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Things Become Other Things: A Walking Memoir
A transformative 300-mile walk along Japan’s ancient pilgrimage routes and through depopulating villages inspires a heartrending remembrance of a long-lost friend, documented in poignant, imaginative prose and remarkable photography.
“An epic, exquisitely detailed journey, on foot, through a rural Japan few of us are likely to experience. Uniquely unforgettable.”—William Gibson, New York Times bestselling author of Neuromancer
A BEST BOOK OF THE Smithsonian Magazine, Kirkus Reviews, Shelf Awareness
Photographer and essayist Craig Mod is a veteran of long solo walks. But in 2021, during the pandemic shutdown of Japan’s borders, one particular walk around the Kumano Kodō routes—the ancient pilgrimage paths of Japan’s southern Kii Peninsula—took on an unexpectedly personal new significance. Mod found himself reflecting on his own childhood in a post-industrial American town, his experiences as an adoptee, his unlikely relocation to Japan at nineteen, and his relationship with one lost friend, whose life was tragically cut short after their paths diverged. For Mod, the walk became a tool to bear witness to a quiet grace visible only when “you’re bored out of your skull and the miles left are long.”
Tracing a 300-mile-long journey, Things Become Other Things folds together history, literature, poetry, Shinto and Buddhist spirituality, and contemporary rural life in Japan via dozens of conversations with aging fishermen, multi-generational inn owners, farmers, and kissaten cafe “mamas.” Along the way, Mod communes with mountain fauna, marvels over evidence of bears and boars, and hopscotches around leeches. He encounters whispering priests and foul-mouthed little kids who ask him, “Just what the heck are you, anyway?” Through sharp prose and his curious archive of photographs, he records evidence of floods and tsunamis, the disappearance of village life on the peninsula, and the capricious fecundity of nature.
Things Become Other Things blends memoir and travel writing at their best, transporting readers to an otherwise inaccessible Japan, one made visible only through Mod’s unique bicultural lens.
“An epic, exquisitely detailed journey, on foot, through a rural Japan few of us are likely to experience. Uniquely unforgettable.”—William Gibson, New York Times bestselling author of Neuromancer
A BEST BOOK OF THE Smithsonian Magazine, Kirkus Reviews, Shelf Awareness
Photographer and essayist Craig Mod is a veteran of long solo walks. But in 2021, during the pandemic shutdown of Japan’s borders, one particular walk around the Kumano Kodō routes—the ancient pilgrimage paths of Japan’s southern Kii Peninsula—took on an unexpectedly personal new significance. Mod found himself reflecting on his own childhood in a post-industrial American town, his experiences as an adoptee, his unlikely relocation to Japan at nineteen, and his relationship with one lost friend, whose life was tragically cut short after their paths diverged. For Mod, the walk became a tool to bear witness to a quiet grace visible only when “you’re bored out of your skull and the miles left are long.”
Tracing a 300-mile-long journey, Things Become Other Things folds together history, literature, poetry, Shinto and Buddhist spirituality, and contemporary rural life in Japan via dozens of conversations with aging fishermen, multi-generational inn owners, farmers, and kissaten cafe “mamas.” Along the way, Mod communes with mountain fauna, marvels over evidence of bears and boars, and hopscotches around leeches. He encounters whispering priests and foul-mouthed little kids who ask him, “Just what the heck are you, anyway?” Through sharp prose and his curious archive of photographs, he records evidence of floods and tsunamis, the disappearance of village life on the peninsula, and the capricious fecundity of nature.
Things Become Other Things blends memoir and travel writing at their best, transporting readers to an otherwise inaccessible Japan, one made visible only through Mod’s unique bicultural lens.
279 pages, Kindle Edition
First published May 6, 2025
324 people are currently reading
5964 people want to read
About the author
Craig Mod
18 books283 followersCraig Mod is a writer, photographer, and walker living in Tokyo, Japan. He is the author the books "Things Become Other Things" and "Kissa by Kissa." He is also the author of the newsletters "Roden" and "Ridgeline" and has contributed to The New York Times, The Atlantic, Wired, and more.
He has been a resident of Japan since 2000. He has walked between Tokyo and Kyoto (on the Tōkaidō and Nakasendō) three times. And has walked thousands of kilometers of the Kii Peninsula as well as other old roads across Japan.
He has been a resident of Japan since 2000. He has walked between Tokyo and Kyoto (on the Tōkaidō and Nakasendō) three times. And has walked thousands of kilometers of the Kii Peninsula as well as other old roads across Japan.
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 183 reviews
September 6, 2025
I thought I liked walking, but compared to Craig Mod I might as well be a sedentary sedimentary rock. Mod takes it to new heights, putting dozens of kilometers per day walking a Japanese peninsula, walking with passion and fervor that is bordering on religious.
And so we have a loose series of brief reflection-like essays set on a long walking journey along a peninsula in Japan, reflecting on not just things around him but his life, his upbringing in a poor declining US town, his childhood friendship with a local kid Bryan, childhood among rough rural poverty, moving to Japan, feeling at home there, and finding meaning in walking. Many essays are very short, the topics are digressing and diverging, things become other things — and as I normally like a bit more cohesion it should have driven me crazy, but somehow it did not.
