulf between the natural and human world. “A Sensitive Season” deals with a young boy’s perceptions of his aunt Natchan, left to care for him and his grandfather after his mother, Natchan’s sister, disappeared. The boy observes Natchan’s tentative steps towards independence and her attempts to build a life for herself that doesn’t rest on self-sacrifice. But his attitudes reveal the ways in which his grandfather’s patriarchal values have gradually shaped his expectations of women. It’s a fascinating study in traditional masculinity and the potentially devastating force it exerts on women. “The Chrysanthemum Beetle” builds on a traditional Japanese ghost story for its lucid examination of a fractured relationship, and an unusual love triangle. The title piece was by far my favourite, deft and atmospheric, it’s a devastatingly frank depiction of a weary, single mother who’s struggling to raise her two sons. One days she decides to take them to the beach, glimpsing in the rolling waves a hint of the something, just beyond her grasp, that she longs for but can’t put into words. Instead she daydreams of a dragon, a shining creature who’ll rescue her from her maternal obligations – the equivalent of the hero on a white horse coming to her rescue – although deep down she knows she’s the only one capable of altering her reality. Translated by Geraldine Harcourt.

[David · Rating 4 out of 5]

Quiet, reflective, sad.

"She could no longer bring herself to apologise. She was convinced that the chance she'd missed had been her very last, and once she'd convinced herself, that was what, in effect, it became."

[Amishi Agrawal · Rating 4 out of 5]

I started reading this book for two reasons: I was very drawn to the idea of reading a collection of short stories focused on the lives of women in Japan leading unconventional lives and that Tsushima is the daughter of Osamu Dazai—one of the most celebrated and famous modern Japanese authors. I kept on reading this book and will remember it for its excellent prose, intriguing characters, radical views and haunting imagery. Highly recommended to anyone who loves reading fiction about everyday life but written in an impactful manner. Also, I'll buy and mail a copy to anyone who wants to read feminist fiction in/about Japan.

I keep wishing I could have met Tsushima before she passed away in 2016. Will definitely be reading more of her works now. Glad I got an opportunity to cross paths with her words and thoughts and characters.

[Till Raether · Rating 5 out of 5]

At times the cruelty might seem excessive, the pain people inflict on each other and on themselves merely by carrying on with life. But then Tsushima always finds a sweet spot of poetic surrealism somewhere in all the looming resignation and utter exhaustion of single mothers.

[Elisatlfsse · Rating 3 out of 5]

Overall, it was a good read. I wouldn't go so far as to say that I loved all short stories, though; some of them were really interesting, such as "The Chrysanthemum Beetle" and "An Embrace." The others were great, but not memorable in my honest opinion. I found it difficult to finish this small anthology, as I felt it was dragging towards the end.

I have to admit that the main theme was fascinating nonetheless. Tsushima Yûko writes a lot about womanhood and motherhood, and her ability to weave the portraits of different women and mothers is simply extraordinary. I have no doubts that some of those traits are inspired by her own self and her experience of having children and raising them alone, but still, it was impressive to read about such versatile mothers. Some stories almost read as tales, probably because they tended to come at the borderline with the famous Japanese ghost stories; this gender-bending story, "The Crysanthemum Beetle," read really well despite being the longest. I could relate to the characters more.

Will recommend it to people who want to read more about Japanese women and mothers.

[Jo · Rating 4 out of 5]

I loved Yūko Tsushima’s Territory if Light but was unimpressed by, Of Dogs and Walls, two short stories collected in a slim Penguin Modern Classics edition so I wasn’t sure what to expect from this collection. The first story is a bit of an anomaly compared to the rest as the narrative voice is that of a young boy but by the second story we are in more familiar territory and the following stories all focus on those themes that Tsushima features in so many of her works.

All our narrators are women on their own, whether it be single or divorced, most are mothers, men don’t come off well unless they are older men yet there are cruel and possessive women at the same time. She effortlessly evokes the exhaustion of being a single parent, of the need to work and of not having time to oneself as well as the fears of motherhood. The writing is lovely and the mood melancholy and each story’s structure and ending feels spot on.

