After enjoying Ningen Shikkau, I picked up A Late Chrysanthemum as part of my search for any and all of Dazai Osamu-san’s work. The New York Times recently ran an article (https://www.nytimes.com/2023/03/05/books/review/osamu-dazai-tiktok.html)  about how Dazai-san’s work is seeing an uptick in popularity because of the manga Bungo Stray Dogs. Allow me reassure you that the article is 100% correct. While online encyclopedia entries remark that Dazai-san’s fictions are an extreme niche interest outside of Japan, I must fight tooth-and-nail to get anything by him from the library. No Longer Human has twelve holds on it. A Late Chrysanthemum has four of his realistic short stories: “Memories,” “A Golden Picture,” “A Garden Lantern,” and “Chiyojo.” 

Lane Dunlop doesn’t introduce this story collection well or have good biographies of the authors. It was odd to read praise on how diverse this collection’s selection is. Today, “diverse” indicates that the authors come from a variety of ethnic backgrounds and/or are gender minorities. In the 1980s, “diverse” means non-white, as far as I can tell. All the stories are by cishet Japanese men from the same era. How far society has come; how far we have to go in dismantling white supremacy. 

Because of my low tolerance for short stories (a severe character flaw, I know), I restricted myself to reading only Dazai-san’s stories. “Memories” is an account of Dazai-san’s childhood and adolescence. Elsewhere I’d read that crafting “Memories” sparked Dazai-san’s love of writing, so I felt especially lucky to read it. His reminisces are endearing and a little heartbreaking. Of the four fictions, this one was my favorite. 

“A Golden Picture” is about a grown man who is unexpectedly reunited with his childhood maid/nanny, O-kei. Now happily married, O-kei visits him in his bachelor pad and reminisces about his little kid antics and pranks, praising him a good boy. Hearing her enduring love for him, the man is ashamed of how bad he treated O-kei, and he resolves to live better. The narrator’s resolution was a pretty positive note to end on—from my understanding, many of Dazai-san’s protagonists are pathetic wet cat of men, who refuse to change. 

In “A Garden Lantern,” good girl Sakiko recounts what led to her arrest and societal fall from grace. She fell in love with Mizuno, a student who loves to put on airs bigger than his bank account. She was dazzled by his wit and slumming-it sophisticated ways. All was well until Mizuno’s school announced an upcoming field trip to the beach. Ashamed of not owning swim trunks, Mizuno publicly said he wasn’t going and privately complained to Sakiko. She’s not made of money either, but she wants the best for Mizuno, so…she tried to shoplift swim trunks. It didn’t go well. Her reputation is ruined, and worse, Mizuno dumps her to save his reputation. What would be an ordinary story of a “good girl falls for bad boy” is quietly remarkable in Dazai-san’s hands. The ordinariness is part of the story’s remarkability. Mizuno doesn’t have smoldering good looks, a leather jacket, a motorcycle, or tragic backstory to justify his actions. He’s just a jerk. Secondly, the plot is circular: the story begins and ends with Sakiko in a jail cell, bemoaning her fate. There’s no dramatic irony or “if I had known.” She is where she is, and she was always going to end up there if she pursued this asshole. 

The last story, “Chiyojo” hit close to home, as it dwelled on a young writer. In her teens, Kazuko displays remarkable writing talent. Her mother and uncle constantly badger her to practice her writing and publish her work. Being a teen, Kazuko has little interest in a career, preferring to spend her free time with friends. Understandable. Later in life, Kazuko tries her hand at writing again…but feels like her talent has disappeared and what little remains is unremarkable. I’ve honestly never seen a short story so eloquently expose the burden of expectation placed on teenagers before. When I was a teen, there was a huge pressure to mine oneself for commodifiable skills and perform them now now now. I wasn’t super talented like Kazuko, but I vividly remember fretting that I wasn’t any good. 

While A Late Chrysanthemum didn’t make me gush, I enjoyed Dazai-san’s writings. They tickled my intellect, if not my heart. I’m eager for more. 

 Whenever I look up Gothic book rec lists, I see Daphne du Maurier. Usually the lists point to Rebecca, but do you have any idea how long the hold list for the Rebecca audiobook is? Very long. In the meanwhile, I saw no reason to neglect visiting Jamaica Inn. 

