What do you think?
生きてるだけで、愛。 [Ikiteru dake de, ai]
あんたと別れてもいいけど、あたしはさ、あたしと別れられないんだよね、一生。母譲りの躁鬱をもてあます寧子と寡黙な津奈木。ほとばしる言葉で描かれた恋愛小説の新しいカタチ。
144 pages, Hardcover
First published July 28, 2006
About the author
Yukiko Motoya
24 books254 followersYukiko Motoya (本谷 有希子) is a seasoned Japanese author, playwright, voice actress and theatre director. She has won prestigious awards in most of those fields including the Kenzaburo Oe Prize, Mishima Yukio Prize, and the Akutagawa Prize.
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Displaying 1 - 10 of 10 reviews
September 17, 2026
They say once bitten, twice shy, so after my last Motoya disaster, I should be running in the opposite direction. But apparently, I am a glutton for punishment because something about this book is calling my name like a siren song. Against expectation, this does turn out more enjoyable than anticipated.
Compared to Motoya's previous work, Love at Least does not have the same kind of strangeness that leaves you wondering what exactly you just read. Where her earlier collection of short stories felt like trying to solve a puzzle with missing pieces, this one feel much more grounded and surprisingly relatable, even.
At the center of the story is Yasuko Itagaki, a 25-year-old unemployed woman struggling with depression and hypersomnia. She sleeps for more than ten hours a day, spending most of her waking hours in Tsunaki’s apartment, where her days seem to blur together. Meanwhile, Tsunaki, her live-in boyfriend, is a man in his thirties and almost her complete opposite: apathetic, quiet, and seemingly committed to making as little disturbance in his life as possible.
Now, the real fun of Motoya's writing is getting trapped inside Yasuko's head. Her thoughts are messy, impulsive, contradictory and sometimes exhausting. There is this constant feeling of wanting to be understood while simultaneously making it incredibly difficult for anyone to understand.
That could easily make for a very heavy reading experience, but Motoya's writing has this wonderfully strange sense of humor. Yasuko can be incredibly intense, yet the way she describes the most ordinary annoyances made me laugh, nod along, or think that it was relatable. Motoya is particularly good at taking tiny, insignificant moments and giving them an unreasonable amount of emotional weight. It gives the novel this intimate, almost voyeuristic quality as though I am peeking into a corner of the room where these two people have created a life that makes perfect sense only to them.
Ergo, that is where the book becomes more interesting than its rather simple premise suggests. Yasuko is not only asking whether she can get better; she seems to be asking whether there is anything about her worth keeping if she cannot become the kind of person everyone expects her to be. She is despondent, stuck and increasingly isolated, pushing away almost everyone around her until she is left with Tsunaki, the one person she assumes will continue tolerating her no matter how erratic she becomes.
But for all that, I do wish the novel to give Tsunaki a little more attention. By the end, it becomes clear that his behavior and emotional indifference as well play a role in why Yasuko feels so frustrated and desperate to be acknowledged. I could understand why she would be driven mad by someone who barely reacts to anything, but I never felt that the novel explored him enough for that dynamic to have as much weight as it could have. At the end, it almost feels as though his apathy becomes a convenient scapegoat for everything going wrong in Yasuko's life.
That lack of focus also contributes to the novel feeling a little all over the place. Yasuko's descent is compelling, but the story jumps between episodes and emotional states without always giving them a clear sense of direction. I occasionally found myself wishing there were a little more plot, or at least something that would give all this spiraling a stronger center. And for that, I can understand why some readers might come away feeling let down by the vagueness, both in Yasuko herself and in Motoya's prose.
Still, strangely enough, I think some of that disarray works too.
We are essentially trapped inside the perspective of someone who cannot find a way out of her own head. Her attempts to become "normal" repeatedly fail, her relationships deteriorate, and every effort to change somehow leaves her feeling even more inadequate. Therefore, the narrative can feel just as scattered as Yasuko herself, which is exasperating, but perhance intentionally so.
