Not a bad book by any means, but I wish it had touched me more. "The Yomigaeri Tunnel" is without doubt an emotional novel that deals with many heavy themes, but the structure of the book made it really hard for me to connect. The premise of a mythical tunnel with the power of reviving the dead was very intriguing to begin with, but the execution was not what I expected. The book follows 18-year-old Monika who is at a difficult point in life. She just graduated high school but doesn't really have a plan for the future while friends of her do, and she is very upset because of the recent death of a classmate. After she overhears a conversation about the Yomigaeri tunnel she decides to search for it and bring her classmate back to life. The little glimpse into Japanese folklore was nice, but listening to a random conversation was a poor introduction to the topic and rather uncreative in my opinion. The book then focuses on Monika's experiences inside the tunnel where she is unexpectedly not alone. She meets Shiori, a girl who wants to bring back her mother, and both of them face the mythical tunnel. They are forced to relive painful memories and are constantly thrown into episodes from their pasts. Sometimes the events play out exactly as they remember, sometimes they can change their actions. At other times they talk to spirits, and after a while Monika and Shiori even enter each other's memories. I couldn't really grasp what the actual function of the tunnel was supposed to be, because so many different things happened inside it. It somehow still felt repetitive. The girls would fall into a memory / hallucination, then wake up and be disoriented and sad, and repeat. Almost the entire book is structured that way, save the clunky beginning and the very end, and that wasn't enough for me. While I do think that this way of storytelling made me understand the characters piece by piece, it also misses out on a coherent plot. Especially Monika was thrown into so many different scenarios that it was hard to actually care. I did feel sad for her because she's been through so much, but many things were only ever mentioned once without any deeper exploration. I wish the book focused more on 2 to 3 moments of Monika's life, and made her really reflect on her past and realize what that means for her future. The portrayal of grief was well done, though. It was talked about how you can heavily grief a person that you weren't even that close to, about how there are not only positive sides to a deceased person, and how death can make you feel a strange sort of relieve. The author states in the beginning that she wrote this book after her own experiences with grief, and so that part felt very personal. It made for an overall emotional and engaging story that was dimmed by the narrative structure for me. I still think that this story will appeal to many readers and I would broadly recommend it. My actual rating is 3.5 stars but I have to round down on Goodreads, because a 4-star rating doesn't sit right with me here.

Huge thanks to NetGalley and Soho Teen for providing a digital arc in exchange for an honest review.

The Yomigaeri Tunnel by Kelly Murashige

Kelly Murashige’s The Yomigaeri Tunnel presents itself as a young adult novel, but its thematic depth and emotional sophistication challenge any assumption that its appeal is limited to adolescent readers. At its core, the novel engages with grief, memory, and the blurred boundaries between the living and the dead—offering a reading experience that is as unsettling as it is thoughtful.

The premise, a mysterious tunnel in rural Japan rumored to bring the dead back, immediately introduces the possibility of fantasy. But Murashige resists the temptation to use magic as a form of escapism. Instead, the tunnel becomes a psychological and emotional space; a metaphor for the cyclical and disorienting nature of grief. It is not a portal to healing, but a rupture in time that allows characters to confront their most painful attachments and unreconciled memories.

What distinguishes the novel from others in its genre is its refusal to sentimentalize loss. The protagonist's grief is rendered with rawness and unpredictability. There is no promise of redemption, and no comforting notion that closure is inevitable. The character’s emotional trajectory is non-linear, more reflective of actual mourning than the tidy arcs common in young adult fiction. Murashige’s depiction of grief aligns more with literary realism than genre fantasy, even as she employs elements of magical realism to construct the narrative’s framework.

Japanese mythology and cultural motifs are interwoven throughout the novel, not as exotic embellishment, but as integral to the characters’ worldview. These references—whether folkloric or spiritual—provide a culturally specific lens through which the characters process trauma, navigate family legacies, and interpret the supernatural. The inclusion of these elements adds texture and authenticity, grounding the story in a particular cultural consciousness without resorting to over-explanation for a Western audience.

Memory, in The Yomigaeri Tunnel, functions both as a narrative device and a thematic concern. Murashige explores its unreliability—how memories distort, disappear, or become embellished with time. The tunnel acts almost as an externalized memory space, echoing the protagonist’s interior conflicts and emotional disorientation. Through this, the novel raises important questions about the ethics of remembering, the seduction of nostalgia, and the consequences of trying to undo the past.

Stylistically, Murashige’s prose is restrained but evocative. She avoids overexplanation, allowing silence, hesitation, and repetition to speak where characters cannot. This minimalism contributes to the emotional weight of the novel, forcing readers to sit with ambiguity rather than pushing them toward resolution. It’s a form of writing that respects its readers, young or adult, and trusts them to carry the story’s emotional load without guidance.

