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The Briefcase
Tsukiko, thirty-eight, works in an office and lives alone. One night, she happens to meet one of her former high school teachers, "Sensei" in a local bar. Tsukiko had only ever called him "Sensei" ("Teacher"). He is thirty years her senior, retired, and presumably a widower. Their relationship, traced by Kawakami’s gentle hints at the changing seasons, develops from a perfunctory acknowledgment of each other as they eat and drink alone at the bar, to an enjoyable sense of companionship, and finally into a deeply sentimental love affair.
As Tsukiko and Sensei grow to know and love one another, time’s passing comes across through the seasons and the food and beverages they consume together. From warm sake to chilled beer, from the buds on the trees to the blooming of the cherry blossoms, the reader is enveloped by a keen sense of pathos and both characters’ keen loneliness.
As Tsukiko and Sensei grow to know and love one another, time’s passing comes across through the seasons and the food and beverages they consume together. From warm sake to chilled beer, from the buds on the trees to the blooming of the cherry blossoms, the reader is enveloped by a keen sense of pathos and both characters’ keen loneliness.
176 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 2001
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About the author
Hiromi Kawakami
111 books3,562 followersKawakami Hiromi (川上弘美 Kawakami Hiromi) born April 1, 1958, is a Japanese writer known for her off-beat fiction.
Born in Tokyo, Kawakami graduated from Ochanomizu Women's College in 1980. She made her debut as "Yamada Hiromi" in NW-SF No. 16, edited by Yamano Koichi and Yamada Kazuko, in 1980 with the story So-shimoku ("Diptera"), and also helped edit some early issues of NW-SF in the 1970s. She reinvented herself as a writer and wrote her first book, a collection of short stories entitled God (Kamisama) published in 1994. Her novel The Teacher's Briefcase (Sensei no kaban) is a love story between a woman in her thirties and a man in his sixties. She is also known as a literary critic and a provocative essayist.
(from Wikipedia)
Born in Tokyo, Kawakami graduated from Ochanomizu Women's College in 1980. She made her debut as "Yamada Hiromi" in NW-SF No. 16, edited by Yamano Koichi and Yamada Kazuko, in 1980 with the story So-shimoku ("Diptera"), and also helped edit some early issues of NW-SF in the 1970s. She reinvented herself as a writer and wrote her first book, a collection of short stories entitled God (Kamisama) published in 1994. Her novel The Teacher's Briefcase (Sensei no kaban) is a love story between a woman in her thirties and a man in his sixties. She is also known as a literary critic and a provocative essayist.
(from Wikipedia)
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 7,085 reviews
October 25, 2012
This book reads like Japanese art. Clean lines, spare and uncluttered. Or sparse, haiku as opposed to Shakespeare. The story is slight and the book is short. I found it somewhat cinematic - chapters as scenes - in Santuro's bar, at Sansei's, on the island, mushroom hunting, etc. Each an experimental and incremental step in a casual relationship full of stops and starts.
There's not a lot of explanation to why they are the people they are. They are loners who do not seek out friendships, though their attraction to each other as acquaintances deepens, they retain their separateness, sometimes not seeing each other or talking to each other for a month or more.
We know, of course, that they begin to care about each other and develop a complicated relationship and eventually learn to love each other, but on the narrative's periphery something holds them back - their age difference is the obvious answer, but it's more than that. It's just who they are.
I thought a couple of "dream" or "magical realism" chapters toward the end distracted from the book as a whole. And, yes, there was a lot of eating and drinking. That is what a lot of people do when they're together. So what?
Overall liked it, a mood piece. Read it on a rainy day.
There's not a lot of explanation to why they are the people they are. They are loners who do not seek out friendships, though their attraction to each other as acquaintances deepens, they retain their separateness, sometimes not seeing each other or talking to each other for a month or more.
We know, of course, that they begin to care about each other and develop a complicated relationship and eventually learn to love each other, but on the narrative's periphery something holds them back - their age difference is the obvious answer, but it's more than that. It's just who they are.
I thought a couple of "dream" or "magical realism" chapters toward the end distracted from the book as a whole. And, yes, there was a lot of eating and drinking. That is what a lot of people do when they're together. So what?
Overall liked it, a mood piece. Read it on a rainy day.
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November 18, 2024
‘Up until now, I thought I had enjoyed my life alone, somehow.’
In the modern world with all its forms of communication and bustle, it is surprisingly easy to find oneself feeling lonely. Much praised and awarded author Hiromi Kawakami brilliantly examines modern loneliness and the quiet bliss that can be found through a shared loneliness with a friend in her book Strange Weather in Tokyo. When Tsukiko runs into her former teacher, whom she still only refers to as ‘Sensei’ in a local bar, the two begin to pair up and pass their loneliness in one another’s company. The novel follows them through episodic encounters over the course of several years as they grow closer. This lovely and tender little book is brought to life in scenes teeming with sensual descriptions of food and nature while Kawakami’s gorgeous prose that hits right on the heart of what it truly means to feel lonely, to yearn, to love and to live.
In the later part of the 20s I lived alone most of the time and, like the characters in this book, spent most of my evenings alone in a crowded bar. I liked to read, that is what I came for, and something about being alone in a busy place was comforting compared to being alone in an empty space. Perhaps, like the narrator Tsukiko says, ‘It’s always better to drink than to cry.’ I met cool people this way as well, other lonely folks who wanted to be somewhere and nowhere at once. It’s easy to romanticize this period in hindsight, though I don’t think that would really do it justice. It was truly a lonely time, but it was also a period where I learned to be friends with myself, to appreciate a dinner alone, to be my own friend and that I something I’m glad I have.
There is a similar vibe to this novel, one that will undoubtedly resonate with those who have a close relationship with loneliness but that is not essential to empathizing with it. There is a minor key melancholy that permeates each page, but Kawakami conducts it in a way that gives way to a blossoming of beauty. This is the sort of novel that reminds you how rain can be lovely when a ray of light breaks through, and the shared loneliness between the two characters culminates into a touching and tender orchestration of lives lived outside the frenetic social fields. It shines a light on the small moments that are often overlooked by those who live busy lives, sort of like stopping to smell the roadside flowers but on a grey day when you have nowhere else to be anyways. Kawakami does well by not romanticizing or dipping into oversentinality while still bringing out all the right notes of beauty and demonstrates quite effectively how loneliness does not always equate to grief. The prose is lovely too, done in a light touch of love across chapters that read like a collection of slice-of-life vignettes.
The characters, Tsukiko and Sensei are creatures of habit and, while lonely, are not necessarily wallowing in it. They do exist on the fringes of society, she a 30something office employee without many real friends, someone who will have a ‘conversation with the moon,’ but in the company of other people says ‘forcing myself to make conversation felt like standing on a cliff, peering over the edge, about to tumble down headfirst.’ Sensei is retired, his wife long gone, but seems to enjoy his own company and has his favorite public places to spend his time. The two are odd but, as Sensei observes ‘even a cracked pot has a lid that fits.’ There is a particular charm to how frustrating and quirky the characters can be both to the reader and each other. They are delicately nuanced, set in their ways, prone to irritation and move about their lives in a way that makes them feel very real. So much so that you can become convinced they are people who have populated a late night bar rail with you. This is a book that buzzes with the vibe of a cozy night.
There isn’t so much a plot as this is more a stunning collage of two lives sewn together through a shared intimacy and loneliness. This book chronicles a slow motion freefall into expressions of love where yearnings start small, and while anxieties occasionally spring them backwards because ‘being in love makes people uncertain,’ the progress into being comfortable around each other beyond casual drunken chatter always churns forward. Tsukiko is reminded of an expression an Aunt once told her and charts her emotional journey on it’s path:
Food figures prominently in the novel, as it does in many early dates for people. Their shared love for food is an easy topic for them to slide into comfortable conversation, or find excuses to see one another outside the bar even if mostly for the purpose of food. However, the lush description of food becomes one of the elements of sensual language and earthly substance that colors the novel. Nature, itself, is very key to Strange Weather in Tokyo and while the book was originally titled The Briefcase it works because it underscores the link between the characters and the natural world that make up much of the novel. The passage of seasons charts the flow of time in the book, which tends to leap between episodes, and seasonal events such as the cherry blossoms or mushroom hunting season become focal points to several vignettes. Each chapter tends to end on an expression of nature, particularly the moon, and does well to center the characters as part of a vast and wondrous world where even in their loneliness they can be at peace. It does, however, keep other natural occurrences close in mind, such as aging, decay and inevitable death--something everpresent in Sensei’s mind noting the age gap between him and Tsukiko.
While much of the novel reminds us of the beauty in life, there also tends to be a sentiment of nostalgia for traditional ways. Which, unfortunately, can raise an eyebrow. Sensei does act like a man of his era, and while some of his inability to not act like a teacher--chiding Tsukiko for posture and manners--can be humorous, it also gets condescending in a way that becomes a tad misogynist when coupled with his tellings of his former wife. The stories of his wife tend to focus on her as overly emotional, unstable (see also: hysterical, a term that is loaded with gender oppression) and feature him ‘putting her in her place’ as it were. Which is pretty problematic. But returning to tradition, Strange Weather also features the character Takashi Kojima, a former classmate of Tsukiko’s who serves as a foil to the character of Sensei. Kojima is young and more boisterous, while Sensei is reserved and traditional. There is an undercurrent at work that is suspicious of modern society and progress (Sensei hates mobile phones, for example) while preferring a more traditional way of life. Being outside Japanese culture, I won’t weigh in on this much but I’m curious how this book is perceived in terms of globalization and social politics in Japan itself.
Strange Weather in Tokyo is a quiet little novel that really works its way into your heart and soul. Delicate and tasteful, Kawakami manages to render loneliness into a kind of beauty when it can be shared with others. While I’ve primarily commented on the somberness of the book, it should be noted that Kawakami can be quite funny and this book feels more uplifting than anything while reading it. This is a book to share a drink with while you share these character’s feelings. This is a book for the lonely, for the lovers, and for anyone in between.
4/5
In loneliness I have drifted this long way, alone.
My torn and shabby robe could not keep out the cold.
