Swallows

by Natsuo Kirino, Lisa Hofmann-Kuroda (Translator), Allison Hiroto (Narrator)

Twenty-nine-year-old Riki is sick of her dead-end job, of struggling to get by ever since she moved to Tokyo from the country. So when someone offers her the chance to become a surrogate in return for a life-changing amount of money, it's hard to turn down. But how much of herself will she be forced to give away?

Retired ballet star Motoi and his wife, Yuko, have spent years trying to conceive. As Yuko begins to make peace with her childlessness, Motoi grows increasingly desperate for a child to whom he can pass on his elite genes. Their last resort is surrogacy; a business transaction, plain and simple. But as they try to exert ever more control over Riki, their contract with her starts to slip through their fingers . . .

Vibrating with the injustices of class and gender, tradition and power, Swallows is an acerbic, witty vision of contemporary Japan, and of a young woman’s fight to preserve her dignity – at any cost.

Genres: Fiction, Japan, Japanese Literature, Contemporary, Literary Fiction, Audiobook, Asia

Audible Audio

First published March 4, 2022

About the author

NATSUO KIRINO (桐野夏生), born in 1951 in Kanazawa (Ishikawa Prefecture) was an active and spirited child brought up between her two brothers, one being six years older and the other five years younger than her. Kirino's father, being an architect, took the family to many cities, and Kirino spent her youth in Sendai, Sapporo, and finally settled in Tokyo when she was fourteen, which is where she has been residing since. Kirino showed glimpses of her talent as a writer in her early stages—she was a child with great deal of curiosity, and also a child who could completely immerse herself in her own unique world of imagination.

After completing her law degree, Kirino worked in various fields before becoming a fictional writer; including scheduling and organizing films to be shown in a movie theater, and working as an editor and writer for a magazine publication. She got married to her present husband when she turned twenty-four, and began writing professionally, after giving birth to her daughter, at age thirty. However, it was not until Kirino was forty-one that she made her major debut. Since then, she has written thirteen full-length novels and three volumes of collective short stories, which are highly acclaimed for her intriguingly intelligent plot development and character portrayal, and her unique perspective of Japanese society after the collapse of the economic bubble.

Today, Kirino continues to enthusiastically write in a range of interesting genres. Her smash hit novel OUT (Kodansha, 1997) became the first work to be translated into English and other languages. OUT was also nominated for the 2004 MWA Edgar Allan Poe Award in the Best Novel Category, which made Kirino the first Japanese writer to be nominated for this major literary award. Her other works are now under way to be translated and published around the world.

Reviews

[Alwynne · Rating 3 out of 5]

Originally serialised then expanded for republication in 2022, Natsuo Kirino’s frank, discursive novel covers some fascinating ground. Kirino examines intersecting issues around gender, procreation, patriarchy and inheritance in the context of contemporary capitalism and Japanese society. Where a number of recent Japanese books have focused on motherhood, Kirino’s deals with reproductive technologies, infertility and surrogacy. Surrogacy in Japan is highly controversial, largely unregulated and discouraged. Kirino explores this through the experiences of Riki who’s left home in Hokkaido for Tokyo. Broke and disillusioned, Riki has had a series of temporary jobs none of which have satisfied, her relationships have failed and she’s overwhelmed with the demands of everyday living. Her friend Teru is in a similar state supplementing a meagre income with sex work sessions. Then Riki comes into contact with a clinic searching for a Japanese woman prepared to be a surrogate – it’s more usual to use women from other countries. Her clients are Motoi and wife Yuko, well-to-do and desperate for a child, for Motoi it’s crucial that that child carries his genes. Kirino’s narrative follows the processes involved in surrogacy from fertilisation through pregnancy and childbirth charting the complex emotional journeys of her main characters. Yuko’s artist friend Ririko who’s essentially ACE acts as a counter to an emphasis on conventional relationships and nuclear families.

Kirino’s delivery’s dispassionate which can sometimes tip over into pedestrian or slightly journalistic. Although the insertion of recurring “egg” imagery is fairly inventive; and I enjoyed the referential elements from allusions to manga, authors like Edogawa Rampo to, via Ririko’s provocative artwork, erotic shunga aka makura-e or “pillow pictures.” Explorations of differing forms of sexual expression run through the narrative via Ririko and Teru, and Riki’s growing bond with a sex worker she hired. These, in turn, contribute to Kirino’s broader examination of commodification of the body, and its impact on women like Riki who’s relatively impoverished, lacking power or status. Kirino also highlights dilemmas linked to competing cultural notions of parenting, children as a repository for fantasies around family or bloodlines. It’s an intriguing, readable piece but I didn’t feel it entirely lived up to its potential or that the various strands quite came together. Kirino’s attempted critique of capitalism and social inequality is relevant but eclipsed by a growing preoccupation with personal relationships which led, for me at least, to a frustratingly conventional conclusion. Translated by Lisa Hofmann-Kuroda.

Thanks to Netgalley and publisher Canongate for an ARC

[Jessica Woodbury · Rating 4 out of 5]

There's been an article going around about a rich woman who tormented her surrogate and every time I see it I think about SWALLOWS. While surrogacy has become not exactly commonplace but recognized in the US, Kirino's novel is set in Japan where it's illegal and where cultural norms around fertility and reproduction will be different for US readers. But I don't think that should hold anyone back from seeing all the things Kirino is playing with here. She considers the strange relationships created by pregnancy and surrogacy, the surrender of bodily autonomy, the way it can feel quite simple and then incredibly complex with just a slight change in perspective.

