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Scattered All Over the Earth #2
Suggested in the Stars
On the heels of Scattered All Over the Earth, Yoko Tawada’s new and irresistible Suggested in the Stars carries on her band of friends’ astonishing and intrepid adventures.
It’s hard to believe there could be a more enjoyable novel than Scattered All Over the Earth―Yoko Tawada’s rollicking, touching, cheerfully dystopian novel about friendship and climate change―but surprising her readers is what Tawada does best: its sequel, Suggested in the Stars, delivers exploits even more poignant and shambolic.
As Hiruko―whose Land of Sushi has vanished into the sea and who is still searching for someone who speaks her mother tongue―and her new friends travel onward, they begin opening up to one another in new and extraordinary ways. They try to help their friend Susanoo regain his voice, both for his own good and so he can speak with Hiruko―and amid many often hilarious misunderstandings (some linguistic in nature)―they empower each other against despair. Coping with carbon footprint worries but looping singly and in pairs, they hitchhike, take late-night motorcycle rides, and hop on the train (learning about railway strikes but also packed-train-yoga) to convene in Copenhagen. There they find Susanoo in a strange hospital working with a scary speech-loss doctor. In the half-basement of this weird medical center (with strong echoes of Lars von Trier’s 1990s TV series The Kingdom), they also find two special kids washing dishes. They discover magic radios, personality swaps, ship tickets delivered by a robot, and other gifts. But friendship―loaning one another the nerve and heart to keep going―sets them all (and the reader) to dreaming of something more...
It’s hard to believe there could be a more enjoyable novel than Scattered All Over the Earth―Yoko Tawada’s rollicking, touching, cheerfully dystopian novel about friendship and climate change―but surprising her readers is what Tawada does best: its sequel, Suggested in the Stars, delivers exploits even more poignant and shambolic.
As Hiruko―whose Land of Sushi has vanished into the sea and who is still searching for someone who speaks her mother tongue―and her new friends travel onward, they begin opening up to one another in new and extraordinary ways. They try to help their friend Susanoo regain his voice, both for his own good and so he can speak with Hiruko―and amid many often hilarious misunderstandings (some linguistic in nature)―they empower each other against despair. Coping with carbon footprint worries but looping singly and in pairs, they hitchhike, take late-night motorcycle rides, and hop on the train (learning about railway strikes but also packed-train-yoga) to convene in Copenhagen. There they find Susanoo in a strange hospital working with a scary speech-loss doctor. In the half-basement of this weird medical center (with strong echoes of Lars von Trier’s 1990s TV series The Kingdom), they also find two special kids washing dishes. They discover magic radios, personality swaps, ship tickets delivered by a robot, and other gifts. But friendship―loaning one another the nerve and heart to keep going―sets them all (and the reader) to dreaming of something more...
224 pages, Paperback
First published May 20, 2020
57 people are currently reading
1327 people want to read
About the author
Yōko Tawada
125 books1,031 followersYōko Tawada (多和田葉子 Tawada Yōko, born March 23, 1960) is a Japanese writer currently living in Berlin, Germany. She writes in both Japanese and German.
Tawada was born in Tokyo, received her undergraduate education at Waseda University in 1982 with a major in Russian literature, then studied at Hamburg University where she received a master's degree in contemporary German literature. She received her doctorate in German literature at the University of Zurich. In 1987 she published Nur da wo du bist da ist nichts—Anata no iru tokoro dake nani mo nai (A Void Only Where You Are), a collection of poems in a German and Japanese bilingual edition.
Tawada's Missing Heels received the Gunzo Prize for New Writers in 1991, and The Bridegroom Was a Dog received the Akutagawa Prize in 1993. In 1999 she became writer-in-residence at the Massachusetts Institute of Technology for four months. Her Suspect on the Night Train won the Tanizaki Prize and Ito Sei Literary Prize in 2003.
Tawada received the Adelbert von Chamisso Prize in 1996, a German award to foreign writers in recognition of their contribution to German culture, and the Goethe Medal in 2005.
(from Wikipedia)
Tawada was born in Tokyo, received her undergraduate education at Waseda University in 1982 with a major in Russian literature, then studied at Hamburg University where she received a master's degree in contemporary German literature. She received her doctorate in German literature at the University of Zurich. In 1987 she published Nur da wo du bist da ist nichts—Anata no iru tokoro dake nani mo nai (A Void Only Where You Are), a collection of poems in a German and Japanese bilingual edition.
Tawada's Missing Heels received the Gunzo Prize for New Writers in 1991, and The Bridegroom Was a Dog received the Akutagawa Prize in 1993. In 1999 she became writer-in-residence at the Massachusetts Institute of Technology for four months. Her Suspect on the Night Train won the Tanizaki Prize and Ito Sei Literary Prize in 2003.
Tawada received the Adelbert von Chamisso Prize in 1996, a German award to foreign writers in recognition of their contribution to German culture, and the Goethe Medal in 2005.
(from Wikipedia)
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 56 reviews
November 18, 2024
Suggested in the Stars is an amazing bridge book in a trilogy. Reading it gave me the same feelings as reading The Two Towers. The quest for answers picks up speed and I was left desperate to read the final installment. Unfortunately, I have some time to wait until its translation is released.
Chapters 1 and 2 were interesting and I liked the new characters, especially Munun. Chapter 3 Nanook Speaks is when I really got hooked.
Each chapter is titled “A Character” Speaks. Suggested in the Stars is a novel about language, silence, memory, and relationships.
My favorite quote was:
“We’re all inhabitants of this earth,” Akash finally stated: “That’s why we care.”
Several words and ideas are repeated and explored. I love this aspect of the novel. The three I loved the most were the idea of living life in a movie (simulation), the role of IKEA furniture, and the knowledge of their Carbon Footprint upon their travels.
When Hiruko speaks and everyone is in the same room things take a surreal turn in a totally unexpected and interesting twist.
By the end, all of the characters come together and solidify their community through a group activity. We discover the relevance of the title in the final chapter. All threads of the narrative are tied up nicely in a unique and unexpected way. I cannot wait to experience the final installment and culmination of the group’s journey.
Chapters 1 and 2 were interesting and I liked the new characters, especially Munun. Chapter 3 Nanook Speaks is when I really got hooked.
Each chapter is titled “A Character” Speaks. Suggested in the Stars is a novel about language, silence, memory, and relationships.
My favorite quote was:
“We’re all inhabitants of this earth,” Akash finally stated: “That’s why we care.”
Several words and ideas are repeated and explored. I love this aspect of the novel. The three I loved the most were the idea of living life in a movie (simulation), the role of IKEA furniture, and the knowledge of their Carbon Footprint upon their travels.
When Hiruko speaks and everyone is in the same room things take a surreal turn in a totally unexpected and interesting twist.
By the end, all of the characters come together and solidify their community through a group activity. We discover the relevance of the title in the final chapter. All threads of the narrative are tied up nicely in a unique and unexpected way. I cannot wait to experience the final installment and culmination of the group’s journey.
October 7, 2024
Second instalment in the trilogy starting with Scattered All Over the Earth. It’s another episodic piece, each section presented from a specific character perspective. As before, it plays out in a dystopian world which does/doesn’t match our own. The primary setting’s a large Copenhagen hospital bearing an uncanny resemblance to the one found in Lars von Trier’s miniseries The Kingdom. Like von Trier’s, this hospital’s an eerie space where reality and rationality are undermined by a series of surreal, increasingly-absurd events. Yōko Tawada also “borrows” two of von Trier’s characters, his duo of hospital dishwashers. Performed by actors with Down Syndrome, the nameless pair formed a kind of Greek chorus, somehow privy to the hospital’s most sinister secrets. In Tawada’s novel these become Vita – after the actress in von Trier’s show – and Munun. Munun’s a seer of sorts who taps into the Japanese mythology referenced throughout.
