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Red Circle Minis #3
Tokyo Performance
Tokyo Performance is set in the pre-internet age, brilliantly captures the zeitgeist of Japan at the time. In this riveting, entertaining and wholly poignant tale, a Japanese celebrity receives a phone call while live on air that will change his life forever.
Nori, a high profile Tokyo-based celebrity chef with his own weekly television show, is famous and beloved and he knows it - but he's about to put in his strangest performance.
Award-winning writer, playwright and film director, Roger Pulvers, brings his love and deep fascination for Japanese culture to Tokyo Performance, a funny and, at times, tragic story, which explores the cost of fame.
Red Circle Original, Short and Compelling Reads
Tokyo Performance is part of Red Circle Minis, a series of short captivating books by Japan's finest contemporary writers that brings the narratives and voices of Japan together as never before. Each book is a first edition written specifically for the series and is being published in English first.
Nori, a high profile Tokyo-based celebrity chef with his own weekly television show, is famous and beloved and he knows it - but he's about to put in his strangest performance.
Award-winning writer, playwright and film director, Roger Pulvers, brings his love and deep fascination for Japanese culture to Tokyo Performance, a funny and, at times, tragic story, which explores the cost of fame.
Red Circle Original, Short and Compelling Reads
Tokyo Performance is part of Red Circle Minis, a series of short captivating books by Japan's finest contemporary writers that brings the narratives and voices of Japan together as never before. Each book is a first edition written specifically for the series and is being published in English first.
24 pages, Kindle Edition
Published November 23, 2018
141 people want to read
About the author
Roger Pulvers
61 books11 followersRoger Pulvers OAM (born 4 May 1944) is an Australian playwright, theatre director and translator. He has published more than 45 books in English and Japanese, from novels to essays, plays, poetry and translations. He has written prolifically for the stage and has seen his plays produced at major theatres in Japan, Australia and in the U.S.
Pulvers has also directed widely in Australia and Japan, both in English and Japanese. He has written original scripts for radio documentaries and dramas that have been produced by ABC (Australia), as well as television scripts for NHK (Japan) and screenplays for feature films. - Wikipedia bio
Pulvers has also directed widely in Australia and Japan, both in English and Japanese. He has written original scripts for radio documentaries and dramas that have been produced by ABC (Australia), as well as television scripts for NHK (Japan) and screenplays for feature films. - Wikipedia bio
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Displaying 1 - 18 of 18 reviews
December 17, 2020
Aberration
Norimasa Inomata, ‘Nori’, was the first celebrity chef in Japan hosting his own TV show and adored for decades by many. A TV personality that mixed cooking with stories of romance and life, to inform, entertain and captivate his audience. Tokyo Performance is the short story of a turbulent episode of Nori’s show that sees his on-air breakdown as he rambles about his estrangement from his children and tries to explain the decisions he made.
The story is told from the perspective of his assistant, Kazuko Sato, someone who wished to stay in the background.
I would recommend this book as a good short story and for those that enjoy Japanese literature, this creates significant thought beyond the final page. I would like to thank Richard Nathan from Red Circle Authors for providing me with a free copy in return for an honest review.
Norimasa Inomata, ‘Nori’, was the first celebrity chef in Japan hosting his own TV show and adored for decades by many. A TV personality that mixed cooking with stories of romance and life, to inform, entertain and captivate his audience. Tokyo Performance is the short story of a turbulent episode of Nori’s show that sees his on-air breakdown as he rambles about his estrangement from his children and tries to explain the decisions he made.
The story is told from the perspective of his assistant, Kazuko Sato, someone who wished to stay in the background.
“This made me the yin to Nori’s yang. If there was anything in this world he hated, it was safety and comfort.”The dialogue, as Nori chats to his TV audience, portrays a man on the edge, as regrets come to mind and he voices these aloud to the onlooking public. The story shocks with the discomfort of watching an emotional breakdown and exposure to ridicule, reputational damage and perhaps worst, pity.
I would recommend this book as a good short story and for those that enjoy Japanese literature, this creates significant thought beyond the final page. I would like to thank Richard Nathan from Red Circle Authors for providing me with a free copy in return for an honest review.
