『かがみの孤城』(The Solitary Castle in the Mirror) by 辻村深月 (Mizuki Tsujimura) won the 2018 Japanese Booksellers Award, announced on April 10. Although it wouldn’t have been my choice, it wasn’t a surprise, given the rave reviews from other readers. And it’s always interesting to try and identify the source of a book’s appeal, even if it escapes me personally.

Mizuki Tsujimura at the award ceremony. Source: Jiji Press

I have liked several of Mizuki Tsujimura’s other novels, but at more than 500 pages, this book needed a more aggressive editor—it could have been cut by about half without losing much. I may have not have been her intended audience either, since it seemed to be directed toward young adults. This was in part because her writing seemed more simplistic than in her other novels, and any adult could unravel some of the mysteries about 100 pages before the children did. It was also hard for me to relate to Kokoro, the main character, perhaps because her over-sensitive reactions to every word and look directed at her—while no doubt an entirely accurate depiction of a young girl—became a little tiring.

The description of the book gives the impression that this is an adventure story, with seven children given a year to search in a castle for a key that will grant the finder a wish. However, the actual search for the key was carried out in a half-hearted way –and only mentioned in passing–until the last 50 pages or so. One of the mysteries is why these seven children have been gathered at the castle. All but one have stopped going to school, although they have given up on school for different reasons. None of the children characterized their experiences as “bullying,” and the range of their experiences speaks to the depth of the problem. According to the Ministry of Education’s statistics for the 2014 school year, 26,000 elementary school students and 97,000 middle school students were absent for 30 days or more, the official definition of “school refusal” (the actual figure is certainly higher since the absences of some children are attributed to “medical reasons” to save the child embarrassment and the school its reputation). Both of these figures were up by about 2,000 over the previous year. The reasons given run from bullying to lack of friends and embarrassment over academic performance. The castle gives the seven children a place to feel comfortable and at ease. This search for a sense of belonging is something to which many people, both children and adults, can relate, which probably explains why this book has resonated so much with readers.

My favorite of the books nominated this year was Kotaro Isaka’s “AX”. Kabuto (his nickname among his colleagues on the dark side) is a salesman for a stationery manufacturer by day and a professional assassin by night. He has nerves of steel when it comes to killing, but he is petrified of his wife, and this makes for much of the humor in the book. The book starts with Kabuto talking with his fellow killers-for-hire about the best food to eat when arriving home late after a job. Cup ramen would seem to be the natural choice, but there is a risk of waking up his wife with the sounds he’d make tearing off the plastic wrap, pulling back the lid, and pouring in the boiling water. No, Kabuto informs his respectful disciples, after much trial and error, the only food he has found that is both satisfying and quiet is fish sausage. Kabuto has made such a study of placating his wife that Katsumi, Kabuto’s son, later finds a notebook complete with flow charts that map out possible conversations with his wife and how to respond in a way that will not provoke her.

“AX” is a series of interrelated stories from the time Katsumi is in high school until he is an adult with a son of his own. Kabuto’s attempts to convince the “doctor” who assigns him jobs to let him leave this work, without putting his wife and son at risk, underlie all of these episodes. He is a lonely man, despite his deep love for his family, and almost pathetically grateful for the few friends he makes during the course of this book. However, his profession always gets in the way of these friendships. He makes a friend at a bouldering gym, of all places (they share tips on how to appease their wives), but when they are attacked by a thief on their way to a bar one night, Kabuto is forced to deal with the situation in a way that gives away the fact that he is not just a stationery salesman. This is not exactly a thriller, nor do we get many details about the people he kills and why—his profession is simply a vehicle through which Isaka explores fatherhood and loyalty and sacrifice, with a lot of humor to leaven any heaviness.

I attempted to read 『たゆたえども沈まず』(Fluctuat nec mergitur) by 原田マハ (Maha Harada), but it seemed too formulaic and I gave up after plodding through about 75 pages. I also tried 『百貨の魔法』(The Department Store’s Magic) by 村山早紀 (Saki Murayama), but it was like being trapped in a heavily perfumed room and forced to listen to Muzak versions of classical music.

I quite enjoyed 『キラキラ共和国』 (The Sparkling Republic) by 小川糸 (Ito Ogawa), which sees Hatoko start a new stage in her life with her husband and step-daughter. This is a good one to read in the bath or before bed—nothing prize-worthy here, but a solid comfort read, and there’s always a place for books in that category.

The Booksellers Award has apparently come under criticism for not living up to its original purpose of turning more obscure titles into bestsellers, particularly last year, when Riku Onda won both the Booksellers Award and the Naoki Prize for 蜜蜂と遠雷 (Honey Bees and Distant Thunder). This year they seem to be trying to make up for that with their winner in the translated novel category, Stephanie Garber’s Caraval, translated by Kaoru Nishimoto. The Japanese translation has only sold 9,000 copies in Japan so far, but this award will likely change that.