Munun’s also Tsukuyomi – as in Tsukuyomi-no-Mikoto - in Japanese legend the moon god strongly associated with manipulating time. This then connects Munun to the silent Susanoo, a hospital patient who’s attracted the attention of specialist Dr Velmar. Susanoo, we learn, is a manifestation of Susanoo-no-Mikoto god of turbulence, linked to sea and storms, and Tsukuyomi’s sibling. The novel’s mythological undercurrents and what they signify is complicated by numerous nods to Nordic myth, echoed in snake imagery that crops up at various points. New characters are joined by familiar ones: Hiruko, whose quest for someone who shares her “mother tongue” ties the somewhat-slender plot together, and companions Knut, Akash, Nanook, Nanook’s former partner Nora. All of whom eventually reunite in Copenhagen.
The action shifts between the hospital and the journeys taken by the original characters to reach it. Although ‘action’ should be taken loosely here, much of the novel’s quite static, claustrophobic even, centred on characters’ inner thoughts and feelings. Tawada’s key themes hark back to the first book: issues of language and identity interconnect and overlap with concerns around misogyny, climate change, and the crossing of literal and metaphorical borders. It’s an ambitious piece, sometimes too ambitious, occasionally so dense it was hard to unpick: people swap personalities; Nanook undertakes a dubious but oddly tangential mission in exchange for a train ticket; Nora retreats into memories of her shattered life after Knut’s birth; direct references to von Trier suggest this may be a series of onscreen performances in which everyone’s been assigned a fixed role. And it’s never clear whether the novel’s various ambiguities relate to its position between beginning and end of the trilogy – all might be revealed or at least become less cloudy in the final book – or something else entirely. Although I think comparisons to acting and film are partly intended to conjure notions of individuals locked into position by the people around them, forced to act in accordance with the expectations of their peers or their wider culture. An oblique commentary on homogeneity that feeds into Tawada’s ongoing critique of nationalism and accompanying desires for monolingual society.
Elements of the narrative made me uncertain to the point of discomfort, mostly arising from the portrayal of particular characters. Akash is introduced in the first book as a transwoman yet equally as someone who hasn’t fully assumed that identity - in the process of “becoming” as opposed to “being.” What that actually means isn’t fully addressed but “becoming” versus “being” does seem to be one of Tawada’s major preoccupations. Akash’s portrayal further complicated by the use of almost-exclusively masculine pronouns to describe them – possibly signalling denial or lack of knowledge of gender identity by others? Here, Akash appears to be genderfluid: Knut and, later, Manun reflect on whether to refer to Akash as ‘he’ or ‘she’ because of their shifting gender presentation – asking Akash doesn’t occur to either of them! But even though Akash’s now depicted as closer to genderfluid in terms of how they understand their gender, the default pronoun for Akash remains resolutely masculine. I wondered if this grating disconnect might stem from translation decisions rather than Tawada’s – I could see that translating this might pose challenges because of the intricacies of the figuring of gender in Japanese. But it’s possible too these are deliberate authorial choices, somehow rooted in the frameworks of this imagined, dystopian world - which doesn’t map onto contemporary reality in any systematic sense. Whatever the reasons behind these choices, I found the confusion unsettling – this is a novel that’s crying out for a translator’s afterword.
Another stumbling-block was the representation of Munun, and by association Vita. The rest of the hospital staff seem unwilling or unable to understand Munun and Vita when they speak. So, Munun and Vita construct their own language but the form, the vocabulary, of this language seemed a bit infantilising – at least to me. Moreover, as in von Trier’s story, Munun has semi-supernatural powers here explained by his status as part Japanese deity. But Manun’s apparent ‘gifts’ reminded me of an array of stigmatising false beliefs about ‘magical abilities’ surrounding people with disabilities and/or conditions like Down Syndrome. Although, to be fair to Tawada, her story does emphasize Munun’s individuality and agency. Other stereotypes turn up elsewhere in the novel – assumptions about India for example – but I interpreted these as semi-satirical digs at nationalism and ‘othering.’ Overall, I’m quite conflicted about this. It could be provocative in positive ways, there were numerous arresting passages, and instances of inventive imagery. And I appreciated the explicit, and implied, critique of strident nationalism, as well as Tawada’s sophisticated musings on language use, boundaries and borders. Translated by Margaret Mitsutani.
Thanks to Netgalley and publisher Granta for an ARC
Rating: 2.5 rounded up
Munun’s also Tsukuyomi – as in Tsukuyomi-no-Mikoto - in Japanese legend the moon god strongly associated with manipulating time. This then connects Munun to the silent Susanoo, a hospital patient who’s attracted the attention of specialist Dr Velmar. Susanoo, we learn, is a manifestation of Susanoo-no-Mikoto god of turbulence, linked to sea and storms, and Tsukuyomi’s sibling. The novel’s mythological undercurrents and what they signify is complicated by numerous nods to Nordic myth, echoed in snake imagery that crops up at various points. New characters are joined by familiar ones: Hiruko, whose quest for someone who shares her “mother tongue” ties the somewhat-slender plot together, and companions Knut, Akash, Nanook, Nanook’s former partner Nora. All of whom eventually reunite in Copenhagen.
The action shifts between the hospital and the journeys taken by the original characters to reach it. Although ‘action’ should be taken loosely here, much of the novel’s quite static, claustrophobic even, centred on characters’ inner thoughts and feelings. Tawada’s key themes hark back to the first book: issues of language and identity interconnect and overlap with concerns around misogyny, climate change, and the crossing of literal and metaphorical borders. It’s an ambitious piece, sometimes too ambitious, occasionally so dense it was hard to unpick: people swap personalities; Nanook undertakes a dubious but oddly tangential mission in exchange for a train ticket; Nora retreats into memories of her shattered life after Knut’s birth; direct references to von Trier suggest this may be a series of onscreen performances in which everyone’s been assigned a fixed role. And it’s never clear whether the novel’s various ambiguities relate to its position between beginning and end of the trilogy – all might be revealed or at least become less cloudy in the final book – or something else entirely. Although I think comparisons to acting and film are partly intended to conjure notions of individuals locked into position by the people around them, forced to act in accordance with the expectations of their peers or their wider culture. An oblique commentary on homogeneity that feeds into Tawada’s ongoing critique of nationalism and accompanying desires for monolingual society.
Elements of the narrative made me uncertain to the point of discomfort, mostly arising from the portrayal of particular characters. Akash is introduced in the first book as a transwoman yet equally as someone who hasn’t fully assumed that identity - in the process of “becoming” as opposed to “being.” What that actually means isn’t fully addressed but “becoming” versus “being” does seem to be one of Tawada’s major preoccupations. Akash’s portrayal further complicated by the use of almost-exclusively masculine pronouns to describe them – possibly signalling denial or lack of knowledge of gender identity by others? Here, Akash appears to be genderfluid: Knut and, later, Manun reflect on whether to refer to Akash as ‘he’ or ‘she’ because of their shifting gender presentation – asking Akash doesn’t occur to either of them! But even though Akash’s now depicted as closer to genderfluid in terms of how they understand their gender, the default pronoun for Akash remains resolutely masculine. I wondered if this grating disconnect might stem from translation decisions rather than Tawada’s – I could see that translating this might pose challenges because of the intricacies of the figuring of gender in Japanese. But it’s possible too these are deliberate authorial choices, somehow rooted in the frameworks of this imagined, dystopian world - which doesn’t map onto contemporary reality in any systematic sense. Whatever the reasons behind these choices, I found the confusion unsettling – this is a novel that’s crying out for a translator’s afterword.
