Piękna rozłąka

by Nao-Cola Yamazaki, Marta Klimiuk-Nikkarinnen (Translator)

"Piękna rozłąka" to powieść o umieraniu. Narrator, zwykły japoński salaryman, towarzyszy żonie w ostatnich tygodniach jej życia. Dba o nią z czułością, ale też z wielkim wyczuciem — pozwala ukochanej osobie na hospitalizację na jej własnych zasadach. Trudne rozmowy z lekarzami, przyjmowanie dawnych znajomych, spotkania z teściami, próby godzenia służbowych obowiązków z opieką nad chorą stają się dla bohaterów nową codziennością.

Nao-Cola Yamazaki zostawia nas z pytaniami: czym jest rodzina, co oznacza miłość, jak myśleć i rozmawiać z najbliższymi o śmierci? Piękna rozłąka to spokojna proza, w której odnajdą się miłośnicy i miłośniczki twórczości Yōko Ogawy czy Banany Yoshimoto.

Genres: Fiction, Japan, Japanese Literature, Asian Literature, Literary Fiction, Romance, Asia

128 pages, Paperback

First published July 10, 2016

Reviews

[Karolina · Rating 5 out of 5]

Ja naprawdę bardzo rzadko płaczę podczas lektury, a tutaj łzy napływały mi do oczu pod koniec książki przy każdej z kilku rund redakcyjnego czytania. Jedna z najpiękniejszych opowieści o miłości. May this love find all of us.

[spillingthematcha · Rating 5 out of 5]

Ta książka jednocześnie uzdrawia coś w Tobie jak i łamie serce. Napisana bardzo stonowanym tonem, jak na tak przejmującą historie i chyba to najbardziej mnie urzekło.

[Carolyn · Rating 4 out of 5]

So far najciekawszy tajfun z 2026!!!
Mocno przekalibrował moje myślenie o chorobach w śmiertelnym stadium

[Nana Beridze · Rating 4 out of 5]

This book was quietly heartbreaking. The author beautifully mixed everyday life with the heavy feeling of waiting for death. Through these casual everyday moments, it made me think about how strange we are about death — how afraid we are to feel it close, so we fill the silence with small talk and ordinary things instead of facing it as it is just part of life.

[Marta Klimaszewska · Rating 5 out of 5]

to książka o czymś zupełnie innym niż się spodziewałam

przede wszystkim o dojrzałej, partnerskiej relacji, ale też o relacjach między jednostką a społeczeństwem; historia, choć dotyka tematów choroby i śmierci, jest też opowieścią o życiu, działaniu i zmianie, a głęboka wrażliwość narratora na gesty i dobór słów to punkt wyjścia do przemyśleń nad intencjami i przyzwyczajeniami w sytuacjach, w których się znajdujemy

bałam się, że dostanę smutną książkę pełną łez, dostałam cichą, spokojną i naprawdę piękną opowieść o wspólnym życiu

i cyk, kolejna osoba autorska do ulubionych

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

This is a reflective and emotional story about a husband trying to make the best of his terminally ill wife's final days. There's tension about how best to use her remaining time, whether to reserve it for family or give bits of it away to others, or even whether he/ his MIL should pause their jobs and normal lives to be at her bedside. It's touching how in all things he considers how she would feel or what she would want. I got angry at the insensitive and thoughtless remarks that other characters made. There seems to be a lot that we as a society have not yet figured out when it comes to holding space for this natural occurence, respecting the process, and I think that's because deep down, most people can't accept the fact so they try to rationalise it away.

[Kul.turalna · Rating 4 out of 5]

4.5
książka o pożegnaniach – piękna, delikatna, smutna.
będę o niej pamiętać🕊️🌼

[Lucia · Rating 2 out of 5]

Though this was somber and quite sad, it also felt very hollow, and I found it hard to really feel the story and the characters. I can see why other people would like it, but I wouldn't recommend it

[Faiz · Rating 4 out of 5]

Heartbreaking. That's the only word I have for this one.

The story follows an unnamed narrator, a husband whose wife is terminally ill and essentially waiting for death. That's it. That's the premise. And somehow, Yamazaki transforms it into one of the most quietly devastating reading experiences I've had in a long time.

