The first novel to appear in English by award-winning author Hiromi Ito explores the absurdities, complexities, and challenges experienced by a woman caring for her two families: her husband and daughters in California and her aging parents in Japan. As the narrator shuttles back and forth between these two starkly different cultures, she creates a powerful and entertaining narrative about what it means to live and die in a globalized society.
Ito has been described as a “shaman of poetry” because of her skill in allowing the voices of others to ow through her. Here she enriches her semi-autobiographical novel by channeling myriad voices drawn from Japanese folklore, poetry, literature, and pop culture. The result is a generic chimera—part poetry, part prose, part epic—a unique, transnational, polyvocal mode of storytelling. One throughline isa series of memories associated with the Buddhist bodhisattva Jizo, who helps to remove the “thorns” of human suffering.
Hiromi Itō is one of the most prominent woman writers of contemporary Japan, with more than a dozen collections of poetry, several works of prose, numerous books of essays, and several major literary prizes to her name.
Author and poet Hiromi Ito’s semifictional, episodic novel won two major literary awards in Japan, possibly because her intricate, sustained reflection on aging and mortality resonated with readers facing similar challenges to her own. The narrator also Ito is a middle-aged Japanese woman who has made her home in California, she has a ten-year-old daughter and two more in their twenties, her husband a version of Ito’s partner artist Harold Cohen, is nearly 30 years older than her and increasingly demanding. But Ito also has responsibility for her parents back in southern Japan and they are now exceptionally frail, so her time is carved up into frenetic journeys between California and Japan, attempting to meet the needs of everyone except it seems herself. Ito’s approach is unorthodox, some chapters resemble essays or meditations, others diary entries, some are graphic depictions of her parents’ health issues and their attempts to cope with their dilapidated bodies. She weaves into her narrative elements from poetry, literature and mythology, in an attempt to work out a way of facing death and loss for which it seems there are no clear guidelines, unlike the parenting and pregnancy books she remembers turning to as a young mother.
Ito also shifts between prose and poetry, she's compared her work here to an epic poem, striving to find the right means of expression for her emotions and frustrations, as well as the experiences of her family. In between time spent in hospitals or looking after the needs of her family, she meets with other poets and friends, all at different stages in life, all like her trying to find a workable path in an uncertain future. It’s a visceral, sometimes harrowing piece, but it can also be oddly clinical. Ito makes no attempt to represent herself as an easy or likeable character, sometimes she rages about the changes in her body and in the bodies of her parents and husband, the infuriating manner of the doctors she encounters, sometimes there’s a sense of frenzy, at others near resignation. Passages are lyrical, others brutal. The result is a mix of fascinating and bizarre, a short book that’s also strangely dense and demanding. But it’s also a compelling, persuasive perspective on a hidden phase in many women’s lives, caregivers on multiple fronts, operating in societies where their physical and emotional labour is unrecognised or disregarded. Ito sees herself as a thorn puller like the bodhisattva Jizo in Sugamo whose shrine she visits, an icon thought to remove the suffering of older, working-class women, but she also longs for someone to lighten her load and offer to shoulder her burdens. Translated by Jeffrey Angles, this is part of the new imprint from Stone Bridge Press linked to the excellent journal Monkey, new writing from Japan.
Thanks to Edelweiss and publisher Stone Bridge Press for an ARC
Maybe 3.5. I can't quite decide how I feel about this one. It's a powerful, intriguing read - meandering and hard-hitting, definitely thought-provoking.
Hiromi Ito is an award-winning Japanese poet and author and this is the first of her novels that has been translated into English. In it, she talks us through the difficulties she experiences trying to take care of her two families; her ageing parents in Japan, and her ageing husband in the US, and the clash of those two cultures, which is particularly noticeable with her young daughter who occasionally accompanies her to Japan.