In these meditative essays Mod is coming to terms with the pain of a loss of his childhood friend and childhood traumas coming from the environment of his upbringing, the effects that poverty, substance use and surrounding violence had on the formation of character, the differences between rural poverty in the US and Japan. He experiences Japanese culture and seems genuinely entranced by it. He sounds sincere and a bit earnest - this book is almost like his own personal therapy reflection trip, and although he gives off a vibe of a guy who is more of a solitary walker, I quite enjoyed him as a virtual companion on (admittedly, much shorter) walking trips.
3.5 stars.
——————
Also posted on my blog.
And so we have a loose series of brief reflection-like essays set on a long walking journey along a peninsula in Japan, reflecting on not just things around him but his life, his upbringing in a poor declining US town, his childhood friendship with a local kid Bryan, childhood among rough rural poverty, moving to Japan, feeling at home there, and finding meaning in walking. Many essays are very short, the topics are digressing and diverging, things become other things — and as I normally like a bit more cohesion it should have driven me crazy, but somehow it did not.
In these meditative essays Mod is coming to terms with the pain of a loss of his childhood friend and childhood traumas coming from the environment of his upbringing, the effects that poverty, substance use and surrounding violence had on the formation of character, the differences between rural poverty in the US and Japan. He experiences Japanese culture and seems genuinely entranced by it. He sounds sincere and a bit earnest - this book is almost like his own personal therapy reflection trip, and although he gives off a vibe of a guy who is more of a solitary walker, I quite enjoyed him as a virtual companion on (admittedly, much shorter) walking trips.
3.5 stars.
——————
Also posted on my blog.
September 29, 2025
“It’s been a lifetime since I’ve written your name: Bryan. (There it is.) Written with a “y” not an “i.” The only “true” way to write it as far as I’m concerned. A name that never left my mind. (How could it?) *Bryan*. But it wasn’t until this walk that you returned to me in full. Why now? I don’t know. Maybe I’d just seen enough, finally. Was finally brave enough to look back.
Here’s what I do know: This world turns and turns and the more I move my feet the more I believe in things we never understood. Life, irrepressible, it billows over the top of the pot, man. Let me be your eyes as best as I can. I’ll bear witness to this wonder you never got to see.”
This is the story of two American boys growing up in a depressed, post-industrial town in central Connecticut, straight out of an early Springsteen song, born to run, ready for a fight.
This is the story of how one boy is saved and the other is lost, falling through the cracks of a societal system that crushes the weakest like a foot crushes twigs, careless and out of its mind.
This is the story of a young man looking for his own heart in a foreign land, Japan, a place that has inexplicable words like “yoyū”, meaning the excess space provided by a sense of abundance. Let that sink in.
This is the story of what happens when you go on a walk that unspools over weeks, along the roads of a dilapidated Peninsula, bleeding out its youth and a vision for the future, and you find more “yoyū” there than you could ever imagine.
This is the story of an artist who walked his way to acceptance and, in the words of Robert Macfarlane, sang his heart to all dark matter.
Breathtaking. 素晴らしい
PS: I saved many links to podcasts, interviews with Craig Mod and articles on “Things Become Other Things” in a highlight on my Instagram feed @mybookhunter
Here’s what I do know: This world turns and turns and the more I move my feet the more I believe in things we never understood. Life, irrepressible, it billows over the top of the pot, man. Let me be your eyes as best as I can. I’ll bear witness to this wonder you never got to see.”
This is the story of two American boys growing up in a depressed, post-industrial town in central Connecticut, straight out of an early Springsteen song, born to run, ready for a fight.
This is the story of how one boy is saved and the other is lost, falling through the cracks of a societal system that crushes the weakest like a foot crushes twigs, careless and out of its mind.
This is the story of a young man looking for his own heart in a foreign land, Japan, a place that has inexplicable words like “yoyū”, meaning the excess space provided by a sense of abundance. Let that sink in.
This is the story of what happens when you go on a walk that unspools over weeks, along the roads of a dilapidated Peninsula, bleeding out its youth and a vision for the future, and you find more “yoyū” there than you could ever imagine.
This is the story of an artist who walked his way to acceptance and, in the words of Robert Macfarlane, sang his heart to all dark matter.
Breathtaking. 素晴らしい
PS: I saved many links to podcasts, interviews with Craig Mod and articles on “Things Become Other Things” in a highlight on my Instagram feed @mybookhunter
September 5, 2025
The title intrigues. Then you think, "It sounds kind of inarticulate, actually. What 'things'?"
Turns out you are correct. These words are uttered by an old man, a farmer turned innkeeper, a man who doesn't have the gift of elegant speech, trying to express something so important and he lacks the words. The author simply records and translates what he hears, and the reader (this reader) is left stunned.
The book is full of moments like this. There's a lot going on here, most of it good:
-Walking outdoors and ruminating. (I am drawn to books like this, which are quite frequently rewarding.)
-These walks take place in a lightly-peopled part of Japan, a land which abounds in peace for reasons that Mod spends a lot of time explaining
-Photos that are sometimes uninteresting, but the nice ones, wow. (He has chosen not to publish any of his photos on his website, so I'll respect that and not reproduce any from the book here. Even if you don't want to read the book, have a look at the photos.)