[Rise · Rating 4 out of 5]

The Shooting Gallery is a collection of eight short stories about modern women and the difficulties they experience in the face of divorce or family pressures. Tsushima Yūko portrays single mothers and separated women with a generous sympathy.

The eight stories display a diversity of approaches that are hard to categorize into a single style. They are mostly about the aftermaths of a divorce and they reveal a writer concerned with gender disparities and a woman's search for freedom. Tsushima's female protagonists are confronted with situations they either want to understand or they want to escape from. In their stubbornness and liberal attitudes they can be considered rebels of the time.

The female characters face their lot in life while dreaming of something better. What is exemplary in Tsushima is the unique chameleon-like style she deploys in story after story. The writing is clear and transparent, without any apparent tricks and obscurities, and yet the whole composition exhibits a strong sense of familiarity to and estrangement from the narrative intent. (Full review in my blog)

[Shiantel · Rating 4 out of 5]

Everybody is sad, single, and raising children that were the result of an affair. But overall a breezy and ethereal read I would recommend.

[Marina Sofia · Rating 4 out of 5]

So, so good, even though the characters seem to be similar in each story. The title story in particular, with the trip to the seaside, rang so true.

[Bella Azam · Rating 4 out of 5]

Yuko Tsushima's stories captured the essence of women's emotions & motherhood with depth. Her excellence in capturing the isolation & loneliness of one's own struggle was extraordinary. Her voice highlighted the vulnerabilities women have in their life, be it small or big, with clarity precision of minutiae details that may be overlooked by others. I have been enraptured by Tsushima's writing the first time I read Territory of Light on January last year. At the time I was reading that book, my mind was slightly hazy from everything happened surrounding me, fresh into a job of 5 months, learning new things out of my comfort zone, in the state of denial of what I was doing while feeling relief of finally getting a job despite not being content with what I have. Its a mixed, troublesome feeling which made me vague and unhappy most of the time I was working. While reading Territory of Light, there was a sense of tranquility evoked so viscerally in me, I was lulled into its mundane routine of the pair of mother and daughter, a single young mom playing her small daughter on top of the roof with a pool of water. The details was vivid, embedded in my mind even one year later. The kind of simple scene of peacefulness packed with something I cannot describe yet it warmed my heart

Reading this collection of short stories reminded me of the time back then, a time of serene, of seeing the little events unravelled throughout these ordinary people with ordinary struggles and inner troubles. The book touched upon imperfect people living their life as single mother, or oprhaned kid grown up with his grandfather and aunt, of the women that brought their children by themselves with no man or husband to rely, of their desires and hardships to persevere in the world of harshness towards them. Shooting Gallery, the titular story cracked on the relationship of a mother with her two sons, the idea of escaping to the seaside to see the ocean was drowned by the stark reality of dreary & bleak ocean view littered with trashes off season with the struggles of her to care for the rambunctious children and how her singlehandedly need to take care of them on the verge of collapse. The Silent Traders shed the reality of a man, a father not even present in the kids life while on a trip to an amusement park left the woman to care for the children as he don't even try to communicate or acknowledged their presence as the trip was only meant for the kids to see their father for the first time ever. The men in Tsushima's stories was barely present, they were not the forefront of the story. What shined across these stories were the women, their action, behaviours, their thoughts were laid bare, their emotion on full display, their desire were prodded and explored, their amusement & fear, their quiet strength through it all.

There were some underlying horror on her story especially Clearing the Thickets, an ending that were bizzarely sad & depressing. The last story called An Embrace gleaned a bit on the death of the main character's father, the death was touched a little bit but reminiscent perhaps of the author's feelings for her father's death. The absence of fatherhood in her life, of the lack of men figure in their home left an empty space, a repressed longing for it. This collection was subtle, quiet in its execution & affectively moving.

[S P · Rating 4 out of 5]

"Being invisible, the sea could materialise anywhere. Like a thick bullet-proof glass wall rising on all sides. You raised your eyes to find a smooth, sheer blue surface towering over you. Over an island like the bottom of a well. Chill and lonely. He'd been driven into the arms of something that had body warmth - was that how it had happened? But the sea inside the body is different, it's hot and intensely bright, it seethes whitely. That was the sea she wanted to see. To get back to. And if it meant disintegration, she was ready for that too..."