It's less of a novel and more a series of essays where she uses different voices and pieces of poetry to express her self. She is brutally honest about the ageing process and her relationship problems. I found the non linear narrative a bit jarring, and whilst I can see the merits of the book, I didn't love it. Perhaps I would have if I'd read it at a different time; maybe it's better read in the Spring when things are looking up. I do still have a few chapters left, so I will finish slowly.
*Many thanks to Netgalley and the publishers for a review copy in exchange for an honest opinion.*
At first I thought this book might be too poetic for me as I had never heard of Hiromi Ito and was unaware of her presence as a celebrated poet. What attracted me initially and what eventually made me really like this book is the way Ito intertwines stories about her life with Japanese and US culture and with Japanese fables and myths.
I've been fascinated with Japanese lit for some years and it's always interesting to hear a new, lyrical voice. This is Ito's first English translation but if it is typical of her work I'd definitely read more.
You are never quite sure whether the story is fact or fiction because the lines are quite blurred at times. She uses myth to emphasise real life and the beliefs of Japanese animistic religions are used to great effect.
Some parts were a little lengthy but I found that once I picked this book up I found it hard to put down. I would definitely put this down to Ito's (and therefore Jeffrey Angles' translation) mastery of language.
A fascinating look at life, growing up, middle then old age and death as Ito splits her time between her California based husband and children and her elderly parents in Kumamoto.
Recommended for any fans of Japanese lit/poetry or those simply interested in a different culture.
A fun read about cross-cultural living, Jizō (Buddhist deity of children and travellers) and aging parents. Listen to our podcast with the translator Jeffrey Angles at https://booksonasia.net/podcast/boa-p...
In a wonderful series of essays (to try and put a genre to these pieces), Hiromi Ito writes about death, life, mothering, sex, parents, and ageing. She’s never afraid of confronting head-on the things we all fear, and presents us with her thoughtful, warm, often laugh-out-loud funny, and sometimes extremely cringeworthy thoughts. It’s the utter grimness of life, and the exquisitely tender moments; Ito shows us life can be both, sometimes at the same time.
This collection is a masterpiece of craft, and I loved it! It really is the most unusual and unexpected read; I never really knew where she was going to take us. Although these are very personal essays, they came across to me as powerfully feminist. I feel I may have lost out in not knowing the specific references to Japanese writers (Ito “borrows” voices, and there are notes at the end of each section, to explain); regardless, Ito’s authorial voice—through the translator—is strong, and distinctive.
Read if you’re interested in the themes mentioned above, and if you enjoy creative non-fiction. Somehow, with mentions of poop and penises, Ito manages to elevate the ordinary in this marvelous book.
Thank you to Stone Bridge Press and to NetGalley for this ARC.
The protagonist of Hiromi Ito's debut English-language book, Ito, lives in the USA but frequently travels to Japan to care for her elderly parents who have made their home there. She also has children and an aged, demanding husband at her home.
The author discusses topics including migration, individualism, aging, and mortality, as well as the social pressures placed on women to be caregivers, as was noted in the introduction. We may also observe the impact that cultural variations have on our daily lives through Ito's journey.
The writing style of the author is difficult to pin down. To find the right speech for conveying her actual sentiments, it seems as though she switches from prose to poetry or vice versa. Reading this book was both interesting and emotional for me because I share a predicament with the author.
Many thanks to NetGalley and Stone Bridge Press to provide an ARC of the book for reviewers.
I feel like this went a bit over my head. Ito is a very well known poet in Japan and her novel switches between poetry and prose with absolutely beautiful, flowery writing that I felt like I had to reread multiple times. I think a lot of people would adore this, but I find it difficult to connect to overly flowery, metaphorical writing. That being said, it was extremely thought-provoking and an interesting, almost episodic format. I enjoyed it, but just sometimes felt like I was too dumb for it lol
I feel so seen by this book yet have so little life experiences directly in common with the author on the surface. it truly captures aging, language barriers, conflicting duties, what it means to be every type of relationship and also own your identity yourself. feels like a book I will come back to and re read as I get older. and it’s so interestingly written with prose & poetry & the translation is so thoughtful!
