A beautiful and stunningly melancholic book, written by a talented debut author, one to watch for future publications.

3 seemingly unconnected women, living in different parts of the world brings to life human connections, grief, identity & heritage.

What an incredible debut! This novel is told from the perspective of three Japanese women, each with a complex family dynamic behind them. Their stories are incredibly woven together and you cannot help but genuinely care for and be invested in their lives. I will certainly recommend this to other readers as I felt completely enveloped by these women and their journeys. I look forward to whatever Footman writes next. I LOVED IT.

Such a gem of a book. One of my favourites reads in a long long time- just gorgeous. I will be looking out for any future releases.

Hanako Footman's "Mongrel" is a gripping and thought-provoking novel that delves into themes of identity, belonging, and the search for self in a divided world. Footman's sharp, evocative prose brings to life a multi-layered narrative that explores the complexities of heritage and personal transformation. The story’s richly drawn characters navigate their own struggles and revelations, making for a deeply engaging read. "Mongrel" tackles significant issues with both sensitivity and insight, offering readers a powerful and resonant exploration of what it means to find one’s place in a changing world. A compelling and memorable literary experience.

I received a review copy of this book from Footnote Press via NetGalley for which my thanks.

Mongrel (2024) by Hanako Footman, which explores family, identity and belonging and love and desire, among others, has been well received by most reviewers but unfortunately for me, it didn’t have the same impact and at more than one point I considered DNF’ing it. But things did take a turn for the better as the stories we follow moved from damage and heartbreak to healing and hope.

In the book we follow three women, Mei born to a Japanese mother and Irish father and brought up after her mother’s death by her father, stepmother and step-siblings. Always attempting to ‘hide’ her Japanese identity, she constantly struggles between the connections she feels with her mother’s roots, from hazy, almost lost memories of songs sung and food eaten as also that single visit to her grandparents in Japan when she was six and her present where she attempts to fit in—from the food she claims to like to her appearance to even self-harm. Facing subtle and not so subtle racism, still dealing with the grief of the loss of her mother and the love she feels for her best friend Fran whose responses are often fluctuating, confusions, heartbreak and unsettledness define her every day.

In a different timeline is Yuki, an eighteen-year-old from the Japanese countryside who heads off to English for a summer course dreaming of a career as a violinist. But there she falls for her much older teacher and her life takes a completely different direction than she imagined, with her losing much of what defined her in the process.

And then we have Haruko, who lives with her mother and grandparents until her mother dies, the grief affecting the family differently, further complicating already sensitive equations. Eventually she leaves home and ends up working as a hostess in seedy Tokyo bars.

The three women face much from grief to heartbreak and unrequited love, abuse and racism, affecting their self-understanding and self-worth, the resultant despair, isolation, brokenness and loss of self, leading them to simply float along, not even sure perhaps of what they are looking for. But one little step from one of them starts to change things, bringing both healing and answers.

In its first almost 60 per cent, I found myself simply reading, at times just bearing the book, unable to feel the degree of sympathy (or indeed any) for any of the characters that the story sought to create, even though I could feel for their predicaments. I also struggled to entirely comprehend their motivations and actions. Added to this were the very raw and graphic scenes which in general I’m not a fan of in any case but which without generating the sort of sympathy they were supposed to (at least for me) resulted in that content almost taking over the book. The abuse, the misogyny, the racism are meant to disturb, no doubt, and they do, but without that connect with the characters, for me they lost some their power and the effect they could have had (not to say that I didn’t detest the slimy characters we come across).

What kept me reading despite the aforementioned almost DNFing was the first hint to the connections between the women we are reading of and which immediately lead one to work the links out as the stories start to interweave with one another. One can guess some things (confirmed as one reads on) but not all the reasons or explanations or even know the actions of some of the other characters that led things to be as they turned out, and it seems I did want to find out.

Post that 60-ish per cent mark, things got better as the stories took a turn from the characters simply drifting to finding connections, ones that start to reveal things not known, to bring answers to questions that had been long hanging and which start to, beneath the surface, heal. So at least as things come to a close, there is hope—not of things becoming whole again may be but at least some of the pieces coming together.

But despite this, it didn’t make up for it all. I’m pretty much in the minority on this one, but the book just didn’t do much for me.

Mei is half Japanese and half British. She grew up In England with her British father and stepmother. She is haunted by the traumatic moment in her childhood when her father suddenly informed her of her mother’s passing. Mei suffers from being motherless and estranged from the Japanese side of herself. She traverses girlhood, struggle after struggle. From casual racism to her poor relationship with her stepmother, she found solace in an intense friendship with Fran.
Yuki, Mei’s mother, is from rural Japan. To follow her passion and bid for independence, she moved to London at 18 years old to study. She struggles to assimilate but quickly finds herself in a relationship with her teacher.
Haruka is Yuki’s daughter. She was brought up by her old grandparents and her busy and absent mom. As she grew up, she felt the need to leave the quiet village of her childhood, haunted by memories, for a gritty but independent life in Tokyo.