Mary Yellan and her mother’s farming life is hard work, and not without its hardships, but ultimately provides a comfortable life and financial independence. The only real difficulty is that their farm is a two woman job. When Mary’s mother dies unexpectedly, Mary must either marry one of the annoying village boys…or sell the farm and seek out her Aunt Patience. Rather than marry someone she has no feelings for, Mary packs her things and sets off for the titular Jamaica Inn, which her aunt and uncle own. When Mary arrives at her the establishment, she realizes her mistake. The Inn is cursed and lorded over by the domineering, violently alcoholic Uncle Joss Merlyn. It’s going to take all of Mary’s strength and cunning to solve the mystery of Jamaica Inn and save her aunt from Joss. And then some! 

Many reviews compare Jamaica Inn to Rebecca, but that’s like comparing oranges to tangerines. Both books belong in the Gothic genre, but where Rebecca is psychological spookiness, Jamaica Inn is a more straightforward Gothic adventure. Mary is a spitfire of a protagonist, and I love her to bits. In the face of cruelty, she took no shit—but also grew kinder. Her compassion for her aunt was marvelous. One unexpected character trait was frequent complaining about gender. Mary chafes at the constraints patriarchy places on women. Her protests are frequent and gain a certain intensity that I wonder if Mary is a trans man and wants to be viewed as a man. Sometimes, when she ranted about Joss, I wanted to tell her…you can stab him. You’re already holding the knife. Women tend to get less severe prison sentences. Do it. You could be the single redeemable male character in this book. This story is ripe for some trans man!Mary fanfic. 

Moving on from characters, Jamaica Inn has plenty what I consider an important hallmark of the Gothic genre: unabashed roasting of Victorian architecture. I felt a little bad because Jamaica Inn still exists. Du Maurier’s stay there inspired the book. This novel provides the opposite of a glowing review of the tavern. More seriously, du Maurier doesn’t skimp on the atmospheric damp and loneliness of the moors. Love is an unavoidable curse in the world of Jamaica Inn, as sinister and melancholic as the setting. 

Jamaica Inn is a solid spooky adventure with a protagonist you’ll root for even after the final page. 

 

Both online and irl, Witchmark is celebrated. A magical gay historical romance was bound to make it on my TBR. We picked up our copy at the library. 

In an alternate Edwardian England Aeland, Miles has to fake his death to find freedom. Magic is outlawed, except if you’re an aristocrat and member of the Avengers a secret government task force to keep the weather nice. Even then, less powerful mages must bind their souls to the more skilled magic wielders, like human batteries. The non-noble mages are locked up in insane asylums. Y’all would rather enslave half the population then update your infrastructure, huh. Anyway, Miles is quietly working as a doctor at a veteran’s hospital when a rash of patients come down with the same psychosis. Things go from bad to worse when an aristocrat stumbles in, identifies him, and dies. The single witness to his unmasking is an unbelievably attractive stranger named Tristan. Miles thinks Tristan wants to blackmail him. Tristan wants to solve the aristocrat’s murder. 

Major question: why is everyone so into bicycles? I kid, I kid. Bicycles are a recurring motif though. My actual thoughts on the book are a string of compliments. Miles, Tristan, Nurse Robin, and the rest of the cast are compelling characters. The mystery was excellent. The atmosphere, imagery, and pacing lent the story the feel of a warm bath—which turned into a heart pounding run in the final chapters. The world-building is as intricate as it is solid. The soul-binding reminded me of the Sentinel/Guide or A/B/O tropes. My one disappointment is the next book doesn’t focus on Tristan and Miles. Their romance is a soft, gentle dream. It does jump from “I’d be okay if we broke up” to “we’re married” rather quick, but I believed in their love nonetheless. 

What can I say but 5 out of 5. Very cozy. 

 After reading and enjoying A Shameful Life, I was desperate to read a biography of Dazai Osamu-san’s life. My library has exactly two options: Dazai Osamu by James A. O’Brien and a chapter in Makoto Ueda’s Modern Japanese Writers and the Nature of Literature. Since O’Brien’s work was an entire book, I read it first. 