And tonight the sky was so clear
it made my heart ache all the more
In the modern world with all its forms of communication and bustle, it is surprisingly easy to find oneself feeling lonely. Much praised and awarded author Hiromi Kawakami brilliantly examines modern loneliness and the quiet bliss that can be found through a shared loneliness with a friend in her book Strange Weather in Tokyo. When Tsukiko runs into her former teacher, whom she still only refers to as ‘Sensei’ in a local bar, the two begin to pair up and pass their loneliness in one another’s company. The novel follows them through episodic encounters over the course of several years as they grow closer. This lovely and tender little book is brought to life in scenes teeming with sensual descriptions of food and nature while Kawakami’s gorgeous prose that hits right on the heart of what it truly means to feel lonely, to yearn, to love and to live.
In the later part of the 20s I lived alone most of the time and, like the characters in this book, spent most of my evenings alone in a crowded bar. I liked to read, that is what I came for, and something about being alone in a busy place was comforting compared to being alone in an empty space. Perhaps, like the narrator Tsukiko says, ‘It’s always better to drink than to cry.’ I met cool people this way as well, other lonely folks who wanted to be somewhere and nowhere at once. It’s easy to romanticize this period in hindsight, though I don’t think that would really do it justice. It was truly a lonely time, but it was also a period where I learned to be friends with myself, to appreciate a dinner alone, to be my own friend and that I something I’m glad I have.
There is a similar vibe to this novel, one that will undoubtedly resonate with those who have a close relationship with loneliness but that is not essential to empathizing with it. There is a minor key melancholy that permeates each page, but Kawakami conducts it in a way that gives way to a blossoming of beauty. This is the sort of novel that reminds you how rain can be lovely when a ray of light breaks through, and the shared loneliness between the two characters culminates into a touching and tender orchestration of lives lived outside the frenetic social fields. It shines a light on the small moments that are often overlooked by those who live busy lives, sort of like stopping to smell the roadside flowers but on a grey day when you have nowhere else to be anyways. Kawakami does well by not romanticizing or dipping into oversentinality while still bringing out all the right notes of beauty and demonstrates quite effectively how loneliness does not always equate to grief. The prose is lovely too, done in a light touch of love across chapters that read like a collection of slice-of-life vignettes.
The characters, Tsukiko and Sensei are creatures of habit and, while lonely, are not necessarily wallowing in it. They do exist on the fringes of society, she a 30something office employee without many real friends, someone who will have a ‘conversation with the moon,’ but in the company of other people says ‘forcing myself to make conversation felt like standing on a cliff, peering over the edge, about to tumble down headfirst.’ Sensei is retired, his wife long gone, but seems to enjoy his own company and has his favorite public places to spend his time. The two are odd but, as Sensei observes ‘even a cracked pot has a lid that fits.’ There is a particular charm to how frustrating and quirky the characters can be both to the reader and each other. They are delicately nuanced, set in their ways, prone to irritation and move about their lives in a way that makes them feel very real. So much so that you can become convinced they are people who have populated a late night bar rail with you. This is a book that buzzes with the vibe of a cozy night.
There isn’t so much a plot as this is more a stunning collage of two lives sewn together through a shared intimacy and loneliness. This book chronicles a slow motion freefall into expressions of love where yearnings start small, and while anxieties occasionally spring them backwards because ‘being in love makes people uncertain,’ the progress into being comfortable around each other beyond casual drunken chatter always churns forward. Tsukiko is reminded of an expression an Aunt once told her and charts her emotional journey on it’s path:
If the love is true, then treat it the same way you would plant - feed it, protect it from the elements - you must do absolutely everything you can. But if it isn't true, then it's best to just let it wither on the vine.As the saying goes, if you love them let them go, but if Tsukiko finds she can’t accept being apart she must do something about it. Which feels inevitable right from page one where we see the two as a mirror of the other when she orders
‘tuna with fermented soybeans, fried lotus root, and salted shallots,’ while the old man next to me requested ‘salted shallots, lotus root fries, and tuna fermented with soybearns.’Quickly it is detected that they fit together beyond their food choices, but in their shared quietude and loneliness. Tsukiko comments they ‘had a similar rhythm, or temperament.’
Food figures prominently in the novel, as it does in many early dates for people. Their shared love for food is an easy topic for them to slide into comfortable conversation, or find excuses to see one another outside the bar even if mostly for the purpose of food. However, the lush description of food becomes one of the elements of sensual language and earthly substance that colors the novel. Nature, itself, is very key to Strange Weather in Tokyo and while the book was originally titled The Briefcase it works because it underscores the link between the characters and the natural world that make up much of the novel. The passage of seasons charts the flow of time in the book, which tends to leap between episodes, and seasonal events such as the cherry blossoms or mushroom hunting season become focal points to several vignettes. Each chapter tends to end on an expression of nature, particularly the moon, and does well to center the characters as part of a vast and wondrous world where even in their loneliness they can be at peace. It does, however, keep other natural occurrences close in mind, such as aging, decay and inevitable death--something everpresent in Sensei’s mind noting the age gap between him and Tsukiko.
While much of the novel reminds us of the beauty in life, there also tends to be a sentiment of nostalgia for traditional ways. Which, unfortunately, can raise an eyebrow. Sensei does act like a man of his era, and while some of his inability to not act like a teacher--chiding Tsukiko for posture and manners--can be humorous, it also gets condescending in a way that becomes a tad misogynist when coupled with his tellings of his former wife. The stories of his wife tend to focus on her as overly emotional, unstable (see also: hysterical, a term that is loaded with gender oppression) and feature him ‘putting her in her place’ as it were. Which is pretty problematic. But returning to tradition, Strange Weather also features the character Takashi Kojima, a former classmate of Tsukiko’s who serves as a foil to the character of Sensei. Kojima is young and more boisterous, while Sensei is reserved and traditional. There is an undercurrent at work that is suspicious of modern society and progress (Sensei hates mobile phones, for example) while preferring a more traditional way of life. Being outside Japanese culture, I won’t weigh in on this much but I’m curious how this book is perceived in terms of globalization and social politics in Japan itself.
Strange Weather in Tokyo is a quiet little novel that really works its way into your heart and soul. Delicate and tasteful, Kawakami manages to render loneliness into a kind of beauty when it can be shared with others. While I’ve primarily commented on the somberness of the book, it should be noted that Kawakami can be quite funny and this book feels more uplifting than anything while reading it. This is a book to share a drink with while you share these character’s feelings. This is a book for the lonely, for the lovers, and for anyone in between.
4/5
In loneliness I have drifted this long way, alone.
My torn and shabby robe could not keep out the cold.
And tonight the sky was so clear
it made my heart ache all the more
March 25, 2020
A May-December love story. She’s 37, he’s in his 70’s.
Her life is her career as an office worker. She has no friends; seldom sees her family; she seems tired of failed relationships with men. She drinks too much sake and beer. The story is written from her point of view.
She calls him Sensei. He’s her former high school Japanese teacher. They see each other on and off in a bar, occasionally eat out together, take walks or visit a museum. They go mushroom hunting with the bartender. They are both careful not to think of these as ‘dates.’ Occasionally they have stupid arguments and stop speaking to each other.
He’s loaded with oddities. He wears old-fashioned clothes and always carries a briefcase. He keeps dead batteries and tests them occasionally to see if they still have a charge. He still acts as her teacher, reciting haikus and criticizing her for not remembering things he talked about in class 20 years ago.
Despite their age difference, she falls in love. He’s a widower, afraid of getting too involved and dying on her.
And did I mention all the food? It’s as if Camilleri’s Inspector Montalbano is vacationing in Japan. We need a glossary to look up yudofu (apparently best with shaved bonito), oden, daikon, konnyaku noodles, kombu, hanpen, yakitori (sounds delicious), shabu-shabu (skewered chicken, only so-so). And did someone order whale meat? Shame!
There is good writing. I liked this passage that captures her loneliness going off alone on weekend trips: “Times had changed – nowadays, hotels didn’t seem to consider a woman traveling alone unusual. They briskly escorted me to my room, briskly instructed me where the dining room and the bath were located, and briskly indicated when checkout time was. I had no other choice, and once I had briskly used the bath, briskly finished my dinner, and briskly taken another bath, there was nothing else to do. I briskly went to bed, briskly left the next morning, and that was all there was to it.”
A great story and a quick read.
The author (b. 1958) has written about 10 novels and has won several of Japan’s literary awards. About half of her books have been translated into English and some have been made into movies.
Tokyo restaurants: top photo from japan-guide.com
Middle photo from cdn.vox-cdn.com/thumbor
The author from lareviewofbooks-org
Her life is her career as an office worker. She has no friends; seldom sees her family; she seems tired of failed relationships with men. She drinks too much sake and beer. The story is written from her point of view.
She calls him Sensei. He’s her former high school Japanese teacher. They see each other on and off in a bar, occasionally eat out together, take walks or visit a museum. They go mushroom hunting with the bartender. They are both careful not to think of these as ‘dates.’ Occasionally they have stupid arguments and stop speaking to each other.
He’s loaded with oddities. He wears old-fashioned clothes and always carries a briefcase. He keeps dead batteries and tests them occasionally to see if they still have a charge. He still acts as her teacher, reciting haikus and criticizing her for not remembering things he talked about in class 20 years ago.
Despite their age difference, she falls in love. He’s a widower, afraid of getting too involved and dying on her.
And did I mention all the food? It’s as if Camilleri’s Inspector Montalbano is vacationing in Japan. We need a glossary to look up yudofu (apparently best with shaved bonito), oden, daikon, konnyaku noodles, kombu, hanpen, yakitori (sounds delicious), shabu-shabu (skewered chicken, only so-so). And did someone order whale meat? Shame!
There is good writing. I liked this passage that captures her loneliness going off alone on weekend trips: “Times had changed – nowadays, hotels didn’t seem to consider a woman traveling alone unusual. They briskly escorted me to my room, briskly instructed me where the dining room and the bath were located, and briskly indicated when checkout time was. I had no other choice, and once I had briskly used the bath, briskly finished my dinner, and briskly taken another bath, there was nothing else to do. I briskly went to bed, briskly left the next morning, and that was all there was to it.”
A great story and a quick read.
The author (b. 1958) has written about 10 novels and has won several of Japan’s literary awards. About half of her books have been translated into English and some have been made into movies.
