Interesting enough,but for me I dont think it's going to stand out from other books I've read in 6 months,except for the location.
I don't read a lot of books based in Japan.
The first book was by far the one I enjoyed most... 
By the second book my interest was waning somewhat.
Glad I read it to see what all the talk is about

A really interesting and different book. I enjoyed this read a lot and would love to see more works from Mieko Kawakami.


Thank you Netgalley for providing an arc of this book for an honest review.

A bold and beautiful feminist story of three Japanese woman. Their stories depict how social stigmata affects a woman's life and her choices. It was an in read. A must read book for everyone.

Thanks to Pan Macmillan and NetGalley for the Advance Review Copy in exchange for an honest review.

One thing that always struck me about books in Japan were how tiny they often were. I mean it makes sense, lots of people read on public transport and whipping out a chonky hardback isn’t always easy on a crowded subway train. Bigger books were sometimes even broken down into smaller volumes. Reading this book made me wonder was the same done to this book as it felt really long.

Did I enjoy this book? Yes and no. It’s about the life of Natsuko, a contemporary Japanese woman in her thirties living in Tokyo and the book is split into two parts. I thought the first part worked well and I really enjoyed the interplay between Natsuko, her sister and her niece. It just had a really interesting feel to it, and I was curious as to how it would play out.

The second part is set a number of years later. Natsuko is now a successful author yet feels a desperate need to become a mother. I kind of lost the plot a bit with this plot thread, not because it isn’t interesting in itself, I just felt the story began to really drag at this point. You know when you are looking at how long the % takes to go up after every page turn at the bottom of the screen? It seemed to go up ever so slowly.

In summary I'd say I really enjoyed Part 1 and completely lost interest in Part 2. When a book goes from being a pleasure to a bit of a chore then that’s not really a great sign. Nothing bad at all here, it just didn’t maintain my interest unfortunately.

In this book Kawakami explores female identity in contemporary Japan. While Motherhood is a central theme, body image, physicality and sexuality are all explored. The main focus of the story is of three women. The thirty year old unmarried narrator Natsu, older sister Makiko, and Makiko’s daughter Midoriko.
Unable to come to terms with her changed body after giving birth, Makiko becomes obsessed with the prospect of getting breast enhancement surgery. Meanwhile, her twelve year old daughter Midoriko is fearing puberty and growing up. The narrator struggles with her lack of identity of being neither a daughter nor a mother. Fast forward ten years and Natsu is contemplating having a child alone.
Throughout the book we learn of the struggles of women. Marriage, relationships, work, money, childcare, family, poverty, domestic violence, alcohol, sex and the tensions of life. Breasts and Eggs took these broad subjects from a time of repression of women in Japan and showed the liberation.
Unlike Murakami I wouldn't say it " Took my breath away" but I enjoyed the detail, the public baths, restaurants, food, theme park, buildings, shops and weather it all made it atmospheric and the characterisation was great and I really warmed to Natsu.
A book I would recommend to anyone that enjoys reading about other cultures and fans of this genre.
My thanks go to the publishers, author and Netgalley in providing me with this arc in return for a honest review

A story told in two parts, both with very distinct voices, Breasts and Eggs explores ideas about womanhood, what it is to be a woman in society, and the pressures placed on women to conform to the standards set by others. In Book One we follow a young Natsuko and her sister Makiko, who has come to Tokyo for plastic surgery. Natsuko’s daughter is also in attendance, and has developed a strange ‘quirk’ of not talking to her mother for over a year. In the second book we follow a much older Natsuko as she realises that her fertile years are coming to an end, and her decision to conceive via sperm donation.

At times I found the story, especially in the first half, to feel very honest and open. The writing style has an almost ‘other wordly’ feel to it at times, bordering on the absurd, as we follow Natsuko’s feelings and arguments regarding body image and conformity. It feels very intimate, as though the reader is sharing a secret with a friend – while also generating feelings of outrage at the lack of autonomy Natsuko and her family have over their own bodies. Because of its short length, the writing doesn’t really have time to deviate from its main point, and it comes across as punchy and relevant without meandering – which can sometimes be an issue with this type of writing style.

The second book is longer, and suffers because of it. It doesn’t really feel like it has any point to the story, with no lasting opinions or plot points. It feels a bit irrelevant compared to the first story, which stands up so well on its own. It also has a very different tone to the first book, following an almost contemporary romance vibe that sits rather disjointedly alongside its previous instalment.

