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Tédio terminal
As convenções de gênero escancaradas, os métodos para anestesiar ou esquecer, o vício em telas e a distorção entre realidade e espetá a obra de Izumi Suzuki, escrita durante os anos 1970 e 1980, parece estar mais próxima do atual Black Mirror do que de muitos clássicos da ficção científica. É o caso das viagens de consciência de "You may dream" e de "Lembranças do Seaside Club", da distopia queer "Um mundo de mulheres com mulheres" e da violência televisionada de "Tédio terminal", conto que dá título ao livro. Ainda que, é verdade, não faltem a estas histórias boas doses de fantasia e absurdo, como poltronas falantes, pretendentes amorosos alienígenas e tensões diplomáticas interplanetárias.
Izumi Suzuki empresta a seus narradores e protagonistas uma voz emocionalmente desapegada que torna este conjunto tão singular quanto perturbador. Somando as inúmeras referências à música e ao cinema, as complicações dos relacionamentos familiares e amorosos, e um inconformismo não histérico, que aponta os arranjos sociais e vira o espelho para nós, a coletânea de contos Tédio terminal permanece como quem a única, radical e eternamente jovem.
Izumi Suzuki empresta a seus narradores e protagonistas uma voz emocionalmente desapegada que torna este conjunto tão singular quanto perturbador. Somando as inúmeras referências à música e ao cinema, as complicações dos relacionamentos familiares e amorosos, e um inconformismo não histérico, que aponta os arranjos sociais e vira o espelho para nós, a coletânea de contos Tédio terminal permanece como quem a única, radical e eternamente jovem.
224 pages, Kindle Edition
First published April 20, 2021
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About the author
Izumi Suzuki
24 books372 followersIzumi Suzuki was born in 1949. After dropping out of high school she worked in a factory before finding success and infamy as a model and actress. Her acting credits include both pink films and classics of 1970s Japanese cinema. When the father of her children, the jazz musician Kaoru Abe, died of an overdose, Suzuki’s creative output went into hyperdrive and she began producing the irreverent and punky short fiction, novels and essays that ensured her reputation would outstrip and outlast that of the men she had been associated with in her early career. She took her own life in 1986, leaving behind a decade’s worth of groundbreaking and influential writing.
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 1,160 reviews
April 21, 2021
I was stunned by this book. I wasn’t able to keep this review short, so here’s the one-sentence version: this is one of the best short story collections I have ever read.
The review copy doesn’t include any biographical details about Izumi Suzuki; I don’t usually read introductions (at least not until I’ve finished the book), but this is a case in which I would have appreciated one. The publisher’s website says she was a model and actress in the 1970s, became a prolific writer after the death of her partner, and died by suicide in 1986. The original dates for the stories aren’t given. Information about her in English is frustratingly scarce, and most of it seems to stem from a press release about this collection; I eventually found this short bio, which gives publication years for some of her work.
The reason I was so curious about this is that ‘prescient’ is too weak a word to describe the stories in Terminal Boredom: ‘prophetic’ would be more like it. Over and over again, I was mind-bogglingly thrilled by the fact that these stories featuring video calls and robot vacuum cleaners, reality TV, live streams and screen-addicted people, in which Suzuki treats gender as a progressive 21st-century writer would, must have been written in the mid-80s at the latest.
The crown jewel of the book is ‘You May Dream’, translated by David Boyd. In it, a dispassionate young woman meets her more emotional friend, whom she regards with disgust. The two have differing opinions of the government’s latest population-reducing scheme, in which citizens are selected at random to enter cryosleep, after which they’ll only be able to live on by transferring their consciousness to another person’s dreams. It’s a story about grappling with loneliness and nihilism and detachment, with being the sort of person who will say I’m a hardcore people-pleaser, even in my dreams on one page and I’ve always enjoyed making fun of other people, cornering them on the next.
Reading this story, I began to understand Suzuki’s grasp on her characters’ voices – the voices being the other remarkable thing about these stories. Suzuki has this ability to pin down a person’s worldview in just a few lines. The things they say feel so accurate somehow, as well as so modern, that it’s often unnerving.
I know exactly who the narrator of ‘You May Dream’ is. If she was young now she’d describe herself as blackpilled in her Twitter bio and make memes that seem vaguely fascist, and she’d be delighted that nobody could figure out whether or not she was kidding, due to her horror of sincerity, which she’d believe to be the highest form of cringe. I mean, how 2021 is a line like I devote myself to the acme of emptiness... the sadistic act of self-creation? I’m obsessed with this story. It’s incredible. It’s going straight on my list of favourite short stories of all time.
The other standout is ‘Terminal Boredom’, translated by Daniel Joseph. Set in a world of mass unemployment and screen addiction, it finds a young man and woman wearily going through the motions of some kind of relationship, the real world seeming less real to them than what they see on TV. They’re indifferent to violence, hide their emotions beneath a cool veneer of disinterest, and find human interaction exhausting. Again, they feel like they could have been written yesterday.
Without a doubt, this is the most uncannily clairvoyant of all the stories in Terminal Boredom, with its celebrities as politicians, reality TV shows, a character who routinely films his daily life, live recordings of suicides and killings... It also gives us the clearest articulation of the mood of Suzuki’s fiction, when the narrator states that everyone lives in a happy-go-lucky-depression – they only take life half-seriously. That attitude is typical of the people we meet throughout the book. That serious half is one of profound sadness and exhausted apathy, but the detachment it fosters allows Suzuki’s characters a kind of deadened joy.
‘Women and Women’, also translated by Daniel Joseph, is a barnstorming opener which I loved: a tongue-in-cheek story about a female-dominated society in which men are relegated to the ‘Gender Exclusion Terminal Occupancy Zone’. But one girl, 18-year-old Yūko, is beginning to question the order of things, especially after she actually sees a boy. It’s so funny and irreverent, but spiked with thought-provoking details, and the characters have startling depth.
Several stories take place in alien worlds. In ‘Night Picnic’, translated by Sam Bett, a family on a far-off planet try their hardest to act normal, attempting to play out traditional roles: Mom and Dad, Junior and Sis. They’re the last remaining humans... or are they? ‘Forgotten’, translated by Polly Barton, is a haunting love story about the relationship between Emma, a human, and Sol, an alien. It is the most plot-driven story in the book, culminating in interplanetary war, yet its key strength is how it shows us the inherent incompatibility of these two people, and the pain that causes.
Addiction is a recurring theme: in ‘Smoke Gets in Your Eyes’, translated by Aiko Masubuchi, a woman is hooked on drugs that make her age rapidly. ‘That Old Seaside Club’, translated by Helen O’Horan, presents a more offbeat take, following two young women who appear to be having the time of their lives in a beautiful seaside resort... though their memories of the past are oddly blurry. Emma in ‘Forgotten’ also sustains herself through drugs and drink, and of course, the characters in ‘Terminal Boredom’ are numbed by their screen addiction. Always, it is not necessarily the stories that matter, but the way Suzuki tells them. She will make you laugh out loud, then punch you in the gut with an observation so acute, so seemingly personal, that it hurts.
I don’t think I’ve read a collection like this before: stories originally written by the same author, but translated by a variety of translators. I was worried the latter would dilute the authorial voice, would be distracting – but as I discovered, there’s little chance of that. If I had to compare it to anything, I’d say it’s Anna Kavan’s short stories spliced with Sayaka Murata’s Earthlings, but really, Suzuki’s vision stands alone. ‘You May Dream’ is an instant classic, ‘Terminal Boredom’ and ‘Women and Women’ are also outstanding, and the entire collection represents a striking body of work I’m thrilled to have been able to discover.
I received an advance review copy of Terminal Boredom from the publisher through Edelweiss.
TinyLetter | Linktree
The review copy doesn’t include any biographical details about Izumi Suzuki; I don’t usually read introductions (at least not until I’ve finished the book), but this is a case in which I would have appreciated one. The publisher’s website says she was a model and actress in the 1970s, became a prolific writer after the death of her partner, and died by suicide in 1986. The original dates for the stories aren’t given. Information about her in English is frustratingly scarce, and most of it seems to stem from a press release about this collection; I eventually found this short bio, which gives publication years for some of her work.
The reason I was so curious about this is that ‘prescient’ is too weak a word to describe the stories in Terminal Boredom: ‘prophetic’ would be more like it. Over and over again, I was mind-bogglingly thrilled by the fact that these stories featuring video calls and robot vacuum cleaners, reality TV, live streams and screen-addicted people, in which Suzuki treats gender as a progressive 21st-century writer would, must have been written in the mid-80s at the latest.
The crown jewel of the book is ‘You May Dream’, translated by David Boyd. In it, a dispassionate young woman meets her more emotional friend, whom she regards with disgust. The two have differing opinions of the government’s latest population-reducing scheme, in which citizens are selected at random to enter cryosleep, after which they’ll only be able to live on by transferring their consciousness to another person’s dreams. It’s a story about grappling with loneliness and nihilism and detachment, with being the sort of person who will say I’m a hardcore people-pleaser, even in my dreams on one page and I’ve always enjoyed making fun of other people, cornering them on the next.
Reading this story, I began to understand Suzuki’s grasp on her characters’ voices – the voices being the other remarkable thing about these stories. Suzuki has this ability to pin down a person’s worldview in just a few lines. The things they say feel so accurate somehow, as well as so modern, that it’s often unnerving.
Like most people these days, I don’t overthink things. I’ll go along with whatever. No firm beliefs, no hang-ups. Just a lack of self-confidence tangled up in fatalistic resignation. Whatever the situation, nothing ever reaches me on an emotional level. Nothing’s important. Because I won’t let it be. I operate on mood alone. No regrets, no looking back.
I know exactly who the narrator of ‘You May Dream’ is. If she was young now she’d describe herself as blackpilled in her Twitter bio and make memes that seem vaguely fascist, and she’d be delighted that nobody could figure out whether or not she was kidding, due to her horror of sincerity, which she’d believe to be the highest form of cringe. I mean, how 2021 is a line like I devote myself to the acme of emptiness... the sadistic act of self-creation? I’m obsessed with this story. It’s incredible. It’s going straight on my list of favourite short stories of all time.