Tokyo restaurants: top photo from japan-guide.com
Middle photo from cdn.vox-cdn.com/thumbor
The author from lareviewofbooks-org
June 9, 2022
the classic story: boy meets girl, boy is actually elderly man who was once girl's teacher but girl doesn't remember his name, boy and girl embark on mutual alcoholism
this book does capture what it means to be lonely, and how it feels, but also it just didn't hit me at the right time? i'm much closer to being in school in age than i am to this former student or her elderly teacher, and the dynamic between them kept taking me out.
overall it felt more like a traditional romance than i wanted it to - i was hoping for lit fic or something experimental - and the circumstances made me uncomfy.
and i'm not sorry about it!
but i like this author and i'll keep reading her and i'm not sorry about that either!
bottom line: an odd one!
------------
reading books by asian authors for aapi month!
book 1: kim jiyoung, born 1982
book 2: siren queen
book 3: the heart principle
book 4: n.p.
book 5: the hole
book 6: set on you
book 7: disorientation
book 8: parade
book 9: if i had your face
book 10: joan is okay
book 11: strange weather in tokyo
this book does capture what it means to be lonely, and how it feels, but also it just didn't hit me at the right time? i'm much closer to being in school in age than i am to this former student or her elderly teacher, and the dynamic between them kept taking me out.
overall it felt more like a traditional romance than i wanted it to - i was hoping for lit fic or something experimental - and the circumstances made me uncomfy.
and i'm not sorry about it!
but i like this author and i'll keep reading her and i'm not sorry about that either!
bottom line: an odd one!
------------
reading books by asian authors for aapi month!
book 1: kim jiyoung, born 1982
book 2: siren queen
book 3: the heart principle
book 4: n.p.
book 5: the hole
book 6: set on you
book 7: disorientation
book 8: parade
book 9: if i had your face
book 10: joan is okay
book 11: strange weather in tokyo
August 6, 2020
“I find something quite carefree about the days around the winter solstice, when the daylight is so brief it seems like it’s chasing you. Knowing that it will soon be dark anyway, I’m able to steel myself against that inevitable sense of regret brought on by the evening twilight… The moment after I realized it was dark, I would feel a surge of loneliness.”
I don’t know that anyone would ever have called me particularly sensitive in the past, but lately I’ve been easily tearing up by phrases like the one Tsukiko reflects. She is in her late thirties, single and lonely. She sees her family infrequently and has few friends. Not because she’s unlikeable, but because she just prefers it that way. Okay, I can appreciate that. One day she bumps into a former high school teacher, “Sensei”. He’s at least thirty years older than Tsukiko, but there’s no age limit on loneliness and the two are drawn together in companionship.
“Up until now, I thought I had enjoyed my life alone, somehow.”
This story is simply told, yet there is something so appealing about the modest writing. It’s restrained yet sophisticated. It is written in the first person narrative from Tsukiko’s point of view, which I liked. There is a very wistful quality to it as she looks back on her time spent with Sensei. It may evoke a memory of a special, past relationship that you look on with fondness yourself. Or perhaps it will make you yearn for such a feeling now, as you read. There is a subtle humor to be found between this unlikely pair. Often they reminded me of an old, married couple, bickering with one another over trivialities; sometimes going for periods without speaking to each other. Tsukiko sometimes felt so close to Sensei, at other times she sensed an immense gap.
“I was keenly aware of the distance between us. Not only the difference between our age in years, nor even the expanse between where each of us stood at that moment, but rather the sheer distance that existed between us.”
Mostly, the pair spends time at their favorite bar, drinking sake and beer and ordering tantalizing dishes. They both run into old acquaintances that would presumably make ‘better’ matches. Yet they keep coming back to one another. As their platonic bond grows, I kept wondering where it would go from there. Could these two possibly share intimacies? How much does age really matter? Tsukiko’s longing is so palpable; Sensei’s reticence harder to discern. Sounds familiar, doesn’t it? The author does a bang-up job of making the reader identify with Tsukiko, despite any differences.
“Tsukiko, physical intimacy is essential. No matter how old you are, it’s extremely important.”
This was my first time reading Hiromi Kawakami, and I found this one to be compulsively readable. It has a dreamlike quality to it. While the cover strongly suggests magical realism, the novel only ever so softly whispers a hint of it. My only quibble I had with this was the transitions between chapters. It’s not marketed as a set of short stories, but I think it would be better if read as such. Based on a series of encounters between Tsukiko and Sensei, these are really a set of vignettes only loosely threaded together. It captivated me regardless.
“If the love is true, then treat it the same way you would a plant—fertilize it, protect it from the elements—you must do absolutely everything you can. But if it isn’t true, then it’s best to just let it wither on the vine.”
I don’t know that anyone would ever have called me particularly sensitive in the past, but lately I’ve been easily tearing up by phrases like the one Tsukiko reflects. She is in her late thirties, single and lonely. She sees her family infrequently and has few friends. Not because she’s unlikeable, but because she just prefers it that way. Okay, I can appreciate that. One day she bumps into a former high school teacher, “Sensei”. He’s at least thirty years older than Tsukiko, but there’s no age limit on loneliness and the two are drawn together in companionship.
“Up until now, I thought I had enjoyed my life alone, somehow.”
This story is simply told, yet there is something so appealing about the modest writing. It’s restrained yet sophisticated. It is written in the first person narrative from Tsukiko’s point of view, which I liked. There is a very wistful quality to it as she looks back on her time spent with Sensei. It may evoke a memory of a special, past relationship that you look on with fondness yourself. Or perhaps it will make you yearn for such a feeling now, as you read. There is a subtle humor to be found between this unlikely pair. Often they reminded me of an old, married couple, bickering with one another over trivialities; sometimes going for periods without speaking to each other. Tsukiko sometimes felt so close to Sensei, at other times she sensed an immense gap.
“I was keenly aware of the distance between us. Not only the difference between our age in years, nor even the expanse between where each of us stood at that moment, but rather the sheer distance that existed between us.”
Mostly, the pair spends time at their favorite bar, drinking sake and beer and ordering tantalizing dishes. They both run into old acquaintances that would presumably make ‘better’ matches. Yet they keep coming back to one another. As their platonic bond grows, I kept wondering where it would go from there. Could these two possibly share intimacies? How much does age really matter? Tsukiko’s longing is so palpable; Sensei’s reticence harder to discern. Sounds familiar, doesn’t it? The author does a bang-up job of making the reader identify with Tsukiko, despite any differences.
“Tsukiko, physical intimacy is essential. No matter how old you are, it’s extremely important.”
This was my first time reading Hiromi Kawakami, and I found this one to be compulsively readable. It has a dreamlike quality to it. While the cover strongly suggests magical realism, the novel only ever so softly whispers a hint of it. My only quibble I had with this was the transitions between chapters. It’s not marketed as a set of short stories, but I think it would be better if read as such. Based on a series of encounters between Tsukiko and Sensei, these are really a set of vignettes only loosely threaded together. It captivated me regardless.
“If the love is true, then treat it the same way you would a plant—fertilize it, protect it from the elements—you must do absolutely everything you can. But if it isn’t true, then it’s best to just let it wither on the vine.”
February 2, 2020
Todo es sutil en este relato sobre Tsukiko, una mujer cercana a los cuarenta que se siente sola, que siempre se ha sentido sola, con la tristeza de no formar parte de nada ni de nadie.
No sé si esto quedará como el principio de una gran amistad con la literatura asiática por la que casi siempre he sentido cierto rechazo, pero no cabe duda de que me han entrado muchas ganas de pasarme por una taberna japonesa a ver si se repite el encuentro feliz que con esta he vivido.
“Había algo en aquella casa que me provocaba incomodidad. Era como si encargara varias piezas de ropa hechas a medida y al probármelas descubriera que unas eran demasiado cortas y otras eran tan largas que las arrastraba por el suelo al caminar. Entonces me quitaba la ropa, estupefacta, comprobaba de nuevo las medidas y me daba cuenta de que eran exactas. Así me sentía con mi familia.”Tsukiko no se gusta, está convencida de caer mal y sospecha que algo no debe de andar del todo bien en cualquiera que quiera acercarse a ella. La soledad muchas veces responde a eso, a no querer a nadie a nuestro alrededor que nos recuerde constantemente lo poco que nos gustamos, lo deficientes que somos. Quizá por ello entabla relación con Matsumoto, su antiguo profesor ya jubilado y abandonado por su esposa hace más de quince años, al que encuentra por casualidad en una taberna en la que se entregan a placeres que ambos comparten, la comida y el sake.
“Nos encontrábamos por casualidad, paseábamos por casualidad y bebíamos sake por casualidad. Cuando le hacía una visita en su casa, me presentaba sin previo aviso. A veces estábamos un mes entero sin vernos.”Nada parece suceder durante buena parte del relato. Con una exquisita sencillez, todo parece inane, sin sentido, y, sin embargo, todo lo tiene, todo nos revela un sentimiento, una sensación, un pensamiento, cada encuentro es significativo, alegórico.
No sé si esto quedará como el principio de una gran amistad con la literatura asiática por la que casi siempre he sentido cierto rechazo, pero no cabe duda de que me han entrado muchas ganas de pasarme por una taberna japonesa a ver si se repite el encuentro feliz que con esta he vivido.
December 24, 2020
I'll be honest, I was shallow enough to be drawn to this book solely on the basis of its cover - a young woman floating mid-air in what seems to be a departmental store screamed of magical realism and I thought it would provide me with some much needed escapism. I was stupid enough to look at the book and think "surprise me" ( I rarely, if ever, do this,) and didn't even bother to read the blurb on Goodreads. Do I regret that? Yep.
Maybe I'm just too immature to appreciate the story. Maybe I'm still too close to my schooling days, maybe those memories are still quite fresh in my mind. I just cannot respond to the idea of a woman falling in love and pursuing a relationship with her former high school teacher even if it is twenty years after she graduated, with anything but disgust. Even if I did set my disgust aside for a minute, the story was just so boring, it was like listening to white noise. It droned on and on, and it's varying pace ironically just left me feeling disoriented and annoyed.
The writing was sometimes charming and even as I was just beginning to like it, Sensei, the aforementioned teacher would say something like (allow me to paraphrase,) "Oh Tsukiko, you were just as ignorant in your school days too, you were very bad at Japanese." Ugh, sentences like this along with Tsukiko, our heroine, calling the man Sensei throughout the book had me frowning and scrunching up my face in disgust.
I did begin to warm up to the characters a little when they started a "relationship based on the premise of love", but BAM! It ended just as abruptly as it began. I'll be fair, this book could be lovely to some readers, it surely will induce nostalgia. It just didn't work out for me.