The Yomigaeri Tunnel stands out not only for its mature treatment of difficult themes, but for its ability to locate the supernatural in the emotional terrain of adolescence. It is a novel about what we carry, what we forget, and what we would give to go back—even when we know we shouldn’t. For readers of any age who have experienced loss, this book may feel less like a story and more like a mirror. It doesn’t provide comfort, but it does offer recognition. And in that, it earns its place well beyond the boundaries of its marketed genre.

3.5 stars. Enjoyed the book. Had a good plot and loved the characters in the book. Was structured well as well. Have no complaints

The Yomigaeri Tunnel is a beautiful and heartfelt exploration of grief, loss, and healing. The story follows Monika, who has just graduated from high school, and who is mourning the death of her classmate and childhood friend Shun. She finds out about the Yomigaeri Tunnel, which is said to allow you to resurrect the dead if you can make it through. Naturally, Monika decides to venture into the tunnel in an attempt to bring Shun back. She meets Shiori, who wants to bring her mother back to life. They're brought closer by their shared goal as they navigate the tunnel and undergo challenges and trials that force them to confront their painful memories.

I was extremely moved by this book and I know it will stay with me for a long time to come!

This wasn't the fantastical, magical journey I had hoped for. More of a young person's personal reflections about mortality.

I got this as an arc on Netgalley and it will come out in July. This is one of those books that will stick in your brain for a long time. It's a hauntingly beautiful book about grief, addiction and abuse. This book didn't break my heart, it shattered it. Absolutely remarkable.

Reader, this is my first book review. Be kind to me, but rest assured that everything you’re about to read is true. To me, at least.

First, a content warning: The Yomigaeri Tunnel deals with loss, addiction, suicide, and more. The whole story is a healing process, but be aware that it might be either beneficial or triggering if these themes resonate with you.

Now: this book is near perfect. Following eighteen-year-old Monika in her quest to reunite with her recently (or long?) lost childhood friend, the story starts slow and cozy, almost like a character in itself: hesitant to move forward, as if anticipating trouble. But by chapter four, it becomes a real page-turner and stays that way until the end.

I’m not great at avoiding spoilers, so I’ll stop talking about what happens. Just know that there are plenty of exciting (from a reader’s perspective) moments I wish I could talk about.

The POV is first-person: the obvious choice for a journey that unfolds both in the titular tunnel and within the protagonist’s mind. The pacing is strong throughout, with only a single slightly slower page.
The author tackles a handful of extremely delicate topics with a voice that is always, and I mean always, perfectly balanced between the deep seriousness they inherently demand and a levity/irony that only someone who has lived through a similar experience could handle so masterfully.

As for style, if you are a proud member of the anime generation like this forty-seven-year-old man whose words you’re reading right now, you’ll feel right at home. You’ll find echoes of The Girl Who Leapt Through Time, Your Name, and, if you’re like me, even Sword Art Online and parts of Neon Genesis Evangelion.
But if you’re a different kind of nerd, you might recognize how this gem develops, in its own peculiar way, some of the best aspects of Ubik by Philip K. Dick.
One more comparison: the central part, covering 90% of the book, reminds me of Luke’s Trial of the Spirit in that cave on Dagobah in The Empire Strikes Back.
Oh, and the ending, right after the last heart-stopping moment, is very Gilmore Girls.
I know I promised to stay away from spoilers, but I’m just so happy that this book doesn’t end like 1984 or a random Black Mirror episode!

By now, you can tell I’m a fan. So why is it near perfect and not completely perfect?
There’s one thing I’m not entirely sold on: the protagonist’s relationship with her uncle. The author seems to fine-tune it depending on what best serves the story at any given moment. She loves and misses him, then she doesn’t really know him, then she loves and misses him again, then he wasn’t all that important to her, then she feels grateful to him, etc., etc.
It’s entirely possible that I misunderstood this arc, and I’m also aware that real human emotions are never so linear that they fit neatly into a 270-page novel. You’ll read and decide for yourself.

But seriously: read it. This is the Jonathan Livingston Seagull of my middle-aged life.

The tunnel of redemption: a story of grief, magic, and hope

Receiving an EARC (ebook advanced reading copy) of "The Yomigaeri Tunnel" was a privilege that transported me into a story rich with emotion and magic. Written by Kelly Murashige, this speculative young adult novel is set to release on July 1 of this year and is sure to captivate fans of Dustin Thao and Ann Liang. With an engaging narrative and compelling characters, the book masterfully combines a magical journey with profound reflections on loss, friendship, and the pursuit of healing.

The story follows Monika, a teenager grappling with the grief of losing Shun, a classmate with whom she had a complicated relationship. What should have been her last summer before college—a time of celebration and transition—turns into a period of isolation and sorrow. When Monika hears about the legend of the Yomigaeri Tunnel, a mystical passage said to grant travelers the ability to bring a soul back to life after facing their darkest fears, she sees an opportunity to right a tragedy that has left her emotionally shattered.