This is the sort of book that absolutely knocks me out. So clever and full of personality. The way the author borrows from texts and weaves poetry in is so seamless and stunning. There’s also an interesting dichotomy of East vs West that plays out in the pages. I am extremely facilitated with, but still a novice when it comes to Japanese culture, so this book was particularly thrilling for me. I had to stop so many times to learn about places and things that were mentioned. My experience with this book was exemplary of the joy of reading. I hope you’ll take my word, read this book, and get the same satisfaction I did.
This is such a surprisingly gorgeous and completely heartfelt book. The narrator is moving through the tragedies of everyday life, caring for her dying mother, trying to cope with her husband’s failing health while also being the best mother she can to her young daughter, and yes allowing herself to complain about how tough and confusing it is, to be pulled in so many directions, and to be doing a poor job at caring for any of the people you love because you simply don’t have the time; and yet. What a beautiful chronicle of love this brief book is. Love, and faith, that things will get better. It’s hard for me to express how much this writing moves me. The way it doesn’t look away from what’s ugly and painful about being human—we get a no nonsense precise blow by blow story of her mother’s physical wasting away, of the daily impossible grind of caring for (and about) too many people at once—and then the writing soars effortlessly into deeply resonant poetic reveries, observations so beautiful that they seem to argue that any amount of suffering is worth it, to live in a world so filled with unexpected splendor.
'The Thorn Puller' follows Hiromi Ito in her travels between Japan, where she cares for her elderly parents, and the US, where she cares for her elderly husband. Her humor and delivery reminded me of Kishon, though it's been probably 10 years since I last read anything by him. She weaves in and out of prose and poetry smoothly to tell stories of her family and her life. There's a surprising amount of body fluids in this book but those are the facts of life I guess. Or death. I enjoyed it though, the book was raw, funny, gross and hopeful and by the end every Jizo appearence felt like seeing an old friend and my own thorns were being pulled.
The storytelling was a bit tedious at parts, but I don't believe it was Ito's or the translator's fault. I imagine a native speaker who's familiar with the 'voices' she borrows would have another layer to enjoy during those parts but sadly I've only read The Pillow Book out of them, so maybe it's time to change that.
Dieses buch ist ein mandala - bis ins kleinste ornamental ausgearbeitet, aber das große ganze bleibt kunsthandwerk statt kunst. wie die übersetzerin irmela hijiya-kirschnereit in ihrem nachwort akribisch nachzeichnet, ruft ito hiromi alle register der zitation, sprach- und textgestaltung und lyrischen modulation ab, die sich ihr bieten, darüber vergisst sie aber an manchen stellen ihre hauptthemen - interkulturelles leben, insbesondere als frau, umgang mit fremden und eigenen erwartungen und der umgang mit dem älterwerden und dem tod. beeindruckend bleibt dieser kunstvolle genremix allemal, aber zu oft wird dem willen zur kunst die narration geopfert, anstatt sich um eine verbindung von beidem zu bemühen. auch mancher charakter verbleibt blass und eindimensional, doch einem buch, das formwillen und künstlerischen mut zeigt, verzeiht man diese schwächen bis zu einem gewissen grad.
First of all, I would like to thank Netaglley and the publisher for providing me with an ARC of the book in return for an honest review.
The book is told in the first person, and tells the story of Ito, who is around 50 years old, and is aging. She has sick parents to care for in Japan, an aging Jewish American husband in California with whom there is always a cultural disconnect, and three daughters, each of whom has her own issues and struggles. At the same time, Ito, a poet, is trying to assert herself, deal with her own issues, and find enough room in her life for her own ambitions, fears, and hopes.
It's a wonderful piece of literature. It is also universal in style and importance. While the story is firmly embedded in Japanese culture, the fact that the protagonist tells her story through the divide in her life between East and West makes it very easy to digest and understand. It is a story of what getting old really means and the responsibilities that come with it. It is also a story of what it means to have elderly parents left behind in another country as an only child. It is also a story of parenting and love and kindness.