An interesting modern commentary on some current, hard hitting issues for women within Japanese society – but this feels very much like two separate novels joined together, when one should have been left to flourish alone.

Kawakami's novel explores the themes of womanhood, of body ownership rights, of the way people and society deals with ever-changing bodies. Thought-provoking albeit not really pushing the boundaries.

Breasts and Eggs is a novel about a Japanese woman at two points in her life, looking at womanhood, the female body, and class. Natsu lives in Tokyo where she's trying to make it as a writer when her sister Makiko comes to visit from Osaka, their hometown, with her teenage daughter Midoriko who has stopped speaking to her. Makiko is obsessed with getting breast enhancement surgery, and the relationships between the three women are shown over the few days that Makiko and Midoriko are in town. And then ten years later, Natsu is still in Tokyo but has more success as a writer, and finds herself dreaming of pregnancy and artificial insemination.

The book is split into two sections: the first, shorter one, which was apparently a novella originally, and the the second longer one. Though the second part does drag a bit at times, the two parts do work well together to compare different issues and elements of womanhood and motherhood, as well as Natsu and Makiko's childhood which saw them always desperate for money and food. Moments of female shock and trauma mix with weird descriptions of body parts to highlight ways in which women can be alien from their own bodies. The atmosphere of the first part, with the silent Midoriko having voice through interspersed journal entries, is particularly tense and intimate, and the ending of the second part really brought back comparisons with the first section.

This is an interesting look at gender and class in Japan, and at how female bodies are treated, that considers ideas of beauty standards, culturally accepted ways of having children, and regional voices and experiences. It is more of an experience than a gripping read as you follow Natsu's thoughts and life, but it creates a very vivid picture of her life.

This expanded edition of the original novella 'Breasts and Eggs' is a welcome addition to the body of Japanese literature available in English translation. And it's Mieko Kawakami, right, so you know it's going to be good.

Part One tells of a three day visit to Tokyo by our narrator's sister and niece. Makiko's daughter, Midoriko, hasn't spoken in months, resorting to writing in a notebook to communicate. Natsuko, our narrator and an aspiring writer, has had a series of jobs. Over the course of the three days they talk, argue and spend time together in a series of set-piece visits to a bathhouse and a Chinese restaurant, amongst others. Part Two picks up the story some ten years later as Natsuko is pondering the idea of getting pregnant by artificial insemination. As her story develops, and she battles with her dreams of becoming a successful writer, her relationships with friends and family become consumed with discussions about the role of women in modern-day Japan, their relationships to their own bodies and male-centric concepts of women.

Part One, the original novella, is a powerful piece of writing on its own, and it took me a while to get into Part Two. It felt disconnected from the first section, somehow, and just didn't flow as well. The situations became increasingly obvious as metaphors: Natsuko's struggle with writing her novel becomes a metaphor for her desire to 'create' another human life, and she returns to the family home in Osaka for the first time for nearly 20 years and has a moment of epiphany. The ending, when it comes, is so not a surprise!

Saying that, this is a powerful and moving piece of fiction, giving voice to ideas and images of the female body that are all too missing from a lot of contemporary fiction. Kawakami cements her position as an important modern writer, and this is definitely a must-read, despite its slight flaws. 4 stars.

(With thanks to the publisher and NetGalley for an ARC of this title.)

As other reviewers have stated, this is a book of two halves (or more accurately, one third and two thirds).

Part One was originally written to be a short story and I do think that it would be more suited to this format. It’s a really strong, standalone, narrative that has lots to say on girlhood, puberty, parenting and female bodily image. I was fascinated by all three of the protagonists and I really liked the use of diary entries as they offered a different, valuable, perspective on events.

Part Two isn’t as strong and, unfortunately, it takes up two thirds of the book. It is rather meandering and I missed the diary entries from Part One! Kawakami is clearly a talented writer and I would like to read more of her work. I am still rating the book 4 stars overall because I really loved Part One!

I wish to thank Pan Macmillan and NetGalley for the ARC of Breasts and Eggs in exchange for an honest review.
Mieko Kawakami, many thanks to you for writing this important and thought-provoking novel.

This is an expanded version of the original prize winning novella. It is written in two parts, I read the first, then took a break giving some time to absorb and process what I’d read. Mieko’s writing is skillful, developing the characters superbly; it is written with intelligence and is unique in style. The literature is indeed thought-provoking, broaching the subjects of exploitation and poverty. There is humour within the dialogue and the story is uplifting as relationships between the characters intertwine.