The couple are in their forties. They've been happily married for fifteen years and have no children. There's nothing particularly extraordinary about their lives. The husband works as an insurance agent, while the wife runs a small bread business. They're ordinary people living an ordinary, happy life. They had a future planned together, the kind of future you assume you'll have when everything is going well. Growing old side by side. Then cancer arrives and rearranges everything without asking permission.

What I appreciated most about this book is that it refuses to sugarcoat anything. This isn't a sentimental or romanticised portrayal of illness and loss. Instead, it confronts the reality of caring for someone who is dying while the rest of the world, your work, your responsibilities, your obligations, continues moving forward with complete indifference. The husband is navigating all of this in Japan, where a man taking extended time away from work to care for his sick wife is still viewed as unusual. That detail stayed with me long after I finished reading.

This is not a feel-good novel. It isn't gentle, and it certainly isn't easy. But it's honest in a way that many books about grief and terminal illness aren't, and I think that's exactly why it hits so hard.

I almost cried several times near the end. Almost.

The thought that kept breaking me was this: imagine being the wife. Lying there, knowing what's coming. Waiting for death to arrive. I couldn't stop returning to that image, and it unsettled me more than I expected.

I'll also be transparent about something. Death and illness, especially cancer, are subjects that genuinely frighten me. Reading this book triggered a very specific kind of anxiety, the sort that settles heavily in your chest and lingers long after you've closed the book.

And then there was another thought I couldn't shake. If I were in the wife's position, I don't know who would show up for me the way her husband showed up for her. Consistently. Devotedly. Every single day. That realization hit harder than I expected, and I wasn't prepared for it.

Sob sob.

Four stars.

Read it. But maybe keep a box of tissues nearby. And perhaps don't pick it up during a particularly fragile week.

You have been warned.

[Clare · Rating 4 out of 5]

Kinda devastating

[Sam Whittick · Rating 3 out of 5]

This was a tender and sweet lil quick read. Didn’t feel ‘heartbreaking’ or ‘devastating’ to me as the reviews on the back would suggest.

[swatreads · Rating 3 out of 5]

Beautiful Distance is a quiet but deeply moving novel that stays with you because of how honest it feels. The story follows a husband on his way to visit his terminally ill wife in the hospital, and through that simple journey, the novel slowly unfolds memories of their life together-their marriage, everyday routines, moments of closeness, and even the small unspoken things that shape a relationship over time.

The book finds emotion in ordinary moments. The way the husband reflects on their shared life makes the love story feel real, not perfect or idealized, but lived-in, complicated, and deeply human. There’s also sadness, regret, and the painful awareness that time is running out which makes it a little hard to read.

I especially liked how gently the story handles difficult themes like illness and death. It quietly draws you into the character’s thoughts and makes you feel the weight of what he is about to lose. That quietness is what makes it powerful.

Overall, it’s a thoughtful and emotional read about love, memory, and grief. About how the smallest moments in a relationship often become the ones that matter most in the end. It’s the kind of book that leaves a soft ache after you finish and makes you ponder about life and how temporary everything is.

Thank you Netgalley and the publisher for this ARC.

Very well written but rating it a 3 because I don’t like reading sad stories about illness and grief that is sad throughout.

[Mitsy_Reads · Rating 5 out of 5]

Under 200 pages, it's a quick read but lingering ® about a man taking care of his wife with terminal cancer. Really sad but it's beautiful and tender. It made me cry (that seems happening a lot this week with reading...) Talks about how Japanese care system works, but the themes are universal, so I highly recommend this. If you like Banana Yoshimoto, you will love this one.

5/5 🌟

[lee_readsbooks · Rating 3 out of 5]

3.5⭐️
I really wanted to connect with this novella, and while the story itself is quietly heartbreaking, it felt too emotionally distant for me. The writing is very restrained, which made it hard to fully feel the weight of what the characters were going through. I can see what the author was trying to do, but it left me more detached than moved. A sad story, just not one that stayed with me the way I’d hoped.

[Aislinn Wilkins · Rating 4 out of 5]

There’s something quite beautiful about this short story. It really displays the experience of slowly losing a loved one in hospital. Although the story itself is pretty sad, I think the interactions between the caretaker husband and his sick wife is so so touching and extremely realistic.