The other standout is ‘Terminal Boredom’, translated by Daniel Joseph. Set in a world of mass unemployment and screen addiction, it finds a young man and woman wearily going through the motions of some kind of relationship, the real world seeming less real to them than what they see on TV. They’re indifferent to violence, hide their emotions beneath a cool veneer of disinterest, and find human interaction exhausting. Again, they feel like they could have been written yesterday.
I couldn’t tell whether I was genuinely pissed off or not. The performance had just become a part of my personality. If nothing else, I can be pretty sure I’m not happy, I thought vacantly.
Without a doubt, this is the most uncannily clairvoyant of all the stories in Terminal Boredom, with its celebrities as politicians, reality TV shows, a character who routinely films his daily life, live recordings of suicides and killings... It also gives us the clearest articulation of the mood of Suzuki’s fiction, when the narrator states that everyone lives in a happy-go-lucky-depression – they only take life half-seriously. That attitude is typical of the people we meet throughout the book. That serious half is one of profound sadness and exhausted apathy, but the detachment it fosters allows Suzuki’s characters a kind of deadened joy.
‘Women and Women’, also translated by Daniel Joseph, is a barnstorming opener which I loved: a tongue-in-cheek story about a female-dominated society in which men are relegated to the ‘Gender Exclusion Terminal Occupancy Zone’. But one girl, 18-year-old Yūko, is beginning to question the order of things, especially after she actually sees a boy. It’s so funny and irreverent, but spiked with thought-provoking details, and the characters have startling depth.
Several stories take place in alien worlds. In ‘Night Picnic’, translated by Sam Bett, a family on a far-off planet try their hardest to act normal, attempting to play out traditional roles: Mom and Dad, Junior and Sis. They’re the last remaining humans... or are they? ‘Forgotten’, translated by Polly Barton, is a haunting love story about the relationship between Emma, a human, and Sol, an alien. It is the most plot-driven story in the book, culminating in interplanetary war, yet its key strength is how it shows us the inherent incompatibility of these two people, and the pain that causes.
Addiction is a recurring theme: in ‘Smoke Gets in Your Eyes’, translated by Aiko Masubuchi, a woman is hooked on drugs that make her age rapidly. ‘That Old Seaside Club’, translated by Helen O’Horan, presents a more offbeat take, following two young women who appear to be having the time of their lives in a beautiful seaside resort... though their memories of the past are oddly blurry. Emma in ‘Forgotten’ also sustains herself through drugs and drink, and of course, the characters in ‘Terminal Boredom’ are numbed by their screen addiction. Always, it is not necessarily the stories that matter, but the way Suzuki tells them. She will make you laugh out loud, then punch you in the gut with an observation so acute, so seemingly personal, that it hurts.
I don’t think I’ve read a collection like this before: stories originally written by the same author, but translated by a variety of translators. I was worried the latter would dilute the authorial voice, would be distracting – but as I discovered, there’s little chance of that. If I had to compare it to anything, I’d say it’s Anna Kavan’s short stories spliced with Sayaka Murata’s Earthlings, but really, Suzuki’s vision stands alone. ‘You May Dream’ is an instant classic, ‘Terminal Boredom’ and ‘Women and Women’ are also outstanding, and the entire collection represents a striking body of work I’m thrilled to have been able to discover.
I received an advance review copy of Terminal Boredom from the publisher through Edelweiss.
TinyLetter | Linktree
April 29, 2021
As soon as I learned of this book - thanks to an outstanding/powerful review by Blair, and my own semi-obsession/passion for female Asian authors, I downloaded the ebook immediately.
I’ll start by quoting, Blair: “THIS IS ONE OF THE BEST SHORT STORY COLLECTIONS I HAVE EVER READ”. (Amen to Blair)....
I was so taken with her review ... (read it 3 times), that I started to understand and digest the voice of Isumi Suzuki, before I took my own turn with these seven short stories:
“Women and Women”, “You May Dream”, “Night Life”, “That Old Seaside Club”, “Smoke Gets in Your Eyes”, “Forgotten”, and “Terminal Boredom”: timeless relevant stories — disenchantment tales about society .... driving home just how messed up and absurd & disturbing current life is ...( especially male dominance power). In these stories - literally and figuratively - ‘women’ rule power. ( but with absolutely mind blowing thought provoking prose ....NOTHING IS STEREOTYPED.
Six different translators translate these combined seven stories.
There’s also a complicated, fascinating, tragic, story about the author herself— so compelling— that I almost couldn’t separate the individual stories from the authors true life story.
Izumi Suzuki, was born in Ito Shizuoka, Japan, in 1949. She came of age during the 1960’s during the era of drugs, rock n’ roll, and protests.
In 1986 (age 36), she died from suicide, in Tokyo.
Izumi dropped out of High School - worked as a keyboard operator, worked as nude model, had a brief acting career in both stage theater and films, (acted in Pink films) and won a writers runner-up award for best new writers.
Suzuki married an avant-garde saxophone player, Kaoru Abe. They had a child (a girl, Azusa), in 1976. They were living in Tokyo- but Azusa went to live with Suzuki’s parents, in Ito Shizuoka.
In 1977, Izumi and Kaoru got divorced but continued to live with each other. A year if either Kaoru died from a drug overdose.
In the 80’s, Azusa went to live with her mother, Izumi.
Izumi supported she and her daughter publishing stories in science fiction magazines. Her health started to deteriorate....and in 1986 she committed suicide by handing herself in her own home.
I found it interesting learning about “How Izumi Suzuki broke the Science Fiction’s ‘Boy’s’ Club.
Izumi said, “There is something wrong with our present society, and I can’t stand SF written by people who don’t understand that”.
I still remember a time when a female radio host was unheard of. And it wasn’t ‘allowed’ to have two females speaking to one another on radio air time. Pretty absurd besides crazy injustice - wouldn’t you say?
Suzuki was so ahead of her time [died much too young] .....she dismantled power struggles.
She also said....”I turn my dreams into stories”. She must have had wild bizarre dreams.
The more I tried to learn about Izumi ( she cut off one of her toes in front of her husband?/!.....
and her writing (I’m in NO WAY a die hard science fiction fan, but the exceptions exceptional).....
I came to in conclusion of understanding why the public was often more fascinated with Izumi Suzuki’s personal life than her ‘messed-up-society stories. As I said - I had a hard time separating these ‘stories’ from Suzuki’s soulful ‘self’.
“For Suzuki, every day life is science-fiction, and her sense of alienation from the suspicion of contemporary society was ultimately linked to Sci-fi.”
These stories deal with struggles of every day life, the counterculture, anti-establishment, anti-government, anti-men, grim relationships, sexual identity & gender, feminism, etc......and they are deeply thought provoking in ‘challenging’ our own thoughts.
Radically inventive — terrifying truth — engrossing as all get up!
I’ll start by quoting, Blair: “THIS IS ONE OF THE BEST SHORT STORY COLLECTIONS I HAVE EVER READ”. (Amen to Blair)....
I was so taken with her review ... (read it 3 times), that I started to understand and digest the voice of Isumi Suzuki, before I took my own turn with these seven short stories:
“Women and Women”, “You May Dream”, “Night Life”, “That Old Seaside Club”, “Smoke Gets in Your Eyes”, “Forgotten”, and “Terminal Boredom”: timeless relevant stories — disenchantment tales about society .... driving home just how messed up and absurd & disturbing current life is ...( especially male dominance power). In these stories - literally and figuratively - ‘women’ rule power. ( but with absolutely mind blowing thought provoking prose ....NOTHING IS STEREOTYPED.
Six different translators translate these combined seven stories.
There’s also a complicated, fascinating, tragic, story about the author herself— so compelling— that I almost couldn’t separate the individual stories from the authors true life story.
Izumi Suzuki, was born in Ito Shizuoka, Japan, in 1949. She came of age during the 1960’s during the era of drugs, rock n’ roll, and protests.
In 1986 (age 36), she died from suicide, in Tokyo.
Izumi dropped out of High School - worked as a keyboard operator, worked as nude model, had a brief acting career in both stage theater and films, (acted in Pink films) and won a writers runner-up award for best new writers.
Suzuki married an avant-garde saxophone player, Kaoru Abe. They had a child (a girl, Azusa), in 1976. They were living in Tokyo- but Azusa went to live with Suzuki’s parents, in Ito Shizuoka.
In 1977, Izumi and Kaoru got divorced but continued to live with each other. A year if either Kaoru died from a drug overdose.
In the 80’s, Azusa went to live with her mother, Izumi.
Izumi supported she and her daughter publishing stories in science fiction magazines. Her health started to deteriorate....and in 1986 she committed suicide by handing herself in her own home.
I found it interesting learning about “How Izumi Suzuki broke the Science Fiction’s ‘Boy’s’ Club.
Izumi said, “There is something wrong with our present society, and I can’t stand SF written by people who don’t understand that”.
I still remember a time when a female radio host was unheard of. And it wasn’t ‘allowed’ to have two females speaking to one another on radio air time. Pretty absurd besides crazy injustice - wouldn’t you say?
Suzuki was so ahead of her time [died much too young] .....she dismantled power struggles.
She also said....”I turn my dreams into stories”. She must have had wild bizarre dreams.
The more I tried to learn about Izumi ( she cut off one of her toes in front of her husband?/!.....
and her writing (I’m in NO WAY a die hard science fiction fan, but the exceptions exceptional).....
I came to in conclusion of understanding why the public was often more fascinated with Izumi Suzuki’s personal life than her ‘messed-up-society stories. As I said - I had a hard time separating these ‘stories’ from Suzuki’s soulful ‘self’.
“For Suzuki, every day life is science-fiction, and her sense of alienation from the suspicion of contemporary society was ultimately linked to Sci-fi.”
These stories deal with struggles of every day life, the counterculture, anti-establishment, anti-government, anti-men, grim relationships, sexual identity & gender, feminism, etc......and they are deeply thought provoking in ‘challenging’ our own thoughts.