November 26, 2019
I'm not going to put a full review up on my blog for this little book, which is too short to even be called a novella. This is a lovely character study story about a very troubled Japanese chef. Gently written and filled with humor, it is also quite sad. I don't recall which blog I found reference to these "Red Circle Mini" books, but thanks to whomever it was! Delightful!
December 3, 2018
Written almost entirely as a monologue, 'Tokyo Performance' is a wry look at the desire for and cost of fame and fortune. Nori, the celebrity chef, is recognisable in so many ways - a narcissist and a man's whose vanity will be the altar at which the rest of his world is sacrificed. At times funny and at times tragic, Nori's demise is both a lesson and a warning.
April 24, 2019
A clever and engaging short story!
September 22, 2021
This is a short book.
It almost entirely takes place during a televised cooking show, with a couple of pages for intro and conclusion either end of the story.
It's hard to review without spoiling the plot, so I'll try and sum it up briefly here first and if you're not worried about spoilers, you can read on.
This is a short book about success, family and fame. It's got a gorgeous amount of Japanese cooking included, and descriptions to make your mouth water. It shows clearly that when we let work and success come before family and the people we love, we pay a higher price than our salary can cover. For this reason, it's a short book tinged with sadness, yet it also makes up for it with humour and, of course, the food.
Beware, if you read beyond this point there will be spoiler galore.
The cooking show entirely focuses on heart-throb Nori, who's an aging TV star who likes to refer to himself as "your kitchen man" as he slices vegetables and smiles. He's incredibly vain and it shows.
During the show, he chats away, naturally revealing the sadder parts of his life to appeal more likeable to his audience (mostly made up of middle-aged ladies who gush over him). He talks casually about his ex-wife and his children, who he no longer has a relationship with because of his career. He appeals to his ex-wife to call him, live on the show.
Then she actually does.
Oh boy, it is not the phone call he's expecting. And the lessons he learns from that call change his entire life.
I'll stop there. It's a very short book, but it's definitely enjoyable. I read it in one evening but I feel like I'll be going back to this one to check the food and recipes referred to.
It almost entirely takes place during a televised cooking show, with a couple of pages for intro and conclusion either end of the story.
It's hard to review without spoiling the plot, so I'll try and sum it up briefly here first and if you're not worried about spoilers, you can read on.
This is a short book about success, family and fame. It's got a gorgeous amount of Japanese cooking included, and descriptions to make your mouth water. It shows clearly that when we let work and success come before family and the people we love, we pay a higher price than our salary can cover. For this reason, it's a short book tinged with sadness, yet it also makes up for it with humour and, of course, the food.
Beware, if you read beyond this point there will be spoiler galore.
The cooking show entirely focuses on heart-throb Nori, who's an aging TV star who likes to refer to himself as "your kitchen man" as he slices vegetables and smiles. He's incredibly vain and it shows.
During the show, he chats away, naturally revealing the sadder parts of his life to appeal more likeable to his audience (mostly made up of middle-aged ladies who gush over him). He talks casually about his ex-wife and his children, who he no longer has a relationship with because of his career. He appeals to his ex-wife to call him, live on the show.
Then she actually does.
Oh boy, it is not the phone call he's expecting. And the lessons he learns from that call change his entire life.
I'll stop there. It's a very short book, but it's definitely enjoyable. I read it in one evening but I feel like I'll be going back to this one to check the food and recipes referred to.
January 14, 2021
3.5 Stars
December 2, 2019
Whimsical and fun short. Full Review Soon:
https://ianjoshyateswriting.blogspot....
https://ianjoshyateswriting.blogspot....
November 15, 2025
Reading Roger Pulvers’ Tokyo Performance felt, to me, less like turning the pages of a novella and more like entering a quiet room inside myself. I picked up the book with a translator’s curiosity — expecting a slim, atmospheric portrait of urban Japan that I might carry across into Bengali.
What I found instead was something far more elusive and far more affecting: a story that behaves like a performance piece made of breath, memory, and silence. It is the kind of narrative that stays with you not because it is loud, but because it knows exactly how to whisper.