The prose is electrifying and difficult to put down. While the book is relatively long and nothing much happens, the storytelling is all consuming and captivating. It is a monologue from the heart and soul.
I recommend to anyone above 40 with aging parents. It is truly a modern masterpiece.
The book takes its name from a Jizo statue in Tokyo that is supposed to remove people's afflictions, and I will acknowledge that. However, this is not what I get from this book. To me, it was a collection of essays, some humorous, some poignant, and all enjoyable. I read the book in spurts. It's not one of those you must read start to finish, and maybe I lost some of the continuity the author intended. At the same time, I enjoyed every page, every phrase, and felt I was peering into the author's soul with each essay. For that reason, I highly recommend the book...for its sheer enjoyment.
Japanese poet Hiromi Ito’s novel, The Thorn Puller, is a creative work of auto fiction that is in the uniquely Japanese genre of the I-Novel (Watakushi Shōsetsu), a semi fictional form of confessional literature. Ito described her experience travelling back and forth between Japan and California as she struggles to balance caring for her ailing parents, elderly husband, and angst ridden daughters all while trying to write poetry and manage her own health and emotional challenges. Deeply informed by Buddhism and the figure of the bodhisattva, Jizo (Sanskrit: Ksitigarbha) who is believed to be able to remove the thorns of suffering from his devotees, this book is a philosophical meditation on aging and death. Ito weaves her earthy sense of humor along with literary threads of historical and contemporary Japanese poetry, mythology, Noh plays, and Buddhist philosophy to realize a deeply practical approach to managing the fears and suffering which we must all endure as we grapple with our own mortality and the mortality of those we care about. Never sentimental and often quite funny this a refreshingly novel piece of writing that contains great wisdom.
Diese schrullige Groteske über Leben und Sterben ist nicht immer leicht zu lesen, aber belohnt so oft mit Metaphernfeuerwerk, noch nie gelesenen Vergleichen, komischer Lakonie und einem Ausflug in die japanische Denkwelt. Wie eindrücklich melancholisch Itō über Vergänglichkeit schreibt, wenn sie sich mit dem Sterben der Eltern beschäftigen muss, hallt in mir nach. Im Nachwort - das man unbedingt als Vorwort lesen sollte - spricht die Übersetzerin von der Durchlässigkeit alles Organischen, die der Roman schildert. Daraus entstehen wunderbare Metaphern für Identität, Beziehungen, Gefühlswelten. Am meisten gefällt mir, dass dieses Buch so vielschichtig ist: mal barock eklig, mal philosophierend ernst, mal spirituell anregend, mal einfach nur lustig. 📚🫂
Lyrical, fiercely honest and heart wrenching, The Thorn Puller is what happens when poetry meets prose. Ito is a master of capturing the essence of complex emotions in even more complex relationships: wife to husband, mother to daughter, child to aging parents. I was captivated from the beginning by the rawness, beauty, and sometimes even humor Ito used to express what is often too difficult to put to words. A phenomenal read.
Many thanks to Netgalley and Stone Bridge Press for the eARC in exchange for my honest review!
This book has potential as I am interested in the discussed topics but sadly, I feel that a lot is lost in translation. It's not the translator's fault either though, just the difficulty of rendering these metaphors and references in English.
Some parts were quite interesting, but others felt scattered or did not make much sense, making the book quite bland. The stream of consciousness and style did not help much either. I might not have chosen the best timing to read this book, anyway...
I enjoyed the way the story unfolds in lyrical or poetic form. A great story which is I would say can relate in what is happening right now. Looking after your family and parents has its challenges which I myself can attest to that.
i learned a lot from this book about what it means to craft a hybrid text, how deep the layers of that can truly go when a novel is made as mindfully as this one. struggled occasionally with the narrative voice. i think i'm glad for its unflinchingness, but some things (mostly the sexualized passages) just gave me strange tonal feelings & i'm not usually terribly sensitive about that sort of thing. idk. i suppose i'll be examining my discomfort. this was a thoughtful, wise read for my last of the year.
