Thank you to NetGalley and the publisher for this ARC in exchange for my unbiased review. Spring Garden fits strangely well with the number of other Japanese books I've read this year- but this novella is a rather different beast. Low on plot and high on slice-of-life, I felt like I was roaming the streets along with Taro, wandering semi-aimlessly but taking in the world bit by bit. I particularly enjoyed the visual descriptions of the book which moves the plot along, and the couple it depicts being so central and yet ephemeral to the plot. Worth the quick read!

I love the distillation of time and essence that is a hallmark of novellas, the shrinking of a world to a few short, sharp points, a focused narration that lets you hone in on a story, but that is longer than a short story, so that it is possible to get lost in a novella.
And Spring Garden, winner of Akutagawa Prize, by the Japanese writer by Tomoka Shibasaki, certainly fits that description. We are within the world of Taro, a divorced man in his thirties, living alone in his flat, named the Pig Flat in a block that is due to be demolished. The apartments are slowly emptying as other tenants look for new homes ahead of the demolition. Taro is one of the few left. He makes the acquaintance of Nishi, a woman in her forties, an illustrator. She is obsessed with a sky-blue home called the Spring Garden, which was the subject of a photo book decades before. She walks to the home, and wants desperately to enter its walls. One day an opportunity presents itself – and soon Taro is also invited in.
This is a story of two lonely people who find a connection through shared proximity and a few dinners. Acquaintances more than friends – the emblem of the Spring Garden house serves to bind them. But their connection is abstract, vague and tenuous. Taro doesn’t even know what name she draws her illustrations under, and Taro doesn’t reveal much about himself either. This is a man whom life happens to, and he has seemingly little interest in much: “But it was Taro’s nature to avoid doing anything that was a bother, and he liked the Pig Flat in View Palace Saeki III well enough since it meant saving on money and effort, so when his lease expired he renewed it.”
However, this apathy serves as a distance – not only to others in his life – but to a reader trying to find some way into empathy with his character. I kept trying – but at best I maintained a disinterested glance. It’s the Spring Garden house that instead intrigues, around which Nishi and Taro orbit bemused and seemingly without much agency. Nishi’s obsession with the past reveals itself in this observation: “What Nishi had liked best of all were those moments in the darkroom when she would stand in front of a piece of photographic paper dipped in developer and watch as a scene straight out of the past came floating to the surface. Without those moments, she hadn’t much use for photography at all.”
It’s a strange novella – a fiction more about a house, seemingly, than the characters at the centre of it. But there too is it tells a story: of two people who seem to have given up, placing hope and energy on the fate of a home. Whether or not they are changed by the events of their lives is a moot point then.

<p>Earlier this week, a kid asked me what Japan was like. Me, having spent less than two weeks in Japan over a decade ago, and so *clearly* an expert, replied "Wacky. Japan is wacky." And there is a lot of wackiness about Japan, like how I spent my first twenty-four hours there pointing at things and saying "I rolled that up in <A href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tV6zNxjt058">Katamari</a>" or how things -- toilets, restaurants, buttons -- just play music at you. But there's a lot of other stuff about Japan, like the rusty water stains running down the sides of the stucco houses right up next to the shinkansen train tracks, or sitting out on the reclaimed land in Tokyo in April and just how brown and grey and barren everything looks. <A href="https://www.librarything.com/work/19513679/book/152428442">Spring Garden</a> hits smack between the Cheery Pop Super Love Happy Land of Japan and the just slog of Salarymen and Emptiness and drinking beer depression. Taro is divorced and alone. Nishi moved here because the apartment block is next to a house from a book! Taro has three different ways he can walk from his apartment to the rail station. Nishi stabs herself so she can see a bathroom! They eat octopus and drink beer. They make a friend. The friend moves away. Taro fills his whole apartment with couches! Someone uses the house to film a movie.</p>

<p>And then, bafflingly, the last chapter is told from Taro's sister's perspective, so did Taro die or something? I kept expecting the book to end with him falling, literally, off the fence, and dying because why else would we switch from a third person point to a view to a first person point of view from a character that we've never met before?</p>

<p>So is he dead? Is this all like the <a href="https://kotaku.com/the-scary-theory-that-totoro-is-the-god-of-death-5926248">alternative, death-God, interpretation of Totoro</a>? I have no idea.</p>

<p>Thus I will finish and say <A href="https://www.librarything.com/work/19513679/book/152428442">Spring Garden</a> is kinda like a novel or kinda like a string of incidents listed in chronilogical order which may actually be the definition of a novel, I don't know. I guess it's wacky in a non-wacky way, might be the best way to say what it is.</p>