Another stumbling-block was the representation of Munun, and by association Vita. The rest of the hospital staff seem unwilling or unable to understand Munun and Vita when they speak. So, Munun and Vita construct their own language but the form, the vocabulary, of this language seemed a bit infantilising – at least to me. Moreover, as in von Trier’s story, Munun has semi-supernatural powers here explained by his status as part Japanese deity. But Manun’s apparent ‘gifts’ reminded me of an array of stigmatising false beliefs about ‘magical abilities’ surrounding people with disabilities and/or conditions like Down Syndrome. Although, to be fair to Tawada, her story does emphasize Munun’s individuality and agency. Other stereotypes turn up elsewhere in the novel – assumptions about India for example – but I interpreted these as semi-satirical digs at nationalism and ‘othering.’ Overall, I’m quite conflicted about this. It could be provocative in positive ways, there were numerous arresting passages, and instances of inventive imagery. And I appreciated the explicit, and implied, critique of strident nationalism, as well as Tawada’s sophisticated musings on language use, boundaries and borders. Translated by Margaret Mitsutani.
Thanks to Netgalley and publisher Granta for an ARC
Rating: 2.5 rounded up
November 7, 2024
nothing delights me in the way reading these novels does. some of the most illuminating and joyful explorations of language and communication, these magical translations are true treasures. I see a lot of people get caught up in “problematic” aspects of these, which i feel is truly missing the point in how these characters interact, communicate, and miscommunicate while trying to determine for themselves who they are. every facet of language here is explored, every character both deeply flawed and deeply human. i can not wait to reread these when “Archipelago of the Sun” is released
November 13, 2024
I spotted Suggested in the Stars in the library and decided to read it despite not being that keen on Scattered All Over the Earth, the first in the trilogy. I preferred Tawada's previous novel The Last Children of Tokyo. Suggested in the Stars is notable for having each of the ten chapters narrated by a different person (except for the first and last). This creates a sprawling and somewhat confusing effect. The narrative continues to focus upon language and communication: Hiruko is searching for the last remaining Japanese speakers, as the country itself has disappeared under the sea. Tawada plays linguistic games that must have been a particular challenge for the translator and sometimes left me feeling like I was missing something. Although I found the plethora of narrators intriguing, they made the book rather incoherent and the plot did not move forward very much. It's definitely more an atmospheric than eventful read, largely preoccupied with travel. The process of trying to cross Western Europe by a patchwork of travel modes and meeting various people is picaresque, however I was underwhelmed by the denouement. Suggested in the Stars had a few distinctive moments that I liked, but I'm unsure whether I'll read the final book in the trilogy. Depends on whether the library puts it right in front of my nose, probably.
January 12, 2025
Suggested in the Stars continues the trilogy that began in Scattered All Over the Earth. Yōko Tawada once again blends themes of language, identity and belonging. If the first book was a quiet reflection on language and feeling out of place, this sequel turns into a lively road story full of self-discovery, language mix-ups and quirky friendships.
Hiruko, still searching for someone who speaks her mother tongue after her homeland, the Land of Sushi, sank, continues her journey. But this search is more about exploring how people hold on to and let go of their identities than actually finding something. The cast of characters of people from different cultures and backgrounds: Knut, Akash, Nora, Nanook, Susanoo, Dr Velmer, Mrs Nielsen, Munun, and Vita, brings an adventure that is both silly and reflective. Their journey is full of random occurrences such as hitchhiking, bad weather and cancelled public transport. It mirrors the condition of a globalised world shaped by the existential crises of climate change and fading cultures.
In the first book, Hiruko created her own language, Panska, a home-made language that incorporates features and vocabulary from various Scandinavian languages. In Suggested in the Stars, the story looks deeper into how people communicate (or fail to). Much of the plot revolves around helping Susanoo regain his lost voice, as he is presumably the only person known to come from the Land of Sushi other than Hiruko. This leads the characters to a strange hospital in Copenhagen, with eerie doctors, magic radios and even people swapping personalities. The writing and its theme feel surreal, while at the same time emphasising the importance of misunderstanding, in addition to understanding, in a melting pot of cultures.
Tawada’s story reflects on these misunderstandings. The characters make language mistakes and cultural blunders, but these slip-ups bring them closer together and help them understand each other. Language in this story is flexible and temporary, a powerful idea in a world where borders are disappearing. Susanoo’s silence isn’t just a random plot point. It symbolises how displaced people struggle to express who they are when they’ve lost the things that once defined them.
Margaret Mitsutani’s translation plays a key role in making this book work in the English translation. Translating Tawada must feel like walking a tightrope, capturing the odd language of Panska, the surreal tone and the playful writing style. I imagine the most challenging part of translating Tawada is rendering Panska into English, as it must stand apart from the sentences, words and utterances of the other characters (more on Mitsutani’s translation process here: https://hopscotchtranslation.com/2022...).
While Suggested in the Stars continues the themes from the first book, it also expands on them. The characters change along the way, not always in simple or comfortable ways, but in ways that feel real. Their adventures don’t always lead to clear answers, and maybe that’s Tawada’s point. Like the first book, the second novel also tells each chapter from a different character’s first-person point of view, adding richness to the narrative. However, I can easily imagine that readers who haven’t read Scattered All Over the Earth might struggle to make sense of the story.
Overall, this sequel feels messier and more chaotic than the first book. The plot is weaker, and the ending feels inconclusive. However, I’m still curious to see how the third instalment will tie everything together and conclude the story.
Hiruko, still searching for someone who speaks her mother tongue after her homeland, the Land of Sushi, sank, continues her journey. But this search is more about exploring how people hold on to and let go of their identities than actually finding something. The cast of characters of people from different cultures and backgrounds: Knut, Akash, Nora, Nanook, Susanoo, Dr Velmer, Mrs Nielsen, Munun, and Vita, brings an adventure that is both silly and reflective. Their journey is full of random occurrences such as hitchhiking, bad weather and cancelled public transport. It mirrors the condition of a globalised world shaped by the existential crises of climate change and fading cultures.
In the first book, Hiruko created her own language, Panska, a home-made language that incorporates features and vocabulary from various Scandinavian languages. In Suggested in the Stars, the story looks deeper into how people communicate (or fail to). Much of the plot revolves around helping Susanoo regain his lost voice, as he is presumably the only person known to come from the Land of Sushi other than Hiruko. This leads the characters to a strange hospital in Copenhagen, with eerie doctors, magic radios and even people swapping personalities. The writing and its theme feel surreal, while at the same time emphasising the importance of misunderstanding, in addition to understanding, in a melting pot of cultures.
Tawada’s story reflects on these misunderstandings. The characters make language mistakes and cultural blunders, but these slip-ups bring them closer together and help them understand each other. Language in this story is flexible and temporary, a powerful idea in a world where borders are disappearing. Susanoo’s silence isn’t just a random plot point. It symbolises how displaced people struggle to express who they are when they’ve lost the things that once defined them.
Margaret Mitsutani’s translation plays a key role in making this book work in the English translation. Translating Tawada must feel like walking a tightrope, capturing the odd language of Panska, the surreal tone and the playful writing style. I imagine the most challenging part of translating Tawada is rendering Panska into English, as it must stand apart from the sentences, words and utterances of the other characters (more on Mitsutani’s translation process here: https://hopscotchtranslation.com/2022...).
While Suggested in the Stars continues the themes from the first book, it also expands on them. The characters change along the way, not always in simple or comfortable ways, but in ways that feel real. Their adventures don’t always lead to clear answers, and maybe that’s Tawada’s point. Like the first book, the second novel also tells each chapter from a different character’s first-person point of view, adding richness to the narrative. However, I can easily imagine that readers who haven’t read Scattered All Over the Earth might struggle to make sense of the story.