Maybe I'm just too immature to appreciate the story. Maybe I'm still too close to my schooling days, maybe those memories are still quite fresh in my mind. I just cannot respond to the idea of a woman falling in love and pursuing a relationship with her former high school teacher even if it is twenty years after she graduated, with anything but disgust. Even if I did set my disgust aside for a minute, the story was just so boring, it was like listening to white noise. It droned on and on, and it's varying pace ironically just left me feeling disoriented and annoyed.
The writing was sometimes charming and even as I was just beginning to like it, Sensei, the aforementioned teacher would say something like (allow me to paraphrase,) "Oh Tsukiko, you were just as ignorant in your school days too, you were very bad at Japanese." Ugh, sentences like this along with Tsukiko, our heroine, calling the man Sensei throughout the book had me frowning and scrunching up my face in disgust.
I did begin to warm up to the characters a little when they started a "relationship based on the premise of love", but BAM! It ended just as abruptly as it began. I'll be fair, this book could be lovely to some readers, it surely will induce nostalgia. It just didn't work out for me.
April 15, 2019
Strange Weather In Tokyo by Hiromi Kawakami concerns the relationship between Omachi Tsukiko, a solitary and somewhat lonely woman in her thirties and her old school teacher, Mr Matsumoto or ‘Sensei’ as she knows him.
After a chance meeting, a fragile bond slowly develops. Both are singular, unconventional figures and there is quiet humour to be found in their social awkwardness and the large age gap.
The writing is simple, precise and a little remote - this seems to add to the emotional weight of the novel.
The actions and motivations of the characters are familiar/ universal but the cultural references are very foreign (to me) ......... all the food talk of fermented soybeans, dried whale, lotus root fries, matsutaki mushrooms and hot saké, has made me want to explore Asian cuisine beyond the occasional Friday night take away! ............ and the set piece descriptions of cherry blossom parties, mushroom hunting at dawn and pachinko parlours have encouraged me to seriously think about visiting Japan - although thinking about it is probably as close as I’ll get :)
The narrative at times gets a little surreal and seemingly random details appear to have great provenance.
For instance, Sensei shows Omachi a drawer full of old batteries. All labeled with the date they died and appliance they came out of (a bit weird, but he’s a enigmatic character!) He has a battery tester and is fascinated by how some of the batteries when tested cause the meter needle to tremble, a glimmer of life in an item supposedly long dead .......
Strange Weather In Tokyo is a quiet and magical novel, at times haunting and ultimately very moving.
I was touched by this short book and was sad when it ended.
Very much recommended ............
After a chance meeting, a fragile bond slowly develops. Both are singular, unconventional figures and there is quiet humour to be found in their social awkwardness and the large age gap.
The writing is simple, precise and a little remote - this seems to add to the emotional weight of the novel.
The actions and motivations of the characters are familiar/ universal but the cultural references are very foreign (to me) ......... all the food talk of fermented soybeans, dried whale, lotus root fries, matsutaki mushrooms and hot saké, has made me want to explore Asian cuisine beyond the occasional Friday night take away! ............ and the set piece descriptions of cherry blossom parties, mushroom hunting at dawn and pachinko parlours have encouraged me to seriously think about visiting Japan - although thinking about it is probably as close as I’ll get :)
The narrative at times gets a little surreal and seemingly random details appear to have great provenance.
For instance, Sensei shows Omachi a drawer full of old batteries. All labeled with the date they died and appliance they came out of (a bit weird, but he’s a enigmatic character!) He has a battery tester and is fascinated by how some of the batteries when tested cause the meter needle to tremble, a glimmer of life in an item supposedly long dead .......
Strange Weather In Tokyo is a quiet and magical novel, at times haunting and ultimately very moving.
I was touched by this short book and was sad when it ended.
Very much recommended ............
November 22, 2024
This book swept me away. It felt like the pages were turning themselves, I was so immersed in the story.
There wasn’t anything overly dramatic or purposefully poetic about this book, and that’s what I really enjoyed about it. It was a story about ordinary people dealing with their ordinary lives… but is “ordinary” truly *ordinary*? People and Life are complex, so really, this story wasn’t ordinary at all. I digress…
The relationship between the two main characters felt extremely believable. It was a joy to watch them grow together.
The ending, particularly the last line, was breathtaking. I reread it to myself about five times. Although I said the book wasn’t overly poetic… the last line was… which made it all the more powerful!
There wasn’t anything overly dramatic or purposefully poetic about this book, and that’s what I really enjoyed about it. It was a story about ordinary people dealing with their ordinary lives… but is “ordinary” truly *ordinary*? People and Life are complex, so really, this story wasn’t ordinary at all. I digress…
The relationship between the two main characters felt extremely believable. It was a joy to watch them grow together.
The ending, particularly the last line, was breathtaking. I reread it to myself about five times. Although I said the book wasn’t overly poetic… the last line was… which made it all the more powerful!
August 27, 2021
If he patted her on the head one more time, I was going to throw up.
September 18, 2024
The story feels peaceful and reflective. 👍
There’s a sense of longing and sadness in the relationship.
The book highlights simple, ordinary moments with deep meaning.
The story leaves you with a mix of happiness and sadness.
It makes you think deeply about life and relationships in a quiet, calming way.
This book is enjoyable to read. 😍
There’s a sense of longing and sadness in the relationship.
The book highlights simple, ordinary moments with deep meaning.
The story leaves you with a mix of happiness and sadness.
It makes you think deeply about life and relationships in a quiet, calming way.
This book is enjoyable to read. 😍
December 16, 2024
Doamna Omachi Tsukiko, funcționară la o companie din Tokyo, are 37 de ani și frecventează bistrourile din lipsă de altceva mai pasionant. Domnul Motsumoto Harutsuna, fostul ei profesor de literatură japoneză, are cu 30 de ani mai mult decît femeia, dar se ține bine și frecventează aceleași bistrouri dintr-un motiv similar.
Nu e nevoie de vreo fatalitate ca femeia și bărbatul să intre în vorbă, să-și facă vizite și, mai ales, să bea pe rupte împreună. Oricum, o făceau și înainte de a se (re)cunoaște, există o profundă afinitate electivă între ei. Într-o seară, ca să ofer un exemplu, dau gata cinci sticluțe de sake.
Menționez în treacăt că sake este, mai degrabă, o băutură întăritoare / energizantă decît una alcoolică. Nu se compară cu băuturile noastre, cu țuica să zicem - care energizează îndeosebi prin înmuierea picioarelor și bîlbîială.
Am notat și câteva rețete culinare, pentru ca exotismul să domnească și în textul meu. Omachi îl vizitează pe domnul profesor, care îi spune poezii (citează și din Basho Matsuo) și o tratează cu sake și sărățele de somon, cu sîmburi de kaki (curmal japonez). Sărățelele au gust iute, înțepător pe limbă, și reprezintă o gustare de biscuiți de orez în formă de sîmbure de kaki amestecați cu alune.
Altădată încearcă, alături de câteva sticle de bere, păstăi de soia fierte cu sare. Mai mănîncă: țipar cu sare, tofu fiert, supă de cartofi dulci, ciuperci shimeji violet, fripte imediat ce au fost culese, muiate în sos de soia. Și n-am terminat: foarte gustoase sînt și tonul cu boabe de soia fermentate, rădăcinile de lotus prăjite (se topesc în gură!), ceapa chinezească sărată, bucățile de carne de balenă afumată, acoperite cu alge de mare verzi și tăvălite prin sos miso și oțet.
Între femeia de 37 de ani și bărbatul de 67 se naște, în modul cel mai firesc, o legătură nu numai de frățietate, ci și de amiciție amoroasă. Cum se va rezolva încă nu-mi dau seama, femeia pare o pradă perfectă. Nici bărbatul nu e mai prejos. Abia la 67 de ani poți trăi, în sfîrșit, marea iubire, ești gata copt pentru ea...
P. S. O observație deloc măruntă. În nici o împrejurare n-ai voie să scrii Tokio. Tokyo rămîne Tokyo. Punct. Traducătoarea și redactorul de carte ar fi trebuit să știe asta.
Nu e nevoie de vreo fatalitate ca femeia și bărbatul să intre în vorbă, să-și facă vizite și, mai ales, să bea pe rupte împreună. Oricum, o făceau și înainte de a se (re)cunoaște, există o profundă afinitate electivă între ei. Într-o seară, ca să ofer un exemplu, dau gata cinci sticluțe de sake.
Menționez în treacăt că sake este, mai degrabă, o băutură întăritoare / energizantă decît una alcoolică. Nu se compară cu băuturile noastre, cu țuica să zicem - care energizează îndeosebi prin înmuierea picioarelor și bîlbîială.
Am notat și câteva rețete culinare, pentru ca exotismul să domnească și în textul meu. Omachi îl vizitează pe domnul profesor, care îi spune poezii (citează și din Basho Matsuo) și o tratează cu sake și sărățele de somon, cu sîmburi de kaki (curmal japonez). Sărățelele au gust iute, înțepător pe limbă, și reprezintă o gustare de biscuiți de orez în formă de sîmbure de kaki amestecați cu alune.
Altădată încearcă, alături de câteva sticle de bere, păstăi de soia fierte cu sare. Mai mănîncă: țipar cu sare, tofu fiert, supă de cartofi dulci, ciuperci shimeji violet, fripte imediat ce au fost culese, muiate în sos de soia. Și n-am terminat: foarte gustoase sînt și tonul cu boabe de soia fermentate, rădăcinile de lotus prăjite (se topesc în gură!), ceapa chinezească sărată, bucățile de carne de balenă afumată, acoperite cu alge de mare verzi și tăvălite prin sos miso și oțet.
Între femeia de 37 de ani și bărbatul de 67 se naște, în modul cel mai firesc, o legătură nu numai de frățietate, ci și de amiciție amoroasă. Cum se va rezolva încă nu-mi dau seama, femeia pare o pradă perfectă. Nici bărbatul nu e mai prejos. Abia la 67 de ani poți trăi, în sfîrșit, marea iubire, ești gata copt pentru ea...
P. S. O observație deloc măruntă. În nici o împrejurare n-ai voie să scrii Tokio. Tokyo rămîne Tokyo. Punct. Traducătoarea și redactorul de carte ar fi trebuit să știe asta.
October 16, 2020
The sweet elegant prose drew me into a dreamlike experience in “Strange Weather in Tokyo”.
Tsukiko Omachi is in her late thirties. Her former Japanese High School teacher, Mr. Harutsuns, *Sensei*, is in his seventies.