Perhaps that is where the title makes the most sense. The more I thought about it, the more I preferred the direct translation, 'Just Being Alive Is Love'. It feels much more intimate when you consider what Yasuko is going through. If you cannot work, cannot sleep normally, cannot maintain relationships, cannot function the way everyone expects you to, what exactly are you left with? Yes, perhaps simply being alive. And perhaps— that alone should be enough; which was reasonably a consoling thought especially when you are struggling.
For all its questionable decisions, jumpy structure and frustrating vagueness, this novel worked for me because it captures something painfully human about being unable to keep up with the life you are supposed to be living. I went into this expecting another Motoya fever dream that would leave me scratching my head. Instead, I got a strangely tender story about failure, loneliness, usefulness and the desperate need to feel that your existence matters to someone.
Compared to Motoya's previous work, Love at Least does not have the same kind of strangeness that leaves you wondering what exactly you just read. Where her earlier collection of short stories felt like trying to solve a puzzle with missing pieces, this one feel much more grounded and surprisingly relatable, even.
At the center of the story is Yasuko Itagaki, a 25-year-old unemployed woman struggling with depression and hypersomnia. She sleeps for more than ten hours a day, spending most of her waking hours in Tsunaki’s apartment, where her days seem to blur together. Meanwhile, Tsunaki, her live-in boyfriend, is a man in his thirties and almost her complete opposite: apathetic, quiet, and seemingly committed to making as little disturbance in his life as possible.
Now, the real fun of Motoya's writing is getting trapped inside Yasuko's head. Her thoughts are messy, impulsive, contradictory and sometimes exhausting. There is this constant feeling of wanting to be understood while simultaneously making it incredibly difficult for anyone to understand.
That could easily make for a very heavy reading experience, but Motoya's writing has this wonderfully strange sense of humor. Yasuko can be incredibly intense, yet the way she describes the most ordinary annoyances made me laugh, nod along, or think that it was relatable. Motoya is particularly good at taking tiny, insignificant moments and giving them an unreasonable amount of emotional weight. It gives the novel this intimate, almost voyeuristic quality as though I am peeking into a corner of the room where these two people have created a life that makes perfect sense only to them.
Ergo, that is where the book becomes more interesting than its rather simple premise suggests. Yasuko is not only asking whether she can get better; she seems to be asking whether there is anything about her worth keeping if she cannot become the kind of person everyone expects her to be. She is despondent, stuck and increasingly isolated, pushing away almost everyone around her until she is left with Tsunaki, the one person she assumes will continue tolerating her no matter how erratic she becomes.
But for all that, I do wish the novel to give Tsunaki a little more attention. By the end, it becomes clear that his behavior and emotional indifference as well play a role in why Yasuko feels so frustrated and desperate to be acknowledged. I could understand why she would be driven mad by someone who barely reacts to anything, but I never felt that the novel explored him enough for that dynamic to have as much weight as it could have. At the end, it almost feels as though his apathy becomes a convenient scapegoat for everything going wrong in Yasuko's life.
That lack of focus also contributes to the novel feeling a little all over the place. Yasuko's descent is compelling, but the story jumps between episodes and emotional states without always giving them a clear sense of direction. I occasionally found myself wishing there were a little more plot, or at least something that would give all this spiraling a stronger center. And for that, I can understand why some readers might come away feeling let down by the vagueness, both in Yasuko herself and in Motoya's prose.
Still, strangely enough, I think some of that disarray works too.
We are essentially trapped inside the perspective of someone who cannot find a way out of her own head. Her attempts to become "normal" repeatedly fail, her relationships deteriorate, and every effort to change somehow leaves her feeling even more inadequate. Therefore, the narrative can feel just as scattered as Yasuko herself, which is exasperating, but perhance intentionally so.
Perhaps that is where the title makes the most sense. The more I thought about it, the more I preferred the direct translation, 'Just Being Alive Is Love'. It feels much more intimate when you consider what Yasuko is going through. If you cannot work, cannot sleep normally, cannot maintain relationships, cannot function the way everyone expects you to, what exactly are you left with? Yes, perhaps simply being alive. And perhaps— that alone should be enough; which was reasonably a consoling thought especially when you are struggling.
