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Kappa Quartet
Shortlisted for the Singapore Book Awards 2017 (Best Book Cover Design)
Epigram Books Fiction Prize 2015 Longlist
Kevin is a young man without a soul, holidaying in Tokyo; Mr Five, the enigmatic kappa, is the man he so happens to meet. Little does Kevin know that kappas—the river demons of Japanese folklore—desire nothing more than the souls of other humans. Set between Singapore and Japan, Kappa Quartet is split into eight discrete sections, tracing the rippling effects of this chance encounter across a host of other characters, connected and bound to one another in ways both strange and serendipitous. Together they ask one another: what does it mean to be in possession of something nobody has seen before?
Epigram Books Fiction Prize 2015 Longlist
Kevin is a young man without a soul, holidaying in Tokyo; Mr Five, the enigmatic kappa, is the man he so happens to meet. Little does Kevin know that kappas—the river demons of Japanese folklore—desire nothing more than the souls of other humans. Set between Singapore and Japan, Kappa Quartet is split into eight discrete sections, tracing the rippling effects of this chance encounter across a host of other characters, connected and bound to one another in ways both strange and serendipitous. Together they ask one another: what does it mean to be in possession of something nobody has seen before?
256 pages, Paperback
Published September 1, 2016
13 people are currently reading
380 people want to read
About the author
Daryl Qilin Yam
18 books44 followersDaryl Qilin Yam (b. 1991) is a writer, editor and arts organiser from Singapore. Shortlisted for the Singapore Literature Prize and nominated for the International Dublin Literary Award, he is the author of two novels, a novella and the bestselling short story collection Be Your Own Bae (2024). He co-founded the literary charity Sing Lit Station, where he presently serves as the managing editor of its publishing arm AFTERIMAGE.
His writing has appeared in periodicals and publications such as the Berlin Quarterly, the Sewanee Review, The Straits Times and The Epigram Books Collection of Best New Singapore Short Stories anthology series. His first novel, Kappa Quartet (2016), was selected by The Business Times as one of the best novels of the year, and was described by QLRS as “[breaking] new ground in Singaporean writing… an immensely sympathetic and humane exploration of our existential condition.”
His writing has appeared in periodicals and publications such as the Berlin Quarterly, the Sewanee Review, The Straits Times and The Epigram Books Collection of Best New Singapore Short Stories anthology series. His first novel, Kappa Quartet (2016), was selected by The Business Times as one of the best novels of the year, and was described by QLRS as “[breaking] new ground in Singaporean writing… an immensely sympathetic and humane exploration of our existential condition.”
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 69 reviews
December 22, 2016
A couple of caveats before we start:
-I believe reviews should be honest about their intentions and their preferences before they start, so I'll just come right out and say that Daryl Qilin Yam is a close friend of mine—
-this is a very specific novel, written by a very specific writer, and this is crucial to how much you enjoy this book.
I'll start by articulating the previous statement. When I say that this is a very specific novel, I don’t mean to say that it’s restricted in its time and cultural milieu. While Yam does do a very good job, in my view, of bringing Tokyo to life and defamiliarising Singapore (more on this later), he is essentially a fabulist, which means that his subject matter is really the universe. (That his story never dissolves into wispy allegory is a testament to his discipline at grounding his metaphysical themes with exact scenery and precise character detail; the eaves and rafters of this novel reach towards mythology, surrealism, and Jungian psychology, but the foundations are firmly set in a realist soil, as it were.) But no, when I say that Yam is a very specific writer, I mean that this is a book written by someone who has very clear ideas about what he values in literature, and has set out in this debut to enact and perform those ideas. If you’re the kind of reader who reads novels to follow and explore the psychology of a single protagonist across the course of three hundred pages, for instance, you will be frustrated. Instead of providing a through line that circles back around to every element of the plot and ties up all threads satisfactorily, Yam consciously designs in this book a reading experience that evokes the transient and ephemeral nature of our interactions in modern globalised urbanity. “Somewhere there is a book, and in it I am a character,” says a lady named Ms Neo at one point, “a few pages later I am nowhere to be seen.” It’s the kind of hat-tipping that functions as a thrown-down gauntlet—“this is what I’m doing, and I know what I’m doing,” Yam seems to say, “take it or leave it.”
But what pleasures we find when we take it! The quote I plucked out earlier might suggest a certain kind of postmodern novel built around breaking the fourth wall and winking at the reader, but that’s not really what we have on our hands either. The architecture of this book *is* breathtaking in a way I don’t really want to spoil here—Yam iterates fractals and leitmotifs across the text, and it’s such a delight to hold them up to the light to decode—but what really gives KQ its soulful quality is the poignant depth of its characters. Yam excels at bringing his portraits to life with minimal brushstrokes; instead of droning on for pages as other fiction writers might do, he uses instead a couple of carefully chosen gestures or actions to imply temperament or emotion, and suddenly a person is animated, recognisable even when they appear later on in the text, seen only in the background of a crowd by another narrator. There is a kind of fatalism which plays out across the course of the novel, but in those character details Yam shows his hand and reveals his heart—it is a warm one.
So many other lovely things to get into here, but this is already getting long for a Goodreads review. We haven’t even cracked, for instance, that wonderful straight face with which Yam mingles the realist world with an anime-inspired mythopoeia. Most readers of this book have called it Murakami-ish, but there’s a kind of internal consistency and suppressed terror here which is really more Kafkaesque, and the careful construction of a smooth skeleton upon which the whole thing hangs is certainly reminiscent of David Mitchell’s better work (although Yam generally stays away from the kind of ventriloquism Mitchell is prone to, which might be good or bad depending on how dense you like your prose). I suppose there might be people out there who’d grumpily grouse about the novel’s indulgence of fantastical fancies, to which the only proper response is to shrug and leave them to their Dickens, and resist the urge to suggest that they read Hard Times a bit closer. The thing is, save for a brief riff on the soulless environment of Singapore, Yam generally stays away from the kind of polemical strawman caricaturing and thinly disguised rhetoric that characterises the work of lesser writers. That’s not to say his work ignores terroir, because for all of the novel’s weirdness, the scenes I find most disconcerting come when the text returns to Singapore, and that gaping sense of alienation stretches over familiar suburban or downtown settings to reveal the fundamental absurdity of this Potemkin metropolis. Neither can anyone who looks closely at the place of the kappa in this universe really accuse Yam of being apolitical.
One applicable criticism that might be made of the novel is that it lingers inside its own ambiguity, and ends without a traditional denouement, which I can see certain readers being annoyed by. There’s the same kind of bokeh to the scenography of this text that characterised Kazuo Ishiguro’s debut, A Pale View of Hills. Yam does lean toward a poetic rather than a novelistic resolution towards the end of the novel—there’s a sense of cadence, rather than conclusion, to the way he builds recurring scenes and images into a climax. At the same time, it’s really nothing he hasn’t forewarned you elsewhere in the text.
In keeping with his methods, then, we’ll finish on a scene instead of an argument: a Japanese man, speaking on his handphone to a colleague from Singapore, while his daughter gets up and begins dancing in the room. It’s a moment of wonderful musical movement in the text, of dialogue and motion set against each other like guitar against saxophone, like duel or duet; a contrapuntal passage in a story already polyphonic by design. What purpose did it serve? What did it mean? Errr, I don’t actually have a fucking clue. Sorry Prof. But really, it gave me exquisite chills. Perhaps singular, teleological meaning is overrated. Perhaps all that matters in art, really, is to induce a pleasurable shudder, that frisson of jouissance. And there you go—a book as a thing of beauty is good enough for me. Perhaps it will be good enough for you.
-I believe reviews should be honest about their intentions and their preferences before they start, so I'll just come right out and say that Daryl Qilin Yam is a close friend of mine—
-this is a very specific novel, written by a very specific writer, and this is crucial to how much you enjoy this book.