They bump into each other one night at a bar. They drink, (five flasks of sake), eat, and talk to one another ....then leave ....returning to their respective homes.
They bump into each other another night at the same bar. Eat, drink, talk some more. Return home again.
Before they leave Tsukiko says to Sensei, “We both seem to be the type of person who like to stop in every so often at the local bar”.
We are also privy to Tsukiko’s inner thoughts throughout.
She was thinking....”Despite the age difference of more than 30 years, I felt much more at ease with him than friends my own age”.
Slowly a relationship-of-sorts begins mushrooming into a love story.
And speaking of mushrooms...Tsukiko and Sensei visit an area with many varieties of mushrooms. The owner of the bar where Tsukiko and Sensei ‘bump-into-each-other’ takes them on a car trip to the mountains to explore those mushrooms. Another friend comes along too.
Later...Tsukiko goes home to New York to visit her family. While at home...she is invited to a Cherry Blossom party. She meets a man who is interested in her....but soon realizes it’s Sensei who has her heart.
This book is beautiful right from the very start. The gentle courtship is touching...a quiet reflective beauty of a book, with enchanting dialogue.
It’s tender, charming, funny, sad, filled with warmth.
Note:
A side treat that comes along with this Japanese story are some interesting delicious foods. Besides cold and hot sake, and beer, there is flying fish in ginger soy sauce, minced bonito, new potatoes, broad beans, boiled pork, ‘konnyaku’( stew piquant with red pepper), kombu, (kelp), hanpen, (fish), chikuwabu konnyaku noodles, daikon ( a white root vegetable), etc.
Tsukiko Omachi is in her late thirties. Her former Japanese High School teacher, Mr. Harutsuns, *Sensei*, is in his seventies.
They bump into each other one night at a bar. They drink, (five flasks of sake), eat, and talk to one another ....then leave ....returning to their respective homes.
They bump into each other another night at the same bar. Eat, drink, talk some more. Return home again.
Before they leave Tsukiko says to Sensei, “We both seem to be the type of person who like to stop in every so often at the local bar”.
We are also privy to Tsukiko’s inner thoughts throughout.
She was thinking....”Despite the age difference of more than 30 years, I felt much more at ease with him than friends my own age”.
Slowly a relationship-of-sorts begins mushrooming into a love story.
And speaking of mushrooms...Tsukiko and Sensei visit an area with many varieties of mushrooms. The owner of the bar where Tsukiko and Sensei ‘bump-into-each-other’ takes them on a car trip to the mountains to explore those mushrooms. Another friend comes along too.
Later...Tsukiko goes home to New York to visit her family. While at home...she is invited to a Cherry Blossom party. She meets a man who is interested in her....but soon realizes it’s Sensei who has her heart.
This book is beautiful right from the very start. The gentle courtship is touching...a quiet reflective beauty of a book, with enchanting dialogue.
It’s tender, charming, funny, sad, filled with warmth.
Note:
A side treat that comes along with this Japanese story are some interesting delicious foods. Besides cold and hot sake, and beer, there is flying fish in ginger soy sauce, minced bonito, new potatoes, broad beans, boiled pork, ‘konnyaku’( stew piquant with red pepper), kombu, (kelp), hanpen, (fish), chikuwabu konnyaku noodles, daikon ( a white root vegetable), etc.
September 27, 2017
Ay, qué historia tan bonita! Ni un día me a durado! Hace unas semanas vi este libro en la librería y ni me lo pensé: tenía que leerlo sí o sí, y realmente me alegro de haberlo hecho 😊
August 16, 2013
oh. really sweet, tender and gentle book. There isn't much of a plot (I like no plot) just all about a relationship between two mismatched people and lots of lovely passages about japanese food and drink - tofu, miso, salted shallots, edame, beer and sake.
really beautiful.
really beautiful.
June 8, 2015
#JapaneseJune Book #1.
I purchased Strange Weather in Tokyo on my Kindle for a mere 99p, and for that reason I am glad that I read this book. However, if I'd had to pay a normal Kindle price, I would have been a little bit miffed. Although this was a quick and easy read, I didn't feel very satisfied upon finishing it. I just feel ambivalence.
The story is told from the perspective of a woman in her late 30s named Tsukiko, who encounters an old teacher of hers at her local bar one night. From that point on, they begin to run into each other again and again at the same place, and finding they have a great deal in common, they fall into a somewhat odd companionship that eventually develops into a sweet romance.
I loved the idea of this book, an initially I was very caught up in it. It was whimsical to read, and I liked Tsukiko and Sensei's unusual, somewhat stilted conversations. However, as time went on I just felt that I didn't really know these characters all that well, and their relationship became more and more unrealistic. I didn't really like reading from Tsukiko's perspective: I found her quite immature and irritating at times, and questioned whether she was actually in her late 30s. Sensei, on the other hand, seemed like a character of a wise yet odd older gentleman - his scholarly way of talking seemed far removed from how an elderly teacher would speak. I also didn't believe in Tsukiko's feelings towards him - it just seemed too odd and out of the blue.
For the most part, I believe that Tsukiko's relationship with Sensei was born of an intense loneliness, but at the same time I felt that she didn't really make enough of an effort with those around her, even after she had begun to open up with Sensei. The writing in this novel was pretty, but the plot didn't really hold up for me. I'm glad I read this, but it wasn't as enjoyable as I thought it would be.
I purchased Strange Weather in Tokyo on my Kindle for a mere 99p, and for that reason I am glad that I read this book. However, if I'd had to pay a normal Kindle price, I would have been a little bit miffed. Although this was a quick and easy read, I didn't feel very satisfied upon finishing it. I just feel ambivalence.
The story is told from the perspective of a woman in her late 30s named Tsukiko, who encounters an old teacher of hers at her local bar one night. From that point on, they begin to run into each other again and again at the same place, and finding they have a great deal in common, they fall into a somewhat odd companionship that eventually develops into a sweet romance.
I loved the idea of this book, an initially I was very caught up in it. It was whimsical to read, and I liked Tsukiko and Sensei's unusual, somewhat stilted conversations. However, as time went on I just felt that I didn't really know these characters all that well, and their relationship became more and more unrealistic. I didn't really like reading from Tsukiko's perspective: I found her quite immature and irritating at times, and questioned whether she was actually in her late 30s. Sensei, on the other hand, seemed like a character of a wise yet odd older gentleman - his scholarly way of talking seemed far removed from how an elderly teacher would speak. I also didn't believe in Tsukiko's feelings towards him - it just seemed too odd and out of the blue.
For the most part, I believe that Tsukiko's relationship with Sensei was born of an intense loneliness, but at the same time I felt that she didn't really make enough of an effort with those around her, even after she had begun to open up with Sensei. The writing in this novel was pretty, but the plot didn't really hold up for me. I'm glad I read this, but it wasn't as enjoyable as I thought it would be.
July 9, 2013
Here’s a challenge for you, write a novel about loneliness without becoming boring. Write one about emptiness without being melancholy, how about deep love without sentimentality? “the briefcase” is a moving sparse and deeply emotional tale of loneliness, emptiness and love but in a style that that is removed and scant enough to elicit a sadness that lingers long after the final page has been read.
This is the story of Tsukiko, in her late 30’s, a loner and a food aficionado who crosses paths with her former high school teacher, 30 years her senior, at a local eatery, she simply refers to him as Sensei (“Teacher”). Their common love of food, saki and beer but their extreme yin/yang opposites is highlighted simply but effectively on page one:
Taking my seat at the counter, I ordered “tuna with fermented soybeans, fried lotus root, and salted shallots”, while the old man next to me requested “Salted shallots, lotus root fries, and tuna with fermented soybeans” almost simultaneously.
For a full review visit my blog at www.messybooker.blogspot.com
This is the story of Tsukiko, in her late 30’s, a loner and a food aficionado who crosses paths with her former high school teacher, 30 years her senior, at a local eatery, she simply refers to him as Sensei (“Teacher”). Their common love of food, saki and beer but their extreme yin/yang opposites is highlighted simply but effectively on page one:
Taking my seat at the counter, I ordered “tuna with fermented soybeans, fried lotus root, and salted shallots”, while the old man next to me requested “Salted shallots, lotus root fries, and tuna with fermented soybeans” almost simultaneously.
For a full review visit my blog at www.messybooker.blogspot.com
May 3, 2020
الف. پیش از خواندن کتاب: خب من عاشق کتاب هدیه گرفتنم، معمولاً این هدیهها نکات جدیای میگه در مورد اینکه شخص هدیه دهنده چه نگاهی به تو داره. و وقتی کتابی هدیه میگیرم یک جور حس مسئولیت در موردش دارم که باید به اون شخص احترام بگذارم و کتاب رو حتما بخونم. این کتابهای هدیه داده شده یا پیشنهاد شده معمولا سیرهای مطالعه منو دستخوش تغییرات جدی میکنن و تقدم و تأخر خوندن کتابها رو به هم میریزند.
حالا تو این شرایط خواهرزادهی عزیزم، این کتاب رو در روزهای بیماری من آورده در خونه و بهم داده تا بخونم تو این روزا و به کتاب یه یادداشت پر از عشق و محبت هم ضمیمه کرده و آرزوی سلامتی زودتر و توصیه به قوی بودن و... پس من نمیتونم مقاومت کنم و کتاب رو میخونم، هر چی که باشه! و با لذت هم میخونم، حتی اگه فکر کنم که برام جذاب نیست، هر چند در مورد این کتاب که ازش شناخت خاصی ندارم حس خوبی در من هست! و دلیل اصلی هم احتمالاً علاقهای است که به معدود آثار خوانده شده از هاروکی موراکامی دارم، و این کتاب هم از ادبیات معاصر ژاپن است و نام نویسنده هم خیلی شبیه به هاروکی موراکامی :)))
ب. در حین خواندن کتاب: ترجمهی کتاب حقیقتاً ضعیف است و مترجم به دمدستیترین شکل ممکن، این کتاب ژاپنی را از روی نسخهی انگلیسی ترجمه کرده است؛ چند نمونه:
اتسکیکو، این چیز عجیبوغریبی برای گفتن است.
اقدام برای برگرداندن سطح راحتیای که ما داشتیم زیادهازحد خستهکننده میبود.
بهوضوح جاینتز تیم مورد علاقهی من است.