Overall, this sequel feels messier and more chaotic than the first book. The plot is weaker, and the ending feels inconclusive. However, I’m still curious to see how the third instalment will tie everything together and conclude the story.
February 4, 2025
The cover is gorgeous!
June 24, 2025
So boring, was such a pain to finish this, will not read the last one. The story doesn’t make any sense and the characters are super confusing, why did they start to dance suddenly?
August 19, 2024
I have a complicated relationship with Yoko Tawada's writing. The Last Children of Tokyo captured the existential anxieties of ageing Japanese society, but the premise was more interesting than the execution. I found that novel a bit boring and lacking nuance, although it did have quiet dignity to it. Scattered All Over the Earth was problematic, uninventive and ultimately rather pointless, a rare square one start book for me. If I had known that Suggested in the Stars is a direct sequel to it, I would not have requested it. I was fully prepared to DNF it halfway through, as the most problematic aspects of its predecessor, especially the treatment of the novel's trans characters, are still there. However, something kept me going, and at the end of the day it surprised me by being not as abysmally bad as I had expected.
To get the worst out of the way - Akash, the trans character, is still routinely misgendered by all her (their?) friends who keep calling her 'a man in woman's clothing' and refer to her/them as he (the author also routinely mixes up transwomen and Khwaja Sara, using a potentially derogatory term to refer to the latter community). I detest it when cis authors use trans characters as their playthings. Tawada nominally addresses the issue in the Knut chapter, but at the end of the day she never says anything trans writers have not said a million times better. The treatment of this character gives Scarlett Johannsson saying she is an actress, she can play a tree if needed. Akash's own POV chapter adds nothing on their experience of their gender, although it does bring up the not so subtle ways in which they are racialised. However, the author still uses lots of stereotypes of Indians as easy-going, always a part of a wide social network etc to characterise Akash without going any deeper into their own character and personality, so the on the nose comments about their racialisation sort of lose their potency. What was the point in making this character trans?
My other problem with this novel is that all the characters (apart from Akash) come across as horrible people. Some, like Doctor Velmar, are intended to be, whereas others are meant to be the heroes of the story whose adventures we follow. They are an entitled bunch of mostly white people (Nora and Knut are the worst offenders) who say all the right things but do not do any of the right things. What is the point in being a Marxist or criticising colonialism if you still misgender your trans friend or mix up India and Pakistan? Okay, it is meant to be satire, but what is the satire punching at here? Lashing out at everything and everyone? Needless to say, most characters spew some horrendously offensive things, Dr Velmer being the worst. I was not sure why we needed to spend that much time in the mind of this awful racist person only for him to simply join the main gang without any sort of epiphany, redemption or, much better still, comeuppance.
Some things are handled better than they were in the first novel. We get fewer boring discussions of language and linguistics written with the nuance of social media posts. One of the things that helps with that the narrative is less focused on Hiruko, whose POV chapter is one of the last. It does mean that there is less focus in the novel overall - we get to see random personality studies of the POV characters, often barely relevant to the nominal main story. I enjoyed some of those chapters on their own right. Knut's mother's chapter is a standout in an otherwise disappointing reading experience.
The book tries to be an absurdist novel, but it is not nearly weird and random enough for that (see some of Helen Oyeyemi's writing if you enjoy good absurdism). The structure doesn't quite work as every character bar one gets only one POV chapter, so we never revisit the characters and their inner journeys. The lacklustre build-up means that the Susanoo chapter at the end, in which the titular character tries to manipulate everybody we met so far, doesn't stick the landing. Boring discussions reminiscent of the worst aspects of the first novel are backlogged, so the last couple of chapters are a slog to get through.
Thank you to Netgalley and Granta Books for an e-ARC in exchange for an honest review.
To get the worst out of the way - Akash, the trans character, is still routinely misgendered by all her (their?) friends who keep calling her 'a man in woman's clothing' and refer to her/them as he (the author also routinely mixes up transwomen and Khwaja Sara, using a potentially derogatory term to refer to the latter community). I detest it when cis authors use trans characters as their playthings. Tawada nominally addresses the issue in the Knut chapter, but at the end of the day she never says anything trans writers have not said a million times better. The treatment of this character gives Scarlett Johannsson saying she is an actress, she can play a tree if needed. Akash's own POV chapter adds nothing on their experience of their gender, although it does bring up the not so subtle ways in which they are racialised. However, the author still uses lots of stereotypes of Indians as easy-going, always a part of a wide social network etc to characterise Akash without going any deeper into their own character and personality, so the on the nose comments about their racialisation sort of lose their potency. What was the point in making this character trans?
My other problem with this novel is that all the characters (apart from Akash) come across as horrible people. Some, like Doctor Velmar, are intended to be, whereas others are meant to be the heroes of the story whose adventures we follow. They are an entitled bunch of mostly white people (Nora and Knut are the worst offenders) who say all the right things but do not do any of the right things. What is the point in being a Marxist or criticising colonialism if you still misgender your trans friend or mix up India and Pakistan? Okay, it is meant to be satire, but what is the satire punching at here? Lashing out at everything and everyone? Needless to say, most characters spew some horrendously offensive things, Dr Velmer being the worst. I was not sure why we needed to spend that much time in the mind of this awful racist person only for him to simply join the main gang without any sort of epiphany, redemption or, much better still, comeuppance.
Some things are handled better than they were in the first novel. We get fewer boring discussions of language and linguistics written with the nuance of social media posts. One of the things that helps with that the narrative is less focused on Hiruko, whose POV chapter is one of the last. It does mean that there is less focus in the novel overall - we get to see random personality studies of the POV characters, often barely relevant to the nominal main story. I enjoyed some of those chapters on their own right. Knut's mother's chapter is a standout in an otherwise disappointing reading experience.
The book tries to be an absurdist novel, but it is not nearly weird and random enough for that (see some of Helen Oyeyemi's writing if you enjoy good absurdism). The structure doesn't quite work as every character bar one gets only one POV chapter, so we never revisit the characters and their inner journeys. The lacklustre build-up means that the Susanoo chapter at the end, in which the titular character tries to manipulate everybody we met so far, doesn't stick the landing. Boring discussions reminiscent of the worst aspects of the first novel are backlogged, so the last couple of chapters are a slog to get through.
Thank you to Netgalley and Granta Books for an e-ARC in exchange for an honest review.
abandoned
July 5, 2024I can usually average a book a day but it’s taken me almost two days to get 40% of the way through so I’m calling ToD and DNFing. Perhaps it will land differently with readers who read the first in the series, but I didn’t enjoy this.
Why I stopped reading:
Problematic language:
👎 Why on earth is a transgender character that identifies as female referred to as “he” in the character list?
👎 Uncomfortable racism in the Velmer chapter when he’s grilling the friend group on their nationalities.
👎 The sexist and misogynist way that Velmer talks about Inga and Nanook notices Bellona
👎 I’ve worked with individuals with aphasia before and the portrayal in this book feels at best insensitive and at worst mocking
👎 As a Canadian reader, the word “Eskimo” is derogatory. There’s a reference in the character list saying this word choice is explained in the first book; but, I’ve not read the first book and was shocked to see this. Perhaps it would benefit from an explanation? Or a more conscious term for this human be used?
Writing style:
👎 Right off the bat, we’ve got a very slow chapter where we have more descriptions of food smeared on plates than story. I found I really struggled with the dialogue style between Munun and Vita. Similar to my observations about problematic language, I’m not entirely sure what the author was trying to achieve with these two characters but it feels almost mocking.
👎 The writing style itself feels like it’s going for dreamy but it’s landing more self-important, overwrought, and navel-gazey
Story and Characters:
👎 The characters don’t feel fleshed out, real, or interesting to me as a reader
👎 This book was advertised as a dystopia but 40% of the way in and it’s just the internal monologues as each individual travels to a clinic. It’s not holding my interest.