[Emily Burns · Rating 5 out of 5]

I read this book in one day. Such an easy read, yet so tender and profound.

[Anthony Noblett · Rating 4 out of 5]

It wasn't really what I was expecting after the last book I read from this author but it was a lovely slow build up to a very emotional climax, shed a tear over the ending.

[Clare Bronwen · Rating 3 out of 5]

Interesting read. My experience of Japanese writers is that they describe emotion through characters’ behaviour and actions more than through inner narrative and this certainly did.
Brave to tackle the subject matter and try to put a positive spin on it but I suspect the author doesn’t have first person experience of it.

[Rebekah · Rating 4 out of 5]

A truly beautiful look at what it means to love someone in the final days of their life, how to confer dignity on people in the last stages of their life, how to care but also how to give space for all of the facets of their being, not just for the ways in which you want to remember them. To remember to see the person before they were ravaged by illness, to treat them as fully aware and adult. Quietly political, and human to its core. I recommend it to everybody.

A gorgeous, human book that really resonated with me. I cried about three times, in a tender, happy way not because I was devastated- mostly from the depeiction of those small moments of care that are actually massive. I loved this, and I hope that a lot of people read it, though I accept that reading about end of life care is not for everybody.

'Why was I so determined to make the doctor understand that we have hope? That we are still looking ahead, and trying our best to believe in the future? I have this urge to show the doctors, and my colleagues too, that neither my wife nor her family have given up. I know her future will disappear soon. But we're not waiting for that moment. There must be a way to spend this time happily without thinking about what's coming and I'm trying to find it. How can I express all this to the doctor? Is it unreasonable of me to expect her to understand how I feel?'

'We have 'condolence leave', but what's the point of having time off once someone is dead? Maybe I'm asking too much, but I can't help wishing that my colleagues would understand why I'm taking time off without needing to tell them how long she has left. My wife is still facing forward towards life.'

'I suppose I can't be certain what my wife's really thinking, and it would be arrogant of me to take my guesses and pass them on to her mother as fact....In any case I don't want things to get too focused on the moment of death. That's not the part that matters the most. I want to shout this at the doctor's, at everyone. I'm not coming here for the moment she dies. I'm coming here for this moment, right now.'

'They want to know how long a stranger has left. But we're all moving towards death. it starts seeping into babies' celss right from the moment they are born. No-one - ill or otherwise - knows how long they have. It's like that story about the god of death who gives us each a candle. The candles are all different lengths, gradually burning out, and there's no way of knowing how long each one is. None of us has an etenrity, only our allotted time. Most people here don't see it this way though. We're all born equal, they think, and so we start out with the right to live to the average age. But certain people lose that right, they imagine, because of choices they make.'

'These days, most people are born and die inside a hosptial. This is often seen as a bad thing, and until recently, I belieed that the best trajectory was a natural birth surrounded by family in a maternity clinic or at home, followed by a long life, a period of decline, and then a natural death in your own bed also surrounded by family. Somewhere along the line though, while I've been spending more time with my wife like this, I've started to think that I don't need to buy into this kind of ideal. Do life and death only belong to the family? The world has changed and nowadays people are supported by so many others.'

'Shall I wash your hair? I aks.
Yes please,' she says.
I put some specialist nursing shampoo on a towel and lightly rub it on her head, without using any water. I don't want to make her do anything that could use up her energy so I avoid asking her to move. I concentrate on rubbing her scalp without focusing too much on getting everything clean, and as I do, I can feel happiness bubbling up right from the bottom of my chest. It's possible that it feels painful or embarrassing for my wife, but this moment right now is a joyous one for me. If only these days could go on forever. If only I could spend an eternity here in this hospital, looking after her.'

'In the four days since she died, my wife has already started ti turn into this kind of entity. The space between us is rapidly growing. Only a little while ago I'd been cutting her nails and cleaning her ears, and now she is a spirit. Far, far away from me. Sometimes I hear people say things like , 'It's okay if someone's far away, as long as you hold them close in your heart.' I wonder why its so important for them to feel close to us though. perhaps it's an assumption that closeness is the best state between people and that disatnce is always something sad. Right now, I hate that she is far away, but there will come a day when I don't. That's my hunch anyway. When I think this way, I can see a sliver of light.'