-The Shooting Gallery

[JacquiWine · Rating 3 out of 5]

(3.5 Stars)

First published in English in 1988, The Shooting Gallery is a collection of eight short stories by the acclaimed Japanese writer Yūko Tsushima (daughter of Osamu Dazai, also a renowned author). When viewed as a whole, the book is very much of piece with Tsushima’s other work, much of which is concerned with single mothers – modern women who defy the conventional expectations of marriage and motherhood, a stance which tends to place them on the margins of traditional society.

In several of these stories, the central protagonist is a somewhat isolated mother, typically divorced or separated from her previous partner, often struggling to balance her desire for freedom with the responsibilities of raising children with little or no support. While Tsushima’s prose appears clear on the surface, there is a subtlety to it, a sense of mystery or elusiveness that adds to its beauty.

In the titular story (from 1975), a single mother – previously abandoned by her husband – takes her two young sons on a trip to the seaside for a day out. During the train journey, the two boys, aged seven and four, spend most of their time squabbling with one another in their impatience to get to the sea. (It is abundantly clear from the start that the boys are something of a handful.) Further frustration ensues once the family arrive at their destination. It is April, very early in the season, and several of the local attractions are closed. The beach itself is deserted, smelly and littered with rubbish – hardly the picturesque setting the children were promised. As the mother searches for somewhere suitable to have lunch, the boys become increasingly cranky, highlighting the challenges of single motherhood and the constraints this situation imposes.

To read the rest of my review, please visit:
https://jacquiwine.wordpress.com/2021...

[Abigail · Rating 2 out of 5]

This is a decent collection. The best stories are the first three and the last one. Stories 4 and 5 are pretty tiresome to read through. The translation is very prosaic and essay like and so the prose is quite boring to read. The stories themselves, even the good ones, aren't evocative or nostalgic enough to make you feel sadness in your heart. They have their own particular idea of sadness and perhaps, in japanese, this sadness is conveyed with more interesting writing. I do like the subject matter though. It is reminiscent of that one short story collection I read, a very long time ago, by Ann Beattie.

[Olivia]

Favorite stories in here: the chrysanthemum beetle, the shooting gallery, the silent traders

[Max · Rating 4 out of 5]

motherhood is so sad

[Jacques · Rating 5 out of 5]

Scarily numb and sad are we humans.

[nadia hcf · Rating 5 out of 5]

really loved this, wonder if my old writing teacher has read it, excited to read more tsushima. bought @ codex in ev

[Ikkychann · Rating 4 out of 5]

The Shooting Gallery & Other Stories by Yuko Tsushima brings together eight literary gems, each one striking in how it portrays women who, with a leveled gaze on their often bitter realities, still manage to take a step forward and continue living. There is no illusion of grandeur here, no room for false impressions or idle pondering. Tsushima’s women are sober and clearheaded, fully aware of the lives they lead.

One of the strongest threads running through these stories is Tsushima’s unflinching portrayal of single mothers and the conflicted reality of maternity. This theme is the beating heart of the collection. Rather than offering a single, monolithic image, Tsushima dissects motherhood as a constant tension: love entangled with resentment, duty clashing with the desire for selfhood, and societal judgment grinding against a fragile autonomy.

Her mothers are not just caretakers but also economic providers, homemakers, and emotional anchors—roles that stack on top of one another until they crush the self. Yet Tsushima doesn’t dramatize this as tragedy; instead, she reveals it as a slow, grinding exhaustion. In “The Shooting Gallery,” the protagonist is hemmed in not by abstract pressures but by relentless, physical reminders of her duties: “cracker crumbs, plastic blocks, empty juice cans, underwear and socks… the sinkful of dirty dishes, the wash hanging from the ceiling.” Her mental space is equally crowded: “the sound of the TV, the younger child’s crying, her own voice talking at the office.” This overwhelming fatigue drains her until she feels like a “desiccated old sponge.” Her fleeting vision of the sea—her imagined escape—only emphasizes how completely her own needs have been erased.