The library catalogue didn’t have much description beyond the title, so I dived in blind. In the front matter, O’Brien explains that this book is his doctoral dissertation expanded and revised to fit into Twayne’s World Author Series. Reminiscent of high school term papers (except way more hardcore), O’Brien’s thesis examines Dazai-san’s works in the context of his life. Not every single publication is put under the proverbial microscope—O’Brien straight up admits skipping iconic works because he doesn’t care about them personally. “A Landlord’s Life,” The Final Years, Flowers of Buffoonery, One Hundred Views of Mount Fuji, “New Hamlet,” Return to Tsugaru, Fairy Tales, “Villon’s Wife,” The Setting Sun, No Longer Human, Goodbye, and various stories of monkeys are included. 

Though the book isn’t a straightforward biography, it gave me the general shape Dazai-san’s life, for which I’m grateful. O’Brien makes careful, helpful distinction among Dazai the character, Dazai the author persona, and Tsushima Shūji-san the person. After reading, I felt knew Tsushima-san’s personality better and not a sculpture set on a pedestal. His mistreatment of his wife, Ishihara Michiko-san, is a real knock in the teeth. 

My main critique is O’Brien tends to study Dazai-san in isolation. His friends are mentioned when it can’t be avoided, and all women are poo-poohed. The Buraihi Trio is not mentioned once. He writes off Ishihara-san as an unknowable enigma who bore Dazai-san’s neglect and children with great patience. The single insight we receive is that she transcribed “Heed My Plea” and liked the story. This lack of women is especially weird because Dazai-san once missed women so much he became a drag queen. According to this book, Dazai-san survived WWII perfectly fine. He hopped between various bomb shelters and read fairy tales to his daughters. His post-war implosion came out of nowhere. The seemingly random plunge in mental health chilled me to the bone. 

O’Brien’s blind spots are balanced against my hunger for any Dazai-san knowledge and the fact that he wrote his dissertation in the 1970s. While reading, I itched for my own copy, so I could read more slowly, mark the pages, and absorb.

Unsurprisingly, Savage Worlds: Science Fiction Companion is…a companion to the Savage Worlds rule set. This companion helps add the sci-fi candle wax to the Savage Worlds mold. It accomplishes this task quick and snappy-like. It was easy to toggle between the two guides, and the Science Fiction Companion was slightly better organized. I recommend getting the PDF version of each one, so you can use that sweet, sweet Ctrl + F. 

My review of Savage Worlds: Adventure Edition: https://app.thestorygraph.com/reviews/e6dd4240-6d32-4195-9909-8526e4228f10

 I cracked open Savage Worlds: Adventure Edition to prepare for a sci-fi tabletop game. Called “The Last Star,” our intrepid group of explorers guided a mobile space station to—you guessed it—the last star in the galaxy. I played Oyster, a mushroom inhabiting the dead body of a catboy. Oyster’s girlfriend was a Giant Spider Lady. Together our group popped a cap in God’s ass and “reignited” all the stars in the galaxy, giving everyone a new chance at life. 

It was super duper fun y’all. 

I’ve played a couple science fiction tabletop games, but Savage Worlds-driven “The Last Star” was a spatial frolic head and shoulders above the rest. Much of the fun is of course because of our fantastic game master. However, this is StoryGraph, so I’m going to focus on how the mechanics lent a hand. 

In the introduction, the gamebook’s writers explain that they created Savage Worlds as a universal rule set. The mechanics are not tailored to one type of setting—it’s designed like a mold you can fill with whatever type of candle wax you want. Because of this universality, there are always relatable footholds for my fantasy-familiar brain. My friends have read much more science fiction than I have. When we played a Star Wars ttrpg, I learned how to swing my character’s sword, but much more than that felt impossible. Here, the more genre-neutral language means I needn’t have read 100 volumes of pulp ‘70s sci-fi beforehand. 

The variety of dice rolls are very fun. I was really happy to be able to use ALL my dice. Too often my d4s, d10s, d8s, and d12s just stare sadly at me from the corner. Raises (or as we called them “exploding dice”) made me feel badass as hell. The initiative cards are at times a nuisance, but gotta love when the party draws a Joker three rounds in a row. 

The biggest boon was the speedy level-up system. I don’t care our characters got ridiculously OP. If I want to revel in failure, I seek Mr. Eaten’s name in Fallen London. Quick advancements meant none of our characters died, we started as good in areas and became experts by end game, and we had room to pad out fatal flaws. In the beginning, Oyster was fairly good at research—by the end my Research rolls were guaranteed successes. As we played I realized I couldn’t muddle by without some Shooting and Piloting. Oyster learned the basics of piloting and shooting quick enough for them to not die horribly in space. Sometimes with tabletop games, it feels like new players are punished for not thinking through every implication of every rule. Not here. 