Mod, forty-one at the time the book was written, had lived over half his life in Japan at that point. The book was mercifully free of the 'foreigner in Japan' vibe. When he arrived there, a stupid teenager, he drank too much. Now he's cleaned himself up and makes a living walking, taking pictures, writing books like this one.
As he walks, he composes essays, generally short, and these make up the book. Sometimes he strains after a metaphor; some of them just aren't very interesting. And then a good one crops up and makes me hyperventilate.
Parts of the book compare the generous, nonviolent poor of Japan to the lives of the poor in the United States, where he grew up poor and surrounded by alcoholics and violent deaths. To people who have spent their entire lives in the U.S., it's hard to imagine, but: It doesn't have to be this way. We live in a society dedicated to further enriching the likes of Jeff Bezos and Donald Trump. Other societies have chosen a different path, and violence and drugs are not the inevitable handmaidens of poverty. This is the way our society is because we've chosen, or allowed others to choose for us, to make it this way. (Bezos, bizarrely, actually shows up briefly in the book and is as big an asshole as you'd expect.) Many towns in Japan are depopulating, have lost their industries, as did the town Mod grew up in; but they don't descend into the sort of hellish, hopeless poverty we see here.
This review is inadequate. This book is a keeper.
Turns out you are correct. These words are uttered by an old man, a farmer turned innkeeper, a man who doesn't have the gift of elegant speech, trying to express something so important and he lacks the words. The author simply records and translates what he hears, and the reader (this reader) is left stunned.
The book is full of moments like this. There's a lot going on here, most of it good:
-Walking outdoors and ruminating. (I am drawn to books like this, which are quite frequently rewarding.)
-These walks take place in a lightly-peopled part of Japan, a land which abounds in peace for reasons that Mod spends a lot of time explaining
-Photos that are sometimes uninteresting, but the nice ones, wow. (He has chosen not to publish any of his photos on his website, so I'll respect that and not reproduce any from the book here. Even if you don't want to read the book, have a look at the photos.)
Mod, forty-one at the time the book was written, had lived over half his life in Japan at that point. The book was mercifully free of the 'foreigner in Japan' vibe. When he arrived there, a stupid teenager, he drank too much. Now he's cleaned himself up and makes a living walking, taking pictures, writing books like this one.
As he walks, he composes essays, generally short, and these make up the book. Sometimes he strains after a metaphor; some of them just aren't very interesting. And then a good one crops up and makes me hyperventilate.
Parts of the book compare the generous, nonviolent poor of Japan to the lives of the poor in the United States, where he grew up poor and surrounded by alcoholics and violent deaths. To people who have spent their entire lives in the U.S., it's hard to imagine, but: It doesn't have to be this way. We live in a society dedicated to further enriching the likes of Jeff Bezos and Donald Trump. Other societies have chosen a different path, and violence and drugs are not the inevitable handmaidens of poverty. This is the way our society is because we've chosen, or allowed others to choose for us, to make it this way. (Bezos, bizarrely, actually shows up briefly in the book and is as big an asshole as you'd expect.) Many towns in Japan are depopulating, have lost their industries, as did the town Mod grew up in; but they don't descend into the sort of hellish, hopeless poverty we see here.
This review is inadequate. This book is a keeper.
January 16, 2024
Such a beautiful and transportive reading experience. The prose is as visually charged as the author’s images.
This feels like equal parts guide to rural Japan and love letter to childhood friendships.
It’s also one of the best physical books I’ve seen in a long time. Font and art choices are so tasteful, the paper stock, binding and photo rendering is exceptional. It’s a beautiful book in every way. 10/10
May 5, 2025
I love reading memoirs but hate rating them. How do you rate someone else’s life? Well, I guess I just did. Two stars and that is my final answer. Almost three stars, but it falls where it falls. Two stars. The Pros: quick read, finished in two days. An easy read. The Cons: what the hell was it about??? Walking, sure, a bit, the title is a little misleading. More of a general overview about his stay in Japan; his family; the people he meets. Only a tad about the actual walking.
A lot of stream of consciousness that the author understands but leaves the reader a little off center, wondering where this stream of thought will lead. Usually, to nowhere. And who is this Bryan? I guess if I knew more about the author I would know, but the book gives you little insight.
The author is clearly running from something, he briefly touches on that but never fully explains it. The book has a lot going on in it, but nothing truly interesting. There are some nice pictures but none of them are captioned in the ARC I received. Maybe they will be in the final version. What it does is have a stream of consciousness through these pictures. Ok to look at but no added value.
From the reviews I thought it would be more poignant, but not so. Very little in substance and heavy on….well, I can’t even describe it so I won’t.
A lot of stream of consciousness that the author understands but leaves the reader a little off center, wondering where this stream of thought will lead. Usually, to nowhere. And who is this Bryan? I guess if I knew more about the author I would know, but the book gives you little insight.
The author is clearly running from something, he briefly touches on that but never fully explains it. The book has a lot going on in it, but nothing truly interesting. There are some nice pictures but none of them are captioned in the ARC I received. Maybe they will be in the final version. What it does is have a stream of consciousness through these pictures. Ok to look at but no added value.
