Okay, that’ll do for me.įast forward sixteen hours and I’m still mesmerised by what I’ve just read. Yoko Ogawa is not a name I’m familiar with, but the author biography tells me she’s won every major Japanese literary award on the circuit. At the back of my mind I have a vague idea to look for something Japanese, but don’t ask me why because I don’t know. Imagine the scene: I’m in Cambridge Waterstones, the display tables are furnished with every Penguin twentieth-century classic imaginable, and a bespectacled young lady is distracting me with a gluttonous glare that tells me she would like to read every book in here if only people would leave her alone for the next one hundred years. There’s nothing better than browsing through a bookshop hoping to find something that catches your attention.
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