Murashige crafts the Yomigaeri Tunnel as a fascinating and almost tangible setting. With every page, readers are confronted with metaphorical challenges that mirror the inner conflicts of Monika and her unlikely traveling companion, Shiori. Fiercely determined to bring her mother back, Shiori provides a captivating contrast to Monika’s melancholy. Together, they must navigate not only the physical dangers of the tunnel but also the moral and emotional dilemmas of their choices.

The book’s strength lies in its emotional depth and exploration of universal themes. Murashige expertly delves into the weight of grief, the impact of human connections, and the complexity of wanting to undo the irreversible. The evolving dynamic between Monika and Shiori transitions from tension to camaraderie, illustrating how pain can become as strong a bond as love. The novel does not offer easy answers but creates space for profound reflections on how far we are willing to go for those we love.

Additionally, Murashige’s writing style is both poetic and accessible. The narrative flows with a cadence that keeps readers immersed, balancing moments of intense action with introspective and emotional passages. Fans of stories like "You’ve Reached Sam" will find in this novel a work that resonates with the same sensitivity but stands out with its unique touch, thanks to the rich influence of Japanese culture and folklore.

"The Yomigaeri Tunnel" is more than a story about resurrection; it is a journey of self-discovery and acceptance. With well-developed characters, a captivating plot, and unexpected twists, Kelly Murashige delivers a novel that is as much a tale of hope as it is a tribute to human resilience. For those seeking a read that moves and inspires, mark July 1 on your calendar—this is a book you won’t want to miss.

This was a beautiful, touching, and slightly funny story about what-ifs, grief, and finding closure for healing. After reading this book, I can fully appreciate the cover with all its details and references.
I can't fully put everything into words at the moment, but Monika's (and Shiori's) journey through the Yomigaeri tunnel — rumoured to bring back the dead — was emotional and captivating. In the tunnel, Monika relives painful memories and meets those who have passed away, speaking to them and reflecting on who they were in life and their relationships with her as she attempts to bring her former childhood friend and classmate Shun back.
I liked the bond that formed between Monika and Shiori as they supported each other through the tunnel and learned more about each other's pasts. There were many things that Murashige explored in the book that I enjoyed, especially the complexity of Shiori's relationship with her emotionally abusive mother and the facets of who Shun was.
This was a story that made me tear up, and I'm glad that I got to read it.

Thank you Netgalley and Soho Press for the ARC in exchange for an honest review!

Kelly Murashige’s “The Yomigaeri” Tunnel is a deeply moving exploration of grief, healing, and self-discovery, wrapped in a compelling story of magical realism. With its heartfelt storytelling and raw emotional depth, this book takes you on a journey that is both painful and hopeful—one that lingers long after the final page, showing that there will always be light at the end of the tunnel. There are content warnings provided at the beginning as the book does focus on grief; substance abuse is also explored in the book. Ultimately, this is a story of hope and moving on.

The story follows Monika, an 18-year-old navigating the most challenging year of her life. Struggling to process the loss of Shun, a childhood friend and classmate with whom she had a complicated history, Monika learns about the Yomigaeri Tunnel—a mythical passageway said to resurrect the dead. Intrigued by the possibility of reviving Shun, she ventures into the tunnel, only to find herself partnered with Shiori, a headstrong girl determined to bring her mother back to life.

The tunnel itself is an emotional crucible, forcing Monika and Shiori to relive their most painful memories and confront their deepest fears. Through vivid scenes reminiscent of “A Christmas Carol,” Monika’s journey through her past grief—including the loss of other loved ones like her uncle and grandparents—becomes a powerful vehicle for self-reflection and growth. Murashige’s prose beautifully captures the weight of Monika’s emotions, making her pain, regret, and eventual healing profoundly relatable.

The relationship between Monika and Shiori is another highlight of the book. Initially strangers with clashing motives, the two girls slowly develop a bond based on trust and mutual support. Shiori’s struggle with her abusive, manipulative mother adds another layer of complexity, as she grapples with her love for her mother despite her trauma. Their dynamic serves as a testament to the power of shared vulnerability and the necessity of human connection in the face of grief. Murashige doesn’t shy away from difficult themes. However, beneath the book’s darker moments lies a resounding message of hope: that there is always light at the end of the tunnel.

Ultimately, “The Yomigaeri Tunnel” is a beautifully crafted novel about acceptance, closure, and moving forward. Monika’s growth as she learns to let go of the past and embrace her future is deeply inspiring, and the book’s ending is as poignant as it is uplifting. For those who have experienced loss or are looking for a story that balances sorrow with redemption, this book is an unforgettable journey. Highly recommended for fans of heartfelt, introspective stories with a touch of magical realism.