'Fleeting or deep, near or far, all kinds of relationships shine brightly. It's okay if we're far apart, as long as we're connected. This movement, taking us further and further awat from each other, leaves a trail of light behind.'

[Rosie · Rating 4 out of 5]

Beautiful Distance by Nao-Cola Yamazaki is a quiet yet profoundly moving book that surprised me with just how deeply it affected me. A sensitive, beautifully written, and honest exploration of one of the hardest aspects of life, it evokes with great acuity the interconnectedness of sorrow and joy.

For such a short novella, so much is explored: caring for a terminally ill loved one, how we think about death, the meaning of close connections, and unconditional love, as well as societal pressures and expectations.

The story follows a couple after the wife's terminal cancer diagnosis. It's told from the husband’s perspective, and feels so authentic it’s as if you’re reading a real memoir. Instead of falling into the melodramatic, the narrative focuses on the "distance" in the title, the idea of a respectful, vital space that lets two people remain themselves, maintaining their dignity and individuality, even as they approach the end of a life.

Yamazaki’s prose, superbly translated by Charlotte Goff, is understated and restrained, perfectly capturing the weight of everything left unsaid and the profound beauty in the quotidian. Domestic details anchor the story, elevating ordinary moments into something sacred. It provides an emotive look at how the simplest acts become radical acts of devotion when time is finite.

The story also reflects a Japanese appreciation for the transience of things, the philosophy of ‘mono no aware’, which sees beauty in things not in spite of their passing, but because they pass; being aware that moments are fleeting renders them even more poignant, even more precious.

Throughout the book, I was moved by the husband's inner conflicts, how he grapples with the etiquette of caretaking, constantly balancing his own presence between being supportive and overbearing. There’s also the added pressure of Japanese corporate culture, the tension between the dedication expected of employees and the need for compassion in times of personal tragedy.

Subtle, intimate, and perceptive, Beautiful Distance offers a tender, dignifying look at the end of a life. Though devastating, it is a beautiful read, and one I'd wholeheartedly recommend.

[aemynadira · Rating 5 out of 5]

I'll be honest, the cover gave me soft, romantic vibes, like I was in for a sweet little love story. Technically, it is a love story, but not the kind I expected. The novel follows a man whose wife is dying of cancer with only about a month left to live. There's no dramatic fight for a miracle cure or tearful breakdowns every other page. Instead, the story unfolds in these mundane moments. Him braiding her hair & massaging her hands, just being present as her life slowly winds down. It's devastating in its simplicity, & I kept waiting for some grand gesture or twist that never came. What I got instead was a raw, gentle look at what it actually means to stay with someone to the very edge of life, & it broke my heart in a completely unexpected way.

The sadness of this book really caught me off guard, but within that sadness, I found so much wisdom. The narrator's way of processing his grief taught me that staying composed doesn't mean being emotionless. It can mean choosing tenderness over panic when someone you love is suffering. He doesn't spiral or lash out, he just keeps showing up, even when showing up means sitting in silence while his world falls apart. There's this recurring idea that loss creates a "beautiful distance" between people, a space that's painful but also sacred because it holds all the love you shared. Grief isn't something to conquer or resolve. It's just the shape love takes when the person's no longer there. Honestly, that reframed a lot about how I view loss & even my own fears around death.

I appreciate how many perspectives the narrator offers on coping & staying wise during tough times. He doesn't pretend to have answers, but there's a humility in his narration that felt like a lesson in itself, like maybe maturity isn't about fixing everything, but about allowing things to be what they are without turning away. The book just sits with you in the discomfort & somehow that feels more comforting than any platitude ever could. So yeah, the cover fooled me completely, & I ended up crying so hard, but I genuinely loved it. It's the kind of sad that leaves you feeling softer & more human. I'll carry this story with me for a long time.

[Naraya · Rating 5 out of 5]

Ein Mann pflegt seine sterbende Frau. Jeden Tag besucht er sie im Krankenhaus, wäscht sie und kämmt ihr das Haar. Er koordiniert ihre Besuche, tröstet die Schwiegermutter und führt Gespräche mit dem Personal über den Zustand seiner Frau. Doch eigentlich würde er gerne noch viel mehr tun, seien es Kleinigkeiten, wie das Schneiden der Fingernägel, oder letzte Wünsche wie ein besonderes Essen oder einen bestimmten Ort noch einmal zu besuchen. Dabei bewegt er sich immer in diesem Grenzraum zwischen partnerschaftlicher Nähe und dem Vorhaben, seine Frau bis zuletzt als eigenständige Person wahrzunehmen, die alles selbst entscheiden darf. Wie lässt sich dieser Konflikt auflösen?