This is firmly rooted in realism (unlike Sayaka Murata's VANISHING WORLD, which approaches ideas around reproduction from surrealism, although they would pair well together) and I was reminded of Kirino's most famous novel, OUT, which is never afraid to get stuck in the gory details of bodies and the challenges of poverty. This is a much more clearly political book, one where Kirino's goal in each new plot twist is to make a thorny issue even thornier, raising the stakes and complicating the moral dilemmas.

It's also a consideration of sex from many angles. Sex work, sex for physical pleasure but also as a tactic or a weapon. And of course there's the most memorable secondary character, an asexual woman who makes her living making overtly sexual art, who views sex as clinically fascinating but not at all desirable.

Near the end, these characters feel more wooden. What Kirino wants to do with her plot is clearly more important than having characters make organic decisions. But by that point I was so wrapped up in it, so interested to see what new wrinkle would appear, that I didn't mind.

[Sheila · Rating 2 out of 5]

I received a free copy of, Swallows, by Natsuo Kirino, from the publisher and Netgalley in exchange for an honest review. Riki decided to be a surrogate to make money, in Japan for married couple Motoi and Yuko. I could not get into this book at all, I did not like the characters.

[Stacy (Gotham City Librarian) · Rating 3 out of 5]

I recently finished Natsuo Kirino's novel "Out," and I really liked that one except for the very end. I was glad to receive an ARC copy of her newest work. It's very different from "Out," and I don't think that I liked this one AS much overall, but I am glad that I read it.

I actually enjoy hearing all about the mundane events of a character’s life, so I absolutely didn’t mind that the plot of this book was sort of slow moving. (Lots and lots of dialogue, many details about what everyone is eating for lunch, etc.) Kirino has a knack for creating complex characters with numerous abrasive personality traits, especially women. It seems like that's frowned upon a lot in modern literature, and I feel that it shouldn't be. The story does end up taking some surprising turns, and I had no idea what the resolution was going to be. (I admit that I was nervous after "Out.")

Main character Riki got on my nerves after a while. Many of her reservations about being a surrogate were completely valid, but once she accepted the contract she had the same thoughts, complaints and worries over and over, and her actions were baffling. The repetition became a bit old and I lost my patience. (Either go through with it or don’t?) I know it’s WAY more complicated than that, but she did have choices. And she was, frankly, wildly irresponsible. I liked the fact that there was Asexual rep in this book, but I’m not sure that Ririko was the best person for the job. She was SO annoying and judgmental and I couldn’t understand why Yuko even wanted to be around her. (Her career was fascinating, though!) To Kirino's credit, even when I found myself annoyed I was still curious to keep reading because I was invested in the plot.

This story features frank discussions about Abortion, sex work, Asexuality, and the less positive aspects of pregnancy and motherhood. If those last two topics especially usually give you the warm fuzzies, this probably isn’t the book for you. I like the simplicity of the eggs on the cover, but why is it called “Swallows?”

I'm happy to report that I was much more satisfied with this ending. 3.5 stars.

Thank you to Netgalley and to the publisher for the copy in exchange for an honest review! All opinions are my own. This novel was just published on 9/9!

Biggest TW: Abortion

[Amber · Rating 5 out of 5]

I read this in mandarin.

everyone go preorder this!!! A fascinating look at the intersection of wealth and sex & reproduction. While these themes have been explored before, the diverse cast of characters and their ethical debates will surely spark a lot of discussions. Some very interesting discussions include

- can there be ethical commodification of (1) sex work (2) egg/sperm donations (3) surrogacy?

- how does gender disparity play into the power imbalances in sex work and reproduction? For instance, a female sex worker has to worry about her safety while she’s working. Vs a male sex worker with his female client might have to find ways to “prove” he’s not threatening. In both cases, even if both are sex workers, they still carry different risks

- is the desire of having one’s own biological offspring inherently selfish/eugenic? Especially in countries where filial piety is central to family structures, the author did a great job examining why one might want kids or pressure their kids to reproduce via different angles

[Kasa Cotugno · Rating 4 out of 5]

For a young woman in Tokyo is working as a temp, her precarious financial situation seems to find somewhat of a resolution when she decides to perform as a surrogate for a couple unable to reproduce, in effect, hiring out her uterus. But that is only one body part, and it is attached to a whole. What Kirino has done in this extraordinary novel is bring Japan's attitudes toward such matters into focus, with many surprises along the way. How she is matched up with the couple and the bureaucratic roadblocks and loopholes they encounter along the way make for fascinating reading. Also the Japanese attitudes towards sex, as exemplified through the main and auxiliary characters. Thus, the chapters could be read as a series of essays on these subjects, which although repetitive in part, proved page turning. I have to say, though, I was puzzled by the choice of title.

[emily · Rating 3 out of 5]

“—Someone buys you, so you buy someone else. That way, it feels more equal, I guess."

This one (I feel) takes a bit of effort to ‘start’ — in other words, I didn’t find it to be instantly/immediately ‘engaging’. But it gets (more) interesting from the middle onwards (but then falters towards the end, I feel). Three and a half, might round it off to a four at a later date. It’s been a long while since I’ve read Kirino’s work, so while the ‘vibe’ is extremely familiar (unsettling, uncomfortable, slightly challenging (in every sense of the word), etc.), the narrative feels superbly ‘fresh’/new to me. Although so/with that ‘said’, ‘fresh’ may be an ironic choice of word — because I would definitely consider/catergorise ‘Swallows’ as a piece of text/work that is ‘ (in one way or other) fucked up but a necessary publication’.

