From the author of the international bestseller Butter comes a chilling and perceptive novel about obsession, female friendship, and the slow unraveling of two lives.
Eriko’s life looks perfect—from her prestigious job at a Japanese trading firm to her spotless apartment and devoted parents. Her newest project, to reintroduce the controversial Nile Perch into the Japanese market, is as ambitious as she is. But beneath her flawless surface lies a consuming loneliness. Eriko has never been able to hold on to a real friend.
Enter a popular lifestyle blogger whose work Eriko follows obsessively. Shoko lives a life of controlled chaos—messy apartment, take-out dinners, a kind, easy-going husband. She writes about daily contentment, though her fractured relationship with her father gnaws at the edges of her happiness.
When Eriko orchestrates a “chance” meeting with Shoko, the two women strike up an unlikely connection. For a fleeting moment, Eriko believes she’s finally found what she’s always longed for. But as her fascination turns to fixation and Shoko’s carefully balanced life begins to dissolve, both women are pushed to breaking points neither of them saw coming.
Deftly translated by Polly Barton, Hooked is a taut, provocative novel about modern womanhood, the hunger for connection, and the quiet, ordinary ways our lives can spiral out of control. With razor-sharp insight and disarming empathy, Asako Yuzuki explores how far we’ll go to be seen and what happens when the ones who see us don’t like what they find.
Asako Yuzuki (柚木 麻子, Yuzuki Asako) is a Japanese writer. She won the All Yomimono Prize for New Writers and the Yamamoto Shūgorō Prize. Asako has been nominated multiple times for the Naoki Prize, and her novels have been adapted for television, radio, and film.
2 stars feels a bit harsh for this since I really enjoyed Butter, but I think the whole concept of this fell a bit flat. The whole jist of the story is that all of the women in it are unlikable and terrible at maintaining female friendships and even their own relationships, because women are inherently catty and gossipy therefore how could they ever form meaningful relationships? In every single conversation between two women in this book, they CONSTANTLY bring up how they don’t have female friends and how women are difficult to get along with. I just found the whole concept so boring and repetitive by the end of the book.
Now, the stalking and blackmail aspect to this book really sped up the plot which was very much needed. The only thing is I don’t think it was used to its full potential, it wasn’t developed on enough as it could have been. I would have loved to see at least one of the women in this story going full on unhinged instead of teetering on the edge for chapters on end.
I honestly felt quite sorry for Eriko by the end of the book. She doesn’t know why she can’t form relationships with anyone, she is just a very intense person and unfortunately people are easily put off by her. No, she doesn’t help herself by literally blackmailing someone she considers her ‘best friend’ who she barely knows to go on a spa break with her for a few days. But I find it so mean that her boss, her coworkers, even her PARENTS find her insufferable to be around and tell her this TO HER FACE! No wonder she was going crazy, wouldn’t you?!
I can appreciate what Yuzuki was trying to do with this book, and I love that it was once again female centred just like Butter; you could even argue that there are even less key male characters in this book and they are mostly plot devices. I just think that I wanted more from such an intense idea, and I am left frustrated at this.
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
Partenza coinvolgente, poi ho avuto l'impressione che si perdesse un po', senza saper bene cosa fare con tutto quel materiale umano. Uno sviluppo un po' sprecato.
Mi ha attratto come un magnete silenzioso. Sentivo un’urgenza sottile: entrare nella mente di Eriko, ascoltare il flusso dei suoi pensieri, capire l’origine della sua ossessione, il perché di quel vuoto che sembrava divorare ogni cosa. Eriko non si osserva soltanto: si attraversa, come una stanza buia in cui si ha paura di restare troppo a lungo.
Dall’altra parte c’è Shoko. Con lei ho avvertito subito una connessione istintiva. Il suo blog era una boccata d’aria: leggero, libero, privo di pressioni e di colpa. Con Shoko potevo abbassare le difese, lasciarmi andare senza il peso del giudizio, come se le sue parole concedessero il permesso di respirare.
Il finale è stato inaspettato, e lo ammetto: mi ha sorpreso profondamente. Soprattutto perché ci si chiede, quasi in modo automatico, se la vita di Shoko sia stata davvero rovinata da Eriko.
Eppure, leggendo con attenzione, emerge una verità più scomoda. Tutte le scelte di Shoko, quelle che l’hanno condotta a diventare una persona terribile, non hanno nulla a che vedere con Eriko. Perché, in fondo, Shoko ed Eriko si somigliano più di quanto si voglia ammettere: due specchi che si riflettono, due solitudini che si confondono, due colpe che non possono essere attribuite a nessun altro.
This is a loose and meandering story that was less sinister and more of a family tale than I expected from the blurb. In lots of ways it touches on all the hot topics of female-authored Japanese fiction: gender roles, female friendship, negotiations with parents, loneliness and the fleeting nature of connections, food and body image, marriage and work. Both Shoko and Eriko start off envying each other's life; each faces up to their problems and learns life lessons in the process. I found this perfectly pleasant with some interesting scenes of Japanese life but it's not the sharp page-turner I'd looked forward to - sorry!
Potenzialmente interessante, nella pratica un po' troppo diluito e improbabile in alcuni passaggi. Inespresso il potenziale simbolico dell'acquario, peccato per lo sviluppo.