<p><A href="https://www.librarything.com/work/19513679/book/152428442">Spring Garden</a> by Tomoka Shibasaki went on sale November 7, 2017.</p>

<p><small>I received a copy free from <a href="https://www.netgalley.com/">Netgalley</a> in exchange for an honest review.</small></p>

Living on his own, after a divorce, Taro occupies one of the few inhabited apartments in a block due to be torn down for redevelopment. He has become particularly isolated after his father's death, but is gradually drawn into a relationship with an artist living upstairs through her interest in the sky-blue house they can see from their apartment block.
This is a novel which doesn't go anywhere fast. But it is more a meditation in what has been, what is now and what might be. The block Taro lives in has been there a while, but is due for demolition so he must, once again move on with his life.
It feels as if Taro's life is in limbo as we follow him through the minutiae of his world, and Tomoka Shibaski's writing is full of the sense that Taro's humdrum existence is, like the hay day of the sky-blue-house, insecure and uncertain as to where it will be going next. Even his relationship with the artist, Nishi, is really only held together while they have the excuse of the photo-book to connect them. Yet this is not a depressing read, but something which calms the soul through the reading of it.
Although the prose (translated by Polly Barton, for an effortless read) might appear straightforward, the life of the people who once lived in the sky-blue house when the "Spring Garden" book was published, the life of the house and Taro's life seem to be mirror each other in subtle ways. It is this delicate juggling act between these different aspects of the story and the way in which Taro exists within the world, yet seems unable to connect with it, which takes the novel beyond a simple, detailed observation of this reserved man.

Taro is a divorced man living in an apartment block and his set routine doesn’t allow much interaction with his neighbours. But as the apartment block begins to empty prior to its demolition he begins to forge new relationships with some of the remaining tenants, particularly with Nishi, who has become obsessed with a large blue single-family house that can be glimpsed from their balconies. Not a lot happens and although I often enjoy these understated, often quirky, Japanese novellas, this one seemed more inconsequential than others and I didn't find the characters either interesting or engaging. It’s a glimpse into a few lives at a particular time and place, and although charming in its way, felt somewhat forgettable.

Taro lives alone in one of Tokyo’s anonymous block of flats. His family is far away and they are hardly in contact, his father died already ten years ago, yet the memories of him are still alive. His neighbours, he only knows the names that were given to the flats they inhabit, but not who is living close to him. Since the flats are going to be destroyed soon, they will have to leave anyway. One day, he observes a woman walking around the sky-blue house neighbouring their block. She seems to try to look into it through the window. When she realises that she is spotted, they make contact and Nishi explains Taro why she is behaving this strangely: the house is actually quite famous, she even possesses a book about its interior and her greatest wish is to enter and have a look herself. A singular friendship forms between the two neighbours, centred around a building close but far away for them.

Tomoka Shibasaki’s novel “Spring Garden” has many typical features of what I expect from Japanese literature. First of all, the characters. We have two protagonists who seem to live a life without close connection to other people, loneliness and isolation are reoccurring themes in Japan’s novels and from the news I read about the country this really seems to be a major topic. Yet, it is not the suffering from being alone that is central, they seem to have accepted that this is just how it is for them. When they finally bond with somebody - even if it is just a weak connection like the one of neighbours – there are many societal rules which prevent an honest friendship in my opinion. E.g. when Taro is given a present he does not like, it is not easy for him and he nevertheless feels obliged to behave in a certain manner. Even to eat things he doesn’t like in order not to appear impolite.

Some aspects I found really strange and I do not know if this is the case because the character of Taro is a bit bizarre or if this is just a cultural matter which is quite far from the world I life in. Taro keeps the mortar and pestle in his kitchen cupboard with which he turned the remains of his father’s bones into powder to distribute them. They remind him of the father and he frequently thinks about him when he comes across the two utensils. Both, first the idea of working on a deceased’s bones and keeping the utensils close to pots and pans is very astonishing to me to put it politely.

The most interesting part of the novel for me was the house that Taro and Nishi go to explore, first through the book and the outside, later also from the inside. It is not only the poetical language, especially about the lighting of the colourful windows, which makes it quite impressive, but also how human boing have an impact on the outer world. Even though the walls and windows are the same, with the change of the inhabitants, the whole ambiance can change and everybody leaves his mark on his surroundings.

I received a free electronic copy of this short novel from Netgalley, Tomoka Shibasaki, and Pushkin Press in exchange for an honest review. Thank you all, for sharing your hard work with me.