‘"Don't you get the urge to eat pasta once in a while?"

"White foods are bad for you, they have no nutritional content. If you really want to eat pasta that much, just have it for lunch, when I'm not around."

"What did you have for lunch today?"

"Soba from Chojuan."

"Soba's a carb."

"Yeah, but it's brown, so I thought it'd be healthier than the white kind."

Coming from a more so than not ‘Anglophone’ perspective, I have (confessedly) used (repeatedly) the words ‘weird’ and ‘strange’ to describe Japanese literature in translation. Regrettably, (from the top of my head, etc.) I lack more accurate/appropriate words and/or descriptions. But if you know, you know (I suppose). ‘Strange’ and/or ‘weird’ isn’t necessarily ‘bad’. But when it comes to Japanese literature that I personally have read, it’s more often than not — very unsettling/disturbing (again, for the lack of better words). Don’t have much to complain about, but what I found most unpleasant and/or most disruptive to my personal reading experience are the lengthy (on and off frustrating because ‘boring’) dialogues between the characters (which feels in need of some proper editorial work/cutting down). Admittedly it made me skim some, but I doubt it was enough to compromise my reading experience.

"Well, it did cost us an arm and a leg—Not like money fixes everything, but I guess there is some-thing to the idea that, the more you pay, the better the results.”

To reiterate, disappointingly too much ‘dialogue’ and (what felt like/seems to me like) ‘small-talk’/repetitive (more insignificant than not) disagreements (between characters (to me didn’t feel like it did anything for the narrative/characterisation — more like filler/waffle to me, in other words — could be so much better without). Otherwise, a grand, brilliant piece of writing — timely, important, worth reading/explored further. Far from a ‘comfortable’ / ‘feel-good’ read — if anything it was the opposite of that. But regardless, it’s very ‘telling’ of ‘issues’ of current/present times. For the lack of a better word, ‘creepy’ and deeply unsettling at several parts, but ever so ‘real’ / realistic — mirroring the world we live in, etc. — and all in all highly recommended (if you can stomach the ‘gross’ bits that I feel are rather ‘standard’ or reminiscent of (more recent rather than not) Japanese literature (in translation). Not sure how to describe that ‘uneasy’ feeling it leaves one with, but best be warned/aware of that prior to dipping into the text I suppose.

"—I don't like the idea of women's bodies being ranked and sold. I don't know how egg donation works, but surrogate mothers always come from poor, less developed countries. Isn't that exploitation?"

Back in school when I first stumbled on Kirino's books, reading her work/writing felt strongly and simply akin to ‘horror’ to me (since we (me and my school friends) were not reading it at an (arguably) ‘appropriate’ age —probably fourteen or fifteen), but reading her work now (and remembering what I’ve read then) brings about more complex feelings — it doesn’t feel too much (or just) like ‘horror’ anymore. It still feels horrific and unsettling, surely, but no longer in a way that feels wildly ‘surreal’ or ‘fictitious’. And/but in hindsight, and also reading her work now feels even more ‘grim’ and upsetting somehow.

‘There is almost no job that a young woman born in a small, inland town in Hokkaido, a town with a population of fewer than five thousand, can get that will pay enough for her to support herself. Her choices are: work in the agriculture or dairy industry, move somewhere near the coast and get a job in the fishing industry, work in the caregiving industry or get married—So she'd saved money like crazy and moved to Tokyo. She'd thought that there'd be plenty of jobs there—But, with no degree or career or skills, she'd just ended up broke. The only jobs she could get in Tokyo were part-time—all the men she met were worthless.’

‘She wanted money so she could be free—Even if she kept working her current job for the rest of her life, she would never save that much—If she had that kind of money, she'd never have to deal with people like the bicycle man again, or be a temp worker. She could move into a nice apartment. She might even be able to get training for a different kind of job. Maybe she'd go to vocational school. She could go all out and take a trip abroad—Ever since she moved to Tokyo, she'd been working herself to the bone—She couldn't stand it anymore.’

To reflect on a recent event — not too long ago I was walking passed an ‘IVF’ clinic (unintentionally, at random) with a friend — and I made a passing comment (without any seriousness) about how almost bizarre it is that so many are popping up (of how ‘ordinary’ it has all become now). And the friend I was with directly told me that my ‘sentiments’ swing that way because I am not someone who has ever thought seriously enough about (the desire of?) having biological children of my own. True, I don’t think I have any solid interest of that sort (not now, not before). But sure, like any ‘woman’, I must have wondered (at some point or other) ‘romantically’ (if only briefly and unseriously) about it, but regardless I can’t imagine or have never imagined (in a serious way) going through multiple cycles/rounds of ‘IVF’. I would ( I feel) rather consider ‘adoption’ or even just being a committed/more involved godparent of sorts to my friends’ children. In a way, one could say I’m either biased and/or ‘ignorant’ about these matters — the ‘desire’ of wanting a ‘biological’ child of one’s own so much/desperately. With that said, I’m not (yet) at the age/place in life where I or any of my friends have any intimate or personal experience/feelings about ‘infertility’, so perhaps in/with time my thoughts on this might change (though I feel unlikely for it to change in a drastic way — perhaps only to become more sympathetic about it).