I'll start by articulating the previous statement. When I say that this is a very specific novel, I don’t mean to say that it’s restricted in its time and cultural milieu. While Yam does do a very good job, in my view, of bringing Tokyo to life and defamiliarising Singapore (more on this later), he is essentially a fabulist, which means that his subject matter is really the universe. (That his story never dissolves into wispy allegory is a testament to his discipline at grounding his metaphysical themes with exact scenery and precise character detail; the eaves and rafters of this novel reach towards mythology, surrealism, and Jungian psychology, but the foundations are firmly set in a realist soil, as it were.) But no, when I say that Yam is a very specific writer, I mean that this is a book written by someone who has very clear ideas about what he values in literature, and has set out in this debut to enact and perform those ideas. If you’re the kind of reader who reads novels to follow and explore the psychology of a single protagonist across the course of three hundred pages, for instance, you will be frustrated. Instead of providing a through line that circles back around to every element of the plot and ties up all threads satisfactorily, Yam consciously designs in this book a reading experience that evokes the transient and ephemeral nature of our interactions in modern globalised urbanity. “Somewhere there is a book, and in it I am a character,” says a lady named Ms Neo at one point, “a few pages later I am nowhere to be seen.” It’s the kind of hat-tipping that functions as a thrown-down gauntlet—“this is what I’m doing, and I know what I’m doing,” Yam seems to say, “take it or leave it.”
But what pleasures we find when we take it! The quote I plucked out earlier might suggest a certain kind of postmodern novel built around breaking the fourth wall and winking at the reader, but that’s not really what we have on our hands either. The architecture of this book *is* breathtaking in a way I don’t really want to spoil here—Yam iterates fractals and leitmotifs across the text, and it’s such a delight to hold them up to the light to decode—but what really gives KQ its soulful quality is the poignant depth of its characters. Yam excels at bringing his portraits to life with minimal brushstrokes; instead of droning on for pages as other fiction writers might do, he uses instead a couple of carefully chosen gestures or actions to imply temperament or emotion, and suddenly a person is animated, recognisable even when they appear later on in the text, seen only in the background of a crowd by another narrator. There is a kind of fatalism which plays out across the course of the novel, but in those character details Yam shows his hand and reveals his heart—it is a warm one.
So many other lovely things to get into here, but this is already getting long for a Goodreads review. We haven’t even cracked, for instance, that wonderful straight face with which Yam mingles the realist world with an anime-inspired mythopoeia. Most readers of this book have called it Murakami-ish, but there’s a kind of internal consistency and suppressed terror here which is really more Kafkaesque, and the careful construction of a smooth skeleton upon which the whole thing hangs is certainly reminiscent of David Mitchell’s better work (although Yam generally stays away from the kind of ventriloquism Mitchell is prone to, which might be good or bad depending on how dense you like your prose). I suppose there might be people out there who’d grumpily grouse about the novel’s indulgence of fantastical fancies, to which the only proper response is to shrug and leave them to their Dickens, and resist the urge to suggest that they read Hard Times a bit closer. The thing is, save for a brief riff on the soulless environment of Singapore, Yam generally stays away from the kind of polemical strawman caricaturing and thinly disguised rhetoric that characterises the work of lesser writers. That’s not to say his work ignores terroir, because for all of the novel’s weirdness, the scenes I find most disconcerting come when the text returns to Singapore, and that gaping sense of alienation stretches over familiar suburban or downtown settings to reveal the fundamental absurdity of this Potemkin metropolis. Neither can anyone who looks closely at the place of the kappa in this universe really accuse Yam of being apolitical.
One applicable criticism that might be made of the novel is that it lingers inside its own ambiguity, and ends without a traditional denouement, which I can see certain readers being annoyed by. There’s the same kind of bokeh to the scenography of this text that characterised Kazuo Ishiguro’s debut, A Pale View of Hills. Yam does lean toward a poetic rather than a novelistic resolution towards the end of the novel—there’s a sense of cadence, rather than conclusion, to the way he builds recurring scenes and images into a climax. At the same time, it’s really nothing he hasn’t forewarned you elsewhere in the text.
In keeping with his methods, then, we’ll finish on a scene instead of an argument: a Japanese man, speaking on his handphone to a colleague from Singapore, while his daughter gets up and begins dancing in the room. It’s a moment of wonderful musical movement in the text, of dialogue and motion set against each other like guitar against saxophone, like duel or duet; a contrapuntal passage in a story already polyphonic by design. What purpose did it serve? What did it mean? Errr, I don’t actually have a fucking clue. Sorry Prof. But really, it gave me exquisite chills. Perhaps singular, teleological meaning is overrated. Perhaps all that matters in art, really, is to induce a pleasurable shudder, that frisson of jouissance. And there you go—a book as a thing of beauty is good enough for me. Perhaps it will be good enough for you.
August 18, 2017
Curiouser and curiouser, Kappa Quartet is perhaps one of two things: (i) an intricate enigma, or (ii) an undercooked entrée. But is it really one or the other? Hardly. The very last line of the novel hints at its own ambiguity: — gesturing suggestively at the pervasiveness of unresolved tensions, which I took to be a central motif of the novel.
Indeed, many tensions and 'subplots' (if one can call them that) remain unresolved even after the story has 'ended', calling into question the very idea of an ending; at the same time subverting the classical triptych of beginning-middle-and end. (Was it Frank Herbert who said "There is no real ending. It’s just the place where you stop the story"?) The real question, however, is this: does the subversion work? Is it effective in service of a compelling story? Yes, and no. You see, the thing is, Kappa Quartet relies quite a bit on a particular reader's metafictional inclinations—maybe a little too much. For myself, however, I was only slightly unnerved by the patchiness of the narrative, and it is a patchy read: characters flit in and out of the book, only to vanish and never return. As one character memorably muses, "Somewhere there is a book, and in it I am a character. A few pages later I am nowhere to be seen." The same could be said of many characters in the book. (Another particularly delightful metafictional aside occurs in p 82, when a character asks another: "You're a novelist right? You must be looking at the three of us like characters in a story." Very clever indeed.)
Leaving aside its heavy reliance on its readers' preexisting predilections and its patchy nature, the book itself is a rather ambitious meditation on a dizzying variety of topics, some of which are as flitting as the characters themselves. Apart from the obvious ones, such as the question of "what it means to be in possession of [a soul], something nobody has seen before" (itself one of the earliest questions to preoccupy Western philosophy), there are side glances and quick gestures at a swathe of topics, including: (1) the nature of death: it is said twice in the novel that "Death is a clock with no hands", alluding—whether consciously or not—to the Wittgensteinian notion that death is not an event in life but is timelessness itself; (2) the reality of dreams; (3) the nature of things—is a completely ruined taxi still a 'taxi'?—or more specifically the question of metaphysical constitution; (4) the idea of 'pure' or 'perfect' silence (John Cage, anyone?); to more socially acute issues such as (5) the visibility and acceptance of sexual minorities.
The novel's concern with sexuality is, of course, evident throughout. At the same time, the issue is handled with a clever deftness, avoiding the wearisome us-versus-them paradigm that has poisoned so much debate. Using the titular kappas as an allegory, the novel quietly gives its readers a glimpse of how 'outsiders' to a constructed normality perceive themselves, whether it be the normality of being 'human' or being 'heterosexual'. At one point in the story, a kappa confesses, "We've been conditioned, I think. To view our true nature as something we ought to suppress ...". This allegory has also been made clear in a rather recent interview with the author. The sophistication of the way the author explores the issue is, quite plainly, admirable.