فقط یک نوع بازار وجود دارد، بدون تردید. میدانی، جایی که آنها هر چیزی را که مربوط به خانه است میفروشند.
ج. مجدداً در حین خواندن کتاب: کتاب نه جذابیت خاصی دارد، نه روایت منسجمی، نه نکته خاصی و نه گره داستانی خاصی. اما مقادیر زیادی توصیف دارد و مقادیر زیادی زندگی؛ البته از نوع ژاپنیاش که لااقل برای من اصلا مأنوس نیست! دلیل ادامه دادنش، علاوه بر هدیه بودن کتاب، صرفاً مرضی است که به آن مبتلایم و معمولاً نمیتوانم کتابی را نیمهکاره رها کنم.
د. پس از خواندن کتاب: نکتهی خاصی برای گفتن نیست! :)) حدودا یک سوم پایانی رو با سرعتی وصفنشدنی خوندم تا زودتر از کتاب جدا بشم! :))) فضای کتاب برای من چیزی نداشت که بخوام در موردش بنویسم. فکر میکنم اصلاً و ابدا من جزء مخاطبهای کتاب نبودم! و در آخر یه بار دیگه خشمم رو از ترجمهی تحتاللفظی و ناامیدکنندهی کتاب ابراز میدارم! :)))
حالا تو این شرایط خواهرزادهی عزیزم، این کتاب رو در روزهای بیماری من آورده در خونه و بهم داده تا بخونم تو این روزا و به کتاب یه یادداشت پر از عشق و محبت هم ضمیمه کرده و آرزوی سلامتی زودتر و توصیه به قوی بودن و... پس من نمیتونم مقاومت کنم و کتاب رو میخونم، هر چی که باشه! و با لذت هم میخونم، حتی اگه فکر کنم که برام جذاب نیست، هر چند در مورد این کتاب که ازش شناخت خاصی ندارم حس خوبی در من هست! و دلیل اصلی هم احتمالاً علاقهای است که به معدود آثار خوانده شده از هاروکی موراکامی دارم، و این کتاب هم از ادبیات معاصر ژاپن است و نام نویسنده هم خیلی شبیه به هاروکی موراکامی :)))
ب. در حین خواندن کتاب: ترجمهی کتاب حقیقتاً ضعیف است و مترجم به دمدستیترین شکل ممکن، این کتاب ژاپنی را از روی نسخهی انگلیسی ترجمه کرده است؛ چند نمونه:
اتسکیکو، این چیز عجیبوغریبی برای گفتن است.
اقدام برای برگرداندن سطح راحتیای که ما داشتیم زیادهازحد خستهکننده میبود.
بهوضوح جاینتز تیم مورد علاقهی من است.
فقط یک نوع بازار وجود دارد، بدون تردید. میدانی، جایی که آنها هر چیزی را که مربوط به خانه است میفروشند.
ج. مجدداً در حین خواندن کتاب: کتاب نه جذابیت خاصی دارد، نه روایت منسجمی، نه نکته خاصی و نه گره داستانی خاصی. اما مقادیر زیادی توصیف دارد و مقادیر زیادی زندگی؛ البته از نوع ژاپنیاش که لااقل برای من اصلا مأنوس نیست! دلیل ادامه دادنش، علاوه بر هدیه بودن کتاب، صرفاً مرضی است که به آن مبتلایم و معمولاً نمیتوانم کتابی را نیمهکاره رها کنم.
د. پس از خواندن کتاب: نکتهی خاصی برای گفتن نیست! :)) حدودا یک سوم پایانی رو با سرعتی وصفنشدنی خوندم تا زودتر از کتاب جدا بشم! :))) فضای کتاب برای من چیزی نداشت که بخوام در موردش بنویسم. فکر میکنم اصلاً و ابدا من جزء مخاطبهای کتاب نبودم! و در آخر یه بار دیگه خشمم رو از ترجمهی تحتاللفظی و ناامیدکنندهی کتاب ابراز میدارم! :)))
December 29, 2021
This was my second book by Hiromi Kawakami, but I must say that I enjoyed it a lot more than "Record of a Night Too Brief" (https://www.goodreads.com/review/show...) - I'm quite glad I gave her another shot!
"Strange Weather in Tokyo" is a strange, quiet story about two lonely people and their unusual courtship. Tsukiko is in her late thirties, she lives alone, works a nondescript job and when she is not working, she drinks and eats at a small eatery in her neighbourhood. One day, she recognizes one of the other patrons as one of her high school teachers, and though she knows his name, she only ever really thinks of him as Sensei. They become drinking buddies and slowly, an intimate bond grows between them, but in none of the ways one might expect a relationship between a woman and man thirty years older than her might go.
I understood Tsukiko much better than I expected. I appreciated her feelings of being a fake grown-up, of having failed to be a proper adult: after all, none of the traditional hallmarks of adulthood have happened for her. She lives alone in a small apartment, she has no children, her job doesn't interest her that much and she drinks a lot. She doesn't feel sophisticated, like other grown ups, who swirl the wine in their glass and go on fancy vacation. Sensei, who is very reserved, but also doesn't always behave like a proper grown-up either, is a comforting presence to her: she doesn't feel judged or inadequate with him.
This book made me so hungry. The descriptions of food are not lush, but they are constant, as are the mentions of beer and sake that Tsukiko and Sensei drink in colossal quantities. Now that I've finished it, all I can think about is dumplings, sashimi, tofu with gingered soy sauce and Tsingtao.
If you like delicate, thoughtful prose and introverted characters, or simply Japanese literature, this little book is a lovely treat. Now excuse me, I need to order my weight in sushi...
"Strange Weather in Tokyo" is a strange, quiet story about two lonely people and their unusual courtship. Tsukiko is in her late thirties, she lives alone, works a nondescript job and when she is not working, she drinks and eats at a small eatery in her neighbourhood. One day, she recognizes one of the other patrons as one of her high school teachers, and though she knows his name, she only ever really thinks of him as Sensei. They become drinking buddies and slowly, an intimate bond grows between them, but in none of the ways one might expect a relationship between a woman and man thirty years older than her might go.
I understood Tsukiko much better than I expected. I appreciated her feelings of being a fake grown-up, of having failed to be a proper adult: after all, none of the traditional hallmarks of adulthood have happened for her. She lives alone in a small apartment, she has no children, her job doesn't interest her that much and she drinks a lot. She doesn't feel sophisticated, like other grown ups, who swirl the wine in their glass and go on fancy vacation. Sensei, who is very reserved, but also doesn't always behave like a proper grown-up either, is a comforting presence to her: she doesn't feel judged or inadequate with him.
This book made me so hungry. The descriptions of food are not lush, but they are constant, as are the mentions of beer and sake that Tsukiko and Sensei drink in colossal quantities. Now that I've finished it, all I can think about is dumplings, sashimi, tofu with gingered soy sauce and Tsingtao.
If you like delicate, thoughtful prose and introverted characters, or simply Japanese literature, this little book is a lovely treat. Now excuse me, I need to order my weight in sushi...
March 13, 2016
Book 2200.
Not as twee as it looks. The heroine is about 15 years older than the flying manic pixie dreamgirl on the cover, she gets drunk a lot, works stupidly long hours, has arguments about sports and forgets to clean a pair of muddy shoes for weeks. Out of the characters in the limited number of Japanese novels I've read, Tsukiko is furthest from the traditional idea of a Japanese woman, though she doesn't seem to have set out to reject it; she isn't intellectual, she simply sees herself as not "old-fashioned", and is a solitary person in a communal society. (I could relate to her thinking of buying a huge saucepan to use when there are lots of guests - probably imagining a Sunday supplement sort of life - then realising she practically never has that many guests.) She is not simply an anti-stereotype, she feels very real; she is also socially reticent and likes long baths and cooking. (This is a very foodie book; if you're into Japanese cookery you'd find it inspiring.) So it's somewhat curious that she slowly falls for a much older man, about thirty years older - one of her former school-teachers who's a regular at the same bar - and who's a bit of a stickler for proper, ladylike vocabulary; opposites attract evidently. I'd personally find that way too big an age gap (making a theoretical exception for Bruce Robinson) but as regards those who use the word creepy about this aspect of the book, I roll my eyes and note that neither of these characters is a clueless teenager or a senile millionaire, so it's not as if one person is taking advantage. This love story was interesting for the very reason that I couldn't relate to it, and was trying to understand how different people experience life: their romance grows very slowly out of a close friendship and feeling comfortable with one another, and physicality and appearance are hardly mentioned - whereas I see romance as a possible product of lust, I have incredibly specific physical types, and if I don't fancy someone on first sight, I never do; getting on well with someone without lust is platonic friendship. I can't say I fully grokked their experience, described in the blurb as "old-fashioned romance", but it was still interesting to try.
Strange Weather in Tokyo, although it's only 176 pages, was a little too much about the romance, and I could have done without the Kojima episode entirely. I got bored at times and would have liked more on culture and ideas in the middle of the book; that would have been out of character for Tsukiko as a first-person narrator, but we could have heard something about her work, which exhaustingly consumes huge chunks of her life whilst remaining a mystery to the reader. Still, elsewhere in the book there's lots of food, expeditions to museums and little islands, and a memorable anecdote about the Big Laughing Gym Mushroom (a real thing!) which sounds like a cross between magic mushrooms and laughing gas.
It's very readable without being too slight and has a combination of familiarity and strangeness that look likely to prove popular - in Japan, where it was published in 2001, it is regarded as a modern popular classic.
Not as twee as it looks. The heroine is about 15 years older than the flying manic pixie dreamgirl on the cover, she gets drunk a lot, works stupidly long hours, has arguments about sports and forgets to clean a pair of muddy shoes for weeks. Out of the characters in the limited number of Japanese novels I've read, Tsukiko is furthest from the traditional idea of a Japanese woman, though she doesn't seem to have set out to reject it; she isn't intellectual, she simply sees herself as not "old-fashioned", and is a solitary person in a communal society. (I could relate to her thinking of buying a huge saucepan to use when there are lots of guests - probably imagining a Sunday supplement sort of life - then realising she practically never has that many guests.) She is not simply an anti-stereotype, she feels very real; she is also socially reticent and likes long baths and cooking. (This is a very foodie book; if you're into Japanese cookery you'd find it inspiring.) So it's somewhat curious that she slowly falls for a much older man, about thirty years older - one of her former school-teachers who's a regular at the same bar - and who's a bit of a stickler for proper, ladylike vocabulary; opposites attract evidently. I'd personally find that way too big an age gap (making a theoretical exception for Bruce Robinson) but as regards those who use the word creepy about this aspect of the book, I roll my eyes and note that neither of these characters is a clueless teenager or a senile millionaire, so it's not as if one person is taking advantage. This love story was interesting for the very reason that I couldn't relate to it, and was trying to understand how different people experience life: their romance grows very slowly out of a close friendship and feeling comfortable with one another, and physicality and appearance are hardly mentioned - whereas I see romance as a possible product of lust, I have incredibly specific physical types, and if I don't fancy someone on first sight, I never do; getting on well with someone without lust is platonic friendship. I can't say I fully grokked their experience, described in the blurb as "old-fashioned romance", but it was still interesting to try.