I didn’t realize when I requested this that I’d abandoned one of the author’s early works for similar reasons. This author is definitely not for me.
I was privileged to have my request to read this book accepted through NetGalley. Thank you, Granta Publications.
Why I stopped reading:
Problematic language:
👎 Why on earth is a transgender character that identifies as female referred to as “he” in the character list?
👎 Uncomfortable racism in the Velmer chapter when he’s grilling the friend group on their nationalities.
👎 The sexist and misogynist way that Velmer talks about Inga and Nanook notices Bellona
👎 I’ve worked with individuals with aphasia before and the portrayal in this book feels at best insensitive and at worst mocking
👎 As a Canadian reader, the word “Eskimo” is derogatory. There’s a reference in the character list saying this word choice is explained in the first book; but, I’ve not read the first book and was shocked to see this. Perhaps it would benefit from an explanation? Or a more conscious term for this human be used?
Writing style:
👎 Right off the bat, we’ve got a very slow chapter where we have more descriptions of food smeared on plates than story. I found I really struggled with the dialogue style between Munun and Vita. Similar to my observations about problematic language, I’m not entirely sure what the author was trying to achieve with these two characters but it feels almost mocking.
👎 The writing style itself feels like it’s going for dreamy but it’s landing more self-important, overwrought, and navel-gazey
Story and Characters:
👎 The characters don’t feel fleshed out, real, or interesting to me as a reader
👎 This book was advertised as a dystopia but 40% of the way in and it’s just the internal monologues as each individual travels to a clinic. It’s not holding my interest.
I didn’t realize when I requested this that I’d abandoned one of the author’s early works for similar reasons. This author is definitely not for me.
I was privileged to have my request to read this book accepted through NetGalley. Thank you, Granta Publications.
December 16, 2025
loved the first book, prob should’ve reread it before starting #2 in the trilogy, but idk this one didn’t do it for me. at times, the writing was effortless and beautiful, with the storylines woven together, other times, it was just a bit too much.
July 31, 2025
After much consideration. I feel a 3 is appropriate.
I was ready to dive back into this weird world and find some answers in a sequel with many questions unanswered. What I got instead was a long road to Copenhagen. Nearly half the book, in fact, took place on the road: first with Nanook, then with Nora and Akash.
The language musings are still crisp and fun to read; however, this time, the relative blandness of the backdrop did make for a more laborious read than the first. In addition to the lengthy travel scenes and some contrived plot points, there was an extended situation where two characters switch personalities that never really saw the fruition I felt it needed by the end of the book. The danger of this came from the book's construction: every character, except for Munun, is given only one chapter to show their POV, and this body switch happened after both characters in question finished sharing their perspectives.
Also, look. The book does not handle many themes well, particularly Akash's non-binary/trans hijra nature, Nanook's "Eskimo" heritage, and Munun's Down Syndrome. That said, I think these themes are warped by translation (I'm reading the English translation) and also serve as crucial linguistic touchpoints that further affect interpretation.
For example, in one scene, Knut remarks upon Akash's gender, noting how he doesn't know what pronoun to use when referring to his friend, but ultimately settles on "he," showing the struggle to be personal as well as linguistic.
The book also relies on its relationship to stereotype as a main plot point, which, although it borders on offensive, also opens doors for analysis. Knut brings Akash to a Pakistani restaurant, saying it serves the best Indian food, only for Akash to correct him when they arrive. Knut then has to sit with the discomfort of having offended his friend.
In many other scenes, characters embody their stereotypes: Akash constantly drinks chai, two motor-biking Germans rejoice at eating food depicted as gross and bland, and, in the most tender moment of the book, Hiruko is forced to reckon with how others interpret Panska, her own constructed language. She believes it to be her beautiful work of art that allows for mutual intelligibility across Scandinavian countries, but she worries Susanoo sees it as an "immigrant's broken speech."
For me, these themes that play with stereotype work, for the most part, because so much of the novel cares so deeply about exposing the tiresome exercise of linguistic definition -- how language has the power to trap people.
A line I loved from Akash's section that contends with how linguistics relates to one's sense of self: "If I talked naturally, I wouldn't be heard, and if I shouted, I would no longer be me."
One thing I also found interesting in the book is that everyone kind of sucks as people: Nanook needs to just get a grip and break up with Nora, Knut is so mean to his mom and pretends to know everything, Dr. Velmer.... enough said.
These perspectives give a Brechtian distance from the story that, while not making for an absorbing read, does challenge the reader to think critically about the content and contend with characters' actions or seemingly logic-proof musings (often riddled with issues).
The last thing I'll say is that I was surprised by a relationship in the novel that explores choosing to love a bad person, and knowing from the outset that they are bad. I have never really seen it depicted quite this way in a novel, and would like to see this further explored in the third.
I was ready to dive back into this weird world and find some answers in a sequel with many questions unanswered. What I got instead was a long road to Copenhagen. Nearly half the book, in fact, took place on the road: first with Nanook, then with Nora and Akash.
The language musings are still crisp and fun to read; however, this time, the relative blandness of the backdrop did make for a more laborious read than the first. In addition to the lengthy travel scenes and some contrived plot points, there was an extended situation where two characters switch personalities that never really saw the fruition I felt it needed by the end of the book. The danger of this came from the book's construction: every character, except for Munun, is given only one chapter to show their POV, and this body switch happened after both characters in question finished sharing their perspectives.
Also, look. The book does not handle many themes well, particularly Akash's non-binary/trans hijra nature, Nanook's "Eskimo" heritage, and Munun's Down Syndrome. That said, I think these themes are warped by translation (I'm reading the English translation) and also serve as crucial linguistic touchpoints that further affect interpretation.
For example, in one scene, Knut remarks upon Akash's gender, noting how he doesn't know what pronoun to use when referring to his friend, but ultimately settles on "he," showing the struggle to be personal as well as linguistic.
The book also relies on its relationship to stereotype as a main plot point, which, although it borders on offensive, also opens doors for analysis. Knut brings Akash to a Pakistani restaurant, saying it serves the best Indian food, only for Akash to correct him when they arrive. Knut then has to sit with the discomfort of having offended his friend.
In many other scenes, characters embody their stereotypes: Akash constantly drinks chai, two motor-biking Germans rejoice at eating food depicted as gross and bland, and, in the most tender moment of the book, Hiruko is forced to reckon with how others interpret Panska, her own constructed language. She believes it to be her beautiful work of art that allows for mutual intelligibility across Scandinavian countries, but she worries Susanoo sees it as an "immigrant's broken speech."
For me, these themes that play with stereotype work, for the most part, because so much of the novel cares so deeply about exposing the tiresome exercise of linguistic definition -- how language has the power to trap people.
A line I loved from Akash's section that contends with how linguistics relates to one's sense of self: "If I talked naturally, I wouldn't be heard, and if I shouted, I would no longer be me."
One thing I also found interesting in the book is that everyone kind of sucks as people: Nanook needs to just get a grip and break up with Nora, Knut is so mean to his mom and pretends to know everything, Dr. Velmer.... enough said.
These perspectives give a Brechtian distance from the story that, while not making for an absorbing read, does challenge the reader to think critically about the content and contend with characters' actions or seemingly logic-proof musings (often riddled with issues).
The last thing I'll say is that I was surprised by a relationship in the novel that explores choosing to love a bad person, and knowing from the outset that they are bad. I have never really seen it depicted quite this way in a novel, and would like to see this further explored in the third.
March 16, 2025
I found like it’s prequel, this book just lacked something. I think there’s a really great concept behind these books, but they’re a little too poorly executed to really deliver on it. The characters are too shallow, the way they think and speak is naïve and blunt, which for a book all about language, shouldn’t be the case. There is certainly some interesting linguistic play to be found, but mostly, the story drags and falls flat.