These women’s storylines are told in interwoven episodes until they connect. Dark little fables are interspersed between the chapters, which adds a mythical dimension to the story.
The pacing felt a little uneven. The story starts slowly, then rollercoasters through events.

The central theme that the book explores is the difficulty of girlhood. From the mind games parents can play on their unknowing children and the familial heritage of trauma it develops. In a broader sense, it deals with the abuses women experience at the hands of men and the importance of freeing ourselves from others.
Another essential theme is the quest for one’s identity: cultural belonging and sexuality, the difficult simultaneous breaking with tradition necessary to follow our own path whilst experiencing an intense need to reconnect with our roots.

This emotional book is very effective in the message and atmosphere it conveys. I enjoyed how it challenged the idea of family as a nurturing, positive entity in a nuanced way.
I found it heavy and moving; I think anyone with a complicated family and trauma will relate to this book.

I was simply subsumed by this book. It's almost impossible to fathom that this is a debut novel. The writing is intensely beautiful, full of fragile moments of wonder that just leave the reader compelled, broken, spent. Imagine those very wonderful Japanese woodblock prints that we all know, but in prose. The characters are completely believable and you just care about them, hoping on every turn of their stories that things will just be OK. And at its heart is family, about what we do to belong and to hold on.

This book was sad and lovely I enjoyed the writing so much, and the interiority of our main characters were so well explored that it felt like listening to stories told to me by real people. I think the emotional journeys we followed were very well balanced with the plot, so that it felt quiet and atmospheric while at the same time so much happened that there was a propulsive pace to the reading experience. It allowed the reader to sit in the emotions, and to hope and hurt for the characters, and to consider the ideas of fetishisation, misogyny, identity and mental health that were explored. Wonderful.

**Thank you to the publisher and to Netgalley for providing me with a free e-ARC in exchange for an honest review**

4.75 ⭐️

I'm so so thankful I got to read this book. Mongrel is a story about family that is so well executed, so well crafted and so emotionally packed, it's hard to believe it is a debut novel.

The book tells the story of three woman linked by bonds stronger than anything, and who despite having had such different lives, have experienced the same type of grief.

More than and intergenerational story, it is a portrait of women and womanhood that will resonate among many if not all women who read it. Moreover, the story also delves into racism and the feeling of not belonging to the place you are anchored to despite having always lived in it, but also the feeling of not belonging to where your roots are, of being in a sort of limbo, which I deeply related to.

I would recommend this book to everyone truly, it is that good.

This book takes a deep dive into some very touching and thought provoking subjects. Being a person who has moved to a foreign country and made a life for myself, I understand some of the trials these girls face, with the changes, trying to fit in in some ways and the grief some people will give you just for the sake of it. However, I have still never come close to experiencing anything in the realm of what these three have done, in their lives. The changes, the pressures and the loss are all so unbelievably heartbreaking and truly moving. 

Throughout this book, I was taken on a true rollercoaster of emotions, with some moments truly make you laugh with unending joy and other bringing you to floods of tears. You really felt as though you were right there with these three, experienceling their lives and trials with them. The author has such a moving and wonderful writing style, it is beautiful. I adored all of this book.

Mongrel is a whip-smart, honest, and candid novel. Written with sincere and conscious prose, I fell in love with this novel and the characters.
Footman masters her characters with pure authenticity and honesty. The novel spans through the themes of heritage, belonging, identity and hope. I really liked the way that the individual women (Mei, Yuki, and Haruka) all had their own stories and yet intertwined in this unique way. The book reminds us of the importance of human connection through the focus on loneliness.
I loved this and thought absolutely everyone should read it. Took me longer than I thought to read as it was heavy and really feeling, but in a good way.

This is a story that follows three different women and how their lives change and development. I really liked and heavily related to the character Mei, who is half white and half Asian. Her thoughts and feelings towards her identity are ones that mimic my own experience growing up. While this book seems to have a very thin plot that only makes an appearance in the latter part, the book is held together by the beautiful writing of Footman. She uses metaphors and turns of phrases to excellently express her characters. I thoroughly enjoyed this book, only 4 stars as I didn’t connect as much to one of the characters.

Thank you to NetGalley and the publisher for the advanced ARC in exchange for an honest review.

I would like to thank NetGalley and Footnote press for providing me with this ARC.
It was a thoroughly enjoyable read. I liked learning about Japan and the Japanese customs. The story centres around three women: Meiko, Haruka and Yuki. Throughout the book there is the thread of wanting to belong, for Yuki, it's the wish to fit in England, where she has no relations and does not speak the language well. For Haruka, it's wanting to know more about her parents and punishing herself as she often feels unworthy and Meiko, who grows up wanting to fit in and doing things to her detriment to do so.

Wonderful read and I highly recommend

'Listen.... The bamboo canes are singing.'

