“A bag has no intentions or desires of its own, it embraces every object that we ask it to hold. You trust the bag, and it, in return, trusts you. To me, a bag is patience, a bag is profound discretion”.

Yoko Ogawa’s prose is so simple and beautiful that when I first started this book it was like jumping into a swimming pool; a cold, sharp shock to the senses. Within a couple of strokes/pages though it became a sensual pleasure and as close to bliss as my worried mind ever gets.

In this book, we have Eleven Dark almost gothic tales with a twist of magical realism. They are told in the first person and are connected to each other – so read them in order folks.

Tales 1 and 2: Afternoon at the Bakery and Fruit Juice both about grief and loss. Both beautifully done.
Tale 3: Old Mrs J. This one is creepy.

“The snow fell on our cones, and we ate it along with the ice cream, but it didn’t have much flavour”.

Tale 4: The little Dustman. A tale about a missing mother.
Tale 5: Labcoats. Is this where the collection gets it name from I wonder?
Tale 6. Sewing for the heart. A story where your true heart can be examined by the bag you carry and you can carry your heart in a bag. This one is not for the squeamish.

“Why was everyone dying? They had all been so alive just yesterday.”

Tale 7. Welcome to the Museum of Torture. A story about torture possibly being a better option than going home to an empty apartment.
Tale 8. The Man who sold Braces. A tale of an eccentric Uncle.
Tale 9. The last hour of the Bengal tiger. Story as the title says.
Tale 10. Tomatoes and the Full Moon. So that is where the tomatoes went too! Read this far and you will know what I mean.
Tale 11. Poison plants. Returns full circle to sorry and loss.

This set of tales is recommended to someone who finds themselves curled up in a blanket, beside an open fire on a rainy afternoon. Wrap yourself up well and devour this set of tales whole and in one sitting. Go on you know you want to.