From the reviews I thought it would be more poignant, but not so. Very little in substance and heavy on….well, I can’t even describe it so I won’t.
April 28, 2024
I bought this book as a gift for a friend, and then I received the gift back as a surprise when he lent it to me. I'm thankful he did.
This book is a thing of beauty. That beauty is most readily apparent when you first pick it up and hold it: the hand-bound cloth cover that lays flat on every page, the full-spread photos that open up a meditative space between vignettes. But the writing itself is also a thing of beauty. Each story is concise, yet spring-loaded with attention. A few short paragraphs could take me away.
Craig Mod does that thing that all my favorite artists do—he makes it look easy. Each page welcomed me in, but as a writer I know that behind that easy hospitality is a lot of work. Mod is an excellent writer, but his excellence never gets in the reader's way. I had that feeling I have watching Olympic gymnasts—that outlandish certainty that "I could do that!" So I started writing little vignettes of my own and releasing them into the world: stories of being a single dad, short paragraphs that help me attend to the humor and pain of raising teenagers. I wouldn't have known how to do it without reading this book. Things becomes other things.
I guess what I'm trying to say is, I'm grateful.
This book is a thing of beauty. That beauty is most readily apparent when you first pick it up and hold it: the hand-bound cloth cover that lays flat on every page, the full-spread photos that open up a meditative space between vignettes. But the writing itself is also a thing of beauty. Each story is concise, yet spring-loaded with attention. A few short paragraphs could take me away.
Craig Mod does that thing that all my favorite artists do—he makes it look easy. Each page welcomed me in, but as a writer I know that behind that easy hospitality is a lot of work. Mod is an excellent writer, but his excellence never gets in the reader's way. I had that feeling I have watching Olympic gymnasts—that outlandish certainty that "I could do that!" So I started writing little vignettes of my own and releasing them into the world: stories of being a single dad, short paragraphs that help me attend to the humor and pain of raising teenagers. I wouldn't have known how to do it without reading this book. Things becomes other things.
I guess what I'm trying to say is, I'm grateful.
June 3, 2025
One of the best books that I've read in a really long time.
May 21, 2025
A quiet little punch to the chest. A bucket of wonder. I dunno. I just feel things when I read Mod's writing.
It’s not a loud book. It doesn’t shout its wisdom or try to wow you with cleverness. It just lands. Mod talks about change—not the flashy kind, but more slow and cellular. The kind that creeps up on you while you're doing the dishes for the 10,000th time in your life and you realize you need everything to change — tomorrow.
There’s something comforting about Craigs obsession with small rituals. Food. Walking. Conversation. Making things with care. I'm probably a little obsessed with Japan and all the ways Craig speaks about it feels like being there, but not the Japan everyone always shows you on social. It's the perfectly boring parts of Japan with patina and texture, and missing pieces.
I'm kind of nuts for this book, enough that I have the art copy as well. You should read it. It's the kind of story that'll stick with you.
It’s not a loud book. It doesn’t shout its wisdom or try to wow you with cleverness. It just lands. Mod talks about change—not the flashy kind, but more slow and cellular. The kind that creeps up on you while you're doing the dishes for the 10,000th time in your life and you realize you need everything to change — tomorrow.
There’s something comforting about Craigs obsession with small rituals. Food. Walking. Conversation. Making things with care. I'm probably a little obsessed with Japan and all the ways Craig speaks about it feels like being there, but not the Japan everyone always shows you on social. It's the perfectly boring parts of Japan with patina and texture, and missing pieces.
I'm kind of nuts for this book, enough that I have the art copy as well. You should read it. It's the kind of story that'll stick with you.
February 13, 2024
Based on how much I enjoyed Kissa by Kissa, I was fully expecting to enjoy this, and it did not disappoint. I've been following the process of making this book through Craig's Special Projects (the membership program that funded the book) updates, and so knew what I was getting into, and I think the finished project even surpassed my high expectations. A stunning book, beautifully designed, with a very touching retelling of his walks in the Kii region, mixed in with memories of his youth. An absolute must-read.
January 11, 2024
Gorgeous, elegiac, haunting, tightly knit
May 27, 2025
Truly one of the best memoirs I’ve read. I’m gonna put this on my shelf and go for a walk.
January 29, 2024
Every chapter, a mediation.
May 16, 2025
Listen to the audiobook while outside walking. There is no other way to experience a book about long walks.
May 18, 2025
mod holds up a mirror to himself and to us all
This book is wonderfully written. The text carries us with Craig Mod as he walks a pilgrimage through modern day Japan. We see, hear, taste and smell the experiences he shares. The book is ostensibly a letter to a brother-like friend he grew up with in the USA, and in doing so it’s also a letter to his own younger self. I’m a decade older and live in a different part of the world than Craig but I see so much of my youth captured here and somehow this book has helped me reconcile with my cringeworthy youthful exploits. But mostly - pick this up because it’s a bloody good read.
This book is wonderfully written. The text carries us with Craig Mod as he walks a pilgrimage through modern day Japan. We see, hear, taste and smell the experiences he shares. The book is ostensibly a letter to a brother-like friend he grew up with in the USA, and in doing so it’s also a letter to his own younger self. I’m a decade older and live in a different part of the world than Craig but I see so much of my youth captured here and somehow this book has helped me reconcile with my cringeworthy youthful exploits. But mostly - pick this up because it’s a bloody good read.