Strange Weather in Tokyo, although it's only 176 pages, was a little too much about the romance, and I could have done without the Kojima episode entirely. I got bored at times and would have liked more on culture and ideas in the middle of the book; that would have been out of character for Tsukiko as a first-person narrator, but we could have heard something about her work, which exhaustingly consumes huge chunks of her life whilst remaining a mystery to the reader. Still, elsewhere in the book there's lots of food, expeditions to museums and little islands, and a memorable anecdote about the Big Laughing Gym Mushroom (a real thing!) which sounds like a cross between magic mushrooms and laughing gas.
It's very readable without being too slight and has a combination of familiarity and strangeness that look likely to prove popular - in Japan, where it was published in 2001, it is regarded as a modern popular classic.
November 28, 2020
Published in English as Strange Weather in Tokyo.
38-year-old Tsukiko is content enough to split her days between the office, her regular bistro and her lonely appartment. She used to have a boyfriend... or two, but they weren't really significant, so the relationship fizzled out soon enough. Her high school Japanese teacher wasn't particularly memorable either, which is why she can only refer to him as sensei. Nevertheless, as the two keep (more or less) casually bumping into each other, the heroine's interest starts to change.
The first few chapters didn't blow me over. Not to say that they were painful to get through, by any stretch of the imagination, but I couldn't really see where they wanted to go either. As much fun as aimless drinking in Japanese joints may sound like, by the end of the story I'm starting to wonder whether Japanese people all grow up to be raging alcoholics.
Little by little, just like Tsukiko, my interest started growing. Especially when it came to the odd psychedelic trip, such as the mushroom picking experience, that would send the story into magical realism territory.
Then there was the flower-watching picnic, where I started to see a half-way clear ending to the story, having me root for our heroine to end up with literally ANYONE else. As fascinating a person as the retired Japanese professor was, I just didn't see his appeal. Then again, poetry is an instant turnoff for me in ANY situation, even when I'm not feeling guilty about my lack of general knowledge. Heck, the guy was annoying as hell with his constant moralizing, as the heroine would often mention. So then why...?
Score: 4/5 stars
It was clear from the get go that the world Tsukiko and sensei inhabited was a sort of temporary refuge, which could not possibly last for long. And that setting was just fine, for such a bitter-sweet lovestory. That said, my inner day-dreamer can't help but wish our heroine a happier ending...
38-year-old Tsukiko is content enough to split her days between the office, her regular bistro and her lonely appartment. She used to have a boyfriend... or two, but they weren't really significant, so the relationship fizzled out soon enough. Her high school Japanese teacher wasn't particularly memorable either, which is why she can only refer to him as sensei. Nevertheless, as the two keep (more or less) casually bumping into each other, the heroine's interest starts to change.
The first few chapters didn't blow me over. Not to say that they were painful to get through, by any stretch of the imagination, but I couldn't really see where they wanted to go either. As much fun as aimless drinking in Japanese joints may sound like, by the end of the story I'm starting to wonder whether Japanese people all grow up to be raging alcoholics.
Little by little, just like Tsukiko, my interest started growing. Especially when it came to the odd psychedelic trip, such as the mushroom picking experience, that would send the story into magical realism territory.
Then there was the flower-watching picnic, where I started to see a half-way clear ending to the story, having me root for our heroine to end up with literally ANYONE else. As fascinating a person as the retired Japanese professor was, I just didn't see his appeal. Then again, poetry is an instant turnoff for me in ANY situation, even when I'm not feeling guilty about my lack of general knowledge. Heck, the guy was annoying as hell with his constant moralizing, as the heroine would often mention. So then why...?
Score: 4/5 stars
It was clear from the get go that the world Tsukiko and sensei inhabited was a sort of temporary refuge, which could not possibly last for long. And that setting was just fine, for such a bitter-sweet lovestory. That said, my inner day-dreamer can't help but wish our heroine a happier ending...
March 25, 2025
LT/ENG
* su stipria uodega.
Tarsi panyri į dokumentiką...
Pokalbiai apie aplinką, maisto ragavimas, skirtingų vietų potyriai, klaidžiojimai po susvetimėjusį miestą.
Dvi ryškios figūros ir pro jas slenkantis pagreitintas miesto judesio vaizdas.
Santykiai tarsi per stiklą. Apgirtus, atsitiktinai susidūrus gatvėje, bare begeriant sakę, tampant pakeleiviais, suartėjant, nutolstant...
Šaltas ir ramus, su kostiumu ir portfeliu mokytojas. Vieniša, pilna ilgesio-Cuciko.
🖋️Bet ar tikrai gyventi vienai man buvo taip "smagu"?
Smagu. Sunku.Gera. Saldu. Kartu. Sūru. Kuteno. Niežėjo. Šalta. Karšta. Drungna.
🖋️Visi susitikimai nulemti ankstesnių gyvenimų.
🖋️Ar nenorėtum su manimi santykių, kurių pagrindas būtų meilė?
🖋️Ir mudvi daugiau nebepratarėme nė žodžio. Gal nebuvo ko? Gal ir buvo.Tik staiga nebesumojau, apie ką mums kalbėtis. Buvome taip arti, kad vien dėl to negalėjome susišnekėti...
********************************************
It's like diving into a documentary...
Conversations about the environment, food tasting, experiences of different places, wanderings through an alienated city.
Two striking figures and through them, a sped-up view of the city's movement.
Relationships as if through glass. Drunk, accidentally meeting on the street, drinking sake at a bar, becoming fellow travelers, growing closer, drifting apart...
A cold and calm teacher with a suit and portfolio. A lonely, longing-filled Cuciko.
* su stipria uodega.
Tarsi panyri į dokumentiką...
Pokalbiai apie aplinką, maisto ragavimas, skirtingų vietų potyriai, klaidžiojimai po susvetimėjusį miestą.
Dvi ryškios figūros ir pro jas slenkantis pagreitintas miesto judesio vaizdas.
Santykiai tarsi per stiklą. Apgirtus, atsitiktinai susidūrus gatvėje, bare begeriant sakę, tampant pakeleiviais, suartėjant, nutolstant...
Šaltas ir ramus, su kostiumu ir portfeliu mokytojas. Vieniša, pilna ilgesio-Cuciko.
🖋️Bet ar tikrai gyventi vienai man buvo taip "smagu"?
Smagu. Sunku.Gera. Saldu. Kartu. Sūru. Kuteno. Niežėjo. Šalta. Karšta. Drungna.
🖋️Visi susitikimai nulemti ankstesnių gyvenimų.
🖋️Ar nenorėtum su manimi santykių, kurių pagrindas būtų meilė?
🖋️Ir mudvi daugiau nebepratarėme nė žodžio. Gal nebuvo ko? Gal ir buvo.Tik staiga nebesumojau, apie ką mums kalbėtis. Buvome taip arti, kad vien dėl to negalėjome susišnekėti...
********************************************
It's like diving into a documentary...
Conversations about the environment, food tasting, experiences of different places, wanderings through an alienated city.
Two striking figures and through them, a sped-up view of the city's movement.
Relationships as if through glass. Drunk, accidentally meeting on the street, drinking sake at a bar, becoming fellow travelers, growing closer, drifting apart...
A cold and calm teacher with a suit and portfolio. A lonely, longing-filled Cuciko.
March 16, 2018
If your book is going to be a bit rightwing, can it at least be a bit sexy (I'm thinking of Yukio Mishima)? Kawakami's young woman is unsatisfied with modern (*cough* Western) life and so falls for the wise old "wax on, wax off" Japanese and his spadeful of mono no aware, his haikus, his cherry-blossom viewing, his pachinko, his "let's look at the moon and no we can't have sex oh go on then".
July 27, 2021
The first time I ever heard the song "Eleanor Rigby" by The Beatles, it felt like a revelation—of loneliness as a fact, a named thing. If nothing else, I no longer felt lonesome in my loneliness.
Reading Strange Weather in Tokyo was a bit like that: it is a spare, delicate story of the chance coming together of two deeply lonely people—38-year-old Tsukiko and her former high school teacher, whom she simply regards as "Sensei"—and although I did not much care for the coming together itself (more on that later), I was very taken, even touched, by the way in which Tsukiko's inner world is put to paper.
Many reviewers have described this book as dreamlike, but I found it committed profoundly to realism. The episodic narrative and abrupt transitions, the realistic dialogue that often leads nowhere, the effervescent ruminations about mundane, everyday objects, and even the supposed magic-realism of the latter chapters—all of it representing the peculiar disconnect that floating about life in a cloud of loneliness often comes with. While the plot is often going nowhere—as in real life—the story "progresses" with the seasons: there is mushroom hunting, cherry blossom viewing, and vacationing on a hilly island, subtle markers of time and intimacy as it passes through the fingers of the reticent.
Although originally published in English as The Briefcase, I like that I read this book as Strange Weather in Tokyo, an apt title given I could personally identify with how loneliness seems almost to alter the world around us: it is often like being enveloped by a strange mist, an almost palpable shift in the physical world. In telling her story, Tsukiko stresses a lot on the sensory—all the food she consumes (this book is a delicious exploration of Japanese cuisine, amongst other things), all the sounds she catches, and the trees in her surroundings that often seem to arrest her—the kind of things that grounds one to the world amidst desolation. The lonely are extremely observant, yet painfully disconnected, and quite aware of it all:
Reading Strange Weather in Tokyo was a bit like that: it is a spare, delicate story of the chance coming together of two deeply lonely people—38-year-old Tsukiko and her former high school teacher, whom she simply regards as "Sensei"—and although I did not much care for the coming together itself (more on that later), I was very taken, even touched, by the way in which Tsukiko's inner world is put to paper.