May 1, 2025
On a losing streak right now. The stereotypes in this book towards Akash’s character are really inadmissible and every revelation is repeated ad nauseam in every POV, often repeated from the first book as well. Pretty much nothing happens except when absurd things happen without explanation. It’s almost magical realism but lacking an anchoring point.
I think there is humor and word games taking place in this book that probably just do not translate to English. I’d like to read more of her earlier works but I’m abandoning the series.
I think there is humor and word games taking place in this book that probably just do not translate to English. I’d like to read more of her earlier works but I’m abandoning the series.
February 12, 2025
not great! some lines and metaphors were exciting to me, and you have to buy into the "friends go on an adventure" tone she is striking (that reads childish, but that's why you have to lean in) and alas i guess i couldn't for this time around. i'll still read the third book though once the translation is out because i do love linguistics
April 12, 2025
Not as good as the first book, but not awful.
August 20, 2025
I had to check the translator because the writing on this was so different; I wonder if editors tried to tone down everything that made book one so special. I spent much less time underlining the beauty here and more time trying to remember what was happening and discerning what was metaphor and what was real (hint: it was never a metaphor.) I'll read #3, but #1 will still hold my heart captive.
November 17, 2025
lubię to jak działa mózg yoko tawady
October 16, 2024
what if language was a curse but what if that was fine
January 11, 2025
I liked this book, which is the second in a trilogy that started with Scattered All Over the Earth, just as much as I liked the first one—which is to say, quite a bit. This one, like the first one, is made up of chapters that are first-person narration by different characters—three of whom work at a hospital, one of whom is a patient at that hospital, and five of whom make their way to the hospital over the course of their book to see the patient, Susanoo, who may or may not have aphasia. Hiruko wants to speak to Susanoo in their native language (Japanese), because in the world of this book Japan has (maybe) disappeared, and Hiruko, who's been studying in Scandinavia, wants to connect with someone from her homeland. Nanook, Nora, Knut, and Akash are all along for the ride for various reasons, some of which are academic (Knut is very interested in languages) and others of which are personal (Akash has a thing for Knut; Nora has a thing for Nanook). At the hospital, we get chapters from the perspectives of a doctor, a nurse, and a kid who washes dishes in the basement.
But that all makes this book sound much more straightforward than it is: it's concerned with identity and story and myth, in how the world sees people and how people see themselves. There's a moment where Akash jokes about how, because Akash is Indian, Europeans assume that Akash knows yoga. Akash plays along and says "my imitation is starting to look like the real thing." Knut wonders if that would work for him too—somehow people have gotten the impression that he's working on a book and starting a company to publish it: "maybe if I played the role of a young Scandinavian about the set up a publishing company," he ponders, he would be that person. There's a whole subplot about the contrasting personalities of Nanook and Dr. Velmer, and the question of whether people are who/what they seem to be comes up in various ways over the course of the book.
I suspect someone who knows more about Japanese myth than I do might really enjoy the mythical aspects of the story, which I appreciated even though I wasn't previously familiar with the mythological figures referenced. At one point, Hiruko says she's the sun goddess and wonders if Susanoo is the moon, though I think the novel also suggests that Munun, the dishwasher, is the moon, and Susanoo is a Shinto god associated with storms. There are also references to the story of Orihime and Hikoboshi, but I don't know that we're meant to see the characters as definitively tied to one mythical figure or another—it feels like a sense of overlap and multiplicity is part of the point.
But that all makes this book sound much more straightforward than it is: it's concerned with identity and story and myth, in how the world sees people and how people see themselves. There's a moment where Akash jokes about how, because Akash is Indian, Europeans assume that Akash knows yoga. Akash plays along and says "my imitation is starting to look like the real thing." Knut wonders if that would work for him too—somehow people have gotten the impression that he's working on a book and starting a company to publish it: "maybe if I played the role of a young Scandinavian about the set up a publishing company," he ponders, he would be that person. There's a whole subplot about the contrasting personalities of Nanook and Dr. Velmer, and the question of whether people are who/what they seem to be comes up in various ways over the course of the book.
I suspect someone who knows more about Japanese myth than I do might really enjoy the mythical aspects of the story, which I appreciated even though I wasn't previously familiar with the mythological figures referenced. At one point, Hiruko says she's the sun goddess and wonders if Susanoo is the moon, though I think the novel also suggests that Munun, the dishwasher, is the moon, and Susanoo is a Shinto god associated with storms. There are also references to the story of Orihime and Hikoboshi, but I don't know that we're meant to see the characters as definitively tied to one mythical figure or another—it feels like a sense of overlap and multiplicity is part of the point.
December 18, 2024
A book about the magic of human connection~~ (no, seriously—human connection in non normative relationships, as an existential need, and as a form of making the self as self. Eg: “it’s no use remembering all by yourself. That way, your memories turn into delusions. You need someone to share them with.”) and also about meaning-making and coincidences and dream logic and the absurdity of (and yet retrenchment of) nationalism, racism, sexism, and transphobia as carried by language. And really fucking fun, like all of Tawada’s writing, lighthearted in the darkest circumstances and willing to point out the absurdities in modern environmentalist choice-making and travel and the selves we construct and that others construct for us, which we kinda just sort of inhabit like snails taking new shells. And the way the narrators pass off to each other like they’re in a dance across Europe—converging and diverging and changing fluidly in their coincidental crossings into and through each other’s lives. Like Scattered Across the Earth, it feels like a talisman against loneliness. Here for the vibes of Tawada’s work, always.
Also: instead of always thinking of the “foul lump” making promises in my voice, or the choking as metaphor of Austerlitz, maybe I’ll just say I have a “kibi dango” in my throat! It’s more fun and less self important that way!
Also this moment in Hiruko’s story where she starts telling the story of the gods as her own story—her having been born the leech, then later eldest sibling to the others, like Amaterasu **ooh it’s cool >> and how Susanoo is kind of like Susanoowoo, her opposite, both of them trying to control the situation
And the last bit when everyone’s talking over each other, only responding to parts of what is said, and then somehow everyone ends up in the collective fantasy of boarding a modern day ark back to India and Singapore >> and then all of it literalised in the dance at the end…the way a conversation is a kind of dance…and the assignation of everyone a star—kind of beautiful? I love how everything in a Tawada novel snowballs…
Also: instead of always thinking of the “foul lump” making promises in my voice, or the choking as metaphor of Austerlitz, maybe I’ll just say I have a “kibi dango” in my throat! It’s more fun and less self important that way!
Also this moment in Hiruko’s story where she starts telling the story of the gods as her own story—her having been born the leech, then later eldest sibling to the others, like Amaterasu **ooh it’s cool >> and how Susanoo is kind of like Susanoowoo, her opposite, both of them trying to control the situation
And the last bit when everyone’s talking over each other, only responding to parts of what is said, and then somehow everyone ends up in the collective fantasy of boarding a modern day ark back to India and Singapore >> and then all of it literalised in the dance at the end…the way a conversation is a kind of dance…and the assignation of everyone a star—kind of beautiful? I love how everything in a Tawada novel snowballs…
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
October 31, 2024
As was the case in the first installation of this trilogy, Scattered All Over the Earth, Tawada tried to use the troupe of characters to depict how people might continue to struggle to find meaning and perhaps love in a climate related dystopian future. Some social commentary was scattered throughout about issues like societal upheaval with fears of terrorism and increasing difficulties in daily life activities like travel and the use of the internet. She continued to comment on sexual and racial stereotypes as well. She included a few observations about societal issues plaguing 21st century Japan.