May 25, 2025
I'm new to Mod's things, and I'm so happy I've stumbled across his world. Things become other things hit me like a bag of bricks. Which is to say, I was moved. Forcefully.
Mod elegantly combines nostalgic musings (childhood memories of heart-wrenching adversity and mischief, violence and loss) with tales of his journey walking 300 miles through Japan's Kii peninsula. Central to the journey, Mod explores the concept of yoyū - "A word that somehow means: the excess provided when surrounded by a generous abundance." Contrastingly, Mod contemplates the attrition of a soul when surrounded and raised by an exhausted and barren community and mindset.
I loved everything about this book. The photography, the insights, the irreverent humour, the vulnerability. 10/10 from me. I must get my hands on more of his books. I am enamored
Mod elegantly combines nostalgic musings (childhood memories of heart-wrenching adversity and mischief, violence and loss) with tales of his journey walking 300 miles through Japan's Kii peninsula. Central to the journey, Mod explores the concept of yoyū - "A word that somehow means: the excess provided when surrounded by a generous abundance." Contrastingly, Mod contemplates the attrition of a soul when surrounded and raised by an exhausted and barren community and mindset.
I loved everything about this book. The photography, the insights, the irreverent humour, the vulnerability. 10/10 from me. I must get my hands on more of his books. I am enamored
May 19, 2024
I’ve been a huge Craig fan for years - how could I not love this? This book is more personal than I was expecting, in a good way. He brings so much life to the strangers he meets along the way and the people from his childhood. Laughed out loud at some parts too!
May 23, 2025
Travel memoir written to a childhood best friend set in rural Japan: a transformation journey. Loved hearing his Longform interview and pre-ordered the book. He inspired me to spend two weeks walking my grandmother's Irish hometown and write about it every day.
December 29, 2023
Sublime
January 1, 2024
Beautiful, haunting, sublime
July 8, 2025
This is a strangely transformative book.
It is not, as I'd imagined, a tour guide sort of book to introduce things to see on the Kii peninsula, nor is it a chronicle of conversations had along the way. It is not a guide to the myriad of pathways.
It is a map of his internal space as he walks the 300 + miles, but not in chronological sequence or stream of consciousness. Instead, it is a collection of end-of-day writings, woven together so that the reader can both ponder the writings themselves and make connections amongst them.
Few are about the physical aspects of walking. Most are about the mental aspects.
He ponders the effects of rain, tsunamis, economic change, and history to some degree, but mostly her ponders the loss of his best friend 30 + years before, and the lives they had and shared when they were kids. Like the Kii peninsula, theirs was a place of abandonment, where people either stayed and despaired over the changes to their place or they moved away. He and Bryan, kids, learned through that despair...and anger and violence and competition and alcohol and thinking only in the present. He ponders the lifelong effect of that background.
He also ponders the effect of thinking, and of some aspects of Japanese culture, which lauds Yoyo, the excess joy that comes from a sense of abundance -- abundance of love, of support, of peace, of green trees. He walks through those trees, taking a forest bath every day that he can. He ponders making you his "set point," through which he sees the world.
A book to ponder as I walk
It is not, as I'd imagined, a tour guide sort of book to introduce things to see on the Kii peninsula, nor is it a chronicle of conversations had along the way. It is not a guide to the myriad of pathways.
It is a map of his internal space as he walks the 300 + miles, but not in chronological sequence or stream of consciousness. Instead, it is a collection of end-of-day writings, woven together so that the reader can both ponder the writings themselves and make connections amongst them.
Few are about the physical aspects of walking. Most are about the mental aspects.
He ponders the effects of rain, tsunamis, economic change, and history to some degree, but mostly her ponders the loss of his best friend 30 + years before, and the lives they had and shared when they were kids. Like the Kii peninsula, theirs was a place of abandonment, where people either stayed and despaired over the changes to their place or they moved away. He and Bryan, kids, learned through that despair...and anger and violence and competition and alcohol and thinking only in the present. He ponders the lifelong effect of that background.
He also ponders the effect of thinking, and of some aspects of Japanese culture, which lauds Yoyo, the excess joy that comes from a sense of abundance -- abundance of love, of support, of peace, of green trees. He walks through those trees, taking a forest bath every day that he can. He ponders making you his "set point," through which he sees the world.
A book to ponder as I walk
June 15, 2025
In his 2025 memoir Things Become Other Things, writer and photographer Craig Mod tells tangentially stories about his life through the framework of long walks through the Japanese countryside. I think I did myself a disservice by listening to the audiobook vs. reading the print or Ebook version, as I think this book would have been much more well-considered with the accompanying photos. Without that, I struggled to pay attention as the timelines kept shifting.
My statistics:
Book 174 for 2025
Book 2100 cumulatively
My statistics:
Book 174 for 2025
Book 2100 cumulatively
December 12, 2025
As an economically challenged kid who grew up not with my own parents, in a dying small town in the Midwest, with a best friend whose spirit resonates in my chest, who ran away to Japan only to find it the safest most sweet landing a troubled kid could ask for, it's safe to assume I personally identified with this book.