This short novel centers on the Blue House, a single family home huddled down amongst three story apartment buildings, and the way the blue house affects residents of those soon to be demolished apartments. The story just moseys along, but the writing is special - I found it to be very charming, calming and light reading.

The View Palace Saeki III flats in Tokyo will soon be demolished. Enormous buildings are replacing flats as the population, that was once heavily rural, has migrated to the city. Four of the eight flats have been vacated. The owner now awaits the departure of the remaining tenants when their leases expire. These residents, that have been virtual strangers, meet and converse for the first time.

Taro works in a five person PR office. He is grieving the death of his father and the demise of his marriage. He avoids anything he considers bothersome, including social interaction. Nishi, an illustrator and comic-strip artist appears to be sketching a picture of a sky blue house while precariously balanced on a balcony railing. When Nishi leaves for work, Taro follows her noticing that she stops in front of the sky blue house. Nishi's over the top interest in this house has occurred as a result of a publication."Spring Garden" is a black and white photographic collection of the everyday life of a married couple. What would it be like to live in this house? What room would be Nishi's favorite? The sky blue house is the focus of the friendship between Nishi and Taro. When the house is resold, Nishi wants to experience the changes in decor, whether drastic or subtle. She finds a way to do just that before she must vacate her flat.

"Spring Garden" by Tomoka Shibasaki is a novella about loneliness and social isolation and the forces of urbanization which actually create a platform for Taro and Nishi to connect. Although some buildings stand the test of time, demolition of small or aging structures, replaced by towering buildings have altered the pulse of many neighborhoods.

Thank you Pushkin Press and Net Galley for the opportunity to read and review "Spring Garden".

A beautifully written and captivating story. Emotional and heartfelt. Taro's story can resonate with us all. In some ways a study of being alone but not always of loneliness. The descriptive prose here was ever so enjoyable.

Very enjoyable novella. Didn't take the story where I`d hoped but never mind.

I appreciate the writing of the author, It is atmospheric and beautifully written, however it wasn't for me. The plot was continuous with no chapters, and the two characters just didn't engage me at all. The premise is all surrounding a neighbours house, and how the community of neighbors interact, within their seemingly lonely existences. I feel like it was trying to convey an element of a Sociological narrative without the character foundation to succeed. A shame as the writing was good and wonderfully translated.

At times, I started to enjoy this novel. The writer would then make a bizarre stylistic choice which would alienate me from the main character and confuse me. An example of this is when the writer decided to change the narrative perspective for no discernible reason. This novel just left me feeling confused and vaguely unsatisfied.

A soft, melancholic slice-of-life novella about the vacancies within our own hearts. Taro, a Japanese businessman, goes about his daily life for a year living in a condemned apartment building, contemplating his divorce and the passing of his father. He forms a friendship with a fellow neighbor who is obsessed with a neighboring building, and the perfect life captured in a book of photographs from it's former residences.
It is a quick, succinct story - very atmospheric. Not a lot happens, plotwise, certainly, but it captures the emotion of a moment perfectly... it's a discontented sigh, a yearning for what could have been.

This novella provides an interesting snapshot of social dynamics among neighbours as they navigate memories with very different personalities, affecting each other in the process.

This novella from Tomoko Shibasaki is brief and insubstantial like a breath of fresh air, pleasant and briefly purifying. It evokes the isolation of living alone with few ties amongst neighbour who are little more than strangers, nameless and indistinct. The main character Toro is recently divorced and has lost his father, he is drifting lethargic and unconnected through his life until he forges a link with his neighbour Nishi through her fixation on a nearby sky-blue house.
It is beautifully written with a clarity of vision and restraint of prose that is remarkable in much Japanese literature and poetry and is perfectly captured in Polly Barton's precise and excellent translation. It does, however, lack an emotional foundation that would make it truly effective. Toro's isolation is accompanied by a passivity and listlessness that leave the novella unfortunately hollow and apart from a strange but moving passage about grinding down his father's bones in order to scatter his remains in the places he loves I fear most impressions will quickly evaporate.

Spring Garden is a short Japanese novella, centring around our main character Taro and neighbour Nishi. Taro and Nishi live in the same apartment block which overlooks a sky blue house. Nishi, in her youth, discovers a book featuring this house which kickstarts an obsession.

I enjoyed the story, the translation was good and the tale itself is very descriptive and lyrical in its content. It's a simple tale, unlike anything I've ever really read before in its ability to capture a slice of Japanese life. My only major issue was that not much actually happened within the story itself. There's a lot of reminiscing from Nishi, and Taro is often very aloof and emotionless.

Interesting story, but nothing really caught my attention.