Unfortunately, a few newer characters made the storyline in Suggested more challenging to follow. And the issue of Hiruko engaging with Susanoo did not get addressed until the very end of the novel. The narratives were even more often long winded than they were in Scattered. The characters often made allusions to the reasons for their life choices but these were not really explored or explained deeply enough. Given these flaws I began to find it difficult to sustain my interest about half way through.
I am generally accepting of the timely use of magical realism in fiction. But the way Tawada employed it at the end seemed like an obvious ploy to justify writing the third part of this series.
Altogether it felt as if she gave herself free rein to use her imagination in whatever way struck her fancy without sufficient discipline to help the novel to be more coherent and thus more readily readable. Did an editor allow this because Tawada is an accomplished author of a number of popular books? I finished Suggested but only with some effort and due to my long-standing commitment to Japanese culture, etc. Therefore, I am ambivalent about whether I will read part 3 or not.
Unfortunately, a few newer characters made the storyline in Suggested more challenging to follow. And the issue of Hiruko engaging with Susanoo did not get addressed until the very end of the novel. The narratives were even more often long winded than they were in Scattered. The characters often made allusions to the reasons for their life choices but these were not really explored or explained deeply enough. Given these flaws I began to find it difficult to sustain my interest about half way through.
I am generally accepting of the timely use of magical realism in fiction. But the way Tawada employed it at the end seemed like an obvious ploy to justify writing the third part of this series.
Altogether it felt as if she gave herself free rein to use her imagination in whatever way struck her fancy without sufficient discipline to help the novel to be more coherent and thus more readily readable. Did an editor allow this because Tawada is an accomplished author of a number of popular books? I finished Suggested but only with some effort and due to my long-standing commitment to Japanese culture, etc. Therefore, I am ambivalent about whether I will read part 3 or not.
November 6, 2024
2.5 rounded up because of my intense love affair with Tawada.
This book had a strong focus on the blurring of barriers that started in the previous one: language continued to be broken down, barriers around gender and relationships kept blurring, and, most notably, subjectivity and the notion of ‘self’ were transferred and even subverted. Interesting concepts all around, but I feel like it wasn’t executed in a satisfactory way, you know?
And I love this focus on in-betweenness, but it was done in a way that was a lot more satisfactory to read in the first novel. Here it feels as if Tawada’s (or Mitsutani, I read this in translation so I’m sure I’m missing some of the Tawada-ness that so defines her work) falling into the very ravine she cites writing within. Things are too messy (a weird mushing together) and feel, paradoxically, like these characters are not living in a conjoined piece but on their own disparate paths. Which doesn’t feel like the first novel was at all, much less what this novel should be about.
(I say ‘should be about’ like I have any authority, but half of the stuff I do in academia is around this author and translation so 😭 authority granted!)
I see in a lot of reviews people rallying against some of the language used in this novel and on one hand I agree really strongly, on the other I want to point out that the translator talked about her choice in gendered language surrounding Akash (who did the position as favorite character in this series in this book) in a previous interview that I think folks should check out. It doesn’t excuse the lack of proper language, but I think it does explain her choices as a translator! (https://hopscotchtranslation.com/2022...)
This book had a strong focus on the blurring of barriers that started in the previous one: language continued to be broken down, barriers around gender and relationships kept blurring, and, most notably, subjectivity and the notion of ‘self’ were transferred and even subverted. Interesting concepts all around, but I feel like it wasn’t executed in a satisfactory way, you know?
And I love this focus on in-betweenness, but it was done in a way that was a lot more satisfactory to read in the first novel. Here it feels as if Tawada’s (or Mitsutani, I read this in translation so I’m sure I’m missing some of the Tawada-ness that so defines her work) falling into the very ravine she cites writing within. Things are too messy (a weird mushing together) and feel, paradoxically, like these characters are not living in a conjoined piece but on their own disparate paths. Which doesn’t feel like the first novel was at all, much less what this novel should be about.
(I say ‘should be about’ like I have any authority, but half of the stuff I do in academia is around this author and translation so 😭 authority granted!)
I see in a lot of reviews people rallying against some of the language used in this novel and on one hand I agree really strongly, on the other I want to point out that the translator talked about her choice in gendered language surrounding Akash (who did the position as favorite character in this series in this book) in a previous interview that I think folks should check out. It doesn’t excuse the lack of proper language, but I think it does explain her choices as a translator! (https://hopscotchtranslation.com/2022...)
June 10, 2025
"She has a linguistic sort of charm."
Yoko Tawada menunjukkan penulis punya supremasi atas karyanya lewat buku ini. Saya merasa tergocek. Apa yang terjadi dengan tokoh Susanoo? Kenapa dia jadi begitu? :''))
Apa pula yang terjadi dengan alurnya? Kenapa dari eksplorasi lingustik dan dampak menghilangnya suatu negara terhadap penutur bahasanya berubah menjadi sesi konseling "inner child-nya terluka" akibat kekecewaan kasih sayang dalam keluarga? :''DD
"Depending on which bits you put on display, the truth can sound more fake than a real lie."
Meski merasa perkembangan cerita dan karakternya di sekuel ini terasa 'semau-maunya' penulis, saya harus mengakui tetap menikmati membaca buku ini. Penulis piawai bercerita dan transisinya dalam bercerita menggunakan sudut pandang masing-masing karakter mengalir dengan baik. Mungkin juga karena ada banyak pandangan terhadap isu-isu kecil, bukan alur utama, yang terasa dekat dengan kehidupan sehari-hari pembaca, termasuk saya, seperti dugaan kenapa Thole memberikan Akash dan Nora tumpangan, bagaimana Mrs. Nielsen kehilangan relevansi dengan suaminya secara pelan-pelan (karena merek tidak punya topik pembicaraan yang sama lagi).
Oh iya, dalam sekuel ini, ada beberapa karakter baru, yaitu Munun dan Velmer.
Dan saya tetap berharap, sebebas-bebasnya bentuk mencintai, Hiruko dan Knut akan mengalami bentuk yang paling klasik, konvensional, dasar (apa pun sebutannya), mereka lebih dari sekadar teman.
"The way they stand side by side makes them seem like lovers, but if you look carefully, there's a little space between them. They're never touching. And they don't look at each other when they talk, either. Yet they're always together somehow."
"I still had my back turned, but I felt warmth moving through the air, and figured it must be Knut. Just as I'd thought, right behind my earlobe I heard his voice."
"Knut smelled like cedar, lavender, and freshly baked bread, all mixed together."
"'Who's that?' asked Knut. He's interested in everything she says."
Pertanyaannya, apakah buku ketiganya akan layak dinanti? Sejujurnya, saya agak khawatir akan menemukan kejutan alur atau perubahan ekstrem karakter lainnya. Kita lihat nanti, deh.
"There's no sense always thinking about other people. They're not you, so you can never really understand them. You're just imagining their emotional reactions."
November 17, 2024
the second book of a trilogy that started with SCATTERED ALL OVER THE EARTH, SITS continues the adventures of six characters in search of a homeland (japan) that no longer exists. like the first novel, each chapter is narrated by a single character, but what's different here is that each character only gets one chapter to move the narrative forward.
the book really casts a spell. it started a bit stiff, and almost off-putting. as the story evolves, the threads tighten and the characters, having scattered at the end of the first book, work their way to a hospital in copenhagen where one of the crew has been treated for having lost his voice. in her usual way, tawada is able to work contemporary social problems into the mix in a way that never draws attention, but is expressed with economy.
by the end the lyricism soars and tawada offers a dreamlike ending that recall the final pages of THE EMISSARY. unwilling to reveal here, i will only say that i can't wait to see what happens in the final installment. what i love most about her work is the unpredictable way she develops the story. you never know where or why things are happening until surprises emerge from the chaos. those familiar with her work will find some of the themes she is known for: borders, family, the collapse of political structures and the stability of our environment, language, gender fluidity, and an approach to the dystopian that is positive, where solutions to issues that plague the modern world seem possible.
the book really casts a spell. it started a bit stiff, and almost off-putting. as the story evolves, the threads tighten and the characters, having scattered at the end of the first book, work their way to a hospital in copenhagen where one of the crew has been treated for having lost his voice. in her usual way, tawada is able to work contemporary social problems into the mix in a way that never draws attention, but is expressed with economy.
by the end the lyricism soars and tawada offers a dreamlike ending that recall the final pages of THE EMISSARY. unwilling to reveal here, i will only say that i can't wait to see what happens in the final installment. what i love most about her work is the unpredictable way she develops the story. you never know where or why things are happening until surprises emerge from the chaos. those familiar with her work will find some of the themes she is known for: borders, family, the collapse of political structures and the stability of our environment, language, gender fluidity, and an approach to the dystopian that is positive, where solutions to issues that plague the modern world seem possible.