Pulvers writes Tokyo in a way that immediately resonated with my own sense of cities — not as skylines or traffic signals, but as emotional ecosystems. His Tokyo is not defined by its pace but by its inner quiet, its private tremors, and its fragile, unspoken longings.
Translating such a city is always difficult; experiencing it through Pulvers was unexpectedly intimate. His understanding of urban loneliness — its protective anonymity and its quiet ache — felt uncannily familiar.
At the heart of this soft, trembling landscape stands Mr. Takahashi, an aging performer whose magic tricks have grown outdated but whose humanity has not. As someone who has always gravitated toward stories of forgotten artists, his presence touched me in ways I didn’t anticipate. He reminded me of performers and writers I’ve known personally — people who once lit up small stages or narrow lanes with their craft, and who now carry their brilliance like a fading ember cupped in their palms.
What moved me most was Pulvers’ gentleness. He approaches Takahashi not as a relic but as a human being shaped by longing, dignity, and the slow erosion of recognition. As a reader — and as a translator — I found myself pausing often, struck by the quiet compassion running through the prose. Pulvers doesn’t sensationalise the elderly performer’s solitude. Instead, he listens. He lets the silences speak. And those silences feel painfully honest.
There is a moment in the novella where Takahashi walks through a crowd, aware of every heartbeat around him and yet aware that not one belongs to him. That scene stayed with me. It carried the same emotional tension that I have seen in countless megacities — Kolkata, Mumbai, Tokyo — places where people live inches apart but worlds away from each other.
Beneath the narrative lies a deeper idea that resonated personally: performance as survival. Takahashi’s small tricks, his practised gestures, his fragile humour — all of them reminded me of the tiny rituals we rely on to hold ourselves together. In this, Pulvers’ writing echoes the stillness of Kawabata and the moral tremors of Ishiguro. But his voice remains distinctly his own — clear, unadorned, and profoundly empathetic.
What ultimately lingered for me was Pulvers’ understanding of compassion. Not grand acts of generosity, but fleeting recognitions — two lonely souls brushing past each other long enough to acknowledge, silently, that they are still alive. These transient sparks feel more real than any elaborate plot could.
They are the small, luminous moments that cities like Tokyo and Kolkata specialise in hiding.
As I read the final pages, I realised why Tokyo Performance affected me so deeply: it speaks to the quiet dignity of continuing to perform—to live, to hope, to reach out — long after the applause has faded. It reminded me that cities are built not merely of buildings but of private vulnerabilities, invisible tensions, and stubborn, persistent tenderness.
Some books make declarations. This one leaves an afterglow.
And as I prepare to translate it for readers who may never have walked Tokyo’s streets, I carry with me that afterimage — the glow of a small, compassionate story that honours the invisible performances unfolding around us every day.
What I found instead was something far more elusive and far more affecting: a story that behaves like a performance piece made of breath, memory, and silence. It is the kind of narrative that stays with you not because it is loud, but because it knows exactly how to whisper.
Pulvers writes Tokyo in a way that immediately resonated with my own sense of cities — not as skylines or traffic signals, but as emotional ecosystems. His Tokyo is not defined by its pace but by its inner quiet, its private tremors, and its fragile, unspoken longings.
Translating such a city is always difficult; experiencing it through Pulvers was unexpectedly intimate. His understanding of urban loneliness — its protective anonymity and its quiet ache — felt uncannily familiar.
At the heart of this soft, trembling landscape stands Mr. Takahashi, an aging performer whose magic tricks have grown outdated but whose humanity has not. As someone who has always gravitated toward stories of forgotten artists, his presence touched me in ways I didn’t anticipate. He reminded me of performers and writers I’ve known personally — people who once lit up small stages or narrow lanes with their craft, and who now carry their brilliance like a fading ember cupped in their palms.
What moved me most was Pulvers’ gentleness. He approaches Takahashi not as a relic but as a human being shaped by longing, dignity, and the slow erosion of recognition. As a reader — and as a translator — I found myself pausing often, struck by the quiet compassion running through the prose. Pulvers doesn’t sensationalise the elderly performer’s solitude. Instead, he listens. He lets the silences speak. And those silences feel painfully honest.