„Die Schönheit der Distanz“ ist der erste, in deutscher Sprache erschienene Roman der japanischen Schriftstellerin Nao-Cola Yamazaki; die Übersetzung aus dem Japanischen verfasste Katja Busson. Die Handlung begleitet den namenlosen Protagonisten bei seinen Besuchen im Krankenhaus und in einigen wenigen Situationen außerhalb. Auch alle anderen Figuren tragen keine Namen, so dass diese Geschichte vielleicht für viele Ehepaare in Japan stehen mag, denen es ähnlich geht.

Aus westlicher Sicht mutet es seltsam an, dass ein Ehemann Scheu davor empfindet, seine Frau am ganzen Körper zu waschen oder ihr mitzuteilen, dass ihre Fingernägel zu lang und ungepflegt sind. In der japanischen Kultur ist es aber durchaus üblich, auch dem Ehepartner mit einer gewissen respektvollen Distanz entgegenzutreten. Im Verlauf der Geschichte lernt unser Protagonist, sich durch diese schwierigen Situationen mit einer Mischung aus Mut, Ehrlichkeit und Sensibilität zu bewegen.

Auch wenn für uns die Beziehung der beiden viel zu sachlich scheint – zu einem letzten Kuss für seine Frau kann der Ehemann sich aus Scham nicht überwinden – ist sie doch von einer rührenden Zärtlichkeit. Wir erleben eine Frau, die sich in ihrem Beruf, ihrer Rolle als Frau und als Patientin ernst genommen fühlt und einen Mann, der mit seiner Frau ehrlich über den Tod spricht, aber auch lernt, ihre Haare zu flechten oder ihre Gesichtsroutine vorzubereiten. Unglaublich emotional!

[Bookworm Denz · Rating 5 out of 5]

[ARC REVIEW 📖]

Beautiful Distance
Foreword : Katie Kitamura
Author : Nao-Cola Yamazaki
Translator : Charlotte Goff

This story is narrated by a middle-aged man who was having a hard time w/ his job at the sales division of a life insurance company. Five years in, he starts to think about quitting, when a new manager comes in to work, gave him level-headed advice, & changed his perspective of work, happiness & fulfillment.

One Sunday he coincidentally bumped into his manager & his family outside of a restaurant & from that day on, things moved forward --- he & his manager's daughter exchanged contact details, went on dates, & got married the following year. They were never blessed w/ children, but were happily together for 15 years.

When his wife reached her early forties, she was struck with a terminal illness (peritoneal cancer) & had to spend her time being confined in the hospital for chemotherapy. The narrator continues to visit his wife & care for her, supporting her w/ her routine & habits, while trying to find a way to live happily without looking to the future. Unfortunately she did not last long due to phlegm build-up.

This was a poignant & heartwrenching read. I can feel all the emotions overflowing from the narrator, his dying wife, & his wife's family. I love how the narrator deeply cares for his wife. He knows how to respect & have consideration for hospital staff & nurses who care for her, thinking not only of monopolizing her, knowing when to step aside & trust the community around them. His coping approach & way of thinking is so relatable & real, that I could not help but shed tears. I was still happy though that he firmly said that it is okay even if they are apart or distanced as long as they're connected. I bawled so much. 😭

Thank you Netgalley, Zando, & of course the author for the opportunity to read! 🥹🫶

5/5 ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

P.S.
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[Rem Tolentino · Rating 4 out of 5]

Exploring hope, grief, and the inner emotional turmoil of caring for a loved one with a terminal disease, Beautiful Distance by Nao-Cola Yamazaki is a deeply intimate reflection that offers a unique perspective on grief and love.

Understated in its message, Yamazaki refrains from the overt aphorisms, platitudes, and life lessons that often characterize this genre. Instead, through the daily, meditative actions of the salaryman husband, we see what it means to navigate a loved one’s terminal diagnosis and how to treat others with dignity and humanity. There are no grand declarations of love or lengthy passages on perseverance; instead, simple acts - washing faces, applying skincare, helping someone to the bathroom - become the vehicle for expressing the husband’s love.