The first part of the novel portrays the life of Natsuko, our narrator, a thirty something women living alone in Tokyo. She is visited by her sister Makiko and teenage niece Midoriko. Makiko works as a hostess in a bar in Osaka; she’s visiting Tokyo to explore breast augmentation surgery. Midoriko is coming to terms with her changing body as she enters puberty; she is angry with her mother and will not speak to her, communicating only through written word. Exerts from Midoriko’s journal describe her anxiety resulting from peer influence, her changing body and the relationships with her mother. The dynamic between the three characters is cleverly crafted.

The second part of the novel is set eight years after the first. Natsuko has enjoyed success as a writer and is no longer burdened by poverty; she feels insecure in her writing striving to be better. Natsuko begins to explore her desire to become a mother. She explores sperm donation and single motherhood, an unsatisfying relationships has caused Natsuko to regard sex as unpleasant. Artificial insemination is not legally available to single women in Japan which leads to the examination of reproductive ethics; Mieko does this with great insight.

This novel has received approval from prominent authors and is critically acclaimed; I believe it deserves the praise. I highly recommend this book.

I really enjoyed this Murakami-esque contemporary that focused mainly on topics of fertility, conception and parenthood. We follow the main character who is single and hates sex, but she still really wants to be a mother, we see her over a span of 10 years figuring out her options and what she truly wants from life.


This book had some really great discussions from multiple points of view on different topics from children of donor conceptions, to single parents, and mostly ofcourse from our main character as she comes to terms with the probability of growing old and dying alone.


This book was very relatable to me on so many parts and the author really has a way of capturing moments that make you feel like you've been there and felt that before. I'm looking forward to picking up future novels from this author.

I had heard good things about this novel so I was fairly excited to read it but unfortunately I just found it too dry for my tastes. I struggled through the first fifth or so of the book and I was finding the lack of anything happening to just not hold my interest at all. I then read a review that said the latter half of the book is even more in this style and so I decided not to finish it. It’s a shame because I had read an interview with the author and her ideas on writing female Japanese characters sounded really interesting but I just couldn’t get on with the style or perhaps with the style of translation. Not for me.

The first time I saw this book was on Olivia Sudjic's instagram page. Just the title and the cover alone have piqued my interest.

If I had to describe it in one sentence, it is about what it's like being a woman in a world created by men.

It talks about self image, relationships, motherhood, the way women are pitted against each other, repeating patterns in parenting, navigating life in a world that has a very narrow set of values, the way women are brought up to be mothers and serve men/their family, unconscious bias etc.

Natsuko is cleverly crafted character - her trajectory and decisions in the book often make you confront your own way of thinking - sometimes you can recognise how society and patriarchy seeped deep into their brains and reasoning - sometimes you sit and think about why Natsuko decisions and way of being make you uncomfortable - especially when it comes to motherhood.

I adored this book. It shows you how far we've come and that we haven't come nearly far enough.

Kawakami Mieko's novella 乳と卵 (Breast and Eggs) won the Akutagawa Prize in Japan in 2007.

In 2019 she published an expanded version, 夏物語 (Summer Story), and it is the longer book that has been translated here under the (it has to be said rather better) initial title by Sam Bett and David Boyd. Further in my review I include some thoughts on the translation.

Essentially this book consists of the original novella (147 pages in translation) and a second part, twice the length, that picks up the story of the same lead character 8 years later.

Given the form of the book and the title, I am not, I suspect, the first reviewer to be unable to resist saying this is something of a curate's egg of a novel: the first part in particular rather tighter and impactful than the second.

The 'breast' part of the title also makes the accompanying blurb from Haruki Murakami, clearly a huge fan of the author, somewhat interesting when one considers Kawakami's feminist views and female-centric title matter, Murakami's own treatment of his female characters, and particularly his rather disturbing fixation in Killing Commendatore. Interestingly the author of this book tackled Murakami about this very topic in a revealing interview: https://lithub.com/a-feminist-critique-of-murakami-novels-with-murakami-himself/ which has since been translated into a (as yet untranslated) longer critical discussion of his works.

The novel is narrated from the perspective of an aspiring author and sometime blogger, the somewhat unusually named Natsuko Natsume (she frequently has to assure people it isn't a pen name). As the first part opens in 2008, with the Beijing Olympics in progress, she is living alone in Tokyo, struggling to move forward with her life.