There is a moment in the novella where Takahashi walks through a crowd, aware of every heartbeat around him and yet aware that not one belongs to him. That scene stayed with me. It carried the same emotional tension that I have seen in countless megacities — Kolkata, Mumbai, Tokyo — places where people live inches apart but worlds away from each other.
Beneath the narrative lies a deeper idea that resonated personally: performance as survival. Takahashi’s small tricks, his practised gestures, his fragile humour — all of them reminded me of the tiny rituals we rely on to hold ourselves together. In this, Pulvers’ writing echoes the stillness of Kawabata and the moral tremors of Ishiguro. But his voice remains distinctly his own — clear, unadorned, and profoundly empathetic.
What ultimately lingered for me was Pulvers’ understanding of compassion. Not grand acts of generosity, but fleeting recognitions — two lonely souls brushing past each other long enough to acknowledge, silently, that they are still alive. These transient sparks feel more real than any elaborate plot could.
They are the small, luminous moments that cities like Tokyo and Kolkata specialise in hiding.
As I read the final pages, I realised why Tokyo Performance affected me so deeply: it speaks to the quiet dignity of continuing to perform—to live, to hope, to reach out — long after the applause has faded. It reminded me that cities are built not merely of buildings but of private vulnerabilities, invisible tensions, and stubborn, persistent tenderness.
Some books make declarations. This one leaves an afterglow.
And as I prepare to translate it for readers who may never have walked Tokyo’s streets, I carry with me that afterimage — the glow of a small, compassionate story that honours the invisible performances unfolding around us every day.
January 29, 2020
Not an objectionable read by any stretch, but I didn't take to this short story. This set of books is supposed to showcase modern Japanese literature, I thought - so why give us a piece that could have been set anywhere and any when? There was no Japanese character in this implausible monologue, concerning a daytime TV heartthrob chef confessing over the stove top that he misses his children and is bitter about his wife. The fact this is still allowed to go out live and uninterrupted is not really believable.
April 12, 2020
A celebrity chef receives a call from his ex-wife while doing a live cooking demonstration. Against anyone’s better judgment, he takes the call and carries on a conversation revealing his shortcomings as a husband and father… while still giving instructions on how to boil the scallops. I feel for his producer. Cut to commercial, man!
January 4, 2019
This is an interesting and at times poignant story of the absurdities of a celebrity lifestyle. A.B. Pearl paints a convincing and realistic background picture of life in Tokyo while telling a story that will entertain, amuse and move you at the same time. Highly recommended!
November 8, 2019
TV-kokki kokkailee suorassa lähetyksessä liki eroottisin sanankääntein ja pätee rankalla elämällään. Sitten tulee puhelu, joka muuttaa kaiken. Ihan ok, nothing special.
August 27, 2024
A very uninteresting short story about a TV chef breaking down on a live programme while talking about his ex-wife and estranged children...yawn.
August 27, 2020
For my review see my blog post here: https://hoodcp.wordpress.com/2020/08/...
November 28, 2018
This is the bizarre tale of Nori, a celebrity TV chef who likes the sound of his own voice, narrated by his TV producer. While live on TV, Nori receives a phone call that will change his life for ever.
Pulvers paints a vivid picture of pre-internet Tokyo and the self-absorbed life of a celebrity chef. Driven primarily by convincing dialogue there is an authenticity and immediacy to this story, which will make you laugh and cry at the same time.
Alex Pearl is author of 'Sleeping with the Blackbirds'
Pulvers paints a vivid picture of pre-internet Tokyo and the self-absorbed life of a celebrity chef. Driven primarily by convincing dialogue there is an authenticity and immediacy to this story, which will make you laugh and cry at the same time.
Alex Pearl is author of 'Sleeping with the Blackbirds'
November 27, 2018
I liked the structure of it, but the story/characters didn't really grab me.
April 5, 2019
Thoroughly entertaining story about a man trying to keep a grip on his life in front of his TV audience. Amusing and melancholy at the same time.
Displaying 1 - 18 of 18 reviews