Born with a congenital muscle disorder, Shaka Isawa has severe spine curvature and uses an electric wheelchair and ventilator. Within the limits of her care home, her life is lived she studies, she tweets indignantly, she posts outrageous stories on an erotica website. One day, a new male carer reveals he has read it all – the sex, the provocation, the dirt. Her response? An indecent proposal…

Written by the first disabled author to win Japan’s most prestigious literary award and acclaimed instantly as one of the most important Japanese novels of the 21st century, Hunchback is an extraordinary, thrilling glimpse into the desire and darkness of a woman placed at humanity’s edge.

What an absolute load of dribble. Going from ‘poor little me I can’t read a physical book and therefore hate anyone who can’ to disgusting sexual descriptions made for a really bad read. It wasn’t written particularly well and was just so disjointed I didn’t get what was going on. I gave it 1⭐️ because it was short and therefore didn’t take up much of my life!

This book was a strange and unexpected one, and like nothing I have really read before. It was a story about stories, and the realities we construct for ourselves, and particularly in this case, how someone who is disabled and unable to move might dream up scenarios in which they are allowed to full, sexual versions of themselves. The book plays around with this layering of stories, and I found the ending a fun twist on this.

I received an advanced copy of this book from NetGalley in exchange for an honest review.

I'd heard quite a lot about hunchback and thought it looked an interesting read so wanted to give it a go. To be honest, I'm not quite sure how I felt about it. It was an odd story which seemed unrealistic at best. Bizarre is how I would describe it to friends.
Thanks to Penguin, Saou Ichikawa and NetGalley for the ARC.

'The longer I lived, the more my body collapsed into an ever more aberrant shape. It wasn't collapsing into death. Rather, it collapsed so as to live, collapsed as testament to all the time I'd withstood.'

Winner of the Akutagawa Prize in Japan, this is an unflinchingly honest short novel about Shaka Isawa, born with a congenital muscle disorder and living in a care home. She posts sometimes outrageous social media ('I want to get pregnant, then have an abortion') and rails at society in general. She is well off, so her life is, as far as it can be, comfortable and settled. When she learns that her male carer, Tanaka, has read her posts, she makes a suitably outlandish proposition: she will pay for him to make her pregnant. He seems to agree, but Shaka then develops pneumonia and the deal is never done.

Brutal and direct, this is an absorbing and thought-provoking work. One to make you think, perhaps, rather than one to just sit back and enjoy. I, for example, had never fully appreciated the issue of reading accessibility, where the lack of e-book access could prevent someone unable to hold a physical book from being able to read. It is forceful and provoking, and as such demands to be read and appreciated. 4.5 stars.

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

'Hunchback' is a brief but powerful novel that explores disability, bodily autonomy, and ableism with unflinching honesty. The protagonist, Shaka Izawa, shares the author Saou Ichikawa’s experience of living with myotubular myopathy, a severe congenital muscular condition. Like Ichikawa, Shaka uses a wheelchair and a respirator, offering a rare and deeply personal perspective on disability in Japan.

Shaka’s life is shaped by constant medical interventions, yet she finds agency through writing erotic fiction and sharing her thoughts anonymously online. Her journey—both physical and emotional—is compelling, though often unsettling. Ichikawa’s frank portrayal of sex and desire from a disabled perspective is especially vital, challenging societal taboos and expanding the representation of disabled voices in literature.

The novel tackles interesting themes, including the reproductive rights of disabled individuals, sexism, privilege, and accessibility in reading. It is bold, intimate, and at times uncomfortable.

Longlisted for the International Booker Prize. Shaka has a congenital muscle disorder and uses a wheelchair and a ventilator. In her care home she studies and at one point she makes a comment about readers crushing the spines of books - a thing that her body is actually doing to her own spine. She also posts on an erotic website under a pseudonym. When a new carer tells her that he has read her posts, she has an indecent proposal for him. This story is set during the pandemic when contact with the outside was prohibited. There are graphic scenes of Shaka using medical equipment to ease her breathing as well as scenes of a sexual nature. Within the novel, the author, who herself has this same disorder, addresses the stigmas around disability and sexuality. It also looks at power and privilege and power, especially in the relationship between Shaka and her carer. In fact at one point there even seems to be a blurring so that you wonder who is the abused and who is the abuser. As for the ending - I think it is open to interpretation - it is ambiguous. An interesting, short read in which the author is showing us that she is fully human.