Radically inventive — terrifying truth — engrossing as all get up!
May 22, 2021
1.71 "that title was blatant foreshadowing" stars !!!!
Thank you to Netgalley, Verso books, the author and the translators for an ecopy. This selection of stories was released in English in April 2021.
Ms. Suzuki was an actress, model and writer who took her own life in 1986.
This is a book where I can abstractly understand people awarding it four or five stars. I can see sci fi literati, feminist scholars and completists analyzing and gobbling this up. I would classify this as psychological sci-fi and I was able to appreciate some of it.
There were 7 stories in this collection and two of them were a very good 3.5 stars. The rest were 2 stars or below for me. Overall, I found this repetitive and tiresome despite some very original ideas.
I will list the story, my rating and a word or two.
Women and women (3.5 stars) A very thought provoking tale taking place in a lesbian utopia (or dystopia)...this easily could have been expanded into novella form....the writing was adequate but not exceptional
You may dream (half a star) I don't think I have ever been more irritated by a short story...I know many people will find this brilliant but I experienced the story as contrived, repetitive and incongruous
Night Picnic (1.5 stars) so bloody tedious....were they humans or aliens...in the end I could not have cared less
That Old Seaside Club (3.5 stars) a new psychiatric treatment for anomie and addiction....inconsistent lazy writing but fascinating nonetheless !!
Smoke gets in your eyes (2 stars) an interplanetary soap opera ....long winded and dull
Terminal Boredom (1 star) the title says it all !!
Overall not a great experience but I really liked two of the stories (but not so much the prose)
Thank you to Netgalley, Verso books, the author and the translators for an ecopy. This selection of stories was released in English in April 2021.
Ms. Suzuki was an actress, model and writer who took her own life in 1986.
This is a book where I can abstractly understand people awarding it four or five stars. I can see sci fi literati, feminist scholars and completists analyzing and gobbling this up. I would classify this as psychological sci-fi and I was able to appreciate some of it.
There were 7 stories in this collection and two of them were a very good 3.5 stars. The rest were 2 stars or below for me. Overall, I found this repetitive and tiresome despite some very original ideas.
I will list the story, my rating and a word or two.
Women and women (3.5 stars) A very thought provoking tale taking place in a lesbian utopia (or dystopia)...this easily could have been expanded into novella form....the writing was adequate but not exceptional
You may dream (half a star) I don't think I have ever been more irritated by a short story...I know many people will find this brilliant but I experienced the story as contrived, repetitive and incongruous
Night Picnic (1.5 stars) so bloody tedious....were they humans or aliens...in the end I could not have cared less
That Old Seaside Club (3.5 stars) a new psychiatric treatment for anomie and addiction....inconsistent lazy writing but fascinating nonetheless !!
Smoke gets in your eyes (2 stars) an interplanetary soap opera ....long winded and dull
Terminal Boredom (1 star) the title says it all !!
Overall not a great experience but I really liked two of the stories (but not so much the prose)
May 26, 2025
Bleak and worlds full of ennui and numbness in the face of the world ending. The stories all have a narrative tone that is quite similar, making the transition between stories hardly distinctive
I want to slip quietly into oblivion, on my own
The endings are sudden and open ended in Terminal Boredom: Stories: I listened to the book and was sometimes really surprised when we moved into a new story.
Everything in this bundle is squarely written before the internet, making the sci-fi feel kind of strange for our current time. Izumi Suzuki her writing is effective enough, but quite sparse.
Maybe a full novel length book would have captivated me more.
Thoughts and rating per story below:
Woman and woman - 3 stars
To doubt this world is a crime
Lots of exposition on the demise of men, with a girl nonetheless building up a relation with a rare survivor.
You may dream - 2 stars
Cryo sleep to address population growth.
Walking around in other people their dreams, apocalyptic dreamscapes, very VR like.
Superficiality and numbness as a goal come back, which later in the bundle turns out to be one of the apparent main themes.
Imagining another universe to be outside of the grip of gender, quite progressive.
The ideas are fine, just the characters don't really come to life for me.
Night picnic - 2 stars
Don’t forget to act like earthlings
Like a weird Third Rock From The Sun, with people living in space trying their best to act as normal humans based on books and films, but then more vague and weird. I think there was a Star Trek Voyager episode quite like this.
Even time is an illusion, and gender is again fluid in these archetypes talking with each other.
The Old Seaside Club - 2.5 stars
I’m sorry, I’m all over the place at the moment.
Again a different planet and a leisure club with people that are not sure why or for how long they are there. This time coupled with an alcoholic mother.
VR escape of real life, and no friends, also recurring: a pervading sense of loneliness.
A talking chair that has the personality of your mother.
Smoke Gets into your Eyes - 3 stars
When I start thinking I don’t like myself
Like a bad trip, with a drug addict reflecting on a relationship with an androgynous person called Jane.
Life being frivolous and empty, mental problems, lack of connection and really feeling something, time as a subjective concept, fear of aging and body disassociation. These topics bind the whole bundle together.
Forgotten - 2.5 stars
No one could live in a world like this with a fully functional mind.
Drugs addiction, foreign planets, what does it matter attitudes.
World government and a chemical in the atmosphere that makes people forget, very The Buried Giant of Kazuo Ishiguro in feels.
Building a colonial empire in space.
Not admitting one loves each other for fear of future disappointment.
Psychic disengagement (He could have easily been a patient in a psychiatric ward), an immortal alien species who just dies because of suicide.
Is the narrator a teenager, with her “how long does it take” and “I want to go home” whining.
Terminal Boredom - 1.5 stars
How do I wrap this up
People voting for celebrities, who then end up voting for the government, popularity being a better indicator of competence than competence itself. Interesting concept.
Wiring up the brain to TV’s, like living in a dream, opioids for the brain, without the required physical stamina.
IQ requirements set by companies.
Pervading jealousy for earlier generations, interesting to see in a work that is quite ahead of the current climate crisis.
Violence and suicide recordings being the only respite from the numbness (very Oryx and Crake and a A Clockwork Orange like).
Think of it as a tv show (about trying to kill a pregnant women).
I want to slip quietly into oblivion, on my own
The endings are sudden and open ended in Terminal Boredom: Stories: I listened to the book and was sometimes really surprised when we moved into a new story.
Everything in this bundle is squarely written before the internet, making the sci-fi feel kind of strange for our current time. Izumi Suzuki her writing is effective enough, but quite sparse.
Maybe a full novel length book would have captivated me more.
Thoughts and rating per story below:
Woman and woman - 3 stars
To doubt this world is a crime
Lots of exposition on the demise of men, with a girl nonetheless building up a relation with a rare survivor.
You may dream - 2 stars
Cryo sleep to address population growth.
Walking around in other people their dreams, apocalyptic dreamscapes, very VR like.
Superficiality and numbness as a goal come back, which later in the bundle turns out to be one of the apparent main themes.
Imagining another universe to be outside of the grip of gender, quite progressive.
The ideas are fine, just the characters don't really come to life for me.
Night picnic - 2 stars
Don’t forget to act like earthlings
Like a weird Third Rock From The Sun, with people living in space trying their best to act as normal humans based on books and films, but then more vague and weird. I think there was a Star Trek Voyager episode quite like this.
Even time is an illusion, and gender is again fluid in these archetypes talking with each other.
The Old Seaside Club - 2.5 stars
I’m sorry, I’m all over the place at the moment.
Again a different planet and a leisure club with people that are not sure why or for how long they are there. This time coupled with an alcoholic mother.
VR escape of real life, and no friends, also recurring: a pervading sense of loneliness.
A talking chair that has the personality of your mother.
Smoke Gets into your Eyes - 3 stars
When I start thinking I don’t like myself
Like a bad trip, with a drug addict reflecting on a relationship with an androgynous person called Jane.
Life being frivolous and empty, mental problems, lack of connection and really feeling something, time as a subjective concept, fear of aging and body disassociation. These topics bind the whole bundle together.
Forgotten - 2.5 stars
No one could live in a world like this with a fully functional mind.
Drugs addiction, foreign planets, what does it matter attitudes.
World government and a chemical in the atmosphere that makes people forget, very The Buried Giant of Kazuo Ishiguro in feels.
Building a colonial empire in space.
Not admitting one loves each other for fear of future disappointment.
Psychic disengagement (He could have easily been a patient in a psychiatric ward), an immortal alien species who just dies because of suicide.
Is the narrator a teenager, with her “how long does it take” and “I want to go home” whining.
Terminal Boredom - 1.5 stars
How do I wrap this up
People voting for celebrities, who then end up voting for the government, popularity being a better indicator of competence than competence itself. Interesting concept.
Wiring up the brain to TV’s, like living in a dream, opioids for the brain, without the required physical stamina.
IQ requirements set by companies.
Pervading jealousy for earlier generations, interesting to see in a work that is quite ahead of the current climate crisis.
Violence and suicide recordings being the only respite from the numbness (very Oryx and Crake and a A Clockwork Orange like).
Think of it as a tv show (about trying to kill a pregnant women).
March 27, 2021
A quick read. The first thing by Izumi Suzuki to make it into English. Can we get some more please?
First off, the comparison to Black Mirror is apt. Ignore the rest of the blurbs. That's enough of a hint. Base your reading decision on that fact alone.
With this stellar collection of mind-bending short stories, the author enters the ranks of the criminally undertranslated alongside Shuichi Yoshida, Shin'ichi Hoshi, Yūten Sawanishi, Ryūnosuke Akutagawa, and many, many others. While her prose could be compared to Hoshi's, her ideas transcend her era, predicting an amazing number of inventions and trends ahead of time. Combining an easy, pulpy style with extreme subtlety and a restraint so palpable that many readers will mistake it for mere competence. The problem with that assessment is it ignores the immense troves of world building taking place in the background. You could pass the collection off as a diverting analysis of modern satirical metaphors, but it is much more. The collection showcases a myriad of tones: seductive, charming, light, dark, disturbing, silly, quirky, melancholic, gritty, comedic, etc. making for a pristine assuredness which is hard to pin down. Whereas Atwood and Murakami do predictable things with practiced mastery, this author seems willing to try unexpected tactics, without the clout, and gets away with it seamlessly.