The novel being semi autobiographical and exploring through the diverged cultural life of the writer/protagonist, gives the writing style a whole new output. The book highly bases itself into the cultural significance of lifestyle in the writer's nativity that we get very much used to the thorn puller tradition completely. The significant differences in the lifestyles between japan and america, with the marriage issues between very different people The main idea of not fuxating the book to a story makes it more explorative than living just within the boundaries, in that way, the book never struggles to stay at one place, we see it bouncing back and forth between timelines so much we even stop caring about them, the chapters each explore each situation and characters, and by the book ends we get a perspective on all the characters equally in her family. The translation was very lively to read, the translation of the different references and poems used was very neat and hope they were close to accuracy.
I just reviewed The Thorn Puller by Hiromi Ito. #TheThornPuller #NetGalley
...The Thorn Puller invites the question how useful categories like “Japanese literature” or “Asian-American literature” remain for some contemporary fiction. Yes, her novel fits as a work of “Japanese literature” by almost any definition. And, yes, it probably fits as a work of “Asian-American literature” by a Japanese immigrant to the US—at least now that it is available in English. It is also well-positioned to be an important contribution to both literatures.
But while Ito’s novel may meet the demands of both “Japanese” and “Asian-American literature,” it is encompassed by neither label—or perhaps both. And it is more than the sum of its parts. The reader wonders, in a world where a growing number of people live their lives in many places, do narrow national categories still make sense? If so, whom, exactly, do these categories benefit? Just like Ito, both author and narrator, the novel sits in-between cultures, languages, and labels. In a world increasingly affected by globalization, it seems likely the number of category-defying works like The Thorn Puller will continue to grow.
The Thorn Puller is a book about a person who lives her life across two continents. It’s a novel about some of literature’s greatest themes—love, human connection, death, and the meaning of suffering. The Thorn Pulleris a truly wonderful book, no matter where it is shelved.
A book that feels poetic and very real, The Thorn Puller for me was a fascinating and in moments and emotional read about family, aging and mortality that really leaves with you alot of thoughts.
Working together stories of her life through prose and poetry, this book shares the stories of Hiromi as she moves between two different countries caring for her husband and her parents. This book almost feels like a diary and an expelling of thoughts as she deals with her own feelings and the things effecting all of her family.
I appreciated her emotive and raw style of writing as she pens everything in her head down and allows an insight into her way of thinking as she travels between her two families. As a carer, finding the balance between finding time for yourself and doing all you can for the people around you is incredibly difficult and that position is reflected so well in this book.
a poignant and thoughtful book that brings together a whole 'story' that gives you an insight into Hiromi's life. It wasn't what I expected, but I'm glad it wasn't.
(I received an ARC from Netgalley for honest review).
The Thorn Puller is both poetry and prose, fiction and non-fiction, drawing from Japanese folktales to connect the writers life to something bigger than it is.
Itō cares for both her aging husband in the US, and her elderly parents in Japan. Travelling between both countries as primary caregiver to those around her. The readers are shown what biculturalism is like to live with and having two conflicting cultures being a huge part of your life.
The theme of motherhood, femininity, female sexuality, life and death is also rampant throughout the novel.
At times, I found the writing to be a bit slow and I think Western readers will have a hard time discerning the different “voices” that Itō borrows from. Overall, a wonderfully unique semi autobiography.
Thanks to NetGalley and the publishers for an ARC in exchange for an honest review.
