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The Shut Ins
Mai and Hikaru went to school together in the city of Nagoya, until Hikaru disappeared when they were eighteen.
It is not until ten years later, when Mai runs into Hikaru's mother, Hiromi Sato, that she learns Hikaru has become a hikikomori, a recluse unable to leave his bedroom for years. In secret, Hiromi Sato hires Mai as a 'rental sister', to write letters to Hikaru and encourage him to leave his room.
Mai has recently married J, a devoted salaryman with conservative ideas about the kind of wife Mai will be. The renewed contact with her old school friend Hikaru stirs Mai's feelings of invisibility within her marriage. She is frustrated with her life and knows she will never fulfill J's obsession with the perfect wife and mother.
What else is there for Mai to do but to disappear herself?
It is not until ten years later, when Mai runs into Hikaru's mother, Hiromi Sato, that she learns Hikaru has become a hikikomori, a recluse unable to leave his bedroom for years. In secret, Hiromi Sato hires Mai as a 'rental sister', to write letters to Hikaru and encourage him to leave his room.
Mai has recently married J, a devoted salaryman with conservative ideas about the kind of wife Mai will be. The renewed contact with her old school friend Hikaru stirs Mai's feelings of invisibility within her marriage. She is frustrated with her life and knows she will never fulfill J's obsession with the perfect wife and mother.
What else is there for Mai to do but to disappear herself?
252 pages, Paperback
First published July 2, 2021
20 people are currently reading
830 people want to read
About the author
Katherine Brabon
6 books108 followersKatherine Brabon was born in Melbourne in 1987 and grew up in Woodend, Victoria. The Memory Artist is her first novel and won the 2016 Australian/Vogel’s Literary Award.
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 103 reviews
August 9, 2021
The Shut-Ins is a unique novel, written by an Australian author, mostly looking at what the Japanese call hikikomori, those who separate themselves from society, I guess the equivalent of people with agoraphobia. It sounds better in Japanese :-).
The writing is intensely introspective, atmospheric and quite lyrical. There are several perspectives that we hear throughout the novel. Mai is a twenty-eight-year-old woman, recently married, always doing what's expected of her. One day, she meets the mother of a former school colleague. She is told that Hikaru hasn't left his room in years. Mai starts writing him letters, which he doesn't reply to.
My heart broke for the mother. She loves her son. She blames herself for her son not being a successful member of society. Shame compels her to withdraw from the few friends and acquaintances. Her husband only comes home to sleep and eat. She is lonely and alone, despite having somebody living in the next room.
Sadako is a young woman who's beautiful. She works in a bar, attracting customers. She's lonely in a different way.
We also hear Haikaru's perspective. He seemed very self-aware as to why he was a shut-in.
Brabon's writing is haunting, deftly creating a sense of suffocation and dissociation. I will read more on hikikomori, a social mental health phenomenon growing in Japan.
I'm going to try to read Brabon's debut novel as well, as she sure showed us she's got some writing chops.
NB: I love the cover.
Some interesting reads I came across:
https://www.bbc.com/future/article/20...
https://theconversation.com/hikikomor...
The writing is intensely introspective, atmospheric and quite lyrical. There are several perspectives that we hear throughout the novel. Mai is a twenty-eight-year-old woman, recently married, always doing what's expected of her. One day, she meets the mother of a former school colleague. She is told that Hikaru hasn't left his room in years. Mai starts writing him letters, which he doesn't reply to.
My heart broke for the mother. She loves her son. She blames herself for her son not being a successful member of society. Shame compels her to withdraw from the few friends and acquaintances. Her husband only comes home to sleep and eat. She is lonely and alone, despite having somebody living in the next room.
Sadako is a young woman who's beautiful. She works in a bar, attracting customers. She's lonely in a different way.
We also hear Haikaru's perspective. He seemed very self-aware as to why he was a shut-in.
Brabon's writing is haunting, deftly creating a sense of suffocation and dissociation. I will read more on hikikomori, a social mental health phenomenon growing in Japan.
I'm going to try to read Brabon's debut novel as well, as she sure showed us she's got some writing chops.
NB: I love the cover.
Some interesting reads I came across:
https://www.bbc.com/future/article/20...
https://theconversation.com/hikikomor...
August 13, 2021
This is an unusual book set in Japan by an Australian author. The narrator speaks to the reader in Notes, between four interrelated stories of people who don’t quite fit in if at all. Mae is a young woman recently married who is feeling pressured to have a child. Sadako is a hostess who entertains business men and sometimes pretends to be their wife or girlfriend. Hiromi is the mother of a childhood friend of Mae, Hikaru. Hikaru has always felt the pressure of judgement and guilt to perform in society and now never leaves his room. Some Japanese concepts, hikikomori (people completely separate from society) and achiragawa (the other side or over there) are explored. The other side, the author states at the end of the book, is “sometimes used in discussions of the fictional worlds of Haruki Murakami” and I was reminded of Murakami at times in this novel (at one stage being at the bottom of a well is mentioned instantly bringing The Wind-Up Bird Chronicle to my mind!).
This novel really got to me. Social isolation, alienation, disillusionment are all concepts that resonate for our modern world not just a socially rigid society like Japan. The fake conversations that go on in general day to day life where everyone performs their role may make society function but the lack of personal connections even when surrounded by noise and people can still make some people feel alone.
The glimpses into the lives of the characters here is open, there’s no final outcome but I still found it a wonderful picture of life. Sad and moving, I lost myself in this book and didn’t want to leave it.
This novel really got to me. Social isolation, alienation, disillusionment are all concepts that resonate for our modern world not just a socially rigid society like Japan. The fake conversations that go on in general day to day life where everyone performs their role may make society function but the lack of personal connections even when surrounded by noise and people can still make some people feel alone.
The glimpses into the lives of the characters here is open, there’s no final outcome but I still found it a wonderful picture of life. Sad and moving, I lost myself in this book and didn’t want to leave it.