I know some readers have taken issue with the 'Murakami-ish' vibe, or feel, of the book. There is no point denying it—intentionally or otherwise, Murakami's fingerprints are there: a vanishing wife, jazz bars, cafés, close friends who no longer remain friends (Colourless Tsukuru Tazaki?). But Kappa Quartet is hardly a slavish imitation of Murakami. And there appears to be a reference to the great Kenzaburō Ōe as well: it is hard not to see in Chiba Mari (who appears in person in Chapter 3) the shadows of Kogito Choko of Ōe's Death by Water , which also features a decorated writer suffering from writers' block. How these homages constitute a minus point for the novel—as some might suggest—is, however, beyond me.
The verdict: at the end of the day, the question remains—was this a good story? No easy answer springs forth, especially when one particular chapter ("Kitchen Town") irked me terribly because of , which I found to be rather disorienting. In the end, however, I am tempted to say this: Kappa Quartet is an intricate enigma, but one that could benefit from staying in the oven just a little longer. 2.95 stars.
Indeed, many tensions and 'subplots' (if one can call them that) remain unresolved even after the story has 'ended', calling into question the very idea of an ending; at the same time subverting the classical triptych of beginning-middle-and end. (Was it Frank Herbert who said "There is no real ending. It’s just the place where you stop the story"?) The real question, however, is this: does the subversion work? Is it effective in service of a compelling story? Yes, and no. You see, the thing is, Kappa Quartet relies quite a bit on a particular reader's metafictional inclinations—maybe a little too much. For myself, however, I was only slightly unnerved by the patchiness of the narrative, and it is a patchy read: characters flit in and out of the book, only to vanish and never return. As one character memorably muses, "Somewhere there is a book, and in it I am a character. A few pages later I am nowhere to be seen." The same could be said of many characters in the book. (Another particularly delightful metafictional aside occurs in p 82, when a character asks another: "You're a novelist right? You must be looking at the three of us like characters in a story." Very clever indeed.)
Leaving aside its heavy reliance on its readers' preexisting predilections and its patchy nature, the book itself is a rather ambitious meditation on a dizzying variety of topics, some of which are as flitting as the characters themselves. Apart from the obvious ones, such as the question of "what it means to be in possession of [a soul], something nobody has seen before" (itself one of the earliest questions to preoccupy Western philosophy), there are side glances and quick gestures at a swathe of topics, including: (1) the nature of death: it is said twice in the novel that "Death is a clock with no hands", alluding—whether consciously or not—to the Wittgensteinian notion that death is not an event in life but is timelessness itself; (2) the reality of dreams; (3) the nature of things—is a completely ruined taxi still a 'taxi'?—or more specifically the question of metaphysical constitution; (4) the idea of 'pure' or 'perfect' silence (John Cage, anyone?); to more socially acute issues such as (5) the visibility and acceptance of sexual minorities.
The novel's concern with sexuality is, of course, evident throughout. At the same time, the issue is handled with a clever deftness, avoiding the wearisome us-versus-them paradigm that has poisoned so much debate. Using the titular kappas as an allegory, the novel quietly gives its readers a glimpse of how 'outsiders' to a constructed normality perceive themselves, whether it be the normality of being 'human' or being 'heterosexual'. At one point in the story, a kappa confesses, "We've been conditioned, I think. To view our true nature as something we ought to suppress ...". This allegory has also been made clear in a rather recent interview with the author. The sophistication of the way the author explores the issue is, quite plainly, admirable.
I know some readers have taken issue with the 'Murakami-ish' vibe, or feel, of the book. There is no point denying it—intentionally or otherwise, Murakami's fingerprints are there: a vanishing wife, jazz bars, cafés, close friends who no longer remain friends (Colourless Tsukuru Tazaki?). But Kappa Quartet is hardly a slavish imitation of Murakami. And there appears to be a reference to the great Kenzaburō Ōe as well: it is hard not to see in Chiba Mari (who appears in person in Chapter 3) the shadows of Kogito Choko of Ōe's Death by Water , which also features a decorated writer suffering from writers' block. How these homages constitute a minus point for the novel—as some might suggest—is, however, beyond me.
The verdict: at the end of the day, the question remains—was this a good story? No easy answer springs forth, especially when one particular chapter ("Kitchen Town") irked me terribly because of , which I found to be rather disorienting. In the end, however, I am tempted to say this: Kappa Quartet is an intricate enigma, but one that could benefit from staying in the oven just a little longer. 2.95 stars.
December 30, 2016
Confounded and yet truly in awe of this book. There's a particular strain of work appearing in 2016 that seems to baffle people, be it Sense8, The OA, and this book as well, that seems to go against the grain of everything we've come to believe in and really challenge our expectations + expose our biases of what we ought to expect from a certain sort of medium / media / genre / art. There was an initial resistance, admittedly, that I clung onto quite stupidly before I realised that I simply had to let go and really embrace the journey that the book wanted me to go on. It felt truly, truly revolutionary, and some will surely take a big shit on this book while others will recognise it for its hope in the face of despondence. I kinda wanna start a Reddit about this book but oh well?? I'll just settle for Goodreads for discourse and the somewhat polarised responses are pretty revealing / expected.
September 18, 2020
I'm in love with this book
I wonder why this has low ratings it was such a beautiful connection of eight stories characters flowing across stories weaving their lives into one another
Author did such a great job to make me care about each and every single character
I don't read mystery or thrillers but this was mystery and thriller at some point though mystery isn't solved and I wonder if thriller scenes were actually wonderful scenes for characters
There's happy ending but there's not
Each story gave me something new and took a part of me
I'm going to read it over and over again
Seriously a beautiful book with 5 stars
I wonder why this has low ratings it was such a beautiful connection of eight stories characters flowing across stories weaving their lives into one another
Author did such a great job to make me care about each and every single character
I don't read mystery or thrillers but this was mystery and thriller at some point though mystery isn't solved and I wonder if thriller scenes were actually wonderful scenes for characters
There's happy ending but there's not
Each story gave me something new and took a part of me
I'm going to read it over and over again
Seriously a beautiful book with 5 stars
January 25, 2017
Interesting. Murakami and Japanese book fans should try it.
July 24, 2017
Don't expect to finish this book in one sitting.
Read each story carefully, each narrative with a keen attention to the subtle hints and details brought to light. Take note of the date before each chapter, and form the timeline in your head. Then read and find yourself pausing after every story simply to digest the story you just consumed.
You will find yourself wondering a lot and asking many questions, but just keep reading. Let each story tell its own tale. Your only job is to piece the information together and enjoy it just as Daryl meant it to be.
Read each story carefully, each narrative with a keen attention to the subtle hints and details brought to light. Take note of the date before each chapter, and form the timeline in your head. Then read and find yourself pausing after every story simply to digest the story you just consumed.
You will find yourself wondering a lot and asking many questions, but just keep reading. Let each story tell its own tale. Your only job is to piece the information together and enjoy it just as Daryl meant it to be.
May 18, 2020
i'm very sleepy but this is a very nice book. daryl has a very nice way of interacting and manoeuvring words. the concepts that are explored in the book are very interesting to think about, and the mythology created behind them. i liked it a lot, but upon reflection, i've revised my rating a little for how much i remember it. it could do more, somehow.
December 30, 2016
yo – am not here to rate books but i just wanted to chip in and say that you need to read this. trust me. i dunno why, but yeah. i can attempt a summary but that would be too wild haha. my brain is on fire and my body is in the water.
January 17, 2017
It felt like a dream, a dream that we all want to return to one day. Murakami-lite? Maybe, though at the same time completely unique in its own way. It's a thematic novel that embodies its themes. A masterpiece in its own right.
August 15, 2017
The first Singaporean book I ever read, and from start to finish at that. Confounding but brilliant – can't wait to read the other books on the Fiction Prize list.