For Tsushima’s women, financial survival is a driving anxiety. Motherhood is not only an emotional role but also an economic struggle, shaping their relationships and self-worth. In “South Wind,” Akiko’s yearning for independence is measured not in abstract freedom but in concrete numbers: “two hundred thousand yen a month.” This income represents liberation from “demeaning labels” and the meager “eighty thousand in support” from Kawamura. Her “thrill of anticipation” is tied to the prospect of financial self-reliance, which reshapes her worldview. She reclaims her domain: while Kawamura may have his, she declares her own. Her rebellion is quiet but firm—she will teach her son who his father is, but she “would not let him think he should be dependent on the man.” Here, motherhood becomes an act of creation, a way of building a self-sufficient world apart from male control.

Equally striking is Tsushima’s portrayal of maternal anxiety and the suffocating need for control that can grow out of love. In “Missing,” a mother’s fears appear as a chain of “premonitions” and painful memories of her daughter’s past transgressions. Rather than meeting these with understanding, she responds with restriction—banning her daughter from the cinema simply because she associates it with “darkness.” When her daughter asserts independence, the mother’s breakdown is devastating. She explains her daughter’s rebellion as “bacteria… caught from her father,” a metaphor that externalizes her fear and failure by blaming the absent man. Her love is genuine, but it is filtered through anxiety so deep it isolates her.

Tsushima’s women are also keenly aware of the labels society sticks on them—“mistress,” “illegitimate child,” and so on. Much of their struggle lies in rejecting these labels and defining their families on their own terms. Again in “South Wind,” Akiko makes a radical act of self-definition: “She was the mother of two children. The mother of a ten-year-old daughter and an eight-month-old son. Kawamura had his domain, and she had hers.” No longer preoccupied with titles like “mistress” or “divorced,” she centers her identity on her chosen role as mother. This refusal to accept society’s language is itself an act of resistance.

What makes Tsushima’s treatment of single motherhood revolutionary is its refusal of sentimentality. She presents it as a state of conflict—love weighed against exhaustion, protection against control—while also showing the radical responsibility and quiet rebellion it entails. Her women are not pitiable victims but complex, weary, fiercely resilient figures. They navigate a world that offers them little support, armed only with their leveled gaze and a determination to carve out their own “domain.”

Alongside these portraits of motherhood runs another recurring motif: daydreams and visions. These moments are not idle escapes but raw expressions of the subconscious—direct translations of fear, shame, and longing. They act as safety valves, allowing characters to process what they cannot confront head-on.

In “Missing,” for instance, a mother dreams of her daughter caught in a nightmarish tableau: seduced by a “youthful Santa Claus,” stripped of innocence, and finally confronted with the face of her ex-husband. The dream lays bare her deepest dread—that her daughter will repeat her own misery and that she is powerless to stop it. In “Clearing the Thickets,” a pregnant protagonist dreams of a school picnic she cannot join, of a dress that won’t fit, and of standing naked before others, exposed and ashamed. This dream echoes her waking reality: a woman marked as a social outcast, unable to find belonging.

Most strikingly, in “The Shooting Gallery,” the protagonist’s fantasy of becoming a dragon is a vision of complete transformation. Exhausted and invisible, she imagines sprouting “lance-shaped wings” and “golden scales,” soaring into the sky. A dragon is powerful, untouchable, and free—everything her life as “just some mother” has denied her. Her daydream is not frivolous; it is her subconscious asserting the grandeur and significance her waking life erases. Tsushima uses these inner visions not as ornament but as a core narrative tool—diagnostic, compensatory, unfiltered, and ultimately more truthful than reality itself.

The final pillar of Tsushima’s work is her exploration of women’s pursuit of agency—a pursuit that is messy, often self-destructive, but undeniably resilient. Her heroines do not suffer with grace; they stumble, lash out, and sometimes court danger. Izumi in “The Chrysanthemum Beetle” seeks relief in a relationship she knows is shallow and transactional. She plays at intimacy—“scampering after the pigeons,” “bursting operatically into song,” whispering “We could be on a real date”—fully aware it is an elaborate pretense. Yet the performance is not naivety; it is her way of scripting a life she can bear, however briefly.