For all its questionable decisions, jumpy structure and frustrating vagueness, this novel worked for me because it captures something painfully human about being unable to keep up with the life you are supposed to be living. I went into this expecting another Motoya fever dream that would leave me scratching my head. Instead, I got a strangely tender story about failure, loneliness, usefulness and the desperate need to feel that your existence matters to someone.
June 16, 2026
3.5 rounded up, because while I feel a bit ambiguous about this one, I have an odd appreciation for how unhinged the protagonist is capable of being. If you've ever worried you'll never get your life together, just wait until you meet Yasuko. Love at Least explores what it means for a person to be considered "useful" and worthy of being loved with an unlikable (though occasionally relatable) narrator that struggles with inherited mental illness.
September 24, 2026
Compared to her previous works, which were all perfectly composed, I was let down when reading this novel.
This might be because I don't like overly dramatic people and overly dramatic novels—although I guess there is little to do about that sine the mc is manic—it was also due to Yukiko—however a good writer I think she is—failing to some degree at dissecting the characters emotions more that she did and was focusing on getting done with the book, however minimal the dissecting might turn out to be. Like the puter crust was there but the filling not. I did some research to see why was that, and it turns out that this was one of her earliest novel, so I won't hold that against her, since as I've said before, I know how much of a good writer she is.
This might be because I don't like overly dramatic people and overly dramatic novels—although I guess there is little to do about that sine the mc is manic—it was also due to Yukiko—however a good writer I think she is—failing to some degree at dissecting the characters emotions more that she did and was focusing on getting done with the book, however minimal the dissecting might turn out to be. Like the puter crust was there but the filling not. I did some research to see why was that, and it turns out that this was one of her earliest novel, so I won't hold that against her, since as I've said before, I know how much of a good writer she is.
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
Review of advance copy
The overall premise was interesting and kept me engaged, however I found the storytelling very jumpy. Wish we were able to get more details about the restaurant and her reflecting on her mom and the past. Missed opportunity but still an interesting quick read
September 20, 2026
It was a very quick read and I think the main characters depression and mania were expressed in an interesting way. I wish there was a bit more plot and some sort of focus on the boyfriend. He never seems to be more than just there.
Review of advance copy received from Publisher
Review forthcoming in CHIRB
September 19, 2026
mildly beguiling, but often let down by vagueness of both the main character and prose; however, I really loved the mention of the online community of hypersomniacs.
Review of advance copy received from Publisher
The dysfunctional side of Japan you don't normally hear about: people staying in bed, not working, losing their way. Life can be cruel in Tokyo, and this is about depression and hypersomnia, failing in a country that ruthlessly demands direction and commitment. But despite the dark undercurrents, it is also absolutely hilarious, an energetic, dynamic reexamination of Japanese society and culture in ways that surprise over and over again.
June 6, 2026
This one was delulu, but I'm glad I got the opportunity to read it! I am very thankful to Yukiko Motoya, Soft Skull, and NetGalley for advanced digital access before September 8, 2026.
Our FMC is depressed and stuck in a rut, proceeding to push away everyone in her midst until it's just her and the boyfriend she assumes tolerates her ever-changing mood swings. Readers are tossed into her spiraling rabbit hole as well, as she suffers and fails to find a way out of her sadness.
This novella, of sorts, is deep, short, and aggravating from all angles, but I still appreciated the ride.
Our FMC is depressed and stuck in a rut, proceeding to push away everyone in her midst until it's just her and the boyfriend she assumes tolerates her ever-changing mood swings. Readers are tossed into her spiraling rabbit hole as well, as she suffers and fails to find a way out of her sadness.
This novella, of sorts, is deep, short, and aggravating from all angles, but I still appreciated the ride.
Displaying 1 - 10 of 10 reviews