October 25, 2024
‘Suggested in the Stars’ is the second book in Yoko Tawada’s trilogy that began with ‘Scattered All Over the Earth’. The series is set in a vaguely dystopian future where Japan has not only disappeared but also been forgotten. The novel follows the same group of people from the first book, who function as a loose found family, as they find themselves travelling to and residing in a hospital in Copenhagen where they meet the self-centred Dr Velmar, an expert on aphasia.
I really did not get on with this book. Similar, to the first book, Tawada gives us a lot of discussion on linguistics, language, and culture. I didn’t feel as though this second instalment was necessary or added anything new to the conversation. The characters are not only unlikable in an uninteresting way but also seem flat. The pacing is tedious, and the plot lacks a driving focus.
We also get a repeat of some of the problematic issues in the first book. The trans character Akash is misgendered constantly and the use of the term Eskimo seems bizarre and outdated.
A disappointing read and I will not be picking up the last book in the trilogy.
Thank you to Netgalley and Granta for the ARC.
I really did not get on with this book. Similar, to the first book, Tawada gives us a lot of discussion on linguistics, language, and culture. I didn’t feel as though this second instalment was necessary or added anything new to the conversation. The characters are not only unlikable in an uninteresting way but also seem flat. The pacing is tedious, and the plot lacks a driving focus.
We also get a repeat of some of the problematic issues in the first book. The trans character Akash is misgendered constantly and the use of the term Eskimo seems bizarre and outdated.
A disappointing read and I will not be picking up the last book in the trilogy.
Thank you to Netgalley and Granta for the ARC.
June 5, 2025
A sequel in Hiruko’s quest to find somebody who speaks the language of her vanished homeland.
I found this one a bit disorienting as it initially didn’t feel like a sequel at all - starting off with completely new characters, it takes a while to connect with the events and characters of the first book. It also took a while to get off the ground, so didn’t have me particularly gripped on its own merit either.
The themes of language and identity and how they intertwine - an exploration that I found so fascinating in the first book and expected more of in this one - don’t really come into the book until towards the end, and I wasn’t particularly invested in the new characters or direction of this book, which felt a little stagnant. That said, I’m intrigued as to how this trilogy will wrap up, so I will certainly read the third, which sounds as if the characters will be on the move (something else I liked about the first, as it kept it fresh).
An oddball, slightly chaotic sequel about self-knowledge, friendship and belonging.
I found this one a bit disorienting as it initially didn’t feel like a sequel at all - starting off with completely new characters, it takes a while to connect with the events and characters of the first book. It also took a while to get off the ground, so didn’t have me particularly gripped on its own merit either.
The themes of language and identity and how they intertwine - an exploration that I found so fascinating in the first book and expected more of in this one - don’t really come into the book until towards the end, and I wasn’t particularly invested in the new characters or direction of this book, which felt a little stagnant. That said, I’m intrigued as to how this trilogy will wrap up, so I will certainly read the third, which sounds as if the characters will be on the move (something else I liked about the first, as it kept it fresh).
An oddball, slightly chaotic sequel about self-knowledge, friendship and belonging.
November 1, 2024
One way to divide books, or novels anyway, is into the kind of books that can contain all the characters being excited when one person sheepishly admits to be dating someone else, and books where this is unlikely to happen. With some adjustments, you could imagine this happening in a Dickens book, I think, but it's harder to do with Eliot. No one in a Cormac McCarthy novel is going to announce anything sheepishly, but they could in a Pynchon book that is not Gravity's Rainbow. Nell Zink is a great novelist because she has scenes like this all the time despite seeming emphatically like she should *not* be the kind of writer who includes scenes like this in her work. As I hope this list of examples suggests, this kind of scene is not good or bad eo ipso.
This book is maybe the most "book that can include a scene like this" that I have read yet. It was pretty good, though not as good as the book it's a sequel to. I will definitely read the third one.
This book is maybe the most "book that can include a scene like this" that I have read yet. It was pretty good, though not as good as the book it's a sequel to. I will definitely read the third one.
December 31, 2024
Bought in the hope that I'd get some answers to literature's biggest question: where did Japan go? However I found even fewer answers, with even more random characters that all pledge to follow eachother to the end of the earth after an hour of faux-deep conversation. I think I'm just not a fan of Tawada's dialogue but it really irritated me this time. Actually quite liked the middle section about Akash and Nora becoming friends, but everything else just sort of enraged me. You're telling me Susanoo was pretending to be mute this entire time, only to be a prick who just "wants to make people actually talk to eachother" ie just being really assumptive and cruel??? Incredibly unsatisfying? Also the stuff with the twins was really weirdly done and felt very irrelevant.
Idk I think my main problem with this book is that I want it to have plot instead of being a series of stilted conversations that are almost exclusively wordplay and come off really pretentious. Should probably not buy the third one, though probably will because I'm still weirdly curious to see how this pans out.
Idk I think my main problem with this book is that I want it to have plot instead of being a series of stilted conversations that are almost exclusively wordplay and come off really pretentious. Should probably not buy the third one, though probably will because I'm still weirdly curious to see how this pans out.
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
December 7, 2024
I enjoyed the story being told from the perspectives of the different characters. Although at times I skipped the long descriptive narrations, I appreciated how the writer was able to push the plot along by showcasing the experiences of each character's perspectives.
The story tries a tad too much to highlight different issues (language and identity, Western ideals and concepts, gender and sexuality, environmental issues etc). The writer does so through each character which highlights their personality and values. This helps in understanding the characters. However, when we look at it as a whole, the story becomes rather confusing and lacking in coherence with many parts becoming rather redundant.
Overall, this is a book that I'll probably read once and no more. I enjoyed the exploration on identity and linguistics through the lenses of different perspectives told as fiction.
The story tries a tad too much to highlight different issues (language and identity, Western ideals and concepts, gender and sexuality, environmental issues etc). The writer does so through each character which highlights their personality and values. This helps in understanding the characters. However, when we look at it as a whole, the story becomes rather confusing and lacking in coherence with many parts becoming rather redundant.
Overall, this is a book that I'll probably read once and no more. I enjoyed the exploration on identity and linguistics through the lenses of different perspectives told as fiction.
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
March 6, 2025
The story in Suggested in the Stars centres on characters caught in the contrast between their old world and the uncertain new world. The author combines reality with elements of fantasy, allowing readers to explore worlds that are not only physical but also psychological and philosophical. The poetic and sometimes surrealistic writing style gives the impression that the book is not only about telling a story, but also creating an atmosphere or feeling. However, based on my observations while reading this book, the story feels a bit slow or not very structured, which may not appeal to those who prefer a more direct or conventional story. Overall, this book is not just a story, but a complex reflection on how humans interact with an increasingly open and interconnected world, with all its difficulties, beauty, and confusion.
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
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