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Hiromi Kawakami

Record of a Night Too Brief

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The Akutagawa Prize-winning stories from one of the most highly regarded and provocative contemporary Japanese writers
'The nightingale sang again. The plates on the table gleamed, and the food, in all its ceaseless variety, breathed, glossy and bright. The night had only just begun.'
In these three haunting and lyrical stories, three young women experience unsettling loss and romance.
In a dreamlike adventure, one woman travels through an apparently unending night with a porcelain girlfriend, mist-monsters and villainous monkeys; a sister mourns her invisible brother whom only she can still see, while the rest of her family welcome his would-be wife into their home; and an accident with a snake leads a shop girl to discover the snake-families everyone else seems to be concealing.
Sensual, yearning, and filled with the tricks of memory and grief, Record of a Night Too Brief is an atmospheric trio of unforgettable tales.
Hiromi Kawakami was born in Tokyo in 1958. Since the publication of God in 1994, she has written numerous novels and collections of short stories, including Strange Weather in Tokyo and The Nakano Thrift Shop. Her most recent novel, Running Water, was published in Japan in 2014 and won the Yomiuri Prize for Literature. Hiromi Kawakami has previously been awarded the Akutagawa Prize and the Tanizaki Prize, and was shortlisted for the 2013 Man Asian Literary Prize and the 2014 Independent Foreign Fiction Prize. Her work has been published in more than twenty languages.
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135 trykte sider
Oprindeligt udgivet
2017
Udgivelsesår
2017
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Citater

  • Dmitry Babenkohar citeretfor 5 år siden
    Time continued to flow, as the granules of girl reached every nook and cranny of me. The girl was broken down into something very tiny indeed, tinier even than the smallest particle, and still she coursed round and round. The girl became more and more mixed and homogeneous with me, until in the end I lost track of whether the girl was me, or I was the girl. It was only then that I started to love her, and to miss her. I loved and missed something I couldn’t define, some combination of us both.
  • Dmitry Babenkohar citeretfor 5 år siden
    “Where are we going?” I enquired. The girl nodded several times, her eyes closed, looking unworried.
    “Where?” I asked again.
    “The night,” she replied.
    With that, her head tilted downwards, and she fell into a deep sleep. She was carried along as she slept.
    Now a part of the chaos, alongside the girl, I entered the night.
  • Dmitry Babenkohar citeretfor 5 år siden
    It wasn’t that late, still only twilight, but the darkness seemed to have collected just above my shoulders. A black clump of it had fastened onto me, eating away at my back.

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