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September 19, 2025Not rating nothing wrong with the narration & prose I could tell straight away that I was not the right audience for this book.
August 29, 2021
This book is quite a contemporary look at Japanese culture, of which I know very little about.
The story is told in parts, central is an Australian who has travelled to Japan based on the recommendation of a friend who is referred to a 'M'.
The purpose of the journey is to find out more about a group of people referred to as 'hikikomori', these are people who are completely socially withdrawn and live a reclusive life. The story is told through Mai who was a childhood friend of Hikaru. Mai is now grown up and in an unhappy marriage to J who just wants an obedient and subservient wife to give him children. She finds out that Hikaru is now completely withdrawn and does not leave his bedroom after she runs into his mother Hiromi. The story is also told through Hiromi who doesn't know how to help her son and blames herself for his state.
The book is quite depressing and hard to read in this present COVID status we find ourselves in. It certainly highlights the pitfalls and difficulty that a lockdown situation could evolve into for some more vulnerable individuals.
While I cannot say I particularly enjoyed this book, it was certainly intriguing. However the ending left me somewhat dissatisfied.
Thank you Allen & Unwin for the paperback ARC that I won.
The story is told in parts, central is an Australian who has travelled to Japan based on the recommendation of a friend who is referred to a 'M'.
The purpose of the journey is to find out more about a group of people referred to as 'hikikomori', these are people who are completely socially withdrawn and live a reclusive life. The story is told through Mai who was a childhood friend of Hikaru. Mai is now grown up and in an unhappy marriage to J who just wants an obedient and subservient wife to give him children. She finds out that Hikaru is now completely withdrawn and does not leave his bedroom after she runs into his mother Hiromi. The story is also told through Hiromi who doesn't know how to help her son and blames herself for his state.
The book is quite depressing and hard to read in this present COVID status we find ourselves in. It certainly highlights the pitfalls and difficulty that a lockdown situation could evolve into for some more vulnerable individuals.
While I cannot say I particularly enjoyed this book, it was certainly intriguing. However the ending left me somewhat dissatisfied.
Thank you Allen & Unwin for the paperback ARC that I won.
August 1, 2021
A curious little novel, full of the melancholy that comes with loneliness. I say curious, mainly because it is a distinctly Japanese story, with a Japanese sensibility, yet it comes from an Australian author. At only 6 hours or so, the audio was easy to get through in a couple of days. In style more than content, it made me think of another short, Asian novel I read not too long ago, Kim Jiyoung, Born 1982, but I enjoyed this one far more.
The narrator is an Australian woman travelling in Japan at the height of a hot, humid summer. She is there to explore a concept her Japanese flatmate had introduced her to, achiragawa, or the other side.
"There is a world we live in, on this side, and another world, achiragawa that is a place of dreams, death and possibility. The other side may be our unconscious minds, our inner lives, the home of our deepest, unspoken beliefs. For some it may be spiritual, the location of their gods; it explains how the dead are no present in body but also, they are somewhere. The difficulty in grasping this idea is that achiragawa is not really a place. You can't find it on a map."
While in Japan she somehow (not really clear to me how - maybe overlooked in the audio) comes across the story of Mai Takeda, a young, newly married woman living in Nagoya, with whom this exploration of achiragawa begins and ends. Between Mai and 3 other Japanese characters connected with her, the narrator has gained four different perspectives of people who essentially want to disappear from lives drenched in loneliness and restricted by tradition and expectation. She is relaying the stories at the end of her trip, and also reflecting on her own loneliness and occasional invisibility as a solo traveller who wasn't able to speak the language fluently.
In some ways what fascinated me the most was my own reaction to the story - thinking about how different the Japanese culture is to my own. One of the characters is a hikikomori (a person suffering acute social withdrawal), and it was interesting to learn more about this condition, which I think the author handled with sufficient sensitivity. We are reminded that this is fiction when the character's own perspective is relayed. I don't mean to suggest that it was unrealistic, just that by its very nature, sufferers of this condition would not normally be so open to telling their own story.
Overall I found this novel to be compelling and extremely thought-provoking. It wasn't the most conventionally entertaining book I've read, but it was good enough for me to want to seek out the author's debut, prize-winning novel at some point.
The narrator is an Australian woman travelling in Japan at the height of a hot, humid summer. She is there to explore a concept her Japanese flatmate had introduced her to, achiragawa, or the other side.
"There is a world we live in, on this side, and another world, achiragawa that is a place of dreams, death and possibility. The other side may be our unconscious minds, our inner lives, the home of our deepest, unspoken beliefs. For some it may be spiritual, the location of their gods; it explains how the dead are no present in body but also, they are somewhere. The difficulty in grasping this idea is that achiragawa is not really a place. You can't find it on a map."
While in Japan she somehow (not really clear to me how - maybe overlooked in the audio) comes across the story of Mai Takeda, a young, newly married woman living in Nagoya, with whom this exploration of achiragawa begins and ends. Between Mai and 3 other Japanese characters connected with her, the narrator has gained four different perspectives of people who essentially want to disappear from lives drenched in loneliness and restricted by tradition and expectation. She is relaying the stories at the end of her trip, and also reflecting on her own loneliness and occasional invisibility as a solo traveller who wasn't able to speak the language fluently.
In some ways what fascinated me the most was my own reaction to the story - thinking about how different the Japanese culture is to my own. One of the characters is a hikikomori (a person suffering acute social withdrawal), and it was interesting to learn more about this condition, which I think the author handled with sufficient sensitivity. We are reminded that this is fiction when the character's own perspective is relayed. I don't mean to suggest that it was unrealistic, just that by its very nature, sufferers of this condition would not normally be so open to telling their own story.
Overall I found this novel to be compelling and extremely thought-provoking. It wasn't the most conventionally entertaining book I've read, but it was good enough for me to want to seek out the author's debut, prize-winning novel at some point.
August 7, 2021
This was an odd read, I constantly felt like I was on the precipice of something and yet the text never allowed us to get there. The prose was lovely. The imagery was quite good. The oppressive nature of societal expectations was present in many ways as well as the longing to be free of that obligation.