She is called a "legend of Japanese science fiction," but I have never heard her mentioned anywhere before. I guess I shouldn't be surprised, since most of the Japanese science fiction anthologies I've read aren't up to this standard.
The main draw of her writing style is the straightforward narration. Characters saying and doing things that are not out of the ordinary for them - depicting their lives as they are lived without explaining the situation to the reader, who must voyeuristically peek behind the veil of narrative distance. But we suddenly find out it's not taking place on Earth, or one of them is an alien, or they have things implanted in their brains. The astute reader will find social commentary bubbling like magma, underlying layers of subtext. These things include: television addiction, ennui, prostitution, drug addiction, suicide, robot appliances, video phones, "cinebooks" (ereaders), dreams, memes, family relations, friendships, siblinghood, loneliness, gender politics, virtual life, people rubbernecking with camcorders, and a lot more. I have a feeling these stories will reward my inevitable second reading.
Chilling, masterful, easy to misread by a passing, casual reader who thinks they know how science fiction should be written. This book communicates a plethora of deep truths disguised as "light" or "soft" science fiction. Challenge yourself to discover what lies in store here, especially during the "terminal boredom" of our quarantined age.
First off, the comparison to Black Mirror is apt. Ignore the rest of the blurbs. That's enough of a hint. Base your reading decision on that fact alone.
With this stellar collection of mind-bending short stories, the author enters the ranks of the criminally undertranslated alongside Shuichi Yoshida, Shin'ichi Hoshi, Yūten Sawanishi, Ryūnosuke Akutagawa, and many, many others. While her prose could be compared to Hoshi's, her ideas transcend her era, predicting an amazing number of inventions and trends ahead of time. Combining an easy, pulpy style with extreme subtlety and a restraint so palpable that many readers will mistake it for mere competence. The problem with that assessment is it ignores the immense troves of world building taking place in the background. You could pass the collection off as a diverting analysis of modern satirical metaphors, but it is much more. The collection showcases a myriad of tones: seductive, charming, light, dark, disturbing, silly, quirky, melancholic, gritty, comedic, etc. making for a pristine assuredness which is hard to pin down. Whereas Atwood and Murakami do predictable things with practiced mastery, this author seems willing to try unexpected tactics, without the clout, and gets away with it seamlessly.
She is called a "legend of Japanese science fiction," but I have never heard her mentioned anywhere before. I guess I shouldn't be surprised, since most of the Japanese science fiction anthologies I've read aren't up to this standard.
The main draw of her writing style is the straightforward narration. Characters saying and doing things that are not out of the ordinary for them - depicting their lives as they are lived without explaining the situation to the reader, who must voyeuristically peek behind the veil of narrative distance. But we suddenly find out it's not taking place on Earth, or one of them is an alien, or they have things implanted in their brains. The astute reader will find social commentary bubbling like magma, underlying layers of subtext. These things include: television addiction, ennui, prostitution, drug addiction, suicide, robot appliances, video phones, "cinebooks" (ereaders), dreams, memes, family relations, friendships, siblinghood, loneliness, gender politics, virtual life, people rubbernecking with camcorders, and a lot more. I have a feeling these stories will reward my inevitable second reading.
Chilling, masterful, easy to misread by a passing, casual reader who thinks they know how science fiction should be written. This book communicates a plethora of deep truths disguised as "light" or "soft" science fiction. Challenge yourself to discover what lies in store here, especially during the "terminal boredom" of our quarantined age.
August 19, 2024
Terminal Boredom is a collection of short stories. Izumi Suzuki is considered a science fiction writer and the majority of the stories have a sci-fi slant. The first and final story lean more towards dystopian fiction. The first was my favorite. Short stories resonate differently with each reader and here is how I felt upon reading this collection.
1-Women and Women: 5 stars. Internment camps. Population problems. Reminded me of several favorite dystopian stories and a similar vibe to reading Yoko Tawada.
2-You May Dream: 3 stars. Another exploration of population control. Mix of dystopian and sci-fi feel.
3-Night Picnic: 3 stars. Very creative. Sci-fi. Pop culture’s (books, movies, tv shows) impacts the expectations and actions of beings.
4-That Old Seaside Club: 4 stars. Great sci-fi vibes from several of my favorites, including The Matrix.
5-Smoke Gets in Your Eyes: 4 stars. Exploration of relationships, aging, and the impact of drug use on both.
6-Forgotten: 4 stars. Interplanetary relationships.
7-Terminal Boredom: 4 stars. Exploration of differences between ages (the young and the old) of the population. This aspect reminded me of Yoko Tawada, specifically The Emissary/The Last Children of Tokyo. This is the darkest story. Impact of technology and screen time on youth.
Warning: suicide and murder are mentioned more than once in the story.
1-Women and Women: 5 stars. Internment camps. Population problems. Reminded me of several favorite dystopian stories and a similar vibe to reading Yoko Tawada.
2-You May Dream: 3 stars. Another exploration of population control. Mix of dystopian and sci-fi feel.
3-Night Picnic: 3 stars. Very creative. Sci-fi. Pop culture’s (books, movies, tv shows) impacts the expectations and actions of beings.
4-That Old Seaside Club: 4 stars. Great sci-fi vibes from several of my favorites, including The Matrix.
5-Smoke Gets in Your Eyes: 4 stars. Exploration of relationships, aging, and the impact of drug use on both.
6-Forgotten: 4 stars. Interplanetary relationships.
7-Terminal Boredom: 4 stars. Exploration of differences between ages (the young and the old) of the population. This aspect reminded me of Yoko Tawada, specifically The Emissary/The Last Children of Tokyo. This is the darkest story. Impact of technology and screen time on youth.
Warning: suicide and murder are mentioned more than once in the story.
June 1, 2022
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Perhaps I should be more lenient towards these stories as they were written in the 1970s but alas I did find them rather dated.
Most of these stories are set in near-futures. The first portrays an all-female society in which men are seen as less than human. Other stories present readers with different shades of bleak realities in which characters struggle or refuse to assimilate with their less than perfect 'utopias'. These stories have a surreal quality to them, one that did bring to mind Kafka, but more often than not they were a tad on the nose. They were very counterculture, almost predictably so. While there was the odd moment of humor here and there (such as a talking chair or a character proclaiming that they are done with gender) these stories tried too hard to be grungy.
Everyone seems to be alienated or in the midst of an existential crisis and their observations and reflections struck me as mere navel-gazing (things on the lines of ‘what is the point in life?’).
Lastly, here feel free to call me 'woke' or whatnot, I did not care for the way masculine women were described. While I appreciate that many of the women in these stories expressed a certain dissatisfaction towards rigid gender binaries and heteronormativity, I was not a fan of how women who exhibit behavioural and physical traits that are traditionally associated with men are described as disgusting and or as abject. In the first story, the protagonist critiques the fact that her all-female queer utopia draws on male/female patriarchal dynamics (so that within f/f couples one woman takes on a traditionally 'male' role, while the other one takes 'female' roles) which I did at first sort of appreciate but then she goes on to slag off women who appear more masculine (she is repulsed by the sight of a woman with facial hair or by the idea of a woman taking male hormones to be more masculine).
Maybe these stories will appeal more to those who feel some sort of nostalgia for the 1970s counterculture but I for one found them too dusty for my liking. The author's storytelling is dry, the dialogues are repetitive, and the ideas/scenarios explored by each narrative came across as samey and unimaginative.
Perhaps I should be more lenient towards these stories as they were written in the 1970s but alas I did find them rather dated.
Most of these stories are set in near-futures. The first portrays an all-female society in which men are seen as less than human. Other stories present readers with different shades of bleak realities in which characters struggle or refuse to assimilate with their less than perfect 'utopias'. These stories have a surreal quality to them, one that did bring to mind Kafka, but more often than not they were a tad on the nose. They were very counterculture, almost predictably so. While there was the odd moment of humor here and there (such as a talking chair or a character proclaiming that they are done with gender) these stories tried too hard to be grungy.
Everyone seems to be alienated or in the midst of an existential crisis and their observations and reflections struck me as mere navel-gazing (things on the lines of ‘what is the point in life?’).
Lastly, here feel free to call me 'woke' or whatnot, I did not care for the way masculine women were described. While I appreciate that many of the women in these stories expressed a certain dissatisfaction towards rigid gender binaries and heteronormativity, I was not a fan of how women who exhibit behavioural and physical traits that are traditionally associated with men are described as disgusting and or as abject. In the first story, the protagonist critiques the fact that her all-female queer utopia draws on male/female patriarchal dynamics (so that within f/f couples one woman takes on a traditionally 'male' role, while the other one takes 'female' roles) which I did at first sort of appreciate but then she goes on to slag off women who appear more masculine (she is repulsed by the sight of a woman with facial hair or by the idea of a woman taking male hormones to be more masculine).
Maybe these stories will appeal more to those who feel some sort of nostalgia for the 1970s counterculture but I for one found them too dusty for my liking. The author's storytelling is dry, the dialogues are repetitive, and the ideas/scenarios explored by each narrative came across as samey and unimaginative.
May 1, 2021
‘There is something wrong with our present society, and I can’t stand SF written by people who don’t understand that.’ – Izumi Suzuki. AR
Women and Women 4.5/5
You May Dream 5/5
Night Picnic 4.5/5
The Old Seaside Club 4/5
Smoke Gets in Your Eyes 3.5/5
Forgotten 5/5
Terminal Boredom 4/5
A fantastic, surreal collection of stories dipped in dark/dry humour (or am I just misreading it?). Satire. Satire. Satire. Mental health, gender politics, and an exploration of Japanese ‘counterculture’. And existential dread in the air. They are all set in a post-apocalyptic world, some with ‘aliens’, and others without. I really enjoyed the narrative, the characters, and the strange world(s) so brilliantly put together by Izumi Suzuki. It’s a shame she left this one so quickly. Who can blame her though?
“Once you’re above a certain age, if you decide you want kids, you go to the hospital. Even if you’re unmarried, it’s fine as long as you can raise them. They probably inject you with some medicine or something.