“God, it would have been so rough for her if she hadn't been able to get pregnant. I hated that process—I'd never want to go through it again."

"But she got two million yen for trying.”

‘She couldn't explain it exactly, but it wasn't the money that bothered her—Obviously, if they were paying for this procedure, they would try to choose the best eggs and the best uterus they could find. The price they paid would determine the result. Wasn't that basically akin to chopping up the body of another woman, only with money?’

"It doesn't have to be that complicated. I think we should approach it rationally, like Americans. Whoever has something sells it to whoever doesn't. That's why the person who doesn't have it pays. It's an exchange, plain and simple. It's about helping someone."

"Helping someone. That's a convenient way to describe it."

"So who does a child belong to?"

"To the person who wants it."

More than that, I’m more intrigued/interested in the way ‘poverty’ was displayed, portrayed and explored in the book. I reckon most narratives with regards to ‘poverty’ revolve around men as protagonists (or at least most of them; if not then — with most texts I’ve personally read/stumbled upon). This one in particular focuses on women and poverty — which to me, is more interesting. While I stand with the sentiment that single mothers (with or without support) are unsung heroes still and probably forever, I can’t help but be reminded by Lynne Tillman’s No Lease on Life (which in a darkly comic way satirises the ‘perks’ of being a ‘mother’ — being able to get away with anything, and to be viewed upon with more affection and sympathy in comparison to ‘single’, unmarried women without children (which somehow also reminds me of Gillian Flynn’s The Grown Up). Kirino explores and highlights this brilliantly in ‘Swallows’, I feel. For any reader (me included) reading this who has never experienced severe/extreme forms of ‘poverty’ the way the protagonist do/did, it could/may take some while to imagine oneself in her position/shoes. But I think the ‘feelings’ will come together/ emerge eventually, and it lingers. The ‘what ifs’ and ‘what would I do if that was me/ if I were ever to be in that circumstance/place in life’? In any case, I do and have always appreciated Kirino for her intention and will to write about characters who are so, very (desperately and otherwise) ‘human’ despite everything.

"We should have frozen your eggs right after we got married.”

“To be perfectly honest, sometimes I just feel like a baby-making machine.”

Contrary to common / (to put simply) misogynistic views, Kirino challenges the ‘ideas’ of poverty, ‘money’ (and the lack thereof) in general (and more) with regards to ‘women’. It’s a very ‘common’ thing for a man to say to a woman (one of many variations) ‘but you’re a woman though, you don’t have to worry about ‘money’ as much as ‘men’. As if to say that as long as you look fuckable enough and have a ‘working’ womb/body — all's well/ that you somehow hold (more) leverage/etc. no matter what. I feel and think that ‘Swallows’ is Kirino’s way of responding to that — it is her brilliant, and well-composed way of saying ‘what the fuck do you mean by that?’ in such a thorough/in-depth way.

"—why don't you hold off on divorcing her for a little bit, and then have her help you take care of them? And you can get divorced before they're old enough to remember anything. Just for the first year or so, until they're weaned. After that, you can bring them over here, and we'll just have to raise them together."

“I don’t know, Mom.”

While Kirino’s previous/older work reflects on women ‘stuck’ in abusive/unsatisfactory marriages (notably, ‘Out’) , her latest one in (English) translation leans more towards (arguably) more ‘current’ issues — or rather issues/conundrums that carry more relevance in relation to ‘younger’ (but not exclusive to ‘younger’) women (of present times). One of the many ‘questions’ proposed/carried by the narrative — why do hetero women ‘marry’? And why do hetero women choose to (and/or want to) have children? Make of it what one will, but like other Japanese writers who write about women’s lives/issues (to name a few : Sayaka Murata, Hiromi Kawakami, Hiroko Oyamada, Mieko Kawakami), Kirino mainly focuses on hetero relationships in this text. I think an addition of ‘queer relationships’ (other than just (what seems to be) ‘asexuality’) to the narrative would make it more layered, nuanced and interesting in so many ways.

"—it's based on a story called The Chrysanthemum Vow. The story goes: Two warriors grew very fond of each other, and swore brotherly allegiance. They promised to meet again the following year, on the day of the Chrysanthemum Festival. A year went by, and one of the brothers prepared some food and alcohol and was waiting for the other one, but he didn't come. When he finally showed up, he wouldn't touch the alcohol. Huh, the first brother thought, “I wonder why that Turned out the second brother was dead, and it was his soul that had come instead."

"Wow, a ghost story. What a faithful man."

"—might have a different interpretation.

"And what interpretation is that?”

Presumably, or rather — I dare say/assume that any reader who reads ‘Swallows’ is bound to leave the text with a full-plate of blurred sympathies among other feelings — peculiar, uncertain and otherwise. The narrative (in bits and as a whole) has the ability to make one think about one’s role as a woman/human (and/or even just a person existing in this world/society at large). Why do we do what we do? Do we do what we do because we really want to? The way I see/read it, it’s certainly not a ‘beautiful’ piece of writing/text (and I very much feel that it has nothing to do with the translation — to clarify, I don’t think there is anything to complain about when it comes to that) It’s just quite ‘direct’, and rather simple in terms of structure/style and movement of the narrative. But it carries so much — and it offers so many crumbs for thoughts. It’s a pretty challenging text because it’s not a ‘beautiful’ read (it requires the reader to ‘follow’ the protagonist no matter how questionable/unattractive the ‘roads’ they take may seem), and it can be quite overwhelming because it’s mostly an uncomfortable read/experience, but regardless it’s so cleverly written and very much worth one’s time and attention. Recommend to all/anyone without reservation.