September 4, 2017
Very original, reminded me of Haruki Murakami or David Mitchell. A lot of intriguing characters and stories and introduced without any resolution, but that didn't make it less enjoyable.
September 11, 2020
Contrived and confusing. For the most part, characters engage in cryptic dialogues while stationary.
May 4, 2020
“Kappa Quartet” is a very heavily based around dialogues of many types of characters, some human some kappas, beings inspired by Japanese folktales. The book is divided into a number of segments in which you slowly but surely peak little further into who kappas are, how they interact with the world of humans and what soul really means to the characters you encounter while you skip from Singapore to Japan.
Personally I enjoyed the story very much and would recommend it to anyone who enjoys fantasy, mythology and bit of philosophy in the mix. Four keywords I kept connecting to this book and its story, ~soul; ~kappa; ~music and ~mystery.
my full take: https://retrovold.com/2020/05/03/kapp...
Personally I enjoyed the story very much and would recommend it to anyone who enjoys fantasy, mythology and bit of philosophy in the mix. Four keywords I kept connecting to this book and its story, ~soul; ~kappa; ~music and ~mystery.
my full take: https://retrovold.com/2020/05/03/kapp...
December 15, 2024
Kappas exist amongst humans in Kappa Quartet, with depressions on their heads the only giveaways to their identity. Organised into eight chapters briefly connected via common events and characters, themes of alienation and belonging are explored as characters struggle with their identities defined by their wants, species or lack of a soul.
Kappa Quartet is definitely one of the most intriguing books I have ever read. I completed this book in a day, rapidly consuming it as I tried to gather as many pieces of information I could across chapters about the world that this book is set in. Each chapter almost feels like the start of a different short story, with the slight mention of previously introduced characters and events connecting them together. The lack of world-building or outright definition of certain rules regarding kappas or souls is probably the most annoying aspect of the book, though it also works to maintain a level of mystery throughout. We don’t really know what kappas can or can’t do either. Are they fully assimilated into society given how they live amongst humans? Why do certain kappa experience hallucinations, feelings of being lost or become outright savage and live in the wilderness while preying on humans? On top of that, there’s these discussions about what it means to have a soul and why some are born lacking one while those of others’ shine so brightly. There’s talk about the shirikodama as well, something akin to the soul in humans that is found in the anus. Even now, I am reading other reviews to see if I had missed any connections between chapters or themes in the book in the hopes of gaining a better understanding. It’s clear that the ambiguity and mystique of this book have been divisive. It feels a little self-absorbed at times, too caught up in its own self-importance to offer the reader any structure or guidance. It makes me think whether a book that occupies my thoughts so much after completion deserves a higher rating, or precisely because it feels so muddled and unclear at times that I should mark it down.
I am going to attempt to summarise the plot and identify connecting characters or events below, as a reminder for my future self regarding what this book is about. Kappa Quartet is divided into two sections, which are further divided into 8 chapters (4 each) in total. Each chapter follows the perspective of a different character.
The first chapter follows Alvin, a Singaporean man in his thirties in Japan. Alvin recalls how his wife Su Lin would disappear at times without warning and return as if nothing had happened. She explains that she doesn't know when it would happen and that a feeling would simply call her away. She recommends that experience to Alvin, who experiences the same sensation and is unaware how he ended up in an izakaya in Japan. Invited by the enigmatic kappa Mr Five, Alvin is driven to a hot spring inn and meets Kevin there, another Singaporean guest of Mr Five in his twenties. When Alvin returns home, Su Lin has disappeared with their young daughter Michelle, leaving no trace behind.
The second chapter follows Haruhito Daisuke, a "specialist" who seemingly deals with supernatural matters of the soul. Travelling to Singapore for a job, his new client is revealed to be Kevin. Kevin's mother Madam Lim had noticed something off about her son. The original counsellor Ms Neo was unable to help but referred him to Haruhito. Based on their interactions and investigations, the two conclude that Kevin might have been born without a soul. (There's also mentions about how Kevin's birth required a vacuum to extract him, which in hindsight might be a hint about him being a kappa due to a possible depression in his head?) Kevin goes missing briefly and Madam Lim requests the help of Ms Neo and Haruhito to find him. When they do, Kevin has developed gills and ends the chapter by lunging at Haruhito.
The third chapter follows Chiba Mari, a famous Japanese author suffering from writer's block. Her agent Mr Shimao proposes an unconventional solution. He sends various strangers to Chiba at a cafe, where they would tell her interesting stories about their lives to hopefully provide new literary inspiration. One of these is a girl named Akiko. Her roommate is Kawako, the daughter of Haruhito. Haruhito is revealed to have shortly died from organ failure after the attack from Kevin (and it is explained later on in the book to be due complications from losing his soul). Akiko also met Haruhito once, where he said that her bright soul reminded him of another woman. Akiko recalls her relationship with Kawako and Nobuo, Kawako's cousin. The three attended the same university and became close friends. Nobuo eventually confesses to Akiko. This is further complicated when Akiko realises Kawako is in love with her cousin. Nobuo also meets Chiba another day, giving more details about their story. He mentioned how he had told Kawako about his feelings for Akiko, knowing how Kawako was in love with him. He mentioned Kawako is withdrawn now, with only Akiko seeing her these days. Akiko meets Chiba one last time, and mentions the cafe they were in used to be a bookstore, whose owner would provide customers with the exact book they needed. After the interviews, Chiba approaches a middle-aged woman who has always sat outside the cafe whenever Chiba was there. The woman is revealed to be Madam Lim, on a journey in Japan attempting to understand the experiences of her son Kevin. Kevin had visited the old bookstore while he was in Japan, the same bookstore that Mr Five had found him in. The book gifted to Kevin was a small and largely unfilled notebook with 'Mr Alvin' written in it.
The fourth chapter follows Lisa, a waitress at the cafe which Chiba frequented. Her younger brother Junpei is a massive fan of Chiba and accepts Chiba's request to proofread her latest novel. The siblings are also friends with a young kappa named Takao. Takao's distinct traits are that he loves nabe and plays the saxophone. The three venture off to find a new nabe restaurant and discusses Chiba's new manuscript. This chapter mainly serves as an introduction to Takao and how he lost contact with his kappa family from young, along with some history about kappas like how they were warned about humans and tend to be isolated from other kappas as they wish to blend in with humans without reminders of what their kind really are.
The fifth chapter follows a Japanese man Sugimura. Sugimura has a young adopted child Goro, who is a kappa abandoned as a baby. At a concert, Sugimura also meets Mr Five. It is revealed that Goro has been bullied recently for being a kappa. The bully had smashed him into a mirror and admitted that he had no idea why feelings for violence arose when looking at Goro's depression in his head. Sugimura recalls that Goro had a similar change in personality when someone else had pointed out Goro's sizeable depression. Goro is then consistently plagued by visions in the mirror, observing a Blue Room with an unknown individual walking towards him. Desperate for help, Sugimura manages to find Goro's biological uncle, who is Takao. Takao travels over and befriends Goro, mentioning his love for music and how he would like to have his own jazz kappa quartet.
The sixth chapter follows Mr Shimao. Besides being Chiba's agent, he is a man with other jobs. In exchange for Akiko talking with Chiba, he accepts her request for help after Kawako had recently disappeared. Kawako is believed to have left for Aokigahara. Unfortunately, a savage kappa feeding on humans has been spotted there and they wish to find Kawako before the kappa does. Shimao assembles a team with Akiko, Nobuo, Sugimura and Ahab, a Singaporean who travelled to Japan for this job and brings up Junji Ito's The Enigma of Amigara Fault. The group of five camp out in the forest for days, searching parts of it at a time and trying to evade the savage kappa, who has gone past their base camp a few times. Shimao also experiences a terrifying experience similar to The Enigma of Amigara Fault at night when looking for the savage kappa, but ends up in a hallucinatory experience. The chapter ends with Akiko and Nobuo finding Kawako but revealing that the kappa had found Kawako first.