Perhaps Tsushima’s boldest move is her willingness to show the darker currents of maternal feeling. In “The Shooting Gallery,” the protagonist’s rage manifests in a shocking moment when she points a gun at her children, imagining them as enemies. This is not a literal wish for their harm but a metaphor for how motherhood has annihilated her sense of self. By exposing such unspeakable truths, Tsushima refuses to sanitize the maternal psyche.

Yet even in their darkest moments, Tsushima’s women resist containment. Their “expansionism” is a refusal to shrink into despair. Izumi running to Takashi’s apartment, the mother in “The Shooting Gallery” going to the seaside, Akiko in “South Wind” taking an insurance job—each act is a small claim of space, a movement outward. These may not look like wise or noble choices, but they are deliberate, chosen risks. To accept their “everyday life” as final would be a spiritual death; instead, they embrace flawed, messy attempts to feel alive.

Tsushima’s brilliance lies in showing that resilience does not always look pure or admirable. Sometimes it looks like drinking too much, choosing the wrong partner, or harboring violent fantasies. Yet beneath these acts is a stubborn will to exist, to desire, and to refuse erasure. Her characters’ strength lies not in their perfection, but in their relentless, imperfect movement toward life.

[Jessica · Rating 3 out of 5]

I enjoyed the last two stories much more than the earlier ones in this book by the daughter of author Osamu Dazai. It's interesting to remember that Tsushima's father committed suicide when reading the last story in particular, but I was glad not to have known Dazai was her father until after I read the story.

[Jason]

Dazai's daughter was a writer? Just picked this up...

[Bob Newman · Rating 3 out of 5]

Sad stories of abandonment and loss

These are eight discouraging stories about what can occur in life. Everyone can be disappointed, everyone can feel that Existence has passed them by, leaving them with dreary days and no hope. Each author can choose their own topic. That goes without saying, but this book has a rather monochrome feel to it. “Women on their own” is the overarching condition of all the stories. I was tempted to think that “the shooting gallery” might refer to illegitimate children produced by men who don’t stick around. The men do a lot of “shooting”, but take little or no responsibility for the results. Or, alternately, the title could refer to just the tenor of Life itself. It’s a hit or miss reality. In this case all the protagonists miss. They are generally unsuccessful, unattractive women abandoned or somehow pulling on in uncomfortable relationships. None of the children know their fathers. This is not at all unrealistic, but the litany of unhappy, gray stories may prove a drag on readers. I felt that the various stories possessed some connection to kabuki in a rather strange sense. In that kind of traditional Japanese drama, at some points there is a MIE. That means that the star actor freezes in a dramatic posture and there’s a sudden and brief crescendo of the music that emphasizes the emotion of the moment. Many of Tsushima’s stories for me seemed to finish like that. She describes a particular family situation, always with women and children in unstable positions. Then suddenly, the story freezes at an unexpected moment. And ends. Nothing is resolved, it’s just a picture that is frozen, like a mie.
“The Silent Traders” connects single mothers and abandoned pets (which resemble the mothers symbolically). The men are missing.
“The Chrysanthemum Beetle” portrays the emotional intricacy of romance and sexual relationships among two women and one man. How much jealousy could be involved? The story is seen from one woman’s point of view. The ending is inconclusive again, giving only a final picture, a story that does not really make a point except that life can be like that.
In “Missing” a daughter leaves home, but the mother can’t accept it.
The story titled “The Shooting Gallery” probably is central. In this one a desperate woman hopes for a bit of beauty and existential change in a trip to the sea with her two bratty kids. Everything is drab, filthy and most shops are closed, unwelcoming. The beach is bleak. They eventually arrive at a shooting gallery, but fail to win anything. She winds up pointing the gun at her children in anger and frustration with her life and situation, but the young man at the gallery offers to teach her how to shoot. That’s the end.
I felt that the author transmits a very sad picture: men are useless, women are enduring, and children are annoying. Life is just bleak. Some women have lovers of sorts, but love is fleeting, disappointments are legion. Maybe life is a shooting gallery where you always miss the target!