There is something so profound about walking paths traversed by many before that any reader will enjoy!
There is something so profound about walking paths traversed by many before that any reader will enjoy!
June 13, 2025
A beautiful, meditative and haunting kinda book. Review soon. ❤️
November 8, 2025
Gentle observations, glimpses of quiet corners of Japan, conversations and memories colliding in short sentences, small paragraphs.
The book itself is beautiful, though I wished many times for colour photographs, to see those layered, lush greens of Japan. But the black and white gives an otherworldly edge.
Lovely.
The book itself is beautiful, though I wished many times for colour photographs, to see those layered, lush greens of Japan. But the black and white gives an otherworldly edge.
Lovely.
May 25, 2025
An intimate journey through both rural Japan as well as the relationships and childhoods week slave behind (but still keep with us). Poinient, funny, poetic, I enjoyed it greatly. I heard Craig on Tim Ferriss's podcast, never having read his work. Now I am a convert, and want to walk more myself. And visit Japan.
December 12, 2025
A beautiful reflection on those we leave behind and who we become, both by choice and chance, in the process.
August 12, 2025
A great, wonderful bit of writing, and the style, the voice, is perhaps something very, very new and possibly even imporant. Because reading this is like reading a book composed of many, many long text messages from a friend, or maybe the posts of a really great and just discovered social media feed, one that is still genuine and organic and makes you want to lick up every last word like it's some sort of especially delicious peanut butter, and you're wiping the jar clean with your fingers. But this collection of words is also imbued with the traditional, sink-in-an-armchair comfort of a good old-fashioned leather-bound book, and really, it's a travelogue, isn't it? (I mean, right?)
The general thing this book is generally about, the premise I guess, is the author, Craig Mod, walking through a desolate and forgotten (and like most of the countryside in Japan, and Taiwan, and Korea and many other places, depopulating) backwater of Japan known as the Kii peninsula, which is still at the same time wonderful and inspiring and full of many occasions for joy. As Mod walks (hundreds or maybe even thousands of kilometers, sometimes more than 40km a day!) he thinks and thinks and thinks some more, beyond merely this magical otherworldly Japan that sits right in front of his nose, but also about who he is and where he came from. Specifically, he was adopted (a lot of baggage there) and grew up amidst the poverty and neglect of a lower middle class American home (including, at some point, an actual trailer park).
But most of all (and I can't say I fully 100% bought into this as a reader, though as his steps piled up, I came to understand his investment) Mod keeps addressing his words to a childhood friend, who (no spoiler here) is clearly no longer around, having succumbed to some still-after-all-these-years-difficult-to-talk-about fate (we can only infer it was bad). You do find out in the end what happened to the friend, Brian, but for the reader, it's a trauma viewed from a distance. And that distance is literally 9,000 miles and 20 years, and there on the Kii peninsula, Mod shows us his scars so we can mostly understand, though of course we never felt that exact pain. But in the beginning, I dunno, when he just starts talking to this Bryan. It was a little random, the insertion of this literary device. But it made sense in the end.
Other exceptional things about this book: One, the language, which is an incredible and positive language, full of awe and wonder and hyperbole and also absent cynicism, sarcasm, irony, a voice which I wouldn't necessarily think I'd like, though somehow he persuades me, because his language, it's so comfortable. So what does this voice remind me of? Why does it feel so familiar? The more I think about it, the more I think of it as a social-media-era voice, maybe like a cross between the way people write on LinkedIn and on Facebook, which is really about buiding up, sharing with friends, promoting the good, not starting fights, and in a really palsy, casual kind of way. It's totally different from the Twitter voice btw, which is about tearing everything to shreds. So Mod writes in this kind of very innovative, technologically informed voice. And because he's writing to his 14-year-old best friend, there's a lot fo
Next thing, there's Mod himself, his bootstrapping success story as a North American kid who moved to Japan, became a writer, really figured it out, wrote stories for big influential publications, Wired, the Atlantic, and the New York Times. For Wired, he wrote about cutting himself off from the internet for weeks at a time on his long, long walks and the difference between "short loop" attention (omg did you just see that post? wait, what did this woman just do on TikTok?) and "long loop" attention (family, friends, consistently meaningful relationships. For the New York Times, in 2023 he wrote about a town called Morioka, which based on his Craig Mod style encounter, which sought unspoiled kindness, simplicity, abundance, the world's most famous newspaper ranked it as the second best place to visit for that year, behind London. Little Morioka, suddenly a star.
Beyond championing rural Japan––and I think this is the more salient thing about him––Mod also cracked the code on how to be a writer in the age of social media. (Which is not to say he is any sort of influencer. As far as I can tell, he only uses Instagram, where he has 40,000 followers, which is low- or mid-tier as influencers go.) How Mod built his following was by (of all things!) a newsletter, and this loyal audience, this legion of supporters, they're the ones who place advance orders for his personal passion projects. Limited edition books of photos. Or of text and photos. Mod's first book on long walks in Japan, Kissa by Kissa (it's about small town Japanese diners called kissaten that often serve pizza toast) was published in 2022 through the Special Projects section of his website and crowdfunded, more or less in advance, by his readers.