The notes that preceded each of our four main characters POVs were annoying as hell and constantly took me out of the story. I feel like they were supposed to contribute something to the overall narrative but they were too bogged down in vague whimsy. There was no sort of pay off for any of the investment you put into these characters, not even a whiff of possibility.
It could be that this novel was supposed to be a reflection on loneliness and the crushing pressures of unspoken expectations but it never got there for me, rather it felt like a disjointed journey intersected with an odd ~non japanese woman~ discovering herself while travelling in Japan.
Wasn't really into it.
The notes that preceded each of our four main characters POVs were annoying as hell and constantly took me out of the story. I feel like they were supposed to contribute something to the overall narrative but they were too bogged down in vague whimsy. There was no sort of pay off for any of the investment you put into these characters, not even a whiff of possibility.
It could be that this novel was supposed to be a reflection on loneliness and the crushing pressures of unspoken expectations but it never got there for me, rather it felt like a disjointed journey intersected with an odd ~non japanese woman~ discovering herself while travelling in Japan.
Wasn't really into it.
November 13, 2021
‘It is possible to create a whole hypothetical life of mistakes and consequences.’
The story unfolds over four notes, interconnecting the lives of four people, shared with us by the narrator:
‘I was in Japan alone when the story of Mai Takeda came to me. I don’t know where she is now—others’ stories only rest with us for a short time—so this is all I know from less than one year of her life.’
Mai and Hikaru went to school together in the Japanese city of Nagoya. Mai was one of the few people friendly with Hikaru, but she lost contact with him. Hikaru disappeared when they were eighteen. Ten years later and recently married, Mai runs into Hikaru’s mother, Hiromi. Mai learns that Hikaru has become a hikikomori, has withdrawn from society and has been unable to leave his bedroom for some years. Hiromi hires Mai to write to Hikaru, to encourage him to leave his room. Mai herself is struggling with the expectations of her husband and parents. And then Mai disappears.
‘Questions remained and they stalked me: is there no other side, is there no other way to live a life?’
The first note, from Winter to Spring 2014 is about Mai. The second note, from Spring to Summer 2014 is about Sadako. Sadako is a hostess, paid by Mai’s husband to serve him. He talks to her about Mai, about his discontent. The third note is about Hiromi, about the guilt and despair she feels that Hikaru will not leave his room. And it all becomes complicated when Hiromi needs to take care of her elderly mother in another city.
‘What god could comprehend this profoundly modern situation in which a grown child has moved as if back into the womb?’
And in the fourth note, we finally hear from Hiraku.
This is an intriguing novel, taking us through different reactions to the weight of expectations. Hiraku retreats from the world early: difference is neither desired nor accepted. Sadako gives us some insight into Mai’s husband’s requirements, while Hiromi bears the weight of Hiraku’s failure. Mai knows she cannot meet the expectations of her husband and parents, and she also disappears.
There is no neat ending to this story/these stories, just a reminder that roles for these four people are rigid and non-compliance with societal expectations is deemed failure. I can understand the desire to withdraw, to disappear rather than try to fit in. But is it ever possible to be completely separate from society? Hiraku may choose to stay in his room, but his mother still arranges his food and to wash his clothing.
An unusual novel, full of issues to contemplate.
Jennifer Cameron-Smith
The story unfolds over four notes, interconnecting the lives of four people, shared with us by the narrator:
‘I was in Japan alone when the story of Mai Takeda came to me. I don’t know where she is now—others’ stories only rest with us for a short time—so this is all I know from less than one year of her life.’
Mai and Hikaru went to school together in the Japanese city of Nagoya. Mai was one of the few people friendly with Hikaru, but she lost contact with him. Hikaru disappeared when they were eighteen. Ten years later and recently married, Mai runs into Hikaru’s mother, Hiromi. Mai learns that Hikaru has become a hikikomori, has withdrawn from society and has been unable to leave his bedroom for some years. Hiromi hires Mai to write to Hikaru, to encourage him to leave his room. Mai herself is struggling with the expectations of her husband and parents. And then Mai disappears.
‘Questions remained and they stalked me: is there no other side, is there no other way to live a life?’
The first note, from Winter to Spring 2014 is about Mai. The second note, from Spring to Summer 2014 is about Sadako. Sadako is a hostess, paid by Mai’s husband to serve him. He talks to her about Mai, about his discontent. The third note is about Hiromi, about the guilt and despair she feels that Hikaru will not leave his room. And it all becomes complicated when Hiromi needs to take care of her elderly mother in another city.
‘What god could comprehend this profoundly modern situation in which a grown child has moved as if back into the womb?’
And in the fourth note, we finally hear from Hiraku.
This is an intriguing novel, taking us through different reactions to the weight of expectations. Hiraku retreats from the world early: difference is neither desired nor accepted. Sadako gives us some insight into Mai’s husband’s requirements, while Hiromi bears the weight of Hiraku’s failure. Mai knows she cannot meet the expectations of her husband and parents, and she also disappears.
There is no neat ending to this story/these stories, just a reminder that roles for these four people are rigid and non-compliance with societal expectations is deemed failure. I can understand the desire to withdraw, to disappear rather than try to fit in. But is it ever possible to be completely separate from society? Hiraku may choose to stay in his room, but his mother still arranges his food and to wash his clothing.
An unusual novel, full of issues to contemplate.