The only real annoyance happened during character creation. While creating my own Fungoid aliens species was fun as all get out, the pages necessary for it were NOT near each other. Thank God for Ctrl + F. I’d recommend getting the PDF version just so you can use the “Find Command.” 

I haven’t played enough tabletop systems to say that Savage Worlds: Adventure Edition is my favorite, but “The Last Star” was the first time I felt an actual affinity for the ruleset. Try it out! Unleash the mycelial network! Date Shelob! Kill John Gaius!

 As another reviewer said, I’m here because Asagiri Kafka-san is good at his job. Asagiri-san is the writer behind the manga, Bungo Stray Dogs. He and the illustrator Harukawa Sango-san reimagine early 20th century Japanese literary figures as crime-fighting frenemies in the modern day. In interviews, Asagiri-san has said that he hopes his writing will entice readers to explore Japanese literature, and it worked on me. Nakahara Chūya is my favorite character, so of course I borrowed The Poems from the library. 

The Poems of Nakahara Chūya are not what I expected. When I hear “debauched drunk who constantly cosplayed as a gay French poet,” I don’t think of delicate meditations on nature and grief. There is one poem about having a hangover, but that’s a blip on the radar. Poems discuss the loneliness of returning to a hometown; the light dancing under the door at night when you’re trying to sleep; living on after catastrophic death. A poem about his late son, Fumiya, made me cry. I realized mid-read that Poems was my first piece of Dada-esque literature that I can recognize as Dada-esque. Following the “nonsense” leaps was a fun game. There were many beautiful, sill moments sitting with nature. Nakahara-san’s poetry can really capture the quietude of the soul: those soft emotions and absolute truths only articulated in deepest hush. 

All that praise being said, this book is very weird. The front matter contains Nakahara-san’s biography, which is very edifying. It’s during Paul Mackintosh’s forward that things get funky. Mainly, he views his own translation as an atrocity that should not exist. Poetry, as an artistic medium, is hard to translate in the first place. Nakahara-san’s poems are known for their lyricism—he set them to music sometimes—and Mackintosh admits, point-blank, that he couldn’t translate that music to English. He could translate the words, but not the musical cadence. He urges the readers to treat Poems as a taste of Nakahara-san’s work, and to not study the translation in an academic way. The implication that all English translations are colonialist violence sat odd in the stomach. 

Mackintosh calling this book a “horrible butchery” is not conducive to 5 stars, but I still liked the poems, so…3 stars? Mackintosh is the one who threw me, not the nerdy hat rack.

After enjoying both Black Water Sister and The Order of the Pure Moon Reflected in Water, my wife and I were eager to dive into Cho’s other fictions. We found Spirits Abroad: And Other Stories at the library and eagerly snapped up the chance to delve into her short stories.

Only for me to be rudely reminded that I have shit taste actually. God had to nerf me, okay. It’s been years since I’ve read a short story collection, and I clean forgot I don’t like them. No matter how skilled and beloved the author, my brain refuses to enjoy a series of little stories in one sitting. The process is too taxing. For each work, my brain will painstakingly observe and investigate the themes, characters, plot, pace, and world-building. Ya know: usual writer stuff. Once the story’s over, the brain rests, savors, and forms conclusions. If it has to do this heavy process again and again, in quick succession, I literally get headaches. If I'd bought the collection, I would have read a story a month and a more normal reading experience. However, an incredibly slow reading pace is impossible for a library book. Other people want to read this!

So, because I’m an idiot, Spirits Abroad: And Other Stories was a 3 star reading experience for me personally. That being said, even my brain, during active revolt, recognized this collection as more than worthy of 5 stars. Each story is well-plotted. Queerness and folkloric creatures inhabit nearly every story—subjects that are right up my alley. Like with her other work, Cho invites her readers into Malaysian culture: either to learn it for the first time or to be welcomed home. Several stories come in sets, and the same characters return for more adventures. The back cover has an author blurb that says Cho shows us the Malay spirit world, and how it’s just as annoying (and humorous) as the human one. Spot on description.