[Joan · Rating 3 out of 5]

This collection of short stories by Yuko Tsushima was an interesting glimpse into post-war japanese society from a woman's viewpoint. The women in these stories are often single mothers and not very well-off. Through their stories we can sense something of the frustration these women feel with their situations. In the story "Missing" a woman is waiting up for her teenage daughter refusing to believe she has run-away and we feel her sense of such a let down, after devoting her energy into cleaning and caring for her daughter. In the story "An Embrace" the woman hears of the death of an old school friend's death but is unmoved, but later the husband of this dead woman contacts her - after a fledgling start to a potential romance she withdraws from the man as she doesn't want to be connected to him through death - she already has a friend who she bonded with as a teenager because they had both lost a parent and that is enough. Some of the stories have a kind of dream-like quality about them where you can't be certain of what is real and what has been imagined most dramatically in "Clearing the Thickets". In this story a young woman returns home pregnant and is clearing the thickets in the garden with her mother and older sister who are discussing her strange ways and odd behaviours throughout her life. The story end with the image of her mother "aborting" her baby but there is such an unreal quality about this that I personally don't think it happened, maybe wished for? The mother in the story "The Shooting Gallery" is finding it difficult to cope with her children and on a whim decides to take them to the seaside - where she imagines herself turning into a silver and golden dragon who could fly away. The themes of motherhood, loss, separation, abandonment and isolation run throughout the stories. It has feminist themes running throughout all the stories where men are seen to believe in their rights including abandoning women who no longer serve their purpose. There isn't a lot of love in these stories. This is no cosy read, some of the stories are upsetting or depressing but I think its an important read and I enjoyed delving into these worlds described so clearly.

[Sarah · Rating 4 out of 5]

A really enjoyable collection that I was excited to read - I really enjoyed Osamu Dazai's No Longer Human, and to find out that his daughter was also a writer was so cool! I would say that the story "The Shooting Gallery" is definitely the strongest from the collection, followed closely by "Missing". Although I really enjoyed her writing, it was similar to Kawakami's Breasts and Eggs in that I found it difficult to relate or completely understand some of the themes discussed, as many centre around motherhood, childbirth, and relations with husbands, boyfriends, and male romantic partners. However, this is not a negative whatsoever, as many women (and people in general) likely find this type of discussion refreshing and validating, as it is not common to write with such vigour (and, oftentimes, disdain) about such subjects. Although I am not a mother nor a wife, I could feel and relate to her disenchantment and found it deeply original.

[Shirliday · Rating 2 out of 5]

I picked up this book because I was drawn to the summary

These moving stories bring to life a changing Japan, where spirited women, no longer bound by traditional values, find themselves free to lead lives of sexual freedom, economic independence- and, sometimes, loneliness.

I suppose I misconstrued the tone of the book. It's a depressing, nihilistic view of modern Japanese womanhood where each woman struggles with their own trauma and lack of empathy- either from themselves or the people around them.

The writing is beautiful and the translation is great as well, but just not my cup of tea. Would definitely recommend if you don't mind the mood. I feel bad to give it 2 stars because it is well written and beautiful, but this is a subjective rating and I simply didn't enjoy it.

[Nicki · Rating 3 out of 5]

It’s okay. Nicely written. Just my usual problem with short stories. I would rather have any of these as a full novel than a brief story. They always feel unfinished to me (no matter who’s writing the book).

[Dana Jerman · Rating 3 out of 5]

It’s as if YT wrote the same stories over and over with different characters. I’m mostly referring to the tone she’s using when I say this. Very even and natural to the point of sweetness. Enjoyable and accessible.
Motherhood, insects and treating pets poorly serve a theme.

[Eduardo · Rating 3 out of 5]

Here's a collection of stories which rely on interiority and subjective experience, which instead of focusing on structured plot and clear cause-and-effect, it focuses on memory and emotion, thus comes across fleeting, fragmented, indirect, evocative...

[Maggie]

erika's class
A mother, exhausted to the point of suicidal ideation, has taken her two young children
to the beach on a cold day. In this dialogue, the children are the ones speaking aloud (in
quotes

[Lauren · Rating 4 out of 5]

Some very broken people in these stories.

[R.K. Cowles · Rating 3 out of 5]

3 1/2 stars