"I seriously doubt at twenty that I saw myself, in my vague dreams for the future, still being in Tokyo at thirty. No one reads my work (my blog, collecting dust in a corner of the internet, gets one or two visitors on a good day), and none of it has made it into print. Forget about readers, I barely have friends. I’m still in the same apartment with the slanted, peeling walls and the same overbearing afternoon sun, surviving off the same minimum wage job, working full time for not a whole lot more than 100,000 yen a month, and still writing and writing, with no idea of whether it’s ever going to get me anywhere. My life was like a dusty shelf in an old bookstore, where every volume was exactly where it had been for ages, the only discernible change being that my body has aged another ten years."

But she is expecting visitors from her hometown: "Makiko, the one visiting me today from Osaka, is my older sister. She’s thirty-nine and has a twelve-year-old daughter named Midoriko. She raised the girl herself."

This novella takes us deftly through the three days they spend in Tokyo and each character's situation: their troubled family history; Natsuko's search for purpose; Makiko who works in a bar, and has decided she wants breast implants; and Midoriko, going through puberty and who only communicates with her mother via written notes, that is until her shell cracks in a memorable scene near the end of this part:

"“Why . . .” she started, “do that to yourself . . .” she spat out, breaking the second egg over her head, same as the last one. Yolk and white oozed down her forehead. Without hesitation, she grabbed another egg. “You’re the one who had me,” she told Makiko. “And it’s too late to do anything about that now, but why do you have to . . .” Midoriko slapped the egg hard against her forehead. “I don’t know what to do, and you don’t tell me anything. I love you, but I never want to be like you. No . . .” She took a breath. “I want to start working, so I can help. I want to help so bad. With money, with everything. Do you have any idea . . . how scared I am? I don’t get it, any of it. My eyes hurt. They hurt. Why does everything change? Why? It hurts. Why was I born? Why did any of us have to be born? If we were never born, none of these things would have happened, none of it would—”"

The second part is a rather more drawn-out (in time and pages) affair. Beginning in late 2016, Natsuko has since has success with her first novel, although she is suffering writer's block with her second. We learn that she only has had one relationship in her life, one that ended due to her mental and physical dislike of sex, but for reasons that aren't entirely clear to the reader, or indeed her, decides she wants to have a child. After investigation of the options (rather like her sister's detailed research in part one into breast augmentation options, but spelled out her in rather more detail) she settles on artificial insemination. But this isn't legally available in Japan as an option for a single person, although it is to others:

"I knew these women were only venting their frustration and their anguish, but so long as they had someone, they were blessed. Technology was on their side. They had options. There was a way. They were accepted. That’s even true for same-sex couples who wanted kids. They were couples, sharing a dream with someone who could share the load. They had community, and people who would lend a helping hand . But what if sex was out of the equation? What if you were alone? All the books and blogs catered to couples. What about the rest of us, who were alone and planned to stay that way? Who has the right to have a child? Does not having a partner or not wanting to have sex nullify this right?"

But then encounters a group of those born by this method who are in search of their biological parents, one in particular who was abused by her legal but non-biological father, who berates her for her choice, albeit not for the reason she expects:

"“Look, I’m not saying it’s not a little different for children of donors,” Yuriko said. “It’s not okay to set them or the entire family up for a future of counseling and therapy. But it’s basically the same for everyone. That’s what it’s like to be born. If you stop and think about it, that’s all life ever is. Like I was saying, the way you do it doesn’t matter. What I’m asking is: Why do you want to bring a child into the world? What would possess you to do that?”"

This second half of the novel raises some interesting issues (as per some of the quotes above) but does so in a rather exposition-heavy way rather than the more indirect and psychological approach of part 1.

Overall 3 stars - although the original novella on its own would have warranted a strong 4.

On the translation of dialect

Mieko Kawakami is known in Japan for writing in the distinctive Kansai dialect and indeed this topic is discussed by her lead character with another author.

"Then we started talking about dialect in fiction. Rika asked me if I’d ever thought about writing a whole book in Osaka dialect. When I said I’d never even toyed with the idea, Rika told me what she thought about the way that people talked in Kansai, and Osaka in particular. “That was seriously amazing,” she said. “When I went to Osaka, I saw, or really heard , these three women just talking, a million miles an hour, getting everything in there. There was so much going on. Multiple perspectives, mixed tenses, the whole shebang. They were cracking up, but they were having a real conversation. Nothing like on TV. Everything on TV is tailored for TV. The real thing , the real Osaka dialect, isn’t even about communicating. It’s a contest. Somehow, you’re both in the audience and on the stage . . . How can I put it? It’s an art.”
...
“Know what, though? What really gets me is how writing always fails to capture it. Like, the way those three women were talking. I mean, you couldn’t reproduce that performance on the page and get the same dynamic. A lot of people from Osaka have written things in Osaka dialect. I’ve read a bunch of them, just to see how they’d handle it. But it really, truly doesn’t work. Like it’s impossible. I guess what really struck me, though, was how it didn’t make any real difference if the writer was from Osaka."

