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Banana Yoshimoto’s warm, witty, and heartfelt depictions of the lives of young Japanese have earned her international acclaim and best-seller status. In Hardboiled, the unnamed narrator, hiking in the mountains on the anniversary of her ex-lover's death, is haunted by her past and learns to make peace with her loss. Hard Luck is about another young woman whose sister lies in a coma. As she prepares to say good-bye to her loved one, a new friendship promises hope. Yoshimoto’s voice is clear, assured, and deeply moving, displaying again why she is one of Japan’s, and the world’s, most beloved writers.
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0“She was still there inside me now, just as she always was: a life put on hold, a memory I didn’t know how to handle.”
3.25 stars! Once again, Banana Yoshimoto offers a heart-aching deep dive into the loss of loved ones, along with the loneliness and grief that remains in their wake. Comprised of two novellas, this book is such a comfort to anyone who knows loss. Yoshimoto’s simple yet emotive prose is just so consistently stunning and evocative.
The first story, Hardboiled, is so atmospheric, following the narrator on an eerie mountain trip as she’s haunted by the death of a female lover. It’s tinged with a supernatural flair and is definitely my favourite of the two.
Hard Luck, on the other hand, is about a young woman coming to terms with her sister’s comatose state and impending death. It’s raw and perfectly encapsulates that horrible in-between period before the loss of a loved one.
Although these two stories are devastating and capture the emotions that accompany loss and everything that comes after so incredibly well, I still felt like I was wanting a bit more from the storytelling. Nevertheless, my favourite thing about Yoshimoto’s writing is its simplicity and the way it destroys you gently and with elegance. Hardboiled and Hard Luck is truly a gem of memorable, impactful stories.
0I have this strange, inexplicable feeling since yesterday I've been grieving. It's like I wanted to cry, but I just can't. And yet, the weight of it sits silently in my chest. The ache is quiet, it is kind of sorrow that leaves a hollow inside me. Maybe it's exhaustion. Maybe it's something deeper. I don't know. But I wish I could just let it out.
I read this book just exactly in the right time.
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