For Mod, this all started with him writing an article for Wired about how to become successful in self-publishing. And having done his research, he took his own advice, figured it out, and is now living a sort of dream, wandering with a camera, living with his own thoughts, writing the books he wants to write.
I've been a subscriber to Mod's newsletter, the free one (the freemium one?) for five years now. And the sort of novel thing of my reading experience (I read his entire book on my iphone, about 60% of it while riding the subways of Tokyo) was that as I flipped between my Kindle app and various social media and messaging accounts while reading, at one point his newsletter, Roden, landed in my inbox. So I started reading it, and it was talking about the book tour, the humidity of the Tokyo summer, and some of the other things he likes to talk about. What struck me was how this email newsletter was fully contiguous, seamlessly flowing into and out of, this electronic book I was reading at the same time.
Things Become Other Things has also of course been published on paper (it's currently out in hardback) by a famous New York publishing house with real publicity budgets and editors and all the professional things that come with money and established media enterprises. But there I was somewhere underneath Tokyo, swiping between this book I paid 15 dollars for and this email Craig Mod had just sent to me. I suddenly felt like one of those middle-aged Japanese men, otaku, who religiously consume all the merch produced by the teenage girl idols they weirdly devote their attention to. It was kinda like that, but in a literary way. I'm still trying to figure out what to make of it.
The general thing this book is generally about, the premise I guess, is the author, Craig Mod, walking through a desolate and forgotten (and like most of the countryside in Japan, and Taiwan, and Korea and many other places, depopulating) backwater of Japan known as the Kii peninsula, which is still at the same time wonderful and inspiring and full of many occasions for joy. As Mod walks (hundreds or maybe even thousands of kilometers, sometimes more than 40km a day!) he thinks and thinks and thinks some more, beyond merely this magical otherworldly Japan that sits right in front of his nose, but also about who he is and where he came from. Specifically, he was adopted (a lot of baggage there) and grew up amidst the poverty and neglect of a lower middle class American home (including, at some point, an actual trailer park).
But most of all (and I can't say I fully 100% bought into this as a reader, though as his steps piled up, I came to understand his investment) Mod keeps addressing his words to a childhood friend, who (no spoiler here) is clearly no longer around, having succumbed to some still-after-all-these-years-difficult-to-talk-about fate (we can only infer it was bad). You do find out in the end what happened to the friend, Brian, but for the reader, it's a trauma viewed from a distance. And that distance is literally 9,000 miles and 20 years, and there on the Kii peninsula, Mod shows us his scars so we can mostly understand, though of course we never felt that exact pain. But in the beginning, I dunno, when he just starts talking to this Bryan. It was a little random, the insertion of this literary device. But it made sense in the end.
Other exceptional things about this book: One, the language, which is an incredible and positive language, full of awe and wonder and hyperbole and also absent cynicism, sarcasm, irony, a voice which I wouldn't necessarily think I'd like, though somehow he persuades me, because his language, it's so comfortable. So what does this voice remind me of? Why does it feel so familiar? The more I think about it, the more I think of it as a social-media-era voice, maybe like a cross between the way people write on LinkedIn and on Facebook, which is really about buiding up, sharing with friends, promoting the good, not starting fights, and in a really palsy, casual kind of way. It's totally different from the Twitter voice btw, which is about tearing everything to shreds. So Mod writes in this kind of very innovative, technologically informed voice. And because he's writing to his 14-year-old best friend, there's a lot fo
Next thing, there's Mod himself, his bootstrapping success story as a North American kid who moved to Japan, became a writer, really figured it out, wrote stories for big influential publications, Wired, the Atlantic, and the New York Times. For Wired, he wrote about cutting himself off from the internet for weeks at a time on his long, long walks and the difference between "short loop" attention (omg did you just see that post? wait, what did this woman just do on TikTok?) and "long loop" attention (family, friends, consistently meaningful relationships. For the New York Times, in 2023 he wrote about a town called Morioka, which based on his Craig Mod style encounter, which sought unspoiled kindness, simplicity, abundance, the world's most famous newspaper ranked it as the second best place to visit for that year, behind London. Little Morioka, suddenly a star.
Beyond championing rural Japan––and I think this is the more salient thing about him––Mod also cracked the code on how to be a writer in the age of social media. (Which is not to say he is any sort of influencer. As far as I can tell, he only uses Instagram, where he has 40,000 followers, which is low- or mid-tier as influencers go.) How Mod built his following was by (of all things!) a newsletter, and this loyal audience, this legion of supporters, they're the ones who place advance orders for his personal passion projects. Limited edition books of photos. Or of text and photos. Mod's first book on long walks in Japan, Kissa by Kissa (it's about small town Japanese diners called kissaten that often serve pizza toast) was published in 2022 through the Special Projects section of his website and crowdfunded, more or less in advance, by his readers.
For Mod, this all started with him writing an article for Wired about how to become successful in self-publishing. And having done his research, he took his own advice, figured it out, and is now living a sort of dream, wandering with a camera, living with his own thoughts, writing the books he wants to write.
