A series of heartwarming, heartbreaking stories told from very distinct, different female point of views. They truly felt like gifts from the author and the illustrator, whose colorful and soft images accompany each story. Kakuta’s writing is simple yet precise and fully conveys the feeling that she’s describing. She paints in her twelve short stories very specific landmarks in the life of the narrator (the name the narrator was given, a first kiss, a bag the narrator receives when she goes to school for the first time…).
To say that reading Kakuta and reading Murakami is similar (and that Japanese writers tell stories in the same fashion!), though, to me, is very strange. The two have such radically different authorial voices and narrative worlds. And Japanese writers as a whole cannot be summarized as ‘telling their stories in the same way’, that is simply showing your lack of knowledge on Japanese literature, which like any literature in any country is multifaceted.