'Mongrel' tells the story of three women, connected in some way that slowly becomes apparent as the book progresses. Meiko is a British-Japanese girl growing up in England; Yuki moves to London in the face of her family's wishes, hoping to become a violinist; Haruka escapes her rural life in Japan, moving to Tokyo to work as a hostess. Together they are linked in extraordinary ways.

As others have said in reviews, there are some very dark themes here. But there is humanity, and compassion, and these are stories of survival and holding on to family. Intertwined with the 3 narratives are fairy tales from a family heirloom, adding an other-worldly sense of meaning beyond the stories that we are reading.

I was simply subsumed by this book. It's almost impossible to fathom that this is a debut novel. The writing is intensely beautiful, full of fragile moments of wonder that just leave the reader compelled, broken, spent. Imagine those very wonderful Japanese woodblock prints that we all know, but in prose. The characters are completely believable and you just care about them, hoping on every turn of their stories that things will just be OK. And at its heart is family, about what we do to belong and to hold on.

Utterly compelling and wonderfully written, this is a book that will live with me for a very long time. Everyone should read it. It will definitely be one of my books of they year. A flawless 5 stars.

What an incredible debut novel; a truly enchanting and beautifully written book from start to finish that I am certain will become one of my favourite reads of this year. I must state that it can be very dark, but still beautiful and the delicate themes were handled with care and grace. The characterisation was vivid and realistic consistently throughout the novel, which focuses on the three Japanese female characters of Mei, Yuki and Haruka. The themes of womanhood, racism and grief in particular are fully explored.

Overall I would highly recommend this book, and expect to see it at the bare minimum on some award shortlists this year.

Is it possible to write a very messed up stories, in such a beautiful and sad way on one's debut? It was so beautifully painful I had to stop so many times (do know it's triggering please look up for TWs).

This is a book about the first loss of love, that first loose end & rejection, and abrupt ending we don't recover from & we fill those gaping, consuming hole of a wound with bodies, and fluids. Exchanging & mistaking love with currencies of your body & sex. When we lose that love we lose ourselves and we try to find it, ask for it, in all the wrong places; fallen into the hand of all the wrong people. A story of self rejection, a detachment & a need to run away from your home, your identity, to fall int0 worst places when home and love has always been there; with its beauty & crooks as it is.

I find Haruka's story easiest to follow & most 'enjoyable', because I could understand her. I could understand her vision. I like her. I was, really angry & sad at Yuki's naivety; and then at how chaotic Mei's are—in the way that is very characteristical of girlhood rage—that I want to shake her sober so bad!

I know this isn't hitting big now but this book, the story it's telling, and the characters, all deserve so much love. Thank you so much for the publisher and NetGalley for allowing me an advanced copy in exchange for this review.

Mongrel follows three different women’s narratives, Meiko, Yuki and Haurka.

Meiko is a young British-Japanese girl, who mourns the loss of her mother and yearns to fit in amongst her peers whilst navigating falling in love with her best friend, Fran.

Yuki moves to London to pursue her dream of becoming a concert violist, ultimately falling in love with her much older music teacher.

Haruka moves from the Japanese countryside to Tokyo and becomes a hostess in seedy bars.

Mongrel is a beautifully written novel exploring themes of womanhood, family and heritage. The writing really blew me away; there are some incredibly heart-wrenching and raw, emotional moments which will ultimately resonate with a lot of people.
An amazing debut novel which will be one of my lasting favourites of the year, an easy five star read for me.

This is a debut. I love Mongrel and look forward to seeing what the author has to offer next. The book focuses on three very different women, two in London and one in Tokyo. The women all experience turmoil, angst and a feeling of not fitting in. Haruka lives in Tokyo and is a hostess who sleeps with men for money. I found her story the most compelling. The three stories are compelling and gut-wrenching at times. The book is well-written and every page is engaging. The women are so well-written they really come to life. I’d recommend this.

My, oh my, what a treasure of a novel! I love when different storylines come seamlessly together to create one seemingly unavoidable whole – and the author has achieved it with perfection here. I was so engrossed in the individual stories of the three protagonists – Mei, Yuki and Haruka – that I didn’t even think to take a step back and look at the bigger picture. It probably took me a lot longer to figure out the way they were connected than it should have… but it was so worth it.

I can’t reveal too much without giving something away. What I can say, however, is that I thoroughly enjoyed reading about Mei who, half English and half Japanese, yearned to find her own identity. Yuki was interesting because I could identify with some of the struggles of someone who leaves everything they know behind to make a life in a different country. And Haruka… by far the most fascinating and elusive character for me as she was somehow familiar and unfamiliar at the same time.

And Japan… the descriptions of Tokyo and the countryside made me want to hop on a plane back to this most intriguing country. Everything that I associate with Japan – the food, the architecture, the language – almost felt like a whole extra character. I loved it!

Some debut novels make you think 'there is no way this is their first book' and it was exactly what I felt about Mongrel. Women who are connected through blood, loss, grief and pain? Sign me up. I would be very interested to hear Hanako Footman talk about how the story came about and her process of how she weaved these very complex characters.