I've been a subscriber to Mod's newsletter, the free one (the freemium one?) for five years now. And the sort of novel thing of my reading experience (I read his entire book on my iphone, about 60% of it while riding the subways of Tokyo) was that as I flipped between my Kindle app and various social media and messaging accounts while reading, at one point his newsletter, Roden, landed in my inbox. So I started reading it, and it was talking about the book tour, the humidity of the Tokyo summer, and some of the other things he likes to talk about. What struck me was how this email newsletter was fully contiguous, seamlessly flowing into and out of, this electronic book I was reading at the same time.
Things Become Other Things has also of course been published on paper (it's currently out in hardback) by a famous New York publishing house with real publicity budgets and editors and all the professional things that come with money and established media enterprises. But there I was somewhere underneath Tokyo, swiping between this book I paid 15 dollars for and this email Craig Mod had just sent to me. I suddenly felt like one of those middle-aged Japanese men, otaku, who religiously consume all the merch produced by the teenage girl idols they weirdly devote their attention to. It was kinda like that, but in a literary way. I'm still trying to figure out what to make of it.
May 29, 2025
I wanted to read this book after I loved his Road to Pachinko email series. I couldn’t finish the book. I couldn’t understand what the book is about. Vulgar language thrown in left a sour taste too.
July 15, 2025
Things Become Other Things is a hauntingly evocative exploration of identity, transformation, and the spectral threads that bind the living to the past. The author’s lyrical prose subtly unites the tangible and the ephemeral, drawing readers into a world where objects carry whispered histories and emotions linger like ghostly imprints.
At the heart of the novel lies a poignant coming-of-age journey: the protagonist’s discoveries—of secrets buried in heirlooms, of shifting family dynamics, and of inner change—mirror the book’s title. Everyday items morph into catalysts for revelation, proving that mundane things can hold extraordinary truths.
The pacing is deliberate, allowing moments of quiet reflection to unfold naturally, while the character development feels deeply authentic. We become invested in each character’s emotional arc, witnessing how ordinary people carry invisible weights and how subtle shifts can lead to profound growth slope.
Things Become Other Things is not a fast-paced thriller, but it’s deeply satisfying in its emotional resonance. It invites you to pause, reflect, and consider how the objects and memories in your own life might tell stories yet untold. A compelling, introspective read that stays with you long after the last page.
At the heart of the novel lies a poignant coming-of-age journey: the protagonist’s discoveries—of secrets buried in heirlooms, of shifting family dynamics, and of inner change—mirror the book’s title. Everyday items morph into catalysts for revelation, proving that mundane things can hold extraordinary truths.
The pacing is deliberate, allowing moments of quiet reflection to unfold naturally, while the character development feels deeply authentic. We become invested in each character’s emotional arc, witnessing how ordinary people carry invisible weights and how subtle shifts can lead to profound growth slope.
Things Become Other Things is not a fast-paced thriller, but it’s deeply satisfying in its emotional resonance. It invites you to pause, reflect, and consider how the objects and memories in your own life might tell stories yet untold. A compelling, introspective read that stays with you long after the last page.
September 26, 2025
4.5 ⭐
This is a memoir, a goodbye, a conversation, a physical journey, a casual guide, a meditation, an emptiness (yoyu), a reflection, a missing, a memorial, and a journey where the destination is another journey.
"How can you say a country loves you if it doesn't provide you Healthcare?"
"I am here. But am I here?"
"Nothing special. Just a fast train."
"Just leave. Leave. It's so easy. So simple. To take one step out that door... But you stayed."
"Where are you from?"
"No, not that. Which prefecture?"
(this section made me cry)
"I can walk as far as I want."
Not only did I finish this book with a better understanding of this area of Japan and the heart and tenacity it takes to travel there and through and in, but I finished with the feeling of poetry, the author's interior journey - his re-validation through pages and pages, but still knowing his solitary existence - standing alone and able to sit with his loneliness when it arrives and leaves and arrives again and his passionate and thoughtful reflection through his long walk.
The chronological physical journey he takes and details comes together in the final chapter in a heart-wrenching, poignant, indignant, revival, exclamation of life.
I want to own the physical copy of this book. And I'd consider myself lucky to have the beautiful special edition.
This is a memoir, a goodbye, a conversation, a physical journey, a casual guide, a meditation, an emptiness (yoyu), a reflection, a missing, a memorial, and a journey where the destination is another journey.
"How can you say a country loves you if it doesn't provide you Healthcare?"
"I am here. But am I here?"
"Nothing special. Just a fast train."
"Just leave. Leave. It's so easy. So simple. To take one step out that door... But you stayed."
"Where are you from?"
"No, not that. Which prefecture?"
(this section made me cry)
"I can walk as far as I want."
Not only did I finish this book with a better understanding of this area of Japan and the heart and tenacity it takes to travel there and through and in, but I finished with the feeling of poetry, the author's interior journey - his re-validation through pages and pages, but still knowing his solitary existence - standing alone and able to sit with his loneliness when it arrives and leaves and arrives again and his passionate and thoughtful reflection through his long walk.
The chronological physical journey he takes and details comes together in the final chapter in a heart-wrenching, poignant, indignant, revival, exclamation of life.
I want to own the physical copy of this book. And I'd consider myself lucky to have the beautiful special edition.
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