“Well, you know, she'd probably make a pun out of the chrysanthemum.”

[Jill · Rating 4 out of 5]

What if you were an enterprising 29-year-old temp, working a dead-end job, and were offered the opportunity to earn 10 million yen – a small fortune – to bear a child for a wealthy middle-aged couple?

Swallows is a fascinating book. It explores and contrasts the ethics of surrogacy in Japan, a country where the process remains illegal. It asks piercing questions: is surrogacy an exploitive business – poor women selling their wombs – or is it a win-win-win situation where both the couple, the surrogate, and the child all benefit?

The young woman, Riki, who hails from rural Hokkaido, has a hard time making ends meet in Tokyo. She jumps at the chance of earning money as an egg donor at a fertility clinic. But the clinic offers a far more lucrative option. Their clients -- Motoi, a famed ballet dancer who is yearning to pass on his genes and his wife Yuko, who is infertile -- are seeking a surrogate to bear their child. Riki looks very much like Yuko, and they are prepared to offer just about any amount of money to get her onboard.

Immediately, the author delves into the cloudy areas of class, obligation, and morality. The women are encumbered by doubts. Yuko wonders why she’s going along with her husband’s plan, especially since she will not be biologically related to the child. Riki’s issues are more complicated. Is she simply a “womb for rent” or a fully realized person? Is she willing to give up a year of her life for this couple along with her dream of bearing a child of a man she truly loves? To muddy the waters, Motoi will need to divorce Yuko and marry Riki until she bears a child and then reverse the process (re-marrying Yuko) to keep things “legitimate”. How will both women handle that?

There are many twists and turns – including one on the very last page – that I will not hint at or reveal, but they were very thought-provoking. I would have loved this book – certainly, it will stay with me – except for one thing: a clunky translation. Over the years, I’ve developed a real respect for the art of the translator, who is faced with the choice of translating verbatim or translating based on the essence of what the writer is saying (which doesn’t always correspond to the new language). This translator chooses the former, and it’s to the book’s detriment.

I will say that I kept eagerly turning pages, despite my disappointment with the translation. The title of the book made zero sense to me until I googled and found out the original Japanese title was “The Return of the Swallows” (still ambiguous, but less so considering the book’s development). I am very grateful to Knopf Publishing and NetGalley for the opportunity to be an early reader in exchange for an honest review.

[Sam Cheng · Rating 2 out of 5]

Kirino’s Swallows, or The Swallows Don’t Return, follows 29-year-old Riki Ōishi’s financial instability, having moved from Hokkaido to Tokyo, and her decision to become a surrogate for the Kusaoke family. Yuko (44) and Motoi Kusaoke (43) want to have children, but doctors diagnose Yuko with uterine factor infertility. Through Planté, an American assisted-reproductive-technology clinic, the wealthy Kusaokes connect with Riki and convince her to take an illegal contract job as a traditional surrogate. They hire a physician to artificially inseminate Riki with Motoi’s gametes in the hopes of fertilizing Riki’s gametes.

Be prepared for a dramatic psychological book. The ongoing ethical questions concern the transactional nature of surrogacy and the exploitation of people who work as surrogates. It seems Kirino’s interests lie within the dynamics of socioeconomic class, how people (particularly women) in a lower income class survive, and how people in a higher income class utilize their finances. The issue isn’t that the Kusaokes don’t pay Riki a “fair” wage; rather, Riki’s ongoing dehumanizing grind limits her to a set of options. The more fundamental concern is the fact that her circumstances corner her to explore the surrogacy industry’s commodification of wombs for pay. As readers untangle Riki’s ever-growing mound of problems, the three main perspectives in the story (Riki, Yuko, and Motoi) simultaneously wrestle with what they desire. Their constant change of heart may give readers whiplash.

In comparison to the time pre-pregnancy, the author breezes through Riki’s pregnancy, labor, delivery, and postpartum. This is not to say contracts aren’t drawn and amended; however, a more intensive look at Riki’s life beforehand underscores how “[s]he was just a woman—an organism with a uterus—a baby-making machine.” I wonder if the book could be strengthened if the author would include at least one character who chooses to parent out of love, not one that is unrealistically virtuous, absolutely speaking, but one in which nobler, altruistic motivations shine more clearly. Although the novel is more dramatic than I would usually prefer (i.e., Who is the biological baby daddy? Whoa, twins), I enjoyed Kirino’s focus on Riki’s background as coming a less wealthy family; thus, to the high cultured Kusaoke family, she was “[a] woman who had used her reproductive organs to birth a total stranger’s children.”

I rate Swallows 2 stars only because I would have preferred a little bit less drama.

My thanks to Knopf and NetGalley for an ARC.

[Чарли Паркър · Rating 4 out of 5]

Нацуо Кирино се завръща с гръм и трясък - далеч не на нивото на Out и Grotesque, но все пак достатъчно подобаващо за 3.5/5.

Мотои и Юко имат брак, но нямат (и не могат ��а имат) деца. Рики няма пари, но има правилно функционираща репродуктивна система. Нацуо Кирино има идея за роман и няма никакви задръжки да я изложи така, както пожелае.