‘You’re not going to look for a job?’
‘I’m not cut out for it,’ Rei replied shamelessly. ‘Even if this doesn’t work out, I’ll just find an arranged marriage.’ Rei has a pretty face and pale skin, giving her good reason to be confident of finding someone to support her. Long ago, it was normal for the men to work while the women took care of the household chores, and that arrangement hasn’t really changed – all that’s new is that it’s the more masculine woman who goes to work, while the more feminine partner takes care of the sundry other tasks at home.” – ‘Women and Women’
I found ‘Women and Women’ treading close to the story patterns/themes/feminist writings of Margaret Atwood. It’s basically a dystopian world without men. Men are locked up in special institutions away from women because apparently they’ve caused too much harm and damage their world (in the novel). At the start I found the whole ‘masculine woman’ concept a little unsettling – in terms of how they’re shoved into the family dynamics as a replacement for men (but only because I think that in a queer/lesbian relationship, there is no ‘standard’/’default’ setting/dynamic; like how maddening it is when someone looks at a queer relationship and then say something madly ignorant like ‘so who’s the man/woman in the relationship?’). However, Suzuki cleverly makes a few twists later in the story and totally flip the readers’ expectation – and as a result, making this a very thought-provoking, and obviously fantastic piece of writing. The grandmother of the protagonist (in this particular short story) weeding off thoughts of romantic ideas in the family and calling it all an ‘adolescent fantasy’ is a spectacular way to end the story; beautifully haunting.
“While I fielded her questions, I had to ask myself: What was it about her that was turning me into a man? Got to be all that femininity. She’s acting like such a woman (as society defines the role, anyway) that I have to play the man just to keep the balance. What if I ran into a boy? Could I even play the part of a woman?
Syzygy? Androgyny? I’m no man and I’m no woman. Who needs gender anyway? I just want to get out of this place, to be on my own.
I’ve got no desire to see the collapse of humankind or the end of the world. I just want everyone to enjoy their lives. That’s why I came here — to a different time stream, a different planet, a different universe.” – ‘You May Dream’
‘You May Dream’ and ‘Forgotten’ are stories in this collection that I like best. ‘You May Dream’ opens with a friendship between two young women – and one of them is about to be ‘put to sleep’ (not a euphemism for death, I don’t think) temporarily because the world is too populated to handle so many ‘waking’ humans all at once. However, she wants her consciousness to be linked with her waking friend (the protagonist) so she can appear and live in her friend’s dreams. Their relationship reminds me of the one Ottessa Moshfegh’s My Year of Rest and Relaxation, except this one’s mad surreal, and deals with gender politics and the class system in society with a more surreal but brutal approach, with a slightly bigger serving of existential dread. I thought the ending was a bit sudden and unimpressive; might work much better as a longer piece of writing (novella).
“There was no way anyone could live in a world like this with a fully functioning mind. You only found yourself feeling angry from morning until night. If she ended up joining some kind of political movement as a result, her mother and father would be upset. Using drugs, she told herself, was her way of being a good daughter.” – ‘Forgotten’
“I’m not particularly eclectic in my tastes, and I’m not interested in anything that feels too much like hard work. The Kamiroi aesthetic doesn’t really do it for me, although I hear that you Terrans really go for it. And Balians are way too irrational.” – ‘Forgotten’
While I’d complained about how in ‘You May Dream’, Suzuki ends the story with a weak fizzle, I almost didn’t have time to catch my breath in the last few pages of ‘Forgotten’. On the surface, it’s an interplanetary/intergalactic, interracial love story – green alien men and all. But what lies underneath it all is a hot and political mess – internal/mental and external/physical abuse. The translation in this one didn’t feel very ‘Japanese’ to me in terms of language and esp. tone; I don’t know if Suzuki wrote it this way, or if it was totally washed away in translation. But it didn’t bother me too much because the characters, narrative, and the story/plot were absolutely stunning; I was rendered speechless at the end of it – like a fish out of the sea, gasping for dear life.
“I will avoid a casual approach to life at any cost.’ But Dad immediately qualified himself, to smooth things over. ‘I simply don’t want us to wind up the butt of the joke. When people behave shamefully, their children follow suit. Children only notice when their parents make mistakes. One false move, and pretty soon they’re … You know, whatever you call it.” – ‘The Night Picnic’
“She must be thirty-six years old, in this world. Naoshi must be out of the facility too, then. He took off from that planet three days earlier. No need to look in a mirror. I already know the score: I’m a dejected housewife, in my thirties – impatient and frustrated, yet too limp and lethargic to do anything about it. And I live in one of those hideous, uniform, low-rent apartments I can see out the window.” – ‘The Old Seaside Club’
I’ll finish up the rest by comparing them to popular films. ‘The Night Picnic’ is basically ‘The Others’ (film) by Alejandro Amenábar – except for the jarringly different settings/worlds, and a much quicker pace. And instead of ghosts, you have ‘aliens’. I love the post-apocalyptic, stagnant, urban backdrop of this one; and of how Nature slowly reclaims the land. This one makes me think of ‘anime’ (dark, psychological thrillers) – in particular, 新世界より Shinsekai Yori based on a manga with the same name by Yusuke Kishi. Again, the characterisation in this one is fucking spectacular – exploring gender and gender roles in strange, extra-terrestrial ways. ‘The Old Seaside Club’ is a bit like ‘The Matrix’ by the Wachowskis, but with a semi-romantic twist. No guns/pills, but for me, the commonplace/ordinary ‘human’ issues in the story makes it even more unsettling – especially with the concepts of age and time (and of how – humans can’t escape our mortalities even if we can manipulate/mess with time and space).
“After getting back from the arcade, I didn’t feel like going anywhere. I watched the 3-D television with the sound off. My favourite thing is to be by myself. I can’t take drugs, I don’t smoke, and I can barely drink, but I still know how to pass the time. These days, I only work one day a week, if that. Right now, I do illustrations for a living, but I’ve had around twenty different jobs. Physical labour is better. I don’t have to think about things. When I begin thinking, I start to dislike myself.” – ‘Smoke Gets in Your Eyes’
‘Smoke Gets in Your Eyes’ treads on very similar themes, but without the concept of separating/transferring one’s ‘consciousness’ into a different ‘space’. It also explores how the world/society views/deals with people with mental health issues – and of how it’s all a massive heap of a bad joke since being completely ‘sane’ is just an illusion/Utopian ideology. This concept is further satirised in the last story of the collection – which is basically a less American, and much more condensed sci-fi version of ‘The American Psycho’ (more of the film, than the actual novel it was based on) by Mary Harron.
“Older folks are amazing. They’ve got so much energy, so much stamina. They go to work every day, and somehow they still find it in them to have love affairs. My mum had a steady stream of them until recently.” – Terminal Boredom
“Things like respect and awe are long since gone. Everyone lives in a happy-go-lucky depression – they only take life half-seriously, you might say.” – Terminal Boredom
Overall, I enjoyed the book tremendously. I could’ve finished it all in one go without a problem, but I intentionally took my time with it because I wanted to savour every page of it. Izumi Suzuki, what a legend. In the strangest way possible, I miss her even though I’ve never met her. This must be the transcending power of great writing/literature. Oh, dear.
“'Do you have any idea how hopelessly in love with him I was?’ What the hell am I supposed to say to that? ” – ‘Terminal Boredom’
April 30, 2021
(3.5) Everyone should at least try these stories -- I imagine they'll land much better for a lot of readers. Full of thought-provoking ideas, delivered in an unfussy and impressively accessible prose style.
November 18, 2020
'What do you mean, you’re ill?’
‘I’m a drug addict.’ He looks up at me after giving this blunt answer, trying to gauge my reaction.
I fight the muscles in my face, trying to keep from expressing anything.
This collection of sci-fi-infused short stories feels like it's trying to keep from expressing anything. I say 'sci-fi-infused', but I should probably say 'lightly sprayed with'. In most stories the sci-fi elements are window dressing, if that, and to me seem only there to ever so slightly up the weirdness quotient. Not a lot happens in this book - it's mostly young people lounging around listlessly, having endless conversations, conversations that come across stilted and forced (could be that's a translation thing). Now and then they mention someone like Mick Jagger, or a film like Blade Runner, kind of an old fartish idea of Stuff That Is Cool. Only really the last story, the eponymous Terminal Boredom uses science fiction to give it a sting, and fully works.
Not for me, this one.
Women And Women - 3 stars
You May Dream - 3 stars
Night Picnic - 2 stars
That Old Seaside Club - 2 stars
Smoke Gets In Your Eyes - 2 stars
Forgotten - 2.5 stars
Terminal Boredom - 3.5 stars
(Kindly received an ARC from Verso Books through NetGalley)
‘I’m a drug addict.’ He looks up at me after giving this blunt answer, trying to gauge my reaction.
I fight the muscles in my face, trying to keep from expressing anything.
This collection of sci-fi-infused short stories feels like it's trying to keep from expressing anything. I say 'sci-fi-infused', but I should probably say 'lightly sprayed with'. In most stories the sci-fi elements are window dressing, if that, and to me seem only there to ever so slightly up the weirdness quotient. Not a lot happens in this book - it's mostly young people lounging around listlessly, having endless conversations, conversations that come across stilted and forced (could be that's a translation thing). Now and then they mention someone like Mick Jagger, or a film like Blade Runner, kind of an old fartish idea of Stuff That Is Cool. Only really the last story, the eponymous Terminal Boredom uses science fiction to give it a sting, and fully works.
Not for me, this one.
Women And Women - 3 stars
You May Dream - 3 stars
Night Picnic - 2 stars
That Old Seaside Club - 2 stars
Smoke Gets In Your Eyes - 2 stars
Forgotten - 2.5 stars
Terminal Boredom - 3.5 stars
(Kindly received an ARC from Verso Books through NetGalley)
April 13, 2021
8/10 stars
My full review can be found on my blog here.