As discussed above, Breast and Eggs also began life as a novella before being expanded (with a 2nd section) into this novel. And in 2012 translator Louise Heal Kawai translated some excerpts from the novella for the publication Words Without Borders: https://www.wordswithoutborders.org/article/from-breasts-and-eggs

As she explained:

"I’ve long been aware of the many parallels between Mieko Kawakami’s home city of Osaka, Japan, and my own hometown, Manchester in the UK. ... The inhabitants of both cities are said to be friendly, down-to-earth, and very outspoken, just as the characters in Breasts and Eggs. And most importantly, the dialect spoken in Osaka and Western Japan is markedly different from that of Tokyo and the East. Often frowned upon as sounding rather rough or unsophisticated, Mancunian (adjective meaning “of Manchester”) is to my ears a perfect rendering of Osaka dialect."

While the original sources may differ slightly I found it fascinating to compare Heal Kawai's translation into Mancunian, admittedly one where she was having some fun, with the rendition of the novel by Sam Bett and David Boyd.

They explained in an interview https://www.asymptotejournal.com/blog/2020/04/01/translation-as-an-exercise-in-letting-go-an-interview-with-sam-bett-and-david-boyd-on-translating-mieko-kawakami/

"Q: What was the most surprising result of this particular collaboration?

Sam Bett: I’d say how little time we spent talking about Osaka dialect, which is the first thing people tend to ask about whenever the book or the translation comes up. It helps that I lived in Osaka for a while, and also that very little of the book is set in Osaka. In fact, only the main characters use the dialect, and not even exclusively, though some Tokyoite characters do make a comical effort to pass as Osaka natives, which was a fun translation challenge. For me, what links this book to Osaka is its animated spirit. The story actively engages in the spectacle it creates. I think that readers who are expecting something staid or coolly bizarre from Japanese fiction will be pleasantly surprised at the gushing life force they find here."

Some comparisons:

Bett & Boyd:
Makiko, the one visiting me today from Osaka, is my older sister. She’s thirty-nine and has a twelve-year-old daughter named Midoriko. She raised the girl herself. For a few years after I turned eighteen, I lived with them in an apartment back in Osaka, when Midoriko was just a baby. Makiko and her husband had split up while she was pregnant, and as a single mother she was strapped for cash and needed help around the house. Rather than have me constantly running back and forth, we figured it’d be easier if I just lived there. Midoriko never met her dad, at least not that I’ve heard of. I don’t think she knows anything about him.

Heal Kawai:
Makiko’s my older sister and Midoriko’s her kid so that makes Midoriko my niece and me her unmarried auntie, and because it’s been nearly ten years since Makiko broke up with Midoriko’s dad she doesn’t remember living with him, and I haven’t heard anything about her mum having them meet so she knows sod all about the bloke—but that’s by the by—and we all go by the same name now. So Makiko asked and now the two of them are coming up from Osaka in the summer holidays to stop with me in Tokyo for three days.

Bett & Boyd:
I’ve been thinking about getting breast implants.” It had been three months since Makiko had called me up to make this declaration

Heal Kawai:
It was about a month ago Makiko phoned me to say she was coming. “Natsuko, I’m thinking of getting me boobs done.”

Bett & Boyd:
What’s wrong with her? What the hell is wrong with her? She’s being an idiot, the biggest idiot.

Heal Kawai:
She’s off her trolley, my Mum, daft, barmy, bonkers, thick as two short planks.

I think I rather prefer the character of the Mancunian rendition.

"You could give women something real. Real hope. Precedent. Empowerment." That’s the type of novel Natsuko Natsume, the main character of Breasts and Eggs, considers writing and that Japanese author Mieko Kawakami has delivered.

In Breasts and Eggs, Natsuko takes the reader on a journey. We follow her as she meets with friends and family and share the moment she first realizes that she would like to have a child of her own. It is a journey towards self-discovery and a rather intimate account that reads like a personal diary. I feel like I'm spilling her secrets by writing this review.