This ARC was an unflinchingly honest and funny memoir from Ito, describing her chaotic family life - flying back and forth to Japan/California to look after her elderly parents, of her daughters and her husband, not to mention family pets and a whirlwind of emotions. It touched on sensitive topics close to home - ageing, dying and death, mental health issues but through it all Ito has managed to hold it together and write it down. The translation was brilliantly done. #thethornpuller #netgalley
Sitting down with The Thorn Puller is like hanging out with your best friend and having one of those conversations that wend and wind and digress before coming full circle. You don’t have an agenda or talking points, you just know that your friend will say something outrageous about your most intimate and serious problems and that you’ll both end up laughing at whatever shit life throws at you. After hours together, you’ll have talked about magic and sunrises, lions eating gazelles, brain dysfunction, politics, gardening, family, your sex life, foreign countries, a childhood memory, spiders, your aging body, and whether hell exists—in that crazy, disconnected, but natural order. You may not remember all that you talked about, but you’ll feel rejuvenated and happier for just having been in your friend’s company.
Sitting down with The Thorn Puller is like reading someone’s innermost dialogue, complete with rambling reasoning, neuroses, digressions, regrets, fears, ideas, obsessions, curiosities, distractions, loves, desires, guilty pleasures, and mean-spirited thoughts, all of which paint a portrait of an endearing, irascible, loving, caring, irreverent, troubled middle-aged woman under inordinate amounts of stress.
And you love her, because The Thorn Puller is one of the most honest books you will ever read, even though it is described by Publishers Weekly as autofictional, which means you don’t know what parts of the story to believe.
You don’t believe her account of watching a poet friend transform from a bent and crooked old man who needs a walking stick for support into a living, robust Jizo (an enlightened being known for protecting lost souls, travelers, and children). Yet, Ito unloads her burdened soul to him, he listens with such care, then offers such profound advice, that it’s irrelevant whether he is an old friend or god-like figure. It’s real. It’s believable.
You certainly do believe much of her story: the multiple trips—emergency and planned—between the US and Kumamoto to care for sick and infirm parents, her back and forth between love and resentment towards her husband, and her newfound interest in Jizo. Ito’s storytelling is about things any middle-aged woman is experiencing, but her wit and honesty, her life experiences, and her curiosity are uniquely hers, so when her mother suffers a stroke and Ito writes, “When I was little, she’d scolded me countless times for not eating my food properly—cut it out and eat right, she’d say. Now, she was the one eating strangely. No one had said a thing, but I could hear her words echoing in my ears, and a mean-spirited part of me wished I could say, now who’s eating funny?” you know it’s wrong, but you can’t help but laugh at her irreverence and sympathize with her sentiment.
The Thorn Puller is a benchmark book. Some reviews compare Hiromi Ito to Haruki Murakami and Yoko Tawada, but make no mistake, Ito is her own person, with her own style, and she sets her own standard for storytelling that will be a measure for aspiring authors.
The interplay between poetry and prose is seamless, setting a pace and tone that resembles stream-of-consciousness writing without the confusion that often arises with that technique.
The interchange among literature, folktales, haiku, legends, and Ito’s life experiences is a lesson in the importance of art in our lives and how written art is not just entertainment, but holds lessons and examples, references to better understand our world, ourselves, our experiences, and emotions.
But those things are secondary to the strength and impact of this book. Read The Thorn Puller to learn for yourself the significance of the title. Read The Thorn Puller because this story is about dealing with stress (and who isn’t?). Read The Thorn Puller because it is ultimately about dealing with death—of loved ones, pets, your own—but is not morbid (except when it is) or depressing (well, sometimes it is) or hopeless (which it never is). It is a dialectic journey into the human spiral towards death as seen through the joys and travails of life. And that journey is fun, wild, funny, educational, sad, thought-provoking, personal, and relatable.
Note: I received an advance copy of this book for review. The review is unpaid and is my personal opinion.
Linda Gould is an American and long-time resident of Japan. Her fiction and non-fiction have been published in media outlets around the world. Gould is the editor of White Enso, an online journal of creative work inspired by Japan, and host of “Kaidankai,” a podcast of supernatural stories.