За пореден път писателката вади скалпела и разсича търбуха на редица наболели проблеми - бедността и липсата на перспектива сред младите жени; шокиращите различия в лайфстайла на социоикономическите класи; мястото на жената (и това как тя осмисля сама себе си). Контрастиращо на предишните си книги, тук Кирино не вкарва крими/трилър нишка. Героите и наративът са заземени в ежедневното, където са поставени и моралните им дилеми. Насилие и убийства отсъстват, но пък емоционален съспенс и напрежение блика отвсякъде.

3.5/5, защото твърде често Кирино е избрала да се движи по линията на журналистическия очерк. Прекалено е дистанцирана като стил и перспектива, предвид много личната, много чувствителната тема, която извежда на преден план. В Out и Grotesque прозата ѝ е истински паноптикон и значително по-пъстра.

Бонус точки за най-добрата приятелка на Юко - Ририко, която е пълен карнавал. Радикална феминистка, 40+ годишна девственица и популярна художничка на еротични картини (шунга) с пиперлив език на квадрат:

"Sorry to eavesdrop on your earlier conversation, but weren't you just talking about how you don't like men? Isn't that a contradiction?
"Maybe, I would never fall in love with a man, but I love penises."

От по-хардкор включванията сред диалозите си харесах тези:

"Am I a vendor?"
"Of course"
"What exactly am I selling?"
"Childbirth, of course."

или

"So buying a womb actually meant buying motherhood."

[Phoenix2 · Rating 3 out of 5]

Big Thanks to Netgalley and the Publisher for the advanced copy! I received a complimentary copy of this book. Opinions expressed in this review are completely my own

'Swallows' is a book about a young woman who is financially struggling, who agrees to be a surrogate for an upper-class couple who can't have kids of their own. The story is told from the perspectives of the young woman, the husband, and the wife. That allowed the story to present a more holistic perspective on the theme, as well as express more nuanced opinions on women and their bodies.

I also enjoyed how the author talked about many taboos, like female sexuality, asexual people, as well as the woman's place in her own family. There are also the themes of class, freedom, and power.

The ending was kind of ambiguous, but it was satisfying, as by then one had settled on what to think about each character and kind of rooted for a more pleasant outcome.

Moreover, the writing was enjoyable, and the time jumps were well handled.

However, there were too many repetitions that got tedious to read.

[em · Rating 3 out of 5]

3.5 stars
This was a really interesting and relevant book with important commentary on motherhood and capitalism. While I wasn’t the biggest fan of any of the characters, I appreciate how complex and realistic their decisions and emotions were. Some of the conversations felt a little stiff and unrealistic, as did some of the plot points. But still, this was an entertaining read that raised several important questions around the ethics behind surrogacy.

Thank you to NetGalley and the publishers for kindly providing an ARC in exchange for an honest review. #Swallows #NetGalley. All opinions are my own.

[Nia Bolland · Rating 2 out of 5]

I think this was poorly translated

[Barb reads......it ALL! · Rating 4 out of 5]

Thank you, Netgalley, for this advance copy of the newest book by my favorite Japanese author.
Riki is single, working a mediocre job, living in Tokyo....where she went to make her mark. Thru an add looking for egg donors, a broke Riku meets and signs a contract to be a surrogate.
Kirino takes us by the throat to show us all sides of the surrogacy world.

[Zara · Rating 4 out of 5]

Fantastic book. Interesting discussions around surrogacy, what parenthood is, and the pressures that society puts on women to be mothers.

[Angela · Rating 5 out of 5]

A really thorough and intelligent critique on surrogacy, class, and social hierarchies. Really opens your eyes to the nuances of women “selling” their bodies and society’s greed surrounding pregnancy. Once again, Natsuo Kirino surpasses all of my expectations 🙂‍↕️

[Elena L. · Rating 4 out of 5]

Tokyo - Riki, a young single woman, is frustrated with her life and she decides to be a surrogate mother for the Japanese couple Motoi and Yuko in order to make money.

uf, SWALLOWS can be complex - Kirino sharply examines the intersections between sex, reproduction and wealth through messy characters. In a society dominated by loneliness, the candid talks about the need to have a child plus the complexity of marriage can deeply resonate with many while feel triggering. This book adds to a conversation about adoptive x biological, egg donor to fertility, surrogacy to pregnancy, women's body to gender role also approached in 'Breasts and Eggs' by Mieko Kawakami and 'Vanishing World' by Sayaka Murata.

There's no momentum, rather, the way the narrative is steadily fleshed out gives us permission to reflect on the searing commentary on societal and cultural norms, which several moments can feel uncomfortable. I feel like this is less about emotional attachment to the characters, on the other hand, their perspectives depict different angles of current attitudes and I personally enjoyed the execution. The ending caught me off guard in a way that I yearned more from the story.

Overly honest and grounded in reality, SWALLOWS (tr. Lisa Hofmann-Kuroda) is a thoughtfully tailored book that provides something to digest. I found it impactful and timely.

[ I received an ARC from the publisher - Knopf publishing . All opinions are my own ]

[Morgan Scott · Rating 3 out of 5]

I find books that have been translated into English so fun to read because it’s clear that some of the cultural lingo doesn’t match well and it’s sort of like solving a mystery. Swallows was no different, and I was constantly surprised by choices the characters made. It has some of the most human and also hateable characters I’ve read recently 😂 but overall it was a really interesting dive into the world of fertility, producing humans as a business, and the narcissism that we all should challenge ourselves to ponder when it comes to the desperation to pass on our genes. I did feel that some of the deeper thought behind it didn’t translate as effectively as I wanted it to and the ending was a bit abrupt.