The seventh chapter alternates between the perspective of Zhiwei, a young man in university and Ms Neo from chapter two. Zhiwei enjoys swimming in his condominium pool. He realises a man is always sitting at the poolside reading but never getting into the water. One day, the man is replaced by a woman who strikes up a conversation with Zhiwei. She is revealed to be Su Lin, and she mentions that she now lives with her daughter and Kevin due to similarities between the two. Kevin returns another day and talks to Zhiwei. Kevin mentions he chooses not to get into the pool as he becomes a different person in the water, while Zhiwei mentions that he had a relationship with a relief teacher when he was in secondary school. That relief teacher turns out to be Ms Neo. The two meet by chance as Ms Neo (and Ahab from the earlier chapter) are tasked by Madam Lim to find her son Kevin and she identified Zhiwei as the boy in the pool conversing with Kevin, not fully realising who he was until they met in person. They reconnect and Ms Neo runs into Kevin at the pool with Su Lin and Michelle in the water. Ms Neo realises Michelle too is born without a soul. Kevin mentions some strange things about how a man with a silver car will one day pick them all up, and how Michelle stated to her husband that we can leave this world the same way we came in (another The Enigma of Amigara Fault reference?). Ms Neo then tells Kevin that his mother understands him now after her experiences in Japan and blames her hard labour at Kevin's birth for his lack of a soul.
The final chapter is from Kevin's perspective. He listens to a kappa quartet perform at the cafe that used to be the bookstore he visited and talks to Lisa. He then returns to the hot spring inn from chapter one with Alvin, and Mr Five reveals they are the only repeat guests. Kevin then plans his suicide with Alvin's help, with Alvin wrapping his gills with cling film. Kevin sees the light and then sees nothing and everything at all.
Kappa Quartet leaves so much room for interpretation, possibly too much. We are never sure what the ideas behind certain characters truly are, like Kawako's withdrawal from society or Akiko's "bright soul" and constant claims that she is a monster (did she steal the bright soul of the woman Haruhito had seen?). There's still enough cohesive and comprehensible plot points to keep this book coherent, with the stronger glue tying this entire book together being the surreal atmosphere. I'm torn between deciding whether this book was went too deep into the mystique or just enough for personal interpretations. Still, it is definitely one of the highlights of Singaporean literature and the only one that had pushed me into discussions with others. 4/5
Kappa Quartet is definitely one of the most intriguing books I have ever read. I completed this book in a day, rapidly consuming it as I tried to gather as many pieces of information I could across chapters about the world that this book is set in. Each chapter almost feels like the start of a different short story, with the slight mention of previously introduced characters and events connecting them together. The lack of world-building or outright definition of certain rules regarding kappas or souls is probably the most annoying aspect of the book, though it also works to maintain a level of mystery throughout. We don’t really know what kappas can or can’t do either. Are they fully assimilated into society given how they live amongst humans? Why do certain kappa experience hallucinations, feelings of being lost or become outright savage and live in the wilderness while preying on humans? On top of that, there’s these discussions about what it means to have a soul and why some are born lacking one while those of others’ shine so brightly. There’s talk about the shirikodama as well, something akin to the soul in humans that is found in the anus. Even now, I am reading other reviews to see if I had missed any connections between chapters or themes in the book in the hopes of gaining a better understanding. It’s clear that the ambiguity and mystique of this book have been divisive. It feels a little self-absorbed at times, too caught up in its own self-importance to offer the reader any structure or guidance. It makes me think whether a book that occupies my thoughts so much after completion deserves a higher rating, or precisely because it feels so muddled and unclear at times that I should mark it down.
I am going to attempt to summarise the plot and identify connecting characters or events below, as a reminder for my future self regarding what this book is about. Kappa Quartet is divided into two sections, which are further divided into 8 chapters (4 each) in total. Each chapter follows the perspective of a different character.
The first chapter follows Alvin, a Singaporean man in his thirties in Japan. Alvin recalls how his wife Su Lin would disappear at times without warning and return as if nothing had happened. She explains that she doesn't know when it would happen and that a feeling would simply call her away. She recommends that experience to Alvin, who experiences the same sensation and is unaware how he ended up in an izakaya in Japan. Invited by the enigmatic kappa Mr Five, Alvin is driven to a hot spring inn and meets Kevin there, another Singaporean guest of Mr Five in his twenties. When Alvin returns home, Su Lin has disappeared with their young daughter Michelle, leaving no trace behind.
The second chapter follows Haruhito Daisuke, a "specialist" who seemingly deals with supernatural matters of the soul. Travelling to Singapore for a job, his new client is revealed to be Kevin. Kevin's mother Madam Lim had noticed something off about her son. The original counsellor Ms Neo was unable to help but referred him to Haruhito. Based on their interactions and investigations, the two conclude that Kevin might have been born without a soul. (There's also mentions about how Kevin's birth required a vacuum to extract him, which in hindsight might be a hint about him being a kappa due to a possible depression in his head?) Kevin goes missing briefly and Madam Lim requests the help of Ms Neo and Haruhito to find him. When they do, Kevin has developed gills and ends the chapter by lunging at Haruhito.
The third chapter follows Chiba Mari, a famous Japanese author suffering from writer's block. Her agent Mr Shimao proposes an unconventional solution. He sends various strangers to Chiba at a cafe, where they would tell her interesting stories about their lives to hopefully provide new literary inspiration. One of these is a girl named Akiko. Her roommate is Kawako, the daughter of Haruhito. Haruhito is revealed to have shortly died from organ failure after the attack from Kevin (and it is explained later on in the book to be due complications from losing his soul). Akiko also met Haruhito once, where he said that her bright soul reminded him of another woman. Akiko recalls her relationship with Kawako and Nobuo, Kawako's cousin. The three attended the same university and became close friends. Nobuo eventually confesses to Akiko. This is further complicated when Akiko realises Kawako is in love with her cousin. Nobuo also meets Chiba another day, giving more details about their story. He mentioned how he had told Kawako about his feelings for Akiko, knowing how Kawako was in love with him. He mentioned Kawako is withdrawn now, with only Akiko seeing her these days. Akiko meets Chiba one last time, and mentions the cafe they were in used to be a bookstore, whose owner would provide customers with the exact book they needed. After the interviews, Chiba approaches a middle-aged woman who has always sat outside the cafe whenever Chiba was there. The woman is revealed to be Madam Lim, on a journey in Japan attempting to understand the experiences of her son Kevin. Kevin had visited the old bookstore while he was in Japan, the same bookstore that Mr Five had found him in. The book gifted to Kevin was a small and largely unfilled notebook with 'Mr Alvin' written in it.
The fourth chapter follows Lisa, a waitress at the cafe which Chiba frequented. Her younger brother Junpei is a massive fan of Chiba and accepts Chiba's request to proofread her latest novel. The siblings are also friends with a young kappa named Takao. Takao's distinct traits are that he loves nabe and plays the saxophone. The three venture off to find a new nabe restaurant and discusses Chiba's new manuscript. This chapter mainly serves as an introduction to Takao and how he lost contact with his kappa family from young, along with some history about kappas like how they were warned about humans and tend to be isolated from other kappas as they wish to blend in with humans without reminders of what their kind really are.