Through the eyes of her niece Midoriko we read about a young girl's insecurities, from having your first period to being left out. Natsuko herself is nearing her thirties and showing us the thirties dilemma: what is my purpose in life? She leads her life without a clear goal in mind and doesn't seem happy, looking at her older sister Makiko as an example of what is to come. Makiko is looking into breast implants and will do anything to stay relevant as a hostess in a bar. While the thirty-year-old Natsuko seems rather awkward, along the way she becomes surer of what she wants in life and gradually that makes her a stronger person, even though she's still a far cry from where the reader wants her to be.

The main characters in this novel deal with insecurities having to do with the changing female body and the question of what it means to be a woman. As Midoriko says: "It's like I'm in there, somewhere inside myself, and the body I'm in keeps on changing, more and more and more and more, in ways I don't even know." She draws the parallel with a coin-operated kiddie ride at a supermarket: she's in there but outsiders can't see her because the windows are dark. She sounds like she wants to be seen but people aren't looking hard enough.

For Natsuko her insecurity lies on a different level as she asks herself if she is really a woman because she is so different from other women. She has the body of a woman, but does she also have the mind of one? After the first quarter of the book, you really hope someone will volunteer to help these women and add some positive thoughts to their existence. At some point, Natsuko is intrigued by the voice of someone who found happiness; a scene that really summarized all the feelings that she expressed in the pages before.

More than anything else this book is about the empowerment of women: how to live independently from men. None of the female characters in this book have happy marriages. The married women see their husbands as an income generator and assume their husbands only see them as a baby-making machine.

The whole book is written from a woman's perspective and I wonder if men would enjoy reading this book though if we take Haruki Murakami as an example it seems like that’s possible. Unsurprisingly, Breasts and Eggs talks about breasts, ovaries and periods; basically anything that has to do with fertility. I guess the male equivalent of this book would be about penises (enlargements and comparisons), sperm quality and first erections. Who will write a book about the empowerment of men, discussing the merits of men raising and conceiving kids on their own without needing women while dealing with their own changing bodies?

In Breasts and Eggs, Mieko Kawakami raises many questions about what’s relevant in society today. As a female reader from Western Europe, my take on them is probably very different from that of a Japanese reader as the societies we live in are not comparable. This is mentioned in the book as well. One of the questions the book raises that illustrates this is what makes donor-conceived (or IVF conceived) children different from their natural counterparts? Are they less part of a family? Is this also the case if they live with both biological parents and only the process was artificial? I think it is a very good thing that topics like artificial insemination and women taking care of themselves are discussed in this book. As both the positive and negative sides are explained it can be very informative.

This also brings me to one of the drawbacks of this book: the middle part was very tedious. While Natsuko was gathering information about the use of donor sperm, she spent less quality time with her family and friends. Reading this book sometimes felt like reading a brochure or a campaign folder. Mieko Kawakami shines when she lets her important characters interact. I especially liked the talks between Natsuko and Aizawa, a man she takes into her confidence. The bonding felt real and the scenes were beautifully written.

Kawakami is good at writing dialogues where family or lover-like feelings are involved. What the characters say is not very exciting but the words seem to come from deep within. The mere friendship or business type of gatherings are less interesting, except for that one scene with a potential sperm donor, which was brilliant. I will remember that scene for years to come.

At the end of the chapters, the scenes often became surreal but that didn’t work for me. It didn’t feel natural at all which is a pity because I really enjoy surrealism in books. This book didn’t need surrealism because the thoughts and feelings of the main characters were strong enough on its own.

I especially liked the first and last part of the book and if the middle part would have been shorter (or better) I would have rated this book higher. This book is not for everyone as the topic is very specific. If you don't like to read about breasts, eggs, periods and getting pregnant for 400+ pages, then don't read this book. If you are interested in a Japanese perspective on these issues, then you might find it interesting though not 100% percent entertaining.

Many thanks to Picador and NetGalley for a digital ARC of this novel in exchange for an honest review.

Are women more than their bodies? Seems not, according to much contemporary fiction. Here three women's identities are bound up with a) breast augmentation, b) first periods, and c) pregnancy. What gives this interest is the Tokyo setting and the fact that these women are working class. Oh, and the almost gleeful physical details - bleached nipples for the right aesthetics? No thanks!
I enjoyed this well enough as a light read but it doesn't push the boundaries like, say, The Vegetarian.