Thank you to NetGalley, the author, and the publisher for this ARC in exchange for my honest review.

[Barbara Powell · Rating 3 out of 5]

This is a hard one to review and rate 1 did like it in some parts but others I was not into it at all. There were so many superfluous details about things like what people ate and wore and things that were inelevant to maving the story along. And at times I liked Riki and felt for her and at other times she felt wooden and hard to connect to Her reasons for hesitation in becoming a surrogate were legit But then once she decided to do it the things she died were kinda baffling. It's hard to explain without spoilers and it gets relatively complicated but it also gets relatively repetitive. But al the same time. I did want to see how it was all going to play out So maybe that was the authors intent And I dont get the title at all
If youre looking for a feel good story this isnt it. But if you want something with Asexual representation, a deep dive into sex work, surrogacy and pregnancy then this is the book for you Thanks to Knopf and NetGalley for this eArc in exchange for my review

[Lau · Rating 3 out of 5]

Pregnancy and motherhood are two complicated things, both are equally important topics that the book chose as its themes. What I like is how they discuss the society's view on women, women's bodies and pleasures. Unfortunately the majority of the book is so off-putting at times, repetitive small minor events that after a while tire me out.
I'm not so sure about how the whole surrogacy thing works, for I'm not a mother, but I think every character in this book handles it quite poorly.
Motoi is a narcissistic selfish mama's boy that thinks his genes so superior he doesn't care whom he hurts.
I understand where Riki is coming from, but everything that she does makes little sense to me and only boils my blood.
I thought Yuko was the most tolerable one, but by the end of the book, I wasn't so sure anymore.
The inconsistencies the characters showed throughout the entire book was really annoying, it's like the author is trying to make all of them unlikeable. Hence why I can't rate it higher than this.

[Carolyn · Rating 4 out of 5]

To było straszniejsze niż większość jej thrillerów 🥀

[Sarah · Rating 4 out of 5]

This was exactly as it's described as. It was a poignant novel about a woman's reproductive autonomy, the effects of poverty, pregnancy, marriage, and motherhood. Almost all the characters are largely unlikable, or at least will make some huge decisions that are extremely unlikable. I would not call this character driven but I would call it theme driven and idea-bound, and it delivers on its promise to tell a story that you wont forget. The one thing I did not enjoy about Swallows was Kirino's attempt to inject humor into the story. Most times, the attempts fell flat due to timing or the sensitivity of the subject (I won't rule out that this could be due to translation).

[Elena · Rating 4 out of 5]

3,75⭐️ heb even getwijfeld over de rating, maar 3 voelde veel te weinig en 4 nét teveel. Leuk, vlot boek met heel interessante personages en verschillende input rond het surrogate/egg donor gebeuren. Aanrader!

[Terry Kinane · Rating 3 out of 5]

2.5 stars! surprised I finished it!

[Shelby Rose · Rating 3 out of 5]

I would say this is probably a 3.5. I loved Out. so I was really looking forward to this book. I didn't love it. There were some interesting concepts and characters but overall I think something was lost in translation. A fairly quick read, I do still love her as an author.

[Colleen · Rating 4 out of 5]

Natsuo Kirino's novel Swallows explores the commodification of pregnancy and who holds the power when it comes to the lengths people will go to in order to have children.

As we follow the story of Motoi and Yuko, two prospective parents struggling to conceive a child and running out of time, it's clear creating a family sometimes takes a non-traditional approach as they search for a loophole to find a surrogate in Japan. Though Yuko has resigned herself to the fact she may never have a child, Motoi selfishly insists he must find a way to carry on his family line, even if it means leaving Yuko out of it. Their eventual surrogacy agreement with a struggling young woman, Riki, snowballs into a three-way struggle for power as the story explores themes of bodily autonomy, power, and motherhood.

Kirino's writing on class, sex, and agency is refreshingly honest. Pregnancy seems to be one of the only situations where women hold power over men, but it requires women to sacrifice the most in the act of starting a family. They have to carry a new life inside of them, which in itself can be dangerous, only for men to ask them to give up their own desires to raise children once they're born. And what do they men do? Brag about their progeny and continue to live their life as it always was. The idea of having children is presented through the eyes of the women in this story as something uncertain while they go back and forth about whether they see motherhood as being something for themselves or not. The decision to start a family is presented as something serious to be considered instead of an act to be done out of expectation.

The characters crafted by Kirino are all motivated by their own desires and struggle to figure out how those individual desires fit into the bigger picture. They are flawed people who often make questionable decisions out of spite, jealously and selfishness, but they come together to make a believable story about how everything is always more complicated than it seems. Life is messy and we're all just trying to find a way to make it.

I found this story engaging, but there were moments connecting with the characters was frustratingly difficult. I don't know if it's a matter of the writing style or some things have been lost in translation with the cultural divide, but the writing was a bit too dry for me. I also believe this story could have benefitted from being slightly shorter and more concise instead of repeating some of the same issues and discussions.

Thank you to NetGalley and the publisher for an arc copy in exchange for an honest review!