The fifth chapter follows a Japanese man Sugimura. Sugimura has a young adopted child Goro, who is a kappa abandoned as a baby. At a concert, Sugimura also meets Mr Five. It is revealed that Goro has been bullied recently for being a kappa. The bully had smashed him into a mirror and admitted that he had no idea why feelings for violence arose when looking at Goro's depression in his head. Sugimura recalls that Goro had a similar change in personality when someone else had pointed out Goro's sizeable depression. Goro is then consistently plagued by visions in the mirror, observing a Blue Room with an unknown individual walking towards him. Desperate for help, Sugimura manages to find Goro's biological uncle, who is Takao. Takao travels over and befriends Goro, mentioning his love for music and how he would like to have his own jazz kappa quartet.
The sixth chapter follows Mr Shimao. Besides being Chiba's agent, he is a man with other jobs. In exchange for Akiko talking with Chiba, he accepts her request for help after Kawako had recently disappeared. Kawako is believed to have left for Aokigahara. Unfortunately, a savage kappa feeding on humans has been spotted there and they wish to find Kawako before the kappa does. Shimao assembles a team with Akiko, Nobuo, Sugimura and Ahab, a Singaporean who travelled to Japan for this job and brings up Junji Ito's The Enigma of Amigara Fault. The group of five camp out in the forest for days, searching parts of it at a time and trying to evade the savage kappa, who has gone past their base camp a few times. Shimao also experiences a terrifying experience similar to The Enigma of Amigara Fault at night when looking for the savage kappa, but ends up in a hallucinatory experience. The chapter ends with Akiko and Nobuo finding Kawako but revealing that the kappa had found Kawako first.
The seventh chapter alternates between the perspective of Zhiwei, a young man in university and Ms Neo from chapter two. Zhiwei enjoys swimming in his condominium pool. He realises a man is always sitting at the poolside reading but never getting into the water. One day, the man is replaced by a woman who strikes up a conversation with Zhiwei. She is revealed to be Su Lin, and she mentions that she now lives with her daughter and Kevin due to similarities between the two. Kevin returns another day and talks to Zhiwei. Kevin mentions he chooses not to get into the pool as he becomes a different person in the water, while Zhiwei mentions that he had a relationship with a relief teacher when he was in secondary school. That relief teacher turns out to be Ms Neo. The two meet by chance as Ms Neo (and Ahab from the earlier chapter) are tasked by Madam Lim to find her son Kevin and she identified Zhiwei as the boy in the pool conversing with Kevin, not fully realising who he was until they met in person. They reconnect and Ms Neo runs into Kevin at the pool with Su Lin and Michelle in the water. Ms Neo realises Michelle too is born without a soul. Kevin mentions some strange things about how a man with a silver car will one day pick them all up, and how Michelle stated to her husband that we can leave this world the same way we came in (another The Enigma of Amigara Fault reference?). Ms Neo then tells Kevin that his mother understands him now after her experiences in Japan and blames her hard labour at Kevin's birth for his lack of a soul.
The final chapter is from Kevin's perspective. He listens to a kappa quartet perform at the cafe that used to be the bookstore he visited and talks to Lisa. He then returns to the hot spring inn from chapter one with Alvin, and Mr Five reveals they are the only repeat guests. Kevin then plans his suicide with Alvin's help, with Alvin wrapping his gills with cling film. Kevin sees the light and then sees nothing and everything at all.
Kappa Quartet leaves so much room for interpretation, possibly too much. We are never sure what the ideas behind certain characters truly are, like Kawako's withdrawal from society or Akiko's "bright soul" and constant claims that she is a monster (did she steal the bright soul of the woman Haruhito had seen?). There's still enough cohesive and comprehensible plot points to keep this book coherent, with the stronger glue tying this entire book together being the surreal atmosphere. I'm torn between deciding whether this book was went too deep into the mystique or just enough for personal interpretations. Still, it is definitely one of the highlights of Singaporean literature and the only one that had pushed me into discussions with others. 4/5
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
December 30, 2018
This is a novel that Singlit needs, a novel that transcends the usual genres Singaporean authors find themselves preoccupied with, to veer out into the realm of the surreal. I'm glad this novel exists. Having said that, I felt a certain sense of hollowness in the story, like the son without a soul. But let us backtrack a little. The pacing and switch of perspectives every chapter reminded me of Confessions by Kanae Minato, which I enjoyed. Confessions was more tightly knit, stemming from the epicenter of a single event that reverberated consequence after consequence. Kappa Quartet, on the other hand, gives readers a series of almost disconnected montages, throwing question after question in the reader's mind and declining to answer most of them. I have to admit that I am the kind of reader who wants more from her characters, and so it was frustrating to have to accept pithy epithets of the numerous characters who offered their perspectives without knowing the whys that drive them and the events that happen. To put it in another way: we know the whats, but never the whys. Because of this, I felt that the characters were papery, echoes of the same person, sharing intimate stories with or asserting out-of-the-blue insights regarding strangers in what is essentially the same detached voice. The concept of a soul keeps being thrown around, but we don't know what it means even by the end of the novel - what is a "bright soul"? What makes a soul brighter than another (since I'm not convinced that Akiko is any different from the other characters)? What is not having a soul? Because everyone seems to have the same kind of desaturated soul to me... What do kappas do with souls, anyway?
I'm looking for more heft to my characters, so this book didn't hit it for me on those points. Nevertheless, I enjoyed the light and easy flow of the prose.
I'm looking for more heft to my characters, so this book didn't hit it for me on those points. Nevertheless, I enjoyed the light and easy flow of the prose.
December 7, 2021
Advance Praise:
“Located somewhere between the shattered filmic worlds of David Lynch and Satoshi Kon's apocalyptic anime, Yam's narrative hypnotises us into questioning our reality in ways that are terrifying, revelatory and fundamentally profound.”
—Cyril Wong, award-winning author of Ten Things My Father Never Taught Me
“Irreal and intricate, Daryl Yam's riveting debut teases the perimeters of what a Singaporean novel can be.”
—Amanda Lee Koe, award-winning author of Ministry of Moral Panic
“Kappa Quartet builds on the promise of Daryl Yam's short stories, and confirms that he is an author to watch. And read!”
—David Peace, Granta Best Young British Novelist and author of Tokyo Year Zero
“Located somewhere between the shattered filmic worlds of David Lynch and Satoshi Kon's apocalyptic anime, Yam's narrative hypnotises us into questioning our reality in ways that are terrifying, revelatory and fundamentally profound.”
—Cyril Wong, award-winning author of Ten Things My Father Never Taught Me
“Irreal and intricate, Daryl Yam's riveting debut teases the perimeters of what a Singaporean novel can be.”
—Amanda Lee Koe, award-winning author of Ministry of Moral Panic
“Kappa Quartet builds on the promise of Daryl Yam's short stories, and confirms that he is an author to watch. And read!”
—David Peace, Granta Best Young British Novelist and author of Tokyo Year Zero
June 20, 2020
Kappa Quartet is a rather peculiar and profound novel that is hard to describe. It basically centres around a group of characters whose lives are intertwined in ways that they might not even be aware of. These characters include humans and kappas—the “river demons of Japanese folklore”.
In his holiday in Tokyo, Kevin Lim, a young Singaporean man without a soul, meets one of these kappas and this chance encounter leads to reverberations within the complex web of characters who surround him. Weird things happen, souls are lost, and they all seem to be related to the kappas. While reading, I even had to research a little on kappas in Japanese folklore before I was able to attempt to understand the story.
Surreal, supernatural and dreamy, this is one novel that I believe fans of Haruki Murakami might enjoy.
4/5
In his holiday in Tokyo, Kevin Lim, a young Singaporean man without a soul, meets one of these kappas and this chance encounter leads to reverberations within the complex web of characters who surround him. Weird things happen, souls are lost, and they all seem to be related to the kappas. While reading, I even had to research a little on kappas in Japanese folklore before I was able to attempt to understand the story.