Don’t let the publication date fool you: Izumi Suzuki committed suicide in 1986, at the age of 36, and her SF dystopian short stories were all written in the period between mid- 1970s and mid-1980s. Her works were both highly controversial and influential, diametrically different from mainstream, and the publication of Terminal Boredom, a collection of seven of her most famous stories, is a good opportunity for the English-speaking readers to get acquainted with Suzuki’s world.
Suzuki creates a very intriguing world, indeed. Deeply dystopian, populated by unhappy people bound in equal measures by the societal norms, their own fantasies and their fears, it features green-skinned aliens, potent drugs, elaborate medical procedures designed to deal with very mundane relationship and psychological problems, and even a post-apocalyptic matriarchal society where men are held in prison-like structures, kept alive only for procreation purposes, like drones in a beehive. No one is truly happy; some have forgotten what happiness even means. The suffocating mood of ennui seems to arise from a number of moods and feelings: social constraints, regrets, inability to feel empathy, bad life choices haunting the present and the future, and the overwhelming boredom all conspire to create a nauseating lack of will to live. The mood, the feeling of these stories is prescient: four decades on, we deal with the very issues so clearly intuited by Suzuki – from the crippling emotional numbness among individuals to the aggressive, grasping behaviour of societies.
While Suzuki introduced many typical SF tropes into her works, from humanlike aliens and interplanetary travel to nearly miraculous technological advancement, she didn’t pay them much attention: they are there as props in the everyday, banal yet tragic drama of the protagonists. Indeed, the main strength of her stories lies in this intimate focus on the characters: their flaws and vices, their dreams and fears, their unhappy relationships marked by lack of understanding. The main theme of her stories is alienation; and while she didn’t say break any new ground in this area, what she did say is still important, and profound – maybe even more so today. Some of her stories seem indeed prescient: the problems already arising in the 70’s, noticed by the sensitive, non-normative few like Suzuki, in our times became widespread societal maladies.
I must say the stories’ mood affected me a little: the pervasive ennui, unhappiness, despair hidden beneath a very thin surface of the bustle of everyday life are depicted in a thoroughly realistic way. There is a disconnect between Suzuki’s characters and their life; there is a feeling of desolation that contradicts John Donne’s optimism: in Suzuki’s world every man is an island, separate and isolated, and hopelessly alone.
[...]
In the case of Suzuki’s anthology the whole becomes something more than sum of its parts; the collection in its entirety gives off a unique vibe, and it doesn’t hurt that it ends on a strong note: the titular story, Terminal Boredom, was for me the best of them all.
That said, however, I must end my review with two caveats: these stories are old, and their age is noticeable. What was unique and ground-breaking in the 70’s now, four decades on, has turned into something more obvious and at times tropey. Secondly, Suzuki’s stories are focused predominantly on creating a certain mood and exploring mostly psychological ideas of alienation, addiction, exhaustion; there is barely any action, worldbuilding, or even character development. In short, they are vignettes, not full histories – psychological portraits frozen in time. I read them with interest and appreciation, if not exactly enjoyment: they do tend to dampen one’s mood.
I have received a copy of this book from the publisher Verso through NetGalley in exchange for an honest review. My thanks.
My full review can be found on my blog here.
Don’t let the publication date fool you: Izumi Suzuki committed suicide in 1986, at the age of 36, and her SF dystopian short stories were all written in the period between mid- 1970s and mid-1980s. Her works were both highly controversial and influential, diametrically different from mainstream, and the publication of Terminal Boredom, a collection of seven of her most famous stories, is a good opportunity for the English-speaking readers to get acquainted with Suzuki’s world.
Suzuki creates a very intriguing world, indeed. Deeply dystopian, populated by unhappy people bound in equal measures by the societal norms, their own fantasies and their fears, it features green-skinned aliens, potent drugs, elaborate medical procedures designed to deal with very mundane relationship and psychological problems, and even a post-apocalyptic matriarchal society where men are held in prison-like structures, kept alive only for procreation purposes, like drones in a beehive. No one is truly happy; some have forgotten what happiness even means. The suffocating mood of ennui seems to arise from a number of moods and feelings: social constraints, regrets, inability to feel empathy, bad life choices haunting the present and the future, and the overwhelming boredom all conspire to create a nauseating lack of will to live. The mood, the feeling of these stories is prescient: four decades on, we deal with the very issues so clearly intuited by Suzuki – from the crippling emotional numbness among individuals to the aggressive, grasping behaviour of societies.
While Suzuki introduced many typical SF tropes into her works, from humanlike aliens and interplanetary travel to nearly miraculous technological advancement, she didn’t pay them much attention: they are there as props in the everyday, banal yet tragic drama of the protagonists. Indeed, the main strength of her stories lies in this intimate focus on the characters: their flaws and vices, their dreams and fears, their unhappy relationships marked by lack of understanding. The main theme of her stories is alienation; and while she didn’t say break any new ground in this area, what she did say is still important, and profound – maybe even more so today. Some of her stories seem indeed prescient: the problems already arising in the 70’s, noticed by the sensitive, non-normative few like Suzuki, in our times became widespread societal maladies.
I must say the stories’ mood affected me a little: the pervasive ennui, unhappiness, despair hidden beneath a very thin surface of the bustle of everyday life are depicted in a thoroughly realistic way. There is a disconnect between Suzuki’s characters and their life; there is a feeling of desolation that contradicts John Donne’s optimism: in Suzuki’s world every man is an island, separate and isolated, and hopelessly alone.
[...]
In the case of Suzuki’s anthology the whole becomes something more than sum of its parts; the collection in its entirety gives off a unique vibe, and it doesn’t hurt that it ends on a strong note: the titular story, Terminal Boredom, was for me the best of them all.
That said, however, I must end my review with two caveats: these stories are old, and their age is noticeable. What was unique and ground-breaking in the 70’s now, four decades on, has turned into something more obvious and at times tropey. Secondly, Suzuki’s stories are focused predominantly on creating a certain mood and exploring mostly psychological ideas of alienation, addiction, exhaustion; there is barely any action, worldbuilding, or even character development. In short, they are vignettes, not full histories – psychological portraits frozen in time. I read them with interest and appreciation, if not exactly enjoyment: they do tend to dampen one’s mood.
I have received a copy of this book from the publisher Verso through NetGalley in exchange for an honest review. My thanks.
August 31, 2022
Terminal Boredom: Stories - Izumi Suzuki
مجموعة قصصية من أدب الخيال العلمي وتدور كل قصصها في عوالم ديستوبية وتركز على قصص فردية عكس ما اعتدنا حول التركيز على الشأن العام في روايات الخيال العلمي الديستوبية، حيث هنا يطغى الألم الشخصي والعزلة والقلق والمخاوف الفردية .
أغلب القصص حول مجتمعات تحتضر وشباب هذه المجتمعات غارقون في اليأس والألم واللامبالاة وحول إنسانية على وشك الأفول وفيها يكاد يختفي الخيط الرفيع بين الحقيقة والوهم، رحلت الكاتبة قبل أكثر من 30 عامًا عن عالمنا ولكن قصصها تبدو في يومنا هذا منطقية ومفهومة .
مجموعة قصصية لن تفارق قصصها فكرك لوقت طويل، أرجو أن تترجم أعمال أخرى لإيزومي سوزوكي.
مجموعة قصصية من أدب الخيال العلمي وتدور كل قصصها في عوالم ديستوبية وتركز على قصص فردية عكس ما اعتدنا حول التركيز على الشأن العام في روايات الخيال العلمي الديستوبية، حيث هنا يطغى الألم الشخصي والعزلة والقلق والمخاوف الفردية .
أغلب القصص حول مجتمعات تحتضر وشباب هذه المجتمعات غارقون في اليأس والألم واللامبالاة وحول إنسانية على وشك الأفول وفيها يكاد يختفي الخيط الرفيع بين الحقيقة والوهم، رحلت الكاتبة قبل أكثر من 30 عامًا عن عالمنا ولكن قصصها تبدو في يومنا هذا منطقية ومفهومة .
مجموعة قصصية لن تفارق قصصها فكرك لوقت طويل، أرجو أن تترجم أعمال أخرى لإيزومي سوزوكي.
January 6, 2021
I really enjoyed some stories and others were a miss for me, but after I finished reading it I found out that the author wrote these stories 30 years ago and that sort of gives it all a new flavor.
April 21, 2023
Fitting title.
May 31, 2021
This was such a strange read. I really liked most of the stories as I was reading them, but was either left cold at the end or had completely forgotten them the following day. I'm getting on in years so maybe that is one reason. It was like a wine that tastes OK as you drink it but has no finish. I gave it three stars because I thought the stories weren’t as dated as some have suggested and the writing style was just so interesting. Give it a try!
November 30, 2021
hauntingly absurd
November 17, 2020
It took years and years for someone (Verso Books) to publish a story collection written by Japanese icon actress-turned-writer Izumi Suzuki. This would be her first book translated into English, and Suzuki has been dead for more than 30 years.
If you keep that fact in mind along with the chronological environment she wrote her sci-fi, feministic, space bound stories in – you would understand this (translation and publishing) should have been done a long time ago. However, if you mistakenly tuck into her stories as something contemporary (and that would be the fair mistake I made, because they are incredibly timely), you might come to the wrong conclusions.
That her work is not original – I had Matthew Baker on my mind, thinking that he did this whole drop you into the middle of fantasy stuff much better. (He did, but he wasn’t copied).
That the stories are just following the main trends in literature – feminism, end of the world as we know it, technological influence – that have been floating around long enough for everyone to pick them up and use them. (But she wrote decades ago).
That her story Terminal Boredom, featuring TV crazy population planning to install devices into their brain to get drugged by entertainment to eternal bliss – was definitely, oh so surely inspired by Infinite Jest. I mean look at the titles! (But. Izumi Suzuki killed herself in 1986. Infinite Jest was published in 1996. I wonder… if David Foster Wallace knew japanese?)