[Amy ☁️ (tinycl0ud) · Rating 4 out of 5]

Waited so long for this!!! I seized every opportunity to write about 'Grotesque' in my undergrad essay assignments because it's been living in my head rent-free for the past decade. I don't think anything has ever matched up to it, not even 'Swallows,' but I do like it more than other books talking about pregnancy in Japan. It's quite different from her earlier works, definitely less dark, but raises similar questions about how women are assigned value based on a complicated system that weighs their purity, desirability, and autonomy. It would be quite interesting to read in comparison with Mieko Kawakami's 'Breast and Eggs' and Sayaka Murata's 'Vanishing World.'

Riki is struggling to make ends meet in Tokyo but moving back to her dying hometown in Hokkaido is not an option either. She's twenty-nine with no prospects, qualifications, or career. Having to pinch pennies and live in poverty is starting to wear her thin but she does not want to resort to sex work. Her friend suggests egg donation to make a quick buck, but to her surprise, she is asked to consider (illegal) surrogacy instead for a couple considered infertile because the woman (Yuko) has had too many failed attempts that damaged her reproductive organs. Yuko doesn't actually approve of surrogacy and is fine having just her career, but her older husband (Motoi) is adamant about continuing his bloodline and having offspring to shape and mould.

I can see people finding the storyline tedious because all three characters constantly go back and forth on what they want. Right up till the very end, they cannot seem to stick to a decision. Riki needs money, but then she feels like chickening out, but then she gets convinced. Yuko is ambivalent but nearly leaves them halfway, only to choose to return to the original plan willingly. Motoi—don't even get me started on this mummy's boy. But I do think it's worthwhile to be patient with this book as the characters' fluctuating motivations are gradually teased out. Why does anyone choose to bring another human being into the world? Is it out of loneliness, vanity, a desire for love, to play god, etc?

[Erin Graham · Rating 5 out of 5]

Book 19 of 2025

This book was incredibly insightful to the world of womxn’s body autonomy in our almost dystopian society. The short answer is: there isn’t any. But we knew that.

Surrogacy is illegal in Japan (I didn’t know this), so a middle class couple pay Riki, a very poor temp worker, to have their baby under the radar. Riki is motivated purely by the price the couple offer her to do this for them, and she accepts immediately. The protagonists only option to escape her flat and improve her circumstances is to undergo at least a year of physical and mental hardship - there are a lot of references to the pregnancy being a business transaction and this is exactly how it is. The couple consistently overstep their boundaries and place strict restrictions on Riki, so that they can keep tabs on her throughout the pregnancy. The birth is traumatic and she is discarded like a receipt after the birth. It’s harrowing, and I don’t doubt, very realistic.

Cleverly, the female characters in the book each take different stances on the surrogacy - with many of them calling it what it is, renting out a less wealthy a womb. I won’t go in to each characters personality, but each offers a counter balance to the words of the previous… it prompts the reader to think of this surrogacy on a wider scale in the class/power war. For me, disgustingly, the conclusion is that even if the vessel belongs to a womxn, a man is always in charge.

[Marie H.D. · Rating 3 out of 5]

3 ⭐️—This book is less a thriller and more a searing social critique.

While I came to Natsuo Kirino’s Swallows hoping for the razor-wire tension of Out, I found a novel of a different, more deliberate nature. This book is less a thriller and more a searing social critique, using the framework of a surrogacy arrangement to dissect the brutal intersections of class, gender, and power in modern Japan.

This novel is a slow-burning, essayistic exploration of the commodification of the female body, centering on Riki, a temp worker who becomes a surrogate for a wealthy, desperate couple. Kirino masterfully uses this setup to dissect Japanese attitudes towards sex, class, and reproduction, raising fascinating ethical questions about power imbalances and the selfishness of the biological imperative.

Kirino forces the reader to ask: In a system stacked against her, what parts of herself can a woman sell to survive? Is it just her uterus, or her entire autonomy? The novel brilliantly exposes how traditional values and economic desperation create a cage, making "choice" a relative term.

Kirino tackles the inherently eugenic and selfish undercurrents of the demand for biological heirs, especially within a culture that places immense weight on bloodlines and filial piety. The character of Motoi, the retired ballet star, becomes a representation of this, viewing a child not as a person but as a vessel for his "elite genes."

Swallows is an important and acerbic novel. Its power is in its provocative questions, not its plot momentum. For me, however, this analytical focus made the pacing feel slow and at times repetitive, also, it felt more like a series of connected essays than a gripping narrative. For me, this made it a slow and at times boring read, lacking the tension I crave. It’s a book I respect for its sharp social commentary, but its methodical, character-driven approach wasn't the thriller I was hoping for from Kirino.

Sadly, not my cup of tea …

[Jackie Sunday · Rating 3 out of 5]

Sure, we’ve heard of surrogacy -- the controversial subject where some believe it exploits vulnerable women. Yet, this book gives it some depth.

Motoi and Yuko live in Japan where surrogacy is illegal. This wealthy couple is at the point of desperation. They are willing to pay a young girl, Riki, to travel to a country where a fertility procedure is legal. She admits she has no particular path in life and needs the money. This is her way to pay off some debt. However, it involves all sorts of questions relating to the emotional and physical aspect of having a baby for someone who pays a substantial amount.

The start of the story was strong as it made me think more about this complex subject. I felt bad for the couple struggling with infertility issues with a sense of time running out. While the topic was absorbing, the characters were unlikeable giving me a love/hate relationship with the book. Unfortunately, the two must go together so I ended up with a lot of ambivalent feelings.

My thanks to Knopf and NetGalley for allowing me to read an advanced copy of this book with an expected release date of September 9, 2025.