Surreal, supernatural and dreamy, this is one novel that I believe fans of Haruki Murakami might enjoy.
4/5
December 12, 2016
Swept up in the captivating mood of Yam's writing I finished this book in no time at all. I would absolutely reccomend this novel.
Jumping through the minds of each new character, with every addition making the story disconcerting clearer created an odd feeling. It felt as if these new characters were intimately connecting me with the narrative, by sharing their 'souls' I began to loose a sense of my own definitive place as a reader. These characters felt so intrinsically human, it was impossible not to be enthralled with this story.
Thank you to Yam for this great work! I can't wait to read more works from this gifted writer.
Jumping through the minds of each new character, with every addition making the story disconcerting clearer created an odd feeling. It felt as if these new characters were intimately connecting me with the narrative, by sharing their 'souls' I began to loose a sense of my own definitive place as a reader. These characters felt so intrinsically human, it was impossible not to be enthralled with this story.
Thank you to Yam for this great work! I can't wait to read more works from this gifted writer.
August 4, 2019
“The seed of a desire,” I replied. “Do you know what a shirikodama is, Ms Neo?”
“I think so,” she said.
“It is said to contain the essence of one’s soul. It is also said to resemble a small bead, nestled deep in one’s anus. This,” I stressed to her, “is a particular belief held amongst a subset of Japanese people: that the anus is the centre of the soul.”
-p51
And yet her face had a way of catching the light, in a way I couldn’t explain. At that moment I realised that there are people out there who look like love, and then there are others for which love looks just like them.
-p228
“I think so,” she said.
“It is said to contain the essence of one’s soul. It is also said to resemble a small bead, nestled deep in one’s anus. This,” I stressed to her, “is a particular belief held amongst a subset of Japanese people: that the anus is the centre of the soul.”
-p51
And yet her face had a way of catching the light, in a way I couldn’t explain. At that moment I realised that there are people out there who look like love, and then there are others for which love looks just like them.
-p228
November 29, 2020
honestly,,,,,,, was seriously contemplating a 5 star review for this one for the sole reason of THE LAYERS!!!!!! THE WRITING!!!!!! THE WONG-KAR-WAI-ESQUE SERENDIPITY DONE RIGHT!!!!!! but i settled for a four star bc this book has given me much to ponder about and it wouldn't feel right to give it 5 stars when i have not made up my mind entirely about what this book means to me,,,,,, so. will update.
update: okay, i've made up my mind. this was everything i could have wanted in a book. by no means perfect but this book is *whole* to me and so 5 stars~
update: okay, i've made up my mind. this was everything i could have wanted in a book. by no means perfect but this book is *whole* to me and so 5 stars~
June 27, 2019
goodness, this book took me for a ride. prepare to be confused for about 90% of it. strongly recommend reading it in one shot and then re-reading it. it’s a very meticulously planned and woven storyline but that’s almost all i can tell you. i remember at one point being very frightened, and i thought that was amazing and wonderful
December 30, 2016
Finished it with a lot of ???? -
I guess my rating will not be valid. Not my cup of book. I am totally lost in the story. I don't know what happened in the story. I wont say it is a bad book but just isn't my cup of tea.
I guess my rating will not be valid. Not my cup of book. I am totally lost in the story. I don't know what happened in the story. I wont say it is a bad book but just isn't my cup of tea.
February 9, 2017
I gave myself a week after finishing this to re-read it again. My brain lit up. I hardly ever annotate my books, but if you looked at it you would think I was mad.
October 30, 2017
A troll shall be fought by a kappa.
February 22, 2018
“Wow,” I said. “It’s a good feeling, isn’t it? Finishing a book.”
“Best feeling ever,” Ahab said. He kept his eyes locked forward. “You know, once I was on the train, and I saw someone finish a book right in front of my eyes. The look on the girl’s face was priceless.”
“That’s nice,” I said. I looked out of the window. “Would you recommend the book to me?”
“Sure, yeah,” said Ahab. “I’d recommend it to anybody.”
(This is not one of Yam's stronger quotes, just entertaining to me because I am currently that girl. I mean, if the look on the girl's face was one of satisfaction but also mild bewilderment, and if the girl then immediately took out a notebook to write this review.)
I can't quite tell you what Kappa Quartet is about but I... liked it...? Maybe? For at least the first half of the book or so I would've firmly placed the emphasis on the latter part of that statement, but now that I've finished it I find myself a bit disgruntled that it doesn't feel altogether, well, finished.
The surrealism of this book isn't my usual cup of tea, but I like Yam's writing style and found it easy to follow the flow of the narrative even if I wasn't ever fully on top of what was going on—a deliberate choice, as far as I can tell. I loved how the earlier chapters especially sketched an imaginative landscape of characters; each one felt like they held the seeds for much deeper, richer stories.
Where it went awry for me was that it felt like the book overindulged in ambiguity, preferring to throw out more and more new ideas and events instead of tying up the questions it plants liberally in the reader's mind. Again I believe this to be purposefully done, but I think the book could have afforded more depth without compromising too much of its more ethereal aspirations. The connections among the characters are arbitrary yet satisfyingly neat—there's a huge cast of characters but just enough iterative text so that you don't lose track of who's who (and to whom), though I imagine I would feel very differently had I taken more than a couple of days to get through this—but ultimately feel devoid of much meaning or context. I found myself constantly asking why? so what? and then what? and the answer might really just be nothing! but I'm not the kind of reader who can fully appreciate that.
Still, I found this book inventive and original, and I really liked how it made familiar Singaporean scenes seem unsettling and new. (I'm nowhere near sufficiently familiar with Japan/ese culture and places to comment on how Yam represented these, which is probably a big gap given that its central subject is derived from Japanese folklore.) And yea, I would recommend it, but perhaps not quite to anybody.
June 13, 2021
This was an odd little book that made me take a step back and wonder to myself, "What have I just read?" It's creepy, mysterious, and goes deep into a human's way of life.
My first impression of this book when I started, was that it reads a lot like a Japanese book (a translated one, if you will). There's just something distinct about it. Although I haven't read much of Japanese novels before, I did touch on a Murakami book, and his style has stuck with me since. But while Murakami's book could not hold my attention, Kappa Quartet did. I would say the writing style is befitting of the setting in this book — and it does include the kappa, a Japanese demon found in folklore.
There are many 'main' characters here. Each of them has their own chapter, written in the first-person perspective. It's like a mesh of companion novels in one, when I think about it, only that each novel is one chapter short. And their common denominator is a man named Kevin, whose chanced encounter with one person after another causes a rippling effect. The one thing I dislike about this format is when I'm on the chapter of an unimpressionable character. There are so many names for me to remember, to recall, and somehow each of them are important even though my mind didn't fully agree in earlier chapters.
The thing I do like, however, is the feeling I get when I read. It's like there is something more within each chapter. The creepiness set in when I got to the part of a woman dancing all of a sudden when her father was on the phone. I believe that there are many messages behind a lot of things that Daryl has included in his book, but unfortunately, there are many that I don't think I understood fully. Still, I took it as it is, and enjoyed the story, or more like the individual experience that each character faces. It's interesting how just one person can affect so many people's lives, even if indirectly. The character that affected me the most is Kawako, who changed after her father's death, and decided to disappear on her own.
When reading this book, I would suggest that the reader drink in every chapter slowly and see how everything links together. I strongly recommend it to anyone who likes a strange, but not horrifying, read. I would probably remember this book for a long while, seeing as how I don't often read books by a local author. And it was so good!
My first impression of this book when I started, was that it reads a lot like a Japanese book (a translated one, if you will). There's just something distinct about it. Although I haven't read much of Japanese novels before, I did touch on a Murakami book, and his style has stuck with me since. But while Murakami's book could not hold my attention, Kappa Quartet did. I would say the writing style is befitting of the setting in this book — and it does include the kappa, a Japanese demon found in folklore.