The novel also excels in illustrating the impact one person can have on others’ lives. The wife’s passion for sandwich-making brings together a community that loves, supports, and ultimately gives back to her in recognition of the joy she brought them.

Yamazaki’s prose is meditative. We are drawn into the husband’s mind, where every interaction (with his wife, friends, family, and hospital staff) is carefully examined and internalized. Am I intruding in my wife’s care? Should I have kissed her? Is it their fault? Am I jealous? These fragments of internal dialogue feel lived-in and authentic. The deliberate absence of most character names further invites reader self-insertion, prompting reflection: could this be me or someone I love, and would I respond the same way?

The novel truly ascends in its final 25 pages, as Yamazaki’s prose shifts from the mundane and meditative to the poetic and abstract. She captures the husband’s sense of separation from his wife as a “beautiful distance,” where she takes on an almost celestial presence. In doing so, the novel suggests that people are never truly far apart so long as they remain connected.

Thank you Zando and SJP Lit providing this advanced review copy for review consideration via NetGalley. All opinions are my own.

[Foryoureads · Rating 5 out of 5]

This book is quiet and gentle, yet its subject matter is incredibly heavy.

Beautiful Distance is a novel about death, loss, and the inevitability of saying goodbye. Yet despite dealing with such painful themes, it never feels emotionally manipulative or overly sentimental. Instead, it unfolds with remarkable tenderness and restraint.

What touched me most wasn't the wife's illness, but the way the husband loved her. Their marriage is built on mutual respect, honest communication, and the understanding that they are two individuals choosing to spend their lives side by side.

I especially loved how the novel finds beauty in the smallest acts of care. Brushing her hair, tying it back, trimming her nails, helping her with everyday things. The husband initially struggles with these acts, but gradually discovers the quiet happiness of being able to do them for someone he loves. That tenderness stayed with me throughout the entire book.

What makes this story so powerful is its simplicity. There are no lengthy monologues from the wife, no dramatic speeches, and no attempts to force tears from the reader. We simply follow a husband accompanying the woman he loves through the final chapter of her life.

The ending was particularly moving. No matter how strong we are, how prepared we think we are, or how much love we give, there will always be small regrets and lingering "what ifs." As someone who has experienced loss, that felt deeply personal.

Yet the novel also offers a quiet comfort: the connection remains. The thread between two people does not disappear simply because one of them is gone.

Beautiful Distance left me with sadness, tenderness, and gratitude. More than a story about death, it is a story about love, presence, and carrying the people we cherish with us, even after they are no longer here.

[Rae · Rating 4 out of 5]

Thank you to Zando and SJP lit for generously providing me with a copy of this book. All opinions are my own.

I fully expected a philosophical and emotionally devastating experience when I began this book, and it certainly delivered–though perhaps not how I expected. Furthermore, it delivered far more hope and optimism than I would have expected.

This short novel is told from the perspective of a man over several months visiting his terminally ill wife in the hospital. It is largely centered around his love of his wife and experiences and thoughts as her life winds to a close. Both husband and wife have accepted her inevitable and impending end but continue to live each day with tenderness and hope. Not hope for change or a miracle, but in the small moments of each day.

The book does an excellent job of showing all the ways in which grief is complicated and messy, particularly when one finds that they are mourning someone who is still here. As if, by getting ahead of it, we could stop the eventual grief following their passing from burying us under its weight.

Watching as he continues to discover things about his wife in increasingly nuanced ways, despite living with and loving her for decades, was touching and bittersweet. He is determined to find hope and live happily every day, regardless of their circumstances. This is not a form of toxic positivity or stoicism, but simply love reduced to its purest and most uncomplicated form: I love you, and we are here in this moment, together.

This was such a philosophical, unique, and beautiful experience delivered with so much care and brevity. It says exactly what it needs to and nothing more. I will definitely be thinking of this for a long time. This would fit perfectly on the shelf alongside Lost Souls Meet Under a Full Moon and A Midnight Pastry Shop Called Hwawoldang.