Jennifer Cameron-Smith
August 22, 2021
The Shut Ins surprised and intrigued me at every turn. The book uses notes from the narrator to introduce each of the four sections and then character to explore themes of solitude, isolation, and societal and familial pressure to adhere to norms. In the first section we meet Mai, a discontented newlywed. In section two we meet Sadako, a young woman whose Mai’s husband pays to drink with him and serve him. In section three we hear from Hiromi whose son, a school friend of Mai’s, hasn’t left his bedroom for years. And finally in section four we hear from Hiromi’s son Hikaru directly. The narrative builds with real purpose to this final section. Brabon returns to the concept of ‘achiragawa’ or ‘the other side’ throughout. It’s an authorial interest (maybe an obsession) that transfers to the reader (or at least did to this reader). I’m now also fascinated by ‘hikikomori’ – people unable to leave their bedrooms. At times I felt I must be reading a book by a Japanese author in translation. Brabon seems to know her subject deeply and this never felt, to me at least, like a voyeuristic outsider curiously peering in. I was hugely impressed and energised by this book. Brabon’s prose is beautiful and her words have a way of leaving you mesmerised. One of those books you just know you will be thinking about for a long time.
September 15, 2021
Told from five points of view, this novel surrounds on a young Japanese man who has become a shut in. His mother cares for him, but he hasn't left his room for years. You get a very strong sense of the distance between people, the lack of connection in the whole of society. This distance made it hard for me to connect with the characters at first, I don't think i really understood their perspective. But the last two stories, of Hikaru and his mother, really won me over.
October 30, 2021
This book gives the impression that the focus will be about the group of people in Japan who shut themselves in their rooms and willingly withdraw from the outside world. And it appeared to be building up to that. However it turned out to be about a western person on a sabbatical to japan and commenting about people. It was very confusing and the ending was just also confusing. So all in all, I feel ripped off.
June 25, 2021
Thank you Allen & Unwin for sending us a copy to read and review.
To be intellectually whisked away to Japan was an absolute joy and an eye opener.
Tectonic plates and fault lines are not the only pressure cookers in Japan as the population live to high standards and impeccable social rules.
This is felt by the younger generations resulting in some removing themselves from both society and the family unit, a phenomenon that has disastrous consequences.
Transactional relationships with parents a contributing factor and is an undercurrent through the characters experiences as they journey through life.
History bears unwanted burdens and adds to the pressure as generations lived through atomic bombings and kamikaze mentalities.
Mai Takeda adheres to the rules of life.
She studied hard, got a job and married.
A marriage that made her parents happy and ticked the right boxes for a compliant 30 year old but within herself she was not satisfied.
The extra pressure to produce a child pushing her even further away emotionally in the marriage.
Hiraku was always different.
He went to school with Mai and had a bond that connected them.
Conformity was not on his radar.
Being bullied and left alone combined with high expectations from parents left him withdrawn and reclusive.
The fear of interaction real.
A chance encounter sees Mai reacquaint with Hiraku’s mother which leads to her being a presence in the family home.
His mum faced the shame and let Mai into the home in hope of drawing her son back to life.
Such an interesting and fulfilling read with an expose’ on a culture we generally stereotype.
A peep into the intensity that has driven this nation.
Refreshingly different.
To be intellectually whisked away to Japan was an absolute joy and an eye opener.
Tectonic plates and fault lines are not the only pressure cookers in Japan as the population live to high standards and impeccable social rules.
This is felt by the younger generations resulting in some removing themselves from both society and the family unit, a phenomenon that has disastrous consequences.
Transactional relationships with parents a contributing factor and is an undercurrent through the characters experiences as they journey through life.
History bears unwanted burdens and adds to the pressure as generations lived through atomic bombings and kamikaze mentalities.
Mai Takeda adheres to the rules of life.
She studied hard, got a job and married.
A marriage that made her parents happy and ticked the right boxes for a compliant 30 year old but within herself she was not satisfied.
The extra pressure to produce a child pushing her even further away emotionally in the marriage.
Hiraku was always different.
He went to school with Mai and had a bond that connected them.
Conformity was not on his radar.
Being bullied and left alone combined with high expectations from parents left him withdrawn and reclusive.
The fear of interaction real.
A chance encounter sees Mai reacquaint with Hiraku’s mother which leads to her being a presence in the family home.
His mum faced the shame and let Mai into the home in hope of drawing her son back to life.
Such an interesting and fulfilling read with an expose’ on a culture we generally stereotype.
A peep into the intensity that has driven this nation.
Refreshingly different.
July 9, 2021
Eloquent, elegaic and desperately sad - this is a beautiful, liminal book. I now look forward to reading more about achiragawa.
April 5, 2022
GREAT
A haunting novel about the pressures of society, suffering drawn out of mundane life and the desire to evade what is expected of you. Brabon’s exploration of the Japanese collective culture and “saving face”, of shame and depression, is fascinating. Her prose is refreshingly minimal, simple but poetic in a quiet, lingering way. The characters she explores are more relatable than I’d wish. I have had extended periods of time where I feared where the fear of everyday social encounters forced me to stay home and seek for this “other side” Brabon describes. She explores these people with empathy and care. One of the more unique books I have read in a long time. I recommend it wholeheartedly, and it might help some people who don’t understand anxiety or depression gain some insight into those who suffer from it.
A haunting novel about the pressures of society, suffering drawn out of mundane life and the desire to evade what is expected of you. Brabon’s exploration of the Japanese collective culture and “saving face”, of shame and depression, is fascinating. Her prose is refreshingly minimal, simple but poetic in a quiet, lingering way. The characters she explores are more relatable than I’d wish. I have had extended periods of time where I feared where the fear of everyday social encounters forced me to stay home and seek for this “other side” Brabon describes. She explores these people with empathy and care. One of the more unique books I have read in a long time. I recommend it wholeheartedly, and it might help some people who don’t understand anxiety or depression gain some insight into those who suffer from it.
September 20, 2023
A sense of melancholy and introspection hangs over this whole book, as the characters grapple with feelings of alienation, loneliness, and the pressures of societal expectation. This is a slow, thoughtful, novel that focuses almost entirely on the inner narrative of the four protagonists, whose lives intersect in passing, or periphery. While this book will resonate strongly with some readers (such as myself), others may be put off by the fact that very little happens, plot wise. This has a slice of life fell, with characters mostly engaging in very mundane or run-of-the-mill activities, and there is little change in tempo or mood. The other thing that many readers may find frustrating is that lack of any real resolution for any of the story threads. It is almost as if the events take place in the spaces 'between' big moments in the characters lives, and there is very little closure to be had. I personally felt that this suited the overall vibe of the book, but I could see many people feeling unsatisfied.
