This book had me both intrigued and feeling uneasy, like only Japanese literature can. I feel it could have been a little longer and fleshed out, as I was left feeling somewhat disappointed but overall I had a good reading experience..

I love short stories but this very quick story did really have any meaning behind it from what I could understand. But it was well written and easy to read and I would be interested in checked out more from this author.

1.5 rounded up

Having seen positive reviews of some of Hiroko Oyamada's novels - The Factory and The Hole - I was curious to check out her newest book in translation.

This book is comprised of three connected stories centred around meals shared between two friends. Fertility, motherhood and masculinity are the loose theme of the stories, however all three stories suffer from being underdeveloped and too brief. Ideas are touched upon... then the story is over. To say I didn't get much out of this would be an accurate summation. Perhaps I'll fare better with the author's other books.

Weasels in the Attic is a short and unusual story about life, fertility, and fatherhood. Sometimes the book felt uncomfortable for me, but on the other hand, it was written by life itself.
When I looked at the cover, I expected a cute story about animals. What happened to the weasels was not good. And I think it deserves a little trigger warning.
After all, you can read this story really fast, it is well-written - I liked the author's style. It is fresh and simple and I found out something new about exotic fishes, which was unexpected for me.
I give it 4 stars because I expected something more complex and deeper.
Thank you NetGalley and Granta Publications for an eARC!

This was a short but sweet read! A novella of three chapters focused on two middle aged friends, with the topics of masculinity and fatherhood in Japan as its focus. Would have loved if this was a bit longer, but enjoyed despite its brevity!

I've read a couple of other reviews to see what others thought of this novella (is it a novella or a short collection of short stories?) But anyway taken at face value this is quite typical of other Japanese literature I've read. I like strange and unsettling and this seemed to be heading that way but held back.

These are three stories involving more or less the same cast of characters. The stories evolve in that in the first story we meet an old friend of the narrator and his new wife. In the second story another friend has also married. In the third we meet the second friend and his wife, plus the new addition to the family.

Behind all these meeting and strange happenings with tropical fish and weasel infestations there is the growing concern of the narrator that he might never become a father, would he be a good father and is it really what he wants. His desires and concerns are echoed in the odd situations and his dreams.

I get the feeling from reading reviews of her other work that maybe they are stranger and would suit me better (I loved Life Ceremony by Sayaka Murata). There is also that odd sense of Hiroko holding something back. I also wanted just a little more of this prose and hope that her next book will deliver.

I did enjoy the book and would recommend it for anyone who likes Japanese literature if the less strange variety (Convenience Store Woman, Heaven (Mieko Kawakami) or Yoko Ogawa's work comes to mind).

There’s a grandeur in the routine. The familiarity of an ordinary life and the trials and trivialities that accompany it.

In just 96 pages, Hiroko Oyamada has managed to carefully distil tenderness and fragility of relationships as we age. There’s true grace in this prose and such heartfelt warmth that it’s impossible to not feel buoyed by these fleeting moments.

This was an honour to read.

Weasels in the Attic is a novella consisting of 3 linked stories. Each story is a different meeting of two old friends. The writing is straightforward and well translated, but what kept me reading “just one more page” well into the night was the fact I never knew what direction the story was heading in. There was nothing tricksy about the plotting, but I was kept constantly on my toes as the stories never unfolded in the direction I was expecting. I have no idea if the red herrings were purposely written in, or if the author’s mind just worked in a totally different way to mine. Besides the plotting, I found the book an interesting insight into normal Japanese life, but then again I don’t know how normal weasels in the attic are in Japan. I definitely will read more from Hiroko Oyamada.

Huh? I literally have no idea what I’ve just read. Not what I was expecting at all and couldn’t explain it either. No storyline as such, just three short chapters, none of which went anywhere. Brief mention of weasels, fish and various food.

Twenty pages in and I was already too bored to continue. The characters are dull and faceless. The descriptions are drab too, and they run on without building up to anything. Maybe things will pick up later in the book, but I am not willing to invest my time.

It is important to note that the majority of the themes explored in this book deal with sensitive subject matters. My review, therefore, touches on these topics as well. Many people might find the subject matters of the book as well as those detailed in my review overwhelming. I would suggest you steer clear of both if this is the case. Please note that from this point forward I will be writing about matters which contain reflections on fertility, grief, the death of a loved one, the death of an animal, & others.

The transition through the multiple phases of life often leaves the traveller feeling overwhelmed, as though they were sitting in a cylindrical motor-powered device that shot them from one day to the next month, nearing a new year, with little ability to catch up with the moments lost in between. Coming upon this short story, I had hoped to find a more thorough account of these moments. Perhaps, I might have hoped—just a little—to find a story that made me feel connected to the plot.

Ultimately, I feel at a loss on what to say regarding this story because I saw it take place within the blink of an eye. I am left with little to say as a consequence of the sparse occurrences within. Certainly, I am a reader who enjoys stories that do not necessarily spell out the rationals & reasonings of the occurrences that litter the pages. However, I do appreciate there being something like a thin thread balancing the entirety into one disjointedly quirky necklace that I might wear until my mind escapes me.

Within this narrative, the reader meets a man who is married to a woman; they want to reproduce children together but they encounter struggles. All the while, two (2) other men appear on the scene & with apparent ease, reproduce with their partners—women younger than themselves & people who wandered into the relationship without any indication as to why. I say this last part because neither of these other men—the secondary characters—ever indicated that they wanted what the main character desired. Our narrator spends ample time reflecting on his goal of being a father & how much he was present in the lives of his sister’s children when they were born—he loves children.