Many reviewers have described this book as dreamlike, but I found it committed profoundly to realism. The episodic narrative and abrupt transitions, the realistic dialogue that often leads nowhere, the effervescent ruminations about mundane, everyday objects, and even the supposed magic-realism of the latter chapters—all of it representing the peculiar disconnect that floating about life in a cloud of loneliness often comes with. While the plot is often going nowhere—as in real life—the story "progresses" with the seasons: there is mushroom hunting, cherry blossom viewing, and vacationing on a hilly island, subtle markers of time and intimacy as it passes through the fingers of the reticent.
Although originally published in English as The Briefcase, I like that I read this book as Strange Weather in Tokyo, an apt title given I could personally identify with how loneliness seems almost to alter the world around us: it is often like being enveloped by a strange mist, an almost palpable shift in the physical world. In telling her story, Tsukiko stresses a lot on the sensory—all the food she consumes (this book is a delicious exploration of Japanese cuisine, amongst other things), all the sounds she catches, and the trees in her surroundings that often seem to arrest her—the kind of things that grounds one to the world amidst desolation. The lonely are extremely observant, yet painfully disconnected, and quite aware of it all:
"Even when we were at the bar, I tended to only take notice of Sensei. But Satoru was always there, along with the usual crowd of familiar faces. And I never really acknowledged that any of them were alive in any way. I never gave any thought to the fact that they were leading the same kind of complicated life as I was."Often, the author gives us indirect peeks into the loneliness of others—so subtle that you could easily miss it, that sharp feeling of difference:
"Out on the street, I wanted to make sure that I wasn’t the only one here, that I wasn’t the only one feeling lonely. But this wasn’t the kind of thing you could tell just by looking at the passersby. The harder I tried to see, the less sure I was about anything."
"The bar owner’s car was white and boxy, unlike the sort of streamlined cars that you often saw these days in the city."Tsukiko and Sensei's story seems rather alarming—he is old-fashioned, a tad misogynistic, and 30 years her senior, while she describes herself as compulsively childlike and is far removed from various ideas of feminine propriety—and we are compelled to ask: what brings them together despite all their differences? They are both gourmands, yes—in fact, the book begins with showing us their similarities rather than differences, and this is illustrated through the food items they each order—but they are also both lonely. It is this that holds them back from each other somewhat; it is this that makes their relationship worth reading about despite its predictability and problematics; it is not the workings of a romance that we're being made privy to here but something else entirely. Loneliness is vulnerability—this book is best read with that kept in mind.
"I had long ago gotten used to that particular kind of uneasiness. It was just dissatisfying in some way. It felt as if I had ordered a bunch of clothes that I had every reason to think would fit perfectly, but when I went to try them on, some were too short, while with others the hem dragged on the floor. Surprised, I would take the clothes off and hold them up against my body, only to find that they were all, in fact, the right length. "
August 4, 2021
I’m scratching my head trying to figure out why so many Goodread members found this book to be a four/five star read. For me it was barely a two star read. Initially the book started out well but further in I was completely bored. While I did enjoy the character known as Sensei, the others not so much. The story, for me, was slow and forgettable.
June 4, 2019
Strange Weather in my room, after reading this
March 30, 2025
I may end up offending some folks here, and I apologize in advance if I do. It’s not my intention, and what I’m about to say is just my feelings about this book. It is not a reflection of your relationships, since I actually don’t know you or the nature or depth of your relationships.
This book was so EW! It’s about a relationship that forms between a former student and her teacher. I think she was in high school when her taught her. So I’m already uncomfortable with the power dynamic at this point. But what makes it even cringier for me is that she spends the entire book calling him sensei (Japanese word for teacher). It felt so inappropriate and gross from start to finish.
It’s not just the age gap that bothered me. It’s the fact that she was his student and didn’t feel comfortable calling him anything but sensei! At first, it had been so many years since the last time she saw him that she couldn’t even remember his name, but even after she figured it out, it was always sensei.
We Asian women always have to fight the sexual submissive stereotype all the time. Her calling him sensei only reinforced that for me, and I was deeply annoyed by it.
I really wish I hadn’t read this one!!!
This book was so EW! It’s about a relationship that forms between a former student and her teacher. I think she was in high school when her taught her. So I’m already uncomfortable with the power dynamic at this point. But what makes it even cringier for me is that she spends the entire book calling him sensei (Japanese word for teacher). It felt so inappropriate and gross from start to finish.
It’s not just the age gap that bothered me. It’s the fact that she was his student and didn’t feel comfortable calling him anything but sensei! At first, it had been so many years since the last time she saw him that she couldn’t even remember his name, but even after she figured it out, it was always sensei.
We Asian women always have to fight the sexual submissive stereotype all the time. Her calling him sensei only reinforced that for me, and I was deeply annoyed by it.
I really wish I hadn’t read this one!!!
November 7, 2018
خب منم تعریف اینو زیاد شنیده بودم ولی داستان چیز خاصی نداشت. بااینحال بدمم نیومد؛ چون پُر از زندگی بود. چیزهایی که متأسفانه برای ما خیلی غریبه... اون هم توصیفات جزیی و ناب و غذاها و بوها و حال و هوای عجیبش. فضاش واقعاً دوستداشتنی بود. تا به اینجا فهمیدم ادبیات ژاپن هم از ژانرهایی هست که دوست دارم. البته ژانر اسم درستی نیست و منظورم یحتمل ژانر فرمی و اینا نیست. چون از روی فیدیبو هم میخوندم انتظار نداشتم به این زودی بخونمش. کتابهای الکترونیک مرگه برام خوندنشون. داستان برام خیلی کشش نداشت اما شخصیتپردازی و رنگ و بوش رو دوست داشتم. توصیه هم نمیکنمش، مگر کسایی که ادبیات ژاپن رو دوست دارن.
December 17, 2025
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Being born in Macedonia, I grew up reading books that were mostly translated. Because of that, I always appreciate the amazing job that translators do and have always cherished translated copies of my books. Strange Weather in Tokyo is no different, and Allison Markin Powell did an amazing job translating this book.
I read this book in August as part of the Tandem and Granta Books Instagram readalong - to celebrate #Kawakamimonth as well as Women in Translation month - and I am so glad I was able to join.
Synopsis:
One night when she is drinking alone in a local bar, Tsukiko finds herself sitting next to her former high school teacher. Over the coming months they share food and drink sake, and as seasons pass - from spring cherry blossom to autumnal mushrooms - Tsukiko and her teacher develop a hesitant intimacy that tilts awkwardly and poignantly towards love.
My Thoughts:
From the very first chapter, we travel to Japan and the whole mood changes. I could grasp the culture, taste the food and feel the weather changing through the seasons. The writing is brief and concise, yet full of emotion and wisdom. Both the characters and the scene had something very special about their description - they appeared so close, so real, as if you could just reach out your hand and touch them, feel them, taste them. This feeling stayed with me and I will cling on to it, because it happens so rarely these days.
Even though I am not a fan of student-teacher relationships, this relationship in particular kept me intrigued, simply because it was so much different than anything I have encountered before.
Tsukiko is young and tries to live in the modern world, while Sensei is much older and very traditional. They meet in the bar and talk. There are no dates, nor arranged meetings. They may see each other, and they may not. Sometimes it could be months before they bump into each other again. And that’s the beauty of their relationship. They live their own lives independently, and having each other as company is an added bonus.
A few plot twists lingered in the way of their love. Tsukiko’s potential boyfriend, who is the same age as her, Sensei’s old age and what that might mean, and the numerous arguments that seem bizarre, but test their relationship on deeper levels. It was very refreshing to see the brutally honest issue that is age between couples. Sensei knows he doesn’t have too long to live, and he is honest with Tsukiko, as he wants her to truly understand what this means, and once she understands it, he wants to ensure she is okay to proceed the relationship, given those circumstances.
I have mixed feelings about the ending of Strange Weather in Tokyo.
I was surprised at how it ended, but then I understood why. Perhaps I wanted a complete closure, but I learned that life doesn’t do closures. There is no perfect or right time to do something. We only have the “now” and we should enjoy every moment while we can.
Being born in Macedonia, I grew up reading books that were mostly translated. Because of that, I always appreciate the amazing job that translators do and have always cherished translated copies of my books. Strange Weather in Tokyo is no different, and Allison Markin Powell did an amazing job translating this book.
I read this book in August as part of the Tandem and Granta Books Instagram readalong - to celebrate #Kawakamimonth as well as Women in Translation month - and I am so glad I was able to join.
Synopsis:
One night when she is drinking alone in a local bar, Tsukiko finds herself sitting next to her former high school teacher. Over the coming months they share food and drink sake, and as seasons pass - from spring cherry blossom to autumnal mushrooms - Tsukiko and her teacher develop a hesitant intimacy that tilts awkwardly and poignantly towards love.
My Thoughts:
From the very first chapter, we travel to Japan and the whole mood changes. I could grasp the culture, taste the food and feel the weather changing through the seasons. The writing is brief and concise, yet full of emotion and wisdom. Both the characters and the scene had something very special about their description - they appeared so close, so real, as if you could just reach out your hand and touch them, feel them, taste them. This feeling stayed with me and I will cling on to it, because it happens so rarely these days.
Even though I am not a fan of student-teacher relationships, this relationship in particular kept me intrigued, simply because it was so much different than anything I have encountered before.
Tsukiko is young and tries to live in the modern world, while Sensei is much older and very traditional. They meet in the bar and talk. There are no dates, nor arranged meetings. They may see each other, and they may not. Sometimes it could be months before they bump into each other again. And that’s the beauty of their relationship. They live their own lives independently, and having each other as company is an added bonus.
A few plot twists lingered in the way of their love. Tsukiko’s potential boyfriend, who is the same age as her, Sensei’s old age and what that might mean, and the numerous arguments that seem bizarre, but test their relationship on deeper levels. It was very refreshing to see the brutally honest issue that is age between couples. Sensei knows he doesn’t have too long to live, and he is honest with Tsukiko, as he wants her to truly understand what this means, and once she understands it, he wants to ensure she is okay to proceed the relationship, given those circumstances.
I have mixed feelings about the ending of Strange Weather in Tokyo.
I was surprised at how it ended, but then I understood why. Perhaps I wanted a complete closure, but I learned that life doesn’t do closures. There is no perfect or right time to do something. We only have the “now” and we should enjoy every moment while we can.
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