See – perspective is everything. With all of the above in mind, I now find her stories progressive, authentic and futuristic. ‘Women and Women’ talks about the idea of female world domination (hello Naomi Alderman), ‘That Old Seaside Club’ is a take on psychotherapy/hypnotic sleep, ‘Forgotten’ has some serious Madame Bovary flashbacks for me – not ONLY because it has an Emma in it!.. The ideas are great. What I didn’t like was execution. Although the stories get progressively better – was that intended? – I think the first one should have been edited about a hundred times more, and the last one is still lacking. Short story is a brutal literary form – it does not allow for slow pace, accidental characters, lack of purpose and everlasting ambiguity.
That I cannot blame on time.
Thank you @versobooks for giving me a copy to review. Out on 20 April 2021.
If you keep that fact in mind along with the chronological environment she wrote her sci-fi, feministic, space bound stories in – you would understand this (translation and publishing) should have been done a long time ago. However, if you mistakenly tuck into her stories as something contemporary (and that would be the fair mistake I made, because they are incredibly timely), you might come to the wrong conclusions.
That her work is not original – I had Matthew Baker on my mind, thinking that he did this whole drop you into the middle of fantasy stuff much better. (He did, but he wasn’t copied).
That the stories are just following the main trends in literature – feminism, end of the world as we know it, technological influence – that have been floating around long enough for everyone to pick them up and use them. (But she wrote decades ago).
That her story Terminal Boredom, featuring TV crazy population planning to install devices into their brain to get drugged by entertainment to eternal bliss – was definitely, oh so surely inspired by Infinite Jest. I mean look at the titles! (But. Izumi Suzuki killed herself in 1986. Infinite Jest was published in 1996. I wonder… if David Foster Wallace knew japanese?)
See – perspective is everything. With all of the above in mind, I now find her stories progressive, authentic and futuristic. ‘Women and Women’ talks about the idea of female world domination (hello Naomi Alderman), ‘That Old Seaside Club’ is a take on psychotherapy/hypnotic sleep, ‘Forgotten’ has some serious Madame Bovary flashbacks for me – not ONLY because it has an Emma in it!.. The ideas are great. What I didn’t like was execution. Although the stories get progressively better – was that intended? – I think the first one should have been edited about a hundred times more, and the last one is still lacking. Short story is a brutal literary form – it does not allow for slow pace, accidental characters, lack of purpose and everlasting ambiguity.
That I cannot blame on time.
Thank you @versobooks for giving me a copy to review. Out on 20 April 2021.
June 5, 2021
The best parts of this collection for me were that each story seemed to have at least one really creative inventive idea to explore (although never explicitly which is part of what is great here) and the writing style always managed to put me in a differently defined state of mind (often the mood of the narrator but also of the "world" inhabited). Bravo to Verso for making these stories available!
June 21, 2021
When I put Terminal Boredom by Izumi Suzuki on my to-read list, I remember someone saying that I should read this in an airport—heh. Sorry, though, the timing didn't work out—which isn't surprising; I spent very little time in airports even before the pandemic.
I'm glad I got to this one when I did, though.
Now, it takes some guts to name a story—much less a whole collection of stories—"Terminal Boredom." I really liked this little book, though, and wasn't bored at all... but I don't want to say too much about Suzuki's moody speculations up front—going into this collection with too many expectations could (and did, judging by some of the reviews I saw here) result in unnecessary disappointment.
Instead, this time, let's just let Izumi Suzuki's words speak for themselves, and see what you think:
Terminal Boredom was a very quick read for me—just seven stories long, not really enough even for a brief layover. But these were impressively accomplished tales, and it makes me sad to think that Izumi Suzuki is no longer with us (she took herself away from this world in 1986) to write more.
I'm glad I got to this one when I did, though.
Now, it takes some guts to name a story—much less a whole collection of stories—"Terminal Boredom." I really liked this little book, though, and wasn't bored at all... but I don't want to say too much about Suzuki's moody speculations up front—going into this collection with too many expectations could (and did, judging by some of the reviews I saw here) result in unnecessary disappointment.
Instead, this time, let's just let Izumi Suzuki's words speak for themselves, and see what you think:
To doubt this world is a crime.
—"Women and Women," p.33
I used to be so empty inside, so pure.
—"You May Dream," p.61
"Why bother stringing all these words together if the end result is one big lie?"
—"Night Picnic," p.74
"Oh, you can find a song for anything, you know. There's even a song that goes, 'This isn't real love, it's just a song.'"
—"That Old Seaside Club," p.102
"Don't worry. The world won't stop spinning. It'll keep going, even if you don't want it to. On and on, until you're absolutely sick of it."
—"That Old Seaside Club," p.120
"When I'm being thankful, I think, 'This is a moment when I should be thankful,' and then I press start on my heart mechanism."
—"Smoke Gets in Your Eyes," p.136
The world around them went on moving, regardless of their desires or their feelings, like a huge river. Its surface might appear calm, but charging along its bottom was a fast, powerful current, exerting a silent pressure on them.
—"Forgotten," p.176
I had always assumed HE was doing an impression of a moron, but sometimes I wonder if HE isn't simply stupid.
—"Terminal Boredom," p.190
Terminal Boredom was a very quick read for me—just seven stories long, not really enough even for a brief layover. But these were impressively accomplished tales, and it makes me sad to think that Izumi Suzuki is no longer with us (she took herself away from this world in 1986) to write more.
June 27, 2024
An excellent collection of science fiction short stories. Suzuki’s stories are accessible and clear in their telling, and explore interesting ideas like the impenetrability of the minds of others, the shape and role of society, gender, and imperialism. This is science fiction as I enjoy it the best, thought-provoking, at times surprising, and unburdened by excessive detail.
October 17, 2021
Suzuki's brisk style is attractive, though a bit too chatty sometimes for my taste. The translations are mostly smooth, with only a few awkward glitches. My favorite is the dark title story, surely a reference to the "parasite single" phenomenon in Japan.
September 8, 2025
I wanted to love "Terminal Boredom." On paper, it’s everything I’d usually go for: cult author, tragic backstory, short bursts of speculative fiction that were way ahead of their time. Some of the stories even reminded me of Sayaka Murata, whose work I adore. But for the most part, these didn’t land for me. Maybe they’re a little too punk, a little too nihilistic, or maybe they just feel edgy for the sake of it.
That said, I was fascinated by Suzuki herself. Knowing a bit about her life and death made me want to root for these stories, and every once in a while I caught glimpses of brilliance. There are moments that felt weirdly prophetic and unsettling in a good way. But the collection as a whole left me cold. It is one of those books where I'm glad it exists, I'm glad I read it, and I'm glad it is being rediscovered... I just didn’t really enjoy it. "Terminal Boredom" left me somewhere between admiration and indifference.
That said, I was fascinated by Suzuki herself. Knowing a bit about her life and death made me want to root for these stories, and every once in a while I caught glimpses of brilliance. There are moments that felt weirdly prophetic and unsettling in a good way. But the collection as a whole left me cold. It is one of those books where I'm glad it exists, I'm glad I read it, and I'm glad it is being rediscovered... I just didn’t really enjoy it. "Terminal Boredom" left me somewhere between admiration and indifference.
December 24, 2024
It’d be close to say that this is Black Mirror 45 years avant la lettre. The individual stories may seem common, now, but that’s because they are likely foundational in their influence.
March 2, 2025
“Come la stragrande maggioranza delle persone al giorno d’oggi, vivo in modo piuttosto superficiale. Non penso troppo alle cose. La mancanza di fiducia in me stessa e la rassegnazione sono avvinghiate senza possibilità di comprensione reciproca. Non ho alcuna fede certa, né fissazioni. E men che meno accade che la gravità di una qualsiasi situazione mi tocchi a livello emotivo. O forse sono io a fare in modo che non accada. Pertanto agisco solo in base all’umore, senza rimorso né rimpianto”.
Se dovessi rapidamente appiccicare un’etichetta a questo libro, lo definirei “visionario”. Sembra un libro che racconta il mondo di oggi, eppure i suoi racconti sono stati scritti quarant’anni fa. Pubblicato da Add Editore, Noia terminale è il primo volume di una trilogia che fa conoscere in Italia le opere di Suzuki Izumi (1949-1986). Modella, attrice e autrice di fantascienza, Suzuki Izumi è stata un’icona della controcultura giapponese.
Ma fermiamoci qui con i preamboli. Noia terminale raccoglie sette racconti che spaziano tra diversi temi e scenari, attingendo tanto alla fantascienza quanto alla distopia. “Un mondo di donne e donne”, per esempio, racconta di una società del futuro costruita su base matriarcale, dove gli uomini sono rinchiusi in campi di detenzione, relegati ad attrattiva per scolaresche in gita.
Proseguendo, “You may dream” parla di una società in cui, per ridurre il problema del sovraffollamento globale, si ricorre all’ibernazione forzata, su base randomica. Chi è costretto a ibernarsi riceve una notifica sul suo telefono (vi ricorda qualcosa?), ma può decidere di far trasferire la propria coscienza nei sogni di un altro durante il suo “lungo sonno”.
E ancora, in “Dimenticato” una donna terrestre e un uomo extraterrestre intrecciano una relazione amorosa, che non fa che marcare la loro abissale distanza: lei superficiale e dimentica di tutto, lui profondo e intensamente radicato nella memoria, mentre sullo sfondo va in scena la minaccia di una guerra interplanetaria.
E infine il mio preferito, “Noia terminale”, che dà anche il titolo alla raccolta. Due giovani innamorati si confrontano con una noia più profonda di qualsiasi sentimento; scollati dalla realtà, trovano sollievo soltanto nella finzione, nel guardare il mondo “attraverso uno schermo” (again, vi ricorda qualcosa?), fino all’inaspettato epilogo.
I personaggi di Suzuki Izumi si dividono in due categorie: quelli che non sentono più niente, al punto da vivere in un totale appiattimento, e quelli che sentono fin troppo e trovano nel suicidio la loro naturale conclusione. Leggendo i racconti, quasi tutti in prima persona, quasi tutti punti di vista femminili, si potrebbe avere l’impressione che l’autrice si nasconda dietro i personaggi della prima categoria: freddi, asociali, anestetizzati. Ma qualcosa non torna, e principalmente per questo: Suzuki Izumi si è tolta la vita a trentasei anni.