I suppose that the purpose of including such sparse detail about the main character save for the loving relationship he shares with his wife & their joint desire to reproduce together, is so that the reader might focus on what these desires mean; how might he move past them should they not be accomplished? I am sad to say that I never reached any level of intrigue or feelings of caring about anyone in this story. The disconnect between the inventory presented of characters & life events was so dry as to make me speed through this book, waiting for some form of emotiveness to transcend the words.

Waiting forever was I, for the link between murdering a mother weasel—in a bid to have all the other weasels escape the house & never return—& the human parental figures we saw within this book. Maybe it was because I read this book at the wrong time in my life that I cannot begin to care about the mundane occurrences of the lives of these characters. Perhaps, it is because there was no real link to anything that was taking place.

Should I have read into the ownership & breeding of fish as something like a metaphor for the physically intimate reproduction of children? I don’t know & once again, I don’t care. I do not mean to come across as harsh. Typically, I very much enjoy this style of story but, I attribute my disconnect & apathy to the writing style; something innate was lacking, something I cannot quite pin down. Perhaps, had the characters expressed more, might I have drawn parallels. Perhaps, had I a bit more background information? I am, as I’ve said, at a loss.

I do not enjoy writing reviews where it seems I have very little to say. I stand by being able to express oneself whether about something good or bad. Yet, here I am wherein I feel like I’ve just awoken from an alien abduction, stranded in a cornfield without any bearing as to where or why I am here.

Thank you to NetGalley, Granta Publications, & Hiroko Oyamada for the free copy of this book in exchange for an honest review!

Weasels in the Attic contains three chapters / short stories with mainly the same characters. In three completely different situations, two friends, MC and Sayiki, have a conversation each time over dinner. Topics of conversations in this novel vary from fish breeding to weasels in the attic.

Oyamada examines different perspectives on marriage, fertility, children, and attitude toward women. This novella is an impressive achievement in less than 100 pages. I like the writing and the mood in this short novel. This was my first time reading Hiroko Oyamada, and I will read more by this author in the future.

Available in november. Thanks to Granta Publications for the ARC and this opportunity! This is a voluntary review and all opinions are my own.

This book felt vibrant and visceral in the telling of its unusual story. In a short amount of time the reader is immersed into lives of these characters and is given an insight into the experience with quite intense sensory descriptions. I think I would have liked the book to be slightly longer so I could have delved a little deeper.

An eerie and unsettling novel on fertility, masculinity and marriage. Told through three different stories surrounding the same characters at different times of their lives, Oyamada weaves a tale of tropical fish, weasels and mountains.

A thrilling look into Japanese contemporary culture and society - the themes in this novel can also be applied to societies worldwide.

I really enjoyed the characters and the surreal stories and experiences within this very brief novel - my only complaint is that I wanted more and at less than 100 pages, it was just that little bit too short.

Weasels in the Attic consists of three short stories in which the narrator and his friend Saiki attend three meals, and through these we watch as their lives develop and diverge.

The first is titled Death in the Family, in which the narrator is informed that his friend Urabe had passed away, and reminisces about the time when he and Saiki had a meal at Urabe’s house. During this meal, they discovered that Urabe had grown beyond what they each expected of him.

The second is where the novella gets its name, titled The Last of the Weasels. In this the narrator and his wife visit Saiki and his new wife Yoko who are now living in the countryside. The countryside house has a problem with weasels and an ominous suggestion to how to deal with them is made by the narrator’s wife.

In the third, titled Yukiko, the narrator and his wife again visit Saiki and Yoko, this time to meet their new baby. The narrator and his wife interact with some of the locals for the first time, as well as familiarising themselves with their friend’s new family unit.

Lightly written, Oyamada’s prose leaves plenty of space for thoughts to grow, and events to happen off the page. There is a sense that, while events and characters appear fine on the surface, there is an unsettling undercurrent which ebbs and flows throughout the novel as the relationships gradually change.

The only disappointing part of Weasels in the Attic is that it’s very much a novella - 96 pages - and just as it seems to be getting into its stride, it’s over. Oyamada begins to dive into topics such as motherhood, ageing, and modern Japanese masculinity, but with the length of the novella it appears almost superficial.

Hiroko Oyamada’s eye-catchingly titled Weasels in the Attic comprises three closely linked episodes in which a middle-aged man shares a meal with his best friend, each momentous in its own way.

Our unnamed narrator recalls a strange visit he and Saiki made to a mutual friend who has recently died. Urabe introduced them to his new baby and her surprisingly young mother who seemed worryingly eager to do his bidding. Sometime later, now married and living in a rackety house in the countryside infested with weasels, Saiki invites our narrator to dinner with his wife who comes up with a disturbing solution to the weasel problem. The third dinner sees Saiki and Yoko introducing their new daughter to our narrator and his wife who spend a restless night in their aquarium filled spare room, haunted by strange dreams. The next day our narrator is told news so good he can scarcely believe it.

Oyamada explores ageing, attitudes to women and masculinity through three occasions which see Saiki change from an urban male, none too inquiring about Urabe’s relationship with a subservient woman two decades his junior, to a considerate husband, father and neighbour. Meanwhile our narrator and his wife quietly struggle with the aching sadness of involuntary childlessness. Much is left unsaid between Saiki and the narrator who often seems puzzled by his friend’s behaviour while his wife and Yoko become close friends, almost without him realising it. A quick read but one whose striking images, touch of the surreal and occasional flashes of humour will stay with me.