Most stories pierced my headache-induced brain fog one way or another. As you might guess, I enjoyed the longer or paired stories more. Special shout outs:

When I was a Youth(TM), I was so in love with Treasure Island that I didn’t read any of Robert Louis Stevenson’s other books. Last September, The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde jumped out on my Libby app recommendations. It’s only three hours! That’s like, one night of playing Stardew Valley. I downloaded the audiobook, popped in my earphones, and got to it.  

Okay, you know the story of Jekyll and Hyde. I don’t need to summarize it here. This audiobook edition includes Stevenson’s biography, and it was quite fun to learn he came from a family of civil engineers. The story proper follows along a penny dreadful’s expected lines. The one surprise was the lack of intense ableism concerning Hyde’s appearance. Knowing the Victorians, I buckled up for a lot of microaggressions against disabled people, but Hyde is nondisabled. He’s just got absolutely rancid vibes. I laughed when Jekyll’s colleagues found out about his discovery and they each, independently, decided to go to bed. Victorian doctors are indeed very fragile creatures.

The reveal of Jekyll and Hyde’s connection is saved for the very end, and it must have whigged the original audience OUT. For me, over a century later, the story ended up being very middling. Well-written, of course, but it was like reading an O. Henry story for a second time. The twist is everything, and I’ve had that spoiled since I watched Pagemaster at age three. While I think it’s still worthwhile to read the book, and on a craft level The Strange Case earns 5 stars, it was more a 3 star reading experience for me. I’m glad I read The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, but the experience didn’t blow my socks off. 

I first found Jennet Alexander’s I Kissed a Girl through LGBTQ Reads. My sapphic book club ran out of sapphic books we could name off the top of our heads, if you can believe it! Our members were sent to search the wilds; to report back on possible reading material. Clicking through LGBTQ Reads’ filters, I searched for Jewish lesbian romance novels. I Kissed a Girl popped up! 

Our members latched onto the find, and one month later we happily discussed Lilah and Noa’s journey into romcom-horror solidarity. A talented actress trapped in a horror movie typecast, Lilah dreams of more challenging roles, earning enough money to support her family, and meeting a real life queer woman. Meanwhile, Noa is running on caffeine fumes and the adrenaline high of staking her career on Scarodactyl. To join the union, she has to come away from three projects with glowing recommendation letters. She can’t let insane work hours, strange co-workers, and Lilah’s gorgeous face distract her.

My only real critique of the book is the writing style tripped me up, and that’s 100% on me. I write interactive fiction, and the genre demands I don’t control the main character—the player does. Any reaction I want to narrate has to be rooted in the body. I can’t write “You panic,” and instead write, “Your adrenal gland pumps its handy poison.” I Kissed a Girl’s writing style is very cerebral and oriented to the character’s inner thoughts. Sometimes I wouldn’t realize a character was panicking until they’d do something drastic. I’d then re-interpret the last couple pages, creating this odd delayed reaction effect. I felt like I was playing catch up on the characters’ emotional states.

Besides the Jewish lesbian romance, a real draw of the book is seeing how a movie gets made, especially a horror movie with tons of ooey-gooey practical effects. Through Noa, Alexander delves into the history of the genre. The author marked pages that contain horror movie references with a cute pterodactyl symbol in the paperback edition. The back matter explains the references for the newbies like me. The descriptions of a movie set’s inner workings are very fun—and reminded me that they’re best lived through vicariously. Alexander doesn’t gloss over the truly insane 12 hour work days, the exploitation of non-union workers, and how a single head honcho’s whimsy can derail people’s lives. All that suffering for very little pay to boot! Yikes. Though Lilah and Noa are passionate about their work, passion doesn’t pay the bills. Or protect them from very creepy fans. While I Kissed a Girl isn’t a “dead dove, don’t eat” dark romance, my stomach tightened, and my spine tingled with unease in some sections. The content warning for stalking isn’t joking around.

The romance end of things is much more hopeful and happy. In addition to the horror movie references, the back matter contains an interview with Alexander. She explains that she wanted to take two women media often pits against each other and have them fall in love. Lilah is a pink-loving girly girl. Noa is that one horror movie buff who will absolutely destroy Halloween Trivia Night. It was refreshing to read a New Adult version of the goth girl-popular girl high school romance. Not to say they lack nuance. Lilah and Noa are both POV characters, so Alexander digs deep into their psyches. Both women are adults doing their best, and conflict is born of miscommunication common to any new relationship.

If you like movies and girl kissing; if you think playing around in fake blood is fun (it is!), pick up I Kissed a Girl.