There are many 'main' characters here. Each of them has their own chapter, written in the first-person perspective. It's like a mesh of companion novels in one, when I think about it, only that each novel is one chapter short. And their common denominator is a man named Kevin, whose chanced encounter with one person after another causes a rippling effect. The one thing I dislike about this format is when I'm on the chapter of an unimpressionable character. There are so many names for me to remember, to recall, and somehow each of them are important even though my mind didn't fully agree in earlier chapters.
The thing I do like, however, is the feeling I get when I read. It's like there is something more within each chapter. The creepiness set in when I got to the part of a woman dancing all of a sudden when her father was on the phone. I believe that there are many messages behind a lot of things that Daryl has included in his book, but unfortunately, there are many that I don't think I understood fully. Still, I took it as it is, and enjoyed the story, or more like the individual experience that each character faces. It's interesting how just one person can affect so many people's lives, even if indirectly. The character that affected me the most is Kawako, who changed after her father's death, and decided to disappear on her own.
When reading this book, I would suggest that the reader drink in every chapter slowly and see how everything links together. I strongly recommend it to anyone who likes a strange, but not horrifying, read. I would probably remember this book for a long while, seeing as how I don't often read books by a local author. And it was so good!
July 27, 2018
Loved how uneasy and strange it made me feel. The sense of strangeness ebbs and flows masterfully, and is ratcheted up in sharp moments. I think technically speaking, this is one of the best pieces of Singaporean writing I've come across in awhile (I don't read much of this geographical genre, admittedly). Narratively (plot-ly?) sophisticated, perhaps a bit too much so - it became a little difficult to figure out who was where or which near the end. I'm not sure how or what the ending means, which is quite a pity because I felt like the story, all these intertwined threads, were building up to so much; Quartet's flavour was perhaps a bit too subtle for me in this case, but overall I enjoyed the weird ride it took me on.
Tangentially: I kind of wished there'd be a spinoff here on Ahab and Ms Neo's other supernatural adventures, there's so much understated, unassuming potential to be mined here... Also relieved this didn't turn into (another) meander into Gay Oppression in Statist Singapore, as Singaporean writing sometimes tends to indulge in...
Tangentially: I kind of wished there'd be a spinoff here on Ahab and Ms Neo's other supernatural adventures, there's so much understated, unassuming potential to be mined here... Also relieved this didn't turn into (another) meander into Gay Oppression in Statist Singapore, as Singaporean writing sometimes tends to indulge in...
January 6, 2020
My husband recommended this book to me. He said it was weird, he wasn't sure of the ending, and that he thought I would like it. So after much nagging (partially because I was in the middle of a series or two) I went to read this book.
This book is a bit weird. It's totally different to what I was expecting, and being set in Japan with Japanese cultural references, I read the first chapter or so, not really understanding what was going on, but wanting to.
But not having read the blurb, as I was just reading it on my Kindle, I didn't realise any of this. So, after the start of the book, I finally did a bit of research into Kappas, and that did help. I don't know the veracity of the Wiki page on Kappas, but it certainly was enough to make me understand more what was going on, as well as making links that I hadn't noticed (eg one of the characters is called Kawatora).
The book is very well written, and it holds your interest. The chapters are separate from each other, and it's only in the latter half of the book, that there is some cross-over, so in addition to the different cultural references, the book does seem to jump about a bit, sometimes in a dream-like way.
That said, it is very strange. I tend to like books which either have a happy ending, or all the threads get tied up at the end. That doesn't happen here, with the ending neither being particularly happy (though it's what the protagonist wants) and it being sudden, so there are many unanswered questions. When I went back to my husband to ask him why he thought I would like it, he admitted that he didn't think I would, but wanted me to read it so I could explain it to him!
Overall, I think I enjoyed the book, but I don't know. I don't feel like I have wasted my time reading it (so is not a bad book), and it will stick with me because of its strangeness.
This book is a bit weird. It's totally different to what I was expecting, and being set in Japan with Japanese cultural references, I read the first chapter or so, not really understanding what was going on, but wanting to.
But not having read the blurb, as I was just reading it on my Kindle, I didn't realise any of this. So, after the start of the book, I finally did a bit of research into Kappas, and that did help. I don't know the veracity of the Wiki page on Kappas, but it certainly was enough to make me understand more what was going on, as well as making links that I hadn't noticed (eg one of the characters is called Kawatora).
The book is very well written, and it holds your interest. The chapters are separate from each other, and it's only in the latter half of the book, that there is some cross-over, so in addition to the different cultural references, the book does seem to jump about a bit, sometimes in a dream-like way.
That said, it is very strange. I tend to like books which either have a happy ending, or all the threads get tied up at the end. That doesn't happen here, with the ending neither being particularly happy (though it's what the protagonist wants) and it being sudden, so there are many unanswered questions. When I went back to my husband to ask him why he thought I would like it, he admitted that he didn't think I would, but wanted me to read it so I could explain it to him!
Overall, I think I enjoyed the book, but I don't know. I don't feel like I have wasted my time reading it (so is not a bad book), and it will stick with me because of its strangeness.
March 23, 2021
Finishing this one took some perseverance, but overall I think it's worth the effort.
This is definitely a work of a talented young writer, the fabulist genre that Yam works in is not easy to get right; and I struggeld at points to understand what's the contract with the reader -- am I supposed to connect the dots and unlock a mystery, or just go with the flow and not try to understand? This novel does has a strong mark of Murakami, with its dreamlike quality and bending of reality; but its short story chapter breaks doesn't do as good of a job plunging the reader into a consistent worldview (which I've found takes time and it's something I've grown to like in Murakami novels).
As a Singaporean, I appreciated the familiarity of settings and appreciated the freshness in this novel that goes beyond the usual local tropes. There are definitely engaging moments, and strong writing, but I think the final polish and voice isn't fully there.
This is definitely a work of a talented young writer, the fabulist genre that Yam works in is not easy to get right; and I struggeld at points to understand what's the contract with the reader -- am I supposed to connect the dots and unlock a mystery, or just go with the flow and not try to understand? This novel does has a strong mark of Murakami, with its dreamlike quality and bending of reality; but its short story chapter breaks doesn't do as good of a job plunging the reader into a consistent worldview (which I've found takes time and it's something I've grown to like in Murakami novels).
As a Singaporean, I appreciated the familiarity of settings and appreciated the freshness in this novel that goes beyond the usual local tropes. There are definitely engaging moments, and strong writing, but I think the final polish and voice isn't fully there.
September 16, 2022
I'll be frank, up till the end I don't think I fully understood the ending. Normally, I hate ambiguity and unanswered questions in books. However, I found it to be quite endearing in the case of Kappa Quartet. The plot consisted of 7 (8?) thematically linked stories, taking place in Japan, sometimes Singapore, about characters connected by their traumatic pasts, everyday lives, and quests for solace, love and understanding.
I liked the Japanese folklore elements; you're introduced to a modern Japan where kappas co-exist in the same society as humans but are not exactly welcomed. There're quite a lot of characters, but all were surprisingly well fleshed out. Yam's prose was reminiscent of Murakami's; simple yet hypnotising. The writing had that strange and relentless quality of a dream, while being occasionally chilling in its realism. I could definitely myself rereading this book in the future.
I liked the Japanese folklore elements; you're introduced to a modern Japan where kappas co-exist in the same society as humans but are not exactly welcomed. There're quite a lot of characters, but all were surprisingly well fleshed out. Yam's prose was reminiscent of Murakami's; simple yet hypnotising. The writing had that strange and relentless quality of a dream, while being occasionally chilling in its realism. I could definitely myself rereading this book in the future.
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