[Alan M · Rating 5 out of 5]

'Fleeting or deep, near or far, all kinds of relationships shine brightly. It's okay if we're far apart, as long as we're connected.'

Published at the same time as the same author's much shorter (end earlier) work 'Don't Laugh at Other People's Sex Lives', this 2016 novel is a much more rewarding and satisfying read. This is the story of a husband and wife (who both remain unnamed) as she lies in hospital after having been diagnosed with cancer. They have been married for 15 years, and the books explores their life together as well as other bigger issues that add weight to the book: the concept of family, the importance of a life-work balance, and just what it is to be in a loving relationship. Famous for its work ethic, Japan - seen through the eyes of a man trying to look after his dying wife - can seem a hard society, with any absence form work frowned upon. Times have changed, but one of the undercurrents in reading this book is the better understanding of a different culture.

Above all, though, this is a love story, and the story of a husband trying to cling on to what he holds most precious. It is about finding joy in the moment, about being with someone now and not thinking about the dark future ahead. Set against the changing seasons, the book is melancholy, yes, but is a profound exploration of the love two people have for each other. The ending, as inevitable as can be, is deeply moving. Certainly for anyone who has lost a loved one to an illness like this, this will be a book that will touch your heart. Tender and heartbreaking. 5 stars.

[t · Rating 3 out of 5]

This is really not on purpose at all, but for some reason, ever since I started working this year, I often find myself accidentally reading books that have a lot to say about the modern laborer and the effects of a hyper-capitalist society

In this one, it comes as a backdrop to the steady love of a salaryman who comes and visits his ailing wife in the hospital nearly every day. She’s dying of cancer, and there’s plenty of ruminations: does she want to do this or that, does she want to go back home, is she happy, and is he closest to her out of everyone? I think a lot of the book has to do with community, of the different ways a person might be touched by another simply through service or love.

What surprised me the most is how there is actually a lot of thinking about what family is and what constitutes it and who matters and in what order do they matter. How much of love is duty and how much of it is social obligation. “I resolved to stop being so proud about the difference between family and everyone else” is an idea that’s also outlandish to me for many reasons, but it was fascinating to have it dissected

It’s a very acts of service book, the love language of caring through action. Throughout it all, we feel the quiet dedication of the characters

Good, but not that gripping!

[Evelyn · Rating 4 out of 5]

This novel appears to have been inspired by Love Story by Erich Segal. However, it is not as saccharine as that tale as it deals with the terminal illness and impending death of a beloved wife.

The story’s focus is on the forty something couple who have been happily married for 15 years and are childless. Both have successful careers, the husband as an insurance agent, and the wife as the owner of a small business. They are now faced with dealing with the devastating diagnosis of the wife’s cancer, and that they will not grow old together as they expected.

Told from the husband’s perspective, the story walks the reader through the process of dealing with a beloved wife dying from cancer as the husband seeks to balance work in a country (Japan) where a husband taking time off from work to care for his ill wife is novel, against his duties as a caretaker.

This is not a maudlin novel. It is also not for the faint of heart as it deals with end of life care and death, and their impact on the living. However, it is refreshing to read a novel that does not sugarcoat the financial and emotional impact of those situations, and the obstacles and impediments facing anyone who is dealing with them, as well as the aftermath once the person passes.

It rates 4.5 stars.

[Rae · Rating 4 out of 5]

This is a gentle, thoughtful novel that finds meaning in the ordinary moments of a marriage. Rather than relying on dramatic twists, it quietly explores love, caregiving, grief, and the emotional distance that can exist even between people who know each other deeply. The writing is understated and reflective, allowing the emotions to build gradually.

What I appreciated most was how authentic the relationship felt. The story shows that lasting love is often expressed through small acts of kindness and everyday routines rather than grand romantic gestures. It captures the sadness of anticipating loss while also celebrating the memories that make a shared life meaningful.

At times, the pacing felt a little too slow, and the introspective style may not appeal to readers looking for a more event-driven plot. There were moments where I wanted a bit more emotional depth from some of the supporting characters.

Overall, Beautiful Distance is a beautifully written and quietly moving novel that lingers after you've finished it. It's a rewarding read for anyone who enjoys literary fiction that explores relationships, mortality, and the beauty found in life's simplest moments.

Thank you Times Reads for sending me a copy in exchange for honest review.