Se dovessi rapidamente appiccicare un’etichetta a questo libro, lo definirei “visionario”. Sembra un libro che racconta il mondo di oggi, eppure i suoi racconti sono stati scritti quarant’anni fa. Pubblicato da Add Editore, Noia terminale è il primo volume di una trilogia che fa conoscere in Italia le opere di Suzuki Izumi (1949-1986). Modella, attrice e autrice di fantascienza, Suzuki Izumi è stata un’icona della controcultura giapponese.
Ma fermiamoci qui con i preamboli. Noia terminale raccoglie sette racconti che spaziano tra diversi temi e scenari, attingendo tanto alla fantascienza quanto alla distopia. “Un mondo di donne e donne”, per esempio, racconta di una società del futuro costruita su base matriarcale, dove gli uomini sono rinchiusi in campi di detenzione, relegati ad attrattiva per scolaresche in gita.
Proseguendo, “You may dream” parla di una società in cui, per ridurre il problema del sovraffollamento globale, si ricorre all’ibernazione forzata, su base randomica. Chi è costretto a ibernarsi riceve una notifica sul suo telefono (vi ricorda qualcosa?), ma può decidere di far trasferire la propria coscienza nei sogni di un altro durante il suo “lungo sonno”.
E ancora, in “Dimenticato” una donna terrestre e un uomo extraterrestre intrecciano una relazione amorosa, che non fa che marcare la loro abissale distanza: lei superficiale e dimentica di tutto, lui profondo e intensamente radicato nella memoria, mentre sullo sfondo va in scena la minaccia di una guerra interplanetaria.
E infine il mio preferito, “Noia terminale”, che dà anche il titolo alla raccolta. Due giovani innamorati si confrontano con una noia più profonda di qualsiasi sentimento; scollati dalla realtà, trovano sollievo soltanto nella finzione, nel guardare il mondo “attraverso uno schermo” (again, vi ricorda qualcosa?), fino all’inaspettato epilogo.
I personaggi di Suzuki Izumi si dividono in due categorie: quelli che non sentono più niente, al punto da vivere in un totale appiattimento, e quelli che sentono fin troppo e trovano nel suicidio la loro naturale conclusione. Leggendo i racconti, quasi tutti in prima persona, quasi tutti punti di vista femminili, si potrebbe avere l’impressione che l’autrice si nasconda dietro i personaggi della prima categoria: freddi, asociali, anestetizzati. Ma qualcosa non torna, e principalmente per questo: Suzuki Izumi si è tolta la vita a trentasei anni.
January 11, 2025
Potete immaginarvi la mia sorpresa quando ho finito il primo capitolo, folgorata da un inizio così avvincente e desiderosa di immergermi ancora di più nella storia, e con l’inizio del secondo capitolo ho finalmente capito che questa è una maledettissima raccolta di racconti. Le raccolte di racconti mi perseguitano. Basta raccolte di racconti.
October 21, 2020
A Really, Really, Mixed But Mostly Interesting Bag
I was curious about this book because, as the blurb promised, Suzuki is a "legend of Japanese science fiction and a countercultural icon". A quick survey of her other books more or less confirmed this assessment.
Well, the first two stories in this collection, (one about a world without men and the other about voluntarily checking out), were slow and bland. I wondered when the special would start to happen. Then we hit the third story, "The Night Picnic", which is about the last, isolated, slightly deranged, surviving humans, lost in the cosmos, trying to act like traditional humans, based on old videos, books, and the like. It is laugh out loud funny and as edgy, irreverent, and twisty as you could possibly want. It just kept getting better as I read and it finished socko. So, O.K. I thought, now we're cooking.
After that, though, through three more stories, we dream, we travel, we talk and drink, we go to sleep and we wake up, and it's all slightly odd, and disjointed, and disorienting. A lot of it is literally about boredom, including terminal boredom, and it's pretty hard to make boredom interesting, much less exciting. I don't necessarily always "get" Suzuki's point, but I certainly get why she's so popular. This is as good an introduction as any.
(Please note that I received a free ecopy of this book without a review requirement, or any influence regarding review content should I choose to post a review. Apart from that I have no connection at all to either the author or the publisher of this book.)
I was curious about this book because, as the blurb promised, Suzuki is a "legend of Japanese science fiction and a countercultural icon". A quick survey of her other books more or less confirmed this assessment.
Well, the first two stories in this collection, (one about a world without men and the other about voluntarily checking out), were slow and bland. I wondered when the special would start to happen. Then we hit the third story, "The Night Picnic", which is about the last, isolated, slightly deranged, surviving humans, lost in the cosmos, trying to act like traditional humans, based on old videos, books, and the like. It is laugh out loud funny and as edgy, irreverent, and twisty as you could possibly want. It just kept getting better as I read and it finished socko. So, O.K. I thought, now we're cooking.
After that, though, through three more stories, we dream, we travel, we talk and drink, we go to sleep and we wake up, and it's all slightly odd, and disjointed, and disorienting. A lot of it is literally about boredom, including terminal boredom, and it's pretty hard to make boredom interesting, much less exciting. I don't necessarily always "get" Suzuki's point, but I certainly get why she's so popular. This is as good an introduction as any.
(Please note that I received a free ecopy of this book without a review requirement, or any influence regarding review content should I choose to post a review. Apart from that I have no connection at all to either the author or the publisher of this book.)
March 26, 2021
I was intrigued by this collecting the second I noticed it was tagged as sci-fi. Most of the stories have to do with dystopian worlds and space, which was great, but there was this other pervasive topics of fusing consciousness and time not being lineal that would confuse me all the time. I feel that if there had been some sort of explanation or context as to why "time doesn't work", I may have found myself inside the stories, but some of them just had me as a (confused) spectator.
"Women and Women" and "Smoke Gets In Your Eyes" were my favorite ones, 4 stars for them. The rest were just okay for me (I've seen reviews stating "Terminal Boredom" is the strongest story, but I'm not sure I agree. At least, I myself didn't enjoy it too much).
After a quick Google I realized Izumi Suzuki, the author, committed suicide a long time ago. "Terminal Boredom" (the story) did feel like reading about the depression epidemic in Japan, not sure if she was struggling while she wrote it, but the 'feeling' did transpire. She would've been an author to look after, I have to say, I would've loved to read a full-length novel from her.
ARC provided by NetGalley.
"Women and Women" and "Smoke Gets In Your Eyes" were my favorite ones, 4 stars for them. The rest were just okay for me (I've seen reviews stating "Terminal Boredom" is the strongest story, but I'm not sure I agree. At least, I myself didn't enjoy it too much).
After a quick Google I realized Izumi Suzuki, the author, committed suicide a long time ago. "Terminal Boredom" (the story) did feel like reading about the depression epidemic in Japan, not sure if she was struggling while she wrote it, but the 'feeling' did transpire. She would've been an author to look after, I have to say, I would've loved to read a full-length novel from her.
ARC provided by NetGalley.
December 17, 2020
How could someone not like these stories? They are odd and unsettling which is exactly what you’d want and expect upon choosing this collection to read. It’s speculative sci-fi so you definitely get the weird and trippy you came for. The atmosphere created throughout each of the stories makes the book feel very cohesive. As I read I was overwhelmed with an out of body, dreamy experience which sometimes left me feeling empty but always left me wanting more. These stories were written decades ago but they are still very timely and unique enough to stand out from others like them.
So thankful to those who took the time to translate these works of art - Polly Barton, Sam Bett, David Boyd, Daniel Joseph, Aiko Masubuchi, and Helen O'Horan.
RIP Izumi Suzuki <3
Thank you to the translators, Verso Books, and #NetGallery an eARC of #TerminalBordem for an honest review. Review will be posted on NetGallery, Goodreads, Facebook and Instagram.
So thankful to those who took the time to translate these works of art - Polly Barton, Sam Bett, David Boyd, Daniel Joseph, Aiko Masubuchi, and Helen O'Horan.
RIP Izumi Suzuki <3
Thank you to the translators, Verso Books, and #NetGallery an eARC of #TerminalBordem for an honest review. Review will be posted on NetGallery, Goodreads, Facebook and Instagram.
September 16, 2025
4.5 possibly the bleakest collection of short stories I’ve ever read
February 25, 2021
Thanks to NetGalley for providing me with a copy of this book in return for an honest review.
This was an utterly fascinating collection of short stories. If I had not already been aware that the author had been dead for more than 30 years before starting this collection, I would have had no problem believing the stories were recently written. Suzuki's speculative sci-fi here uses futuristic, unsettling backgrounds to then focus on the human condition. Using the unfamiliar to emphasize the familiar: everything is different and nothing ever changes.
The focus here is definitely on introspection over action and the best way I could describe most of the stories is a meditation on apathy, nostalgia, and the trap one's place in society sets. These are exactly the kinds of stories you would expect from a young Japanese woman, who lived outside of societal expectations, writing in the 60s and 70s as part of the counterculture of a deeply traditional country like Japan.
Each of these stories I found to be both strange and poignant. At the end of each one I was eager to read the next, but definitely felt that each story required contemplation before starting the next. This is a collection that will stay with you and I am deeply hopeful we will soon be seeing more of Suzuki's work in English.
This was an utterly fascinating collection of short stories. If I had not already been aware that the author had been dead for more than 30 years before starting this collection, I would have had no problem believing the stories were recently written. Suzuki's speculative sci-fi here uses futuristic, unsettling backgrounds to then focus on the human condition. Using the unfamiliar to emphasize the familiar: everything is different and nothing ever changes.
The focus here is definitely on introspection over action and the best way I could describe most of the stories is a meditation on apathy, nostalgia, and the trap one's place in society sets. These are exactly the kinds of stories you would expect from a young Japanese woman, who lived outside of societal expectations, writing in the 60s and 70s as part of the counterculture of a deeply traditional country like Japan.
Each of these stories I found to be both strange and poignant. At the end of each one I was eager to read the next, but definitely felt that each story required contemplation before starting the next. This is a collection that will stay with you and I am deeply hopeful we will soon be seeing more of Suzuki's work in English.
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