Slight in volume but had a powerful message to convey. Shaka has no boundaries apart from her reliance on her wheelchair and all the other equipment that keeps her alive. It was difficult to read as it felt voyeuristic and sometimes quite disturbing, But the unsentimental description of the protagonist's day to day battles to keep herself alive and the unsentimental way she lived her life made me want to know her more, I believe the author Saou Ichikawa revealed just enough to inform the rest is nobody else's business can't wait to read more of her work,

Shaka Isawa lives with myotubular myopathy, a congenital disorder that causes muscle weakness and, in her case, has left her reliant on a tracheostomy to allow her to breathe and other equipment to suction mucus from her lungs when she isn't able to cough it up herself. Her ability to move is also very limited because of her condition, which has caused her spine and legs to twist and distort. She lives in a care home near Tokyo, but her parents have left her more than enough money for the rest of her life. Still, Shaka earns money of her own through writing explicit articles about 'swingers' clubs', as well as erotic fiction aimed at women. On her anonymous Twitter account, she says the things she's not supposed to say: 'In another life, I'd like to work as a high-class prostitute'; 'I want to get pregnant, then have an abortion'. The juxtaposition of sex and disability in Saou Ichikawa's novella Hunchback, translated by Polly Barton and longlisted for the International Booker Prize, is deliberately intended to confront our prejudices about disabled people and sexuality. The central encounter in the novella makes us think about how much power Shaka might hold; while she might be very physically vulnerable, that doesn't mean she has no agency. Here it reminded me a little of Annabel Lyon's thought-provoking Consent. The problem for me was that Hunchback was just too short to properly explore these ideas - it's only just over 100 pages. This promising premise is barely set up before it ends, and it's followed by a rushed final interlude that (depending on how you read it) feel like Shaka has been consigned to the role of victim again. Even if you interpret the ending differently, I just wanted more time with the book. 3.5 stars.

This was even weirder and shorter than I expected it to be. It made me uncomfortable and I respect that.

currently at a loss for words with Hunchback, an extremely humbling and beautiful story. I hate myself for ever complaining about my body, we take our ableness utterly for granted.

Okay so Hunchback wasn’t really what I was expecting and overall, I found it didn’t leave me with much. I thought the main character was an interesting perspective and found reading about how her disability affects parts of her life that able bodied people wouldn’t even consider - reading books, having sex - effective.

I thought the few pages talking about the ableism within the publishing industry was really powerful and felt strong. Along with the ideas about how disabled people perceive their sexuality.

However, the rest of the book fell flat for me. Unfortunately, I don’t think it’s one I’ll remember.
Though, I have lots of friends who have read this on publication (post International Booker Longlist) and really enjoyed it so I do think that it can be really effective for the right person.

Also, the cover is gorgeous!

Thank you to Netgalley and the publisher for sending me an e-ARC in exchange for an honest review.

Hunchback by Soau Ichikawa challenges the deeply ingrained notion that disabled people cannot or should not be seen as sexual beings. The story doesn’t shy away from confronting societal discomfort, and while certain parts made me uneasy, it also forced me to reflect on why I felt that way. It’s rare to see a book tackle this subject so directly, and I appreciated the way it pushed boundaries and questioned assumptions.

My only complaint? I wish it had been longer. There was so much more to explore within this story, and I would have loved a deeper dive into the characters and themes.

It’s a 3.5 star read for me.

All the positive points of the book relate to the themes really close to my heart. A life with disability gets changed in many little ways we haven’t talked about yet. So for the book to explore that was an exciting, endearing prospect. But at this length (barely 100 pages) it felt that the plot was just getting executed without ever having been set up. The first thirty pages or so were on track to achieve that - humanising the protagonist and other characters, but the shift towards the trigger in the Second Scene