For me personally, this was a haunting book that will stick with me for some time.
For me personally, this was a haunting book that will stick with me for some time.
February 5, 2022
I don't think I can say much more about this book than has already been said.
Hannah Kent described it as being "A mesmeric wonder of a book". Mireille Juchau called it "a mesmerising work of art". Emily Bitto said "At once bold and subtle…it continues to unsettle my thoughts in the best possible way" and I agree with all of these comments.
Hannah Kent described it as being "A mesmeric wonder of a book". Mireille Juchau called it "a mesmerising work of art". Emily Bitto said "At once bold and subtle…it continues to unsettle my thoughts in the best possible way" and I agree with all of these comments.
April 29, 2022
This is a strange little book. It's written in the sparse, dreamy and lonely style of Japanese novels but the writer is a white woman from Australia who travels to Japan. It's not quite clear why she traveled there but she's really fascinated by hikikomori and she herself is a very lonely person. It looks as though she may be trying to understand her own loneliness by traveling to another country and Japan seems like the best choice, given its conservative, quiet and reserved culture that allows extreme urban loneliness to exist. Katherine Brabon's writing is lyrical but reserved, carefully focusing on scenes and moments that appear ordinary but then amplifying them through a lens of solitude and sadness. There isn't much plot in this novel. It focuses on 3 different POVs: a male hikikomori who has shut himself off from society, his high school friend named Mai who is struggling with her marriage and an escort girl who is having an affair with Mai's husband. These three paint different portraits of modern loneliness: the failed high schooler, the ignored housewife and lonely escort girl who cannot find love. Their stories are interspersed with the author's own commentary in the form of "notes". I found those notes to be a little rambling and unnecessary. The three stories are atmospheric and stark in their depiction of modern loneliness but they let me down a little too. The plot felt like it was building up to a grand revelation but nothing much really happens at the end. Mai disappears to study with some Buddhist monk on a mountain, leaving behind her husband. No resolution is found with the escort girl. The hikikomori dude gets evicted from his own house by his mother which is for the best but his story left me a little unsatisfied too.
I would recommend this for a short read that emulates the writing style of Japanese writers but in terms of plot, don't expect too much. This is an atmospheric mood piece instead of a plot-driven novel.
I would recommend this for a short read that emulates the writing style of Japanese writers but in terms of plot, don't expect too much. This is an atmospheric mood piece instead of a plot-driven novel.
July 11, 2021
Thanks to Allen and Unwin for the advanced copy of 'The Shut Ins' by Katherine Brabon. This is a thought-provoking novel about life's monotony and pressures, the expectations to live life a certain way, and also about the possibility of escaping to a kind of alternate reality by becoming a recluse from the present society. Brabon occasionally creates beautiful, almost poetic images for the reader to enjoy. For example, "As creatures who think too much, we humans need ideas to believe in to feel comfortable. We can either choose a life of routine and structure built for us, or try to follow a different path, one that is unknown, that may be frightening, dangerous, true." For me, this brings to mind imagery like Robert Frost's 'The Road Not Taken'. Unfortunately, Brabon's overall style of writing is somewhat plain and repetitive. If I could be bothered to re-read this novel, I would count the number of times the female characters visited an onsen (Japanese hot springs/bathing facilities). I liked the breakup of the novel from four different characters' perspectives and how they flowed through the story rather than overlapping. This is far from accomplished writing like what I've read by other authors recently, but it is an easy read if you're looking for something with Japanese culture, history and characters who seek to find solace from society's expectations.
September 6, 2021
I was drawn to the story of the Shut Ins. What would lead people to live like this? How did they live, the effect on their family. Also with us here in lockdown in Melbourne - day 215 and counting - why would people choose this?
The execution is ok, I read to the end.
It was the writing style.
One character always refers to her husband as J. He doesn't have a name? Also other characters who relate with him also call him J, not his name. Another is 'friend of M'. What's with that?
I also felt that the narrator voice 'spoke' in an English translation style. I found this irritating.
The different narrators - whilst I understood the concept, I found the notes in-between annoying and 'who the hell is this'?
Also, if Brabon had mentioned the weather was humid ONE MORE TIME (which she did) I screamed. I GOT IT. Seriously!!!
The execution is ok, I read to the end.
It was the writing style.
One character always refers to her husband as J. He doesn't have a name? Also other characters who relate with him also call him J, not his name. Another is 'friend of M'. What's with that?
I also felt that the narrator voice 'spoke' in an English translation style. I found this irritating.
The different narrators - whilst I understood the concept, I found the notes in-between annoying and 'who the hell is this'?
Also, if Brabon had mentioned the weather was humid ONE MORE TIME (which she did) I screamed. I GOT IT. Seriously!!!
November 22, 2021
Synopsis appeared like a very good read, however I was honestly disappointed. The font (size 14 or 16?) that the book used is to create an appearance of a longer and ‘larger’ book where it probably could be a short read instead. The content itself wasn’t great in my opinion, jumping from each character’s point of view while not necessarily following the story. The author’s personally story doesn’t add anything to the book itself in my opinion. Interesting topic of hikikomori though.
November 11, 2021
I am certainly not Japanese, I have never been to Japan and the author of The Shut Ins is also not Japanese. Despite all of that The Shut Ins really captured what I understand of a Japanese sense of honour, of being a productive part of society, of fulfilling your expected role and the routines that Japanese people keep to demonstrate that they are what they are expected to be.
Despite my lack of first hand knowledge of Japan I know what I love about Japanese story telling and The Shut Ins had that. From the serious to comedy every Japanese story I have encountered leaves you feeling a bit uneasy. Brabon's main theme is around the concept of archiragawa meaning to be 'over there' or to be 'on the other side'. The four central characters never quite fit, never quite settle and to me that is a highly relatable feeling. The narrator is an Australian women traveling alone in Japan, she too feels this unsettling disconnect. I'm sure I'm not the only one who could feel that feeling, conjure their own memory of such a time (I enjoy traveling on my own but that doesn't mean it isn't lonely and unsettling at times). Every Studio Ghibli film has variations on this theme of searching, withdrawing, finding another world or another side, being displaced and you feel it in the still shots or in the case of The Shut Ins in the simple, direct language. The words linger sometimes but they are never unnecessary.
The story itself makes you want to keep turning the pages without creating a reason to feel tense or like you need to rush. As someone who is very happy to be on her own I thoroughly enjoyed The Shut Ins and the questions it raises for how humans exist in society. It left me feeling sad and uneasy but in a pleasant kind of way.
Despite my lack of first hand knowledge of Japan I know what I love about Japanese story telling and The Shut Ins had that. From the serious to comedy every Japanese story I have encountered leaves you feeling a bit uneasy. Brabon's main theme is around the concept of archiragawa meaning to be 'over there' or to be 'on the other side'. The four central characters never quite fit, never quite settle and to me that is a highly relatable feeling. The narrator is an Australian women traveling alone in Japan, she too feels this unsettling disconnect. I'm sure I'm not the only one who could feel that feeling, conjure their own memory of such a time (I enjoy traveling on my own but that doesn't mean it isn't lonely and unsettling at times). Every Studio Ghibli film has variations on this theme of searching, withdrawing, finding another world or another side, being displaced and you feel it in the still shots or in the case of The Shut Ins in the simple, direct language. The words linger sometimes but they are never unnecessary.
The story itself makes you want to keep turning the pages without creating a reason to feel tense or like you need to rush. As someone who is very happy to be on her own I thoroughly enjoyed The Shut Ins and the questions it raises for how humans exist in society. It left me feeling sad and uneasy but in a pleasant kind of way.
November 24, 2021
Katherine Brabon portrays the subtle gradients of emotion around shame and aloneness with accuracy. She explores the 'achiragawa' concept through different characters' perambulations (through mind or travel; here or there; belonging or unbelonging), the 'hikikomori' or shut-in, being a returning theme. However, the most resonant or relevant themes that show up, in my opinion, are the gender relations, and the ways women push against strictures that mold them. Mai Takeda is a compelling character, caught in a traditional new marriage, resisting strong pressure from her husband, parents and the social group.
While much of the book is particular to group organisation and pressures of Japanese society, I felt some of the writing on emotion transcended Japan. Or at least moved into another 'in-between' place This is first signaled by the the Australian woman travelling Japan alone, who is trying to understand 'achiragawa'. The Australian character conveys her yearnings and anxieties to a Japanese friend of her friend in regular emails and we learn of her own alienation and, at times, reluctance to commit to elements in/of the world that tie her down. Next, shame is an emotion that is experienced in relation to a social group and is tied social structures in any country.
Achiragawa can denote over there, a liminal place, death, the afterlife, dreams, the unconscious, a kind of outside looking in (or in the cave looking out at the sun). I started to sense it as a space somewhere between meditation and the philosophical -- not only mental, but tied to the body. For this I commend Brabon; achiragawa has been used by Haruki Murakami, but it is refreshing to see this concept reclaimed by a female author for female characters who quietly wield a social critique. (Note, Brabon had three female Japanese consultants for the book.)
While much of the book is particular to group organisation and pressures of Japanese society, I felt some of the writing on emotion transcended Japan. Or at least moved into another 'in-between' place This is first signaled by the the Australian woman travelling Japan alone, who is trying to understand 'achiragawa'. The Australian character conveys her yearnings and anxieties to a Japanese friend of her friend in regular emails and we learn of her own alienation and, at times, reluctance to commit to elements in/of the world that tie her down. Next, shame is an emotion that is experienced in relation to a social group and is tied social structures in any country.
Achiragawa can denote over there, a liminal place, death, the afterlife, dreams, the unconscious, a kind of outside looking in (or in the cave looking out at the sun). I started to sense it as a space somewhere between meditation and the philosophical -- not only mental, but tied to the body. For this I commend Brabon; achiragawa has been used by Haruki Murakami, but it is refreshing to see this concept reclaimed by a female author for female characters who quietly wield a social critique. (Note, Brabon had three female Japanese consultants for the book.)
December 6, 2021
As the title suggests, this intriguing book examines people who are 'shut-ins'. The central character is Hikaru, who is a classic Japanese hikikomori - a recluse who is unable to leave his bedroom. Around his story are placed the intersecting stories of three others who are also 'shut-in', but not in that physical sense.
First is Mai, who was a friend of Hikaru at school, who is conscripted by his mother to write to him to encourage him to rejoin society. She is shut in a marriage where her husband and parents expect her to stay home, be a good wife and have babies.
The second story is of Sadako, a beautiful girl who works as a hostess in a bar frequented by Mai's husband, J. She is shut into the life of a bar girl, can never make a good marriage and is paid by J to pretend she is a good wife and will behave as he wishes Mai to behave.
The third story is of Hiromi, Hikaru's mother, who becomes shut in with the shame of having a son who has not achieved in society. She is juggling care of Hikaru with the demands of an aging mother living in another city. Her husband spends little time at home and will not acknowledge her issues.
The stories are linked with 'Notes' written by an Australian woman travelling in Japan, who is friendly with a Japanese woman living in Melbourne only referred to as M and who has put her in touch with a Japanese man, now living in the US but visiting Japan. They begin an email conversation and intend to meet, before the woman flies home.
It is an interesting study of the demands of a fairly rigid society and the effects on people who do not wish to conform with the expectations of others.
First is Mai, who was a friend of Hikaru at school, who is conscripted by his mother to write to him to encourage him to rejoin society. She is shut in a marriage where her husband and parents expect her to stay home, be a good wife and have babies.
The second story is of Sadako, a beautiful girl who works as a hostess in a bar frequented by Mai's husband, J. She is shut into the life of a bar girl, can never make a good marriage and is paid by J to pretend she is a good wife and will behave as he wishes Mai to behave.
The third story is of Hiromi, Hikaru's mother, who becomes shut in with the shame of having a son who has not achieved in society. She is juggling care of Hikaru with the demands of an aging mother living in another city. Her husband spends little time at home and will not acknowledge her issues.
The stories are linked with 'Notes' written by an Australian woman travelling in Japan, who is friendly with a Japanese woman living in Melbourne only referred to as M and who has put her in touch with a Japanese man, now living in the US but visiting Japan. They begin an email conversation and intend to meet, before the woman flies home.
It is an interesting study of the demands of a fairly rigid society and the effects on people who do not wish to conform with the expectations of others.
October 16, 2025
There's a quiet build up to this book that sometimes makes you wonder where it's going, only to have the last few chapters reveal the mind of a character that I relate to all too well. Some days we just want to disappear, and it's ok if we do. Living in a transactional society is exhausting.
Read
November 14, 2023So fucking boring it made me cry
January 2, 2022
I've sat for the last day trying to decide how I feel about this book. I liked it, but it left me wanting more. I loved the characters, but the notes from the Author between the chapters bored me (I think?) And in my opinion weren't really needed.
Im still torn about what I think
Im still torn about what I think
December 4, 2021
This book was beautifully written and easy to read, however I didn’t feel any sort of connection with the characters? While I enjoyed reading about them I don’t feel like I really *cared* about them all that much
August 23, 2021
Was easily distracted while I read this book, not usually a good sign for me. The structure is a little confusing. I wanted to know more about some of the characters but felt removed from them just as I was learning more. It’s an interesting topic but it didn’t hold my concentration well.
August 7, 2021
Beginning with Mai Takeda’s story, each of the individuals in “The Shut-Ins” reveals a fragment of their life, and how it connects them with each other, over a single season in 2014. Recently married Mai is so desolate that she imagines cherry blossoms looking like bruises or the colour of burned flesh. When Mai randomly meets with the mother of her childhood friend Hikaru in the subway, it kicks off a series of events that changes each of their lives and challenges their obligatory roles as representatives of their families. It has been ten years since Mai’s seen Hikaru, and in that time he has isolated himself in his bedroom as a one of the 1.15 million officially recognised hikikomori, modern day hermits in extreme social isolation. Hiromi believes that establishing a connection between the two might draw her son out of his alienation. She hires Mai as a ‘rental sister’, writing letters to her son in an effort to engage him with the outside world.
The interconnected narratives of four individuals in contemporary Japan forms the basis for Melbourne author Katherine Brabon’s much anticipated second novel. Set in Nagoya, the fourth largest city of Japan, each of the solitary characters is questioning their purpose in a society that champions the collective over the individual. The pressure is on women in particular to serve their family’s interest before their own and to represent their family within society.
Readers of Brabon’s “The Memory Artist” will be rewarded with the same empathy for character, astute depiction of the physical landscape, and clever interplay of politics, culture, historical and literary references that defined her first novel, winner of the 2016 Vogel's Literary Award.
Japan is depicted as a study in contrasts: the onsens – public baths where naked Japanese of all ages immerse themselves in communal baths, the punctuality of the subway trains, the disconnectedness of urban life and yet – there’s also the presence of temples, Zen gardens and sense of solace in the recurring seasons of blooming cherry blossoms.
Themes of identity, solitude and suffering in silence in modern Japan are the connecting threads, where citizens are packed into apartment blocks “built…for a thousand bodies but for no individual soul”, and suicide is the leading cause of death for men aged 20 – 44 and women aged 15 – 29. Hikaru’s mother, Hiromi, a social pariah with her unmentionable son, must put on a face for public show that doesn’t reveal her shame and overwhelming sadness at failing to prepare her son for life in the world. Hikaru only opens the door to go to the toilet or collect food his mother has left. Mai, despite following her mother’s insistence upon a convenient marriage and a stable wage, is spiritually and emotionally desolate. She finds herself awake at night thinking about the suicide of her teenage neighbour, an event that goes unmentioned in the high-rise apartment block she lives in, but results in the young girl’s family receiving a hefty fine for the inconvenience of removing her body and sanitising the area.
The receptacle for the first-person narratives of Mai, Hikaru, Hiromi and the peripheral character of hostess Sadako, is the unnamed narrator, who bears a very close resemblance to Brabon. She is a nameless 30-year-old Melbourne woman who has travelled to Japan to write a book and to explore achiragawa. This concept of achiragawa underlies much of Haruki Murakami’s fiction, and there are several references to Murakami both outright and purely in his influence upon the use of language and structure of the stories. Referring to several characters by their first name initial, weaving magical and mystical references into ordinary accounts, and giving memories and imagination the same accord as the real is all very Murakami.
As Matthew Carl Strecher writes in "The Forbidden Worlds of Haruki Murakami", "...this achiragawa is many things at once: a metaphysical zone, freed from the constraints of time and space; a wormhole, or conduit into other physical worlds; an unconscious shared space..."
Our narrator, travelling through Japan from hostel to hostel is increasingly aware that the other side she seeks in Japan is not a place. The people she meets and stories conveyed to her and through her are not of those who have discovered a “new life”, but have moved to a different city or nation to escape the rigid sense of what is right and what is shameful in Japanese society. There are those in “The Shut-Ins” who come to the realisation they exist perpetually in the inescapable, lonely ordinariness of mortal life and those who insist they have escaped it.
“The Shut-Ins” is an intimate and empathetic depiction of failure, too. Not monumental, earth-shattering failure, but ordinary, ego-fracturing failures. Mai’s lack of desire for her husband and disinterest in becoming a mother earn the wrath of both her parents and her husband. Hikaru’s isolation brings shame on himself and his mother. Hiromi is torn between caring for her son and also for her ageing mother, knowing that to choose either would fail the other and bring shame on her. And finally, Sadako whose job as a well-paid hostess is to mirror the projected desires of her male clients, who she has no genuine affection for. Paid to play the content wife to Mai’s manipulative husband J, Sadako becomes more and more aware of her own lack of identity and purpose. Behind the tragically high suicide, mental health and hikikomori statistics for men and women in modern day Japan are the lived experiences of people like those in “The Shut-Ins”.
Brabon’s art is in rendering the ordinariness of solitude, failure and fleeting connections, landing the simplest observance with monumental gravity. Like us, her narrator can only observe Japan as a foreigner. We are only allowed to gain glimpses into the reality of modern Japanese life – conflicted between embracing Westernisation and historic norms - through shared stories.
The interconnected narratives of four individuals in contemporary Japan forms the basis for Melbourne author Katherine Brabon’s much anticipated second novel. Set in Nagoya, the fourth largest city of Japan, each of the solitary characters is questioning their purpose in a society that champions the collective over the individual. The pressure is on women in particular to serve their family’s interest before their own and to represent their family within society.
Readers of Brabon’s “The Memory Artist” will be rewarded with the same empathy for character, astute depiction of the physical landscape, and clever interplay of politics, culture, historical and literary references that defined her first novel, winner of the 2016 Vogel's Literary Award.
Japan is depicted as a study in contrasts: the onsens – public baths where naked Japanese of all ages immerse themselves in communal baths, the punctuality of the subway trains, the disconnectedness of urban life and yet – there’s also the presence of temples, Zen gardens and sense of solace in the recurring seasons of blooming cherry blossoms.
Themes of identity, solitude and suffering in silence in modern Japan are the connecting threads, where citizens are packed into apartment blocks “built…for a thousand bodies but for no individual soul”, and suicide is the leading cause of death for men aged 20 – 44 and women aged 15 – 29. Hikaru’s mother, Hiromi, a social pariah with her unmentionable son, must put on a face for public show that doesn’t reveal her shame and overwhelming sadness at failing to prepare her son for life in the world. Hikaru only opens the door to go to the toilet or collect food his mother has left. Mai, despite following her mother’s insistence upon a convenient marriage and a stable wage, is spiritually and emotionally desolate. She finds herself awake at night thinking about the suicide of her teenage neighbour, an event that goes unmentioned in the high-rise apartment block she lives in, but results in the young girl’s family receiving a hefty fine for the inconvenience of removing her body and sanitising the area.
The receptacle for the first-person narratives of Mai, Hikaru, Hiromi and the peripheral character of hostess Sadako, is the unnamed narrator, who bears a very close resemblance to Brabon. She is a nameless 30-year-old Melbourne woman who has travelled to Japan to write a book and to explore achiragawa. This concept of achiragawa underlies much of Haruki Murakami’s fiction, and there are several references to Murakami both outright and purely in his influence upon the use of language and structure of the stories. Referring to several characters by their first name initial, weaving magical and mystical references into ordinary accounts, and giving memories and imagination the same accord as the real is all very Murakami.
As Matthew Carl Strecher writes in "The Forbidden Worlds of Haruki Murakami", "...this achiragawa is many things at once: a metaphysical zone, freed from the constraints of time and space; a wormhole, or conduit into other physical worlds; an unconscious shared space..."
Our narrator, travelling through Japan from hostel to hostel is increasingly aware that the other side she seeks in Japan is not a place. The people she meets and stories conveyed to her and through her are not of those who have discovered a “new life”, but have moved to a different city or nation to escape the rigid sense of what is right and what is shameful in Japanese society. There are those in “The Shut-Ins” who come to the realisation they exist perpetually in the inescapable, lonely ordinariness of mortal life and those who insist they have escaped it.
“The Shut-Ins” is an intimate and empathetic depiction of failure, too. Not monumental, earth-shattering failure, but ordinary, ego-fracturing failures. Mai’s lack of desire for her husband and disinterest in becoming a mother earn the wrath of both her parents and her husband. Hikaru’s isolation brings shame on himself and his mother. Hiromi is torn between caring for her son and also for her ageing mother, knowing that to choose either would fail the other and bring shame on her. And finally, Sadako whose job as a well-paid hostess is to mirror the projected desires of her male clients, who she has no genuine affection for. Paid to play the content wife to Mai’s manipulative husband J, Sadako becomes more and more aware of her own lack of identity and purpose. Behind the tragically high suicide, mental health and hikikomori statistics for men and women in modern day Japan are the lived experiences of people like those in “The Shut-Ins”.
Brabon’s art is in rendering the ordinariness of solitude, failure and fleeting connections, landing the simplest observance with monumental gravity. Like us, her narrator can only observe Japan as a foreigner. We are only allowed to gain glimpses into the reality of modern Japanese life – conflicted between embracing Westernisation and historic norms - through shared stories.
October 25, 2024
honestly, this book was great. i originally started reading this because i was looking into more books on hikikomori's and neets within society. and i sadly was disappointed to see that there wasn't a lot to be found, but was surprised to find this lovely one! we need more books like this in the world. i've always thought of this condition as the most silently suffering people in society and my heart breaks.
i do wish there was more ongoing character development for the audience about Hikaru that we eventually got to learn. i want to know the pains he had to go through to get to 'the other side' that i too have struggle with before. but other than that, this was a good and really authentic description of a shut-in. i felt a sense of familiarity at times on how he personally saw construction sites as comforting place in the world, safe, & unmoving in time.
quotes 👇🏻
i do wish there was more ongoing character development for the audience about Hikaru that we eventually got to learn. i want to know the pains he had to go through to get to 'the other side' that i too have struggle with before. but other than that, this was a good and really authentic description of a shut-in. i felt a sense of familiarity at times on how he personally saw construction sites as comforting place in the world, safe, & unmoving in time.
quotes 👇🏻
August 14, 2021
The book touches on some interesting themes and issues but this wasn't for me. It was a little too slow and disjunctive even for me and my obscure tastes. I am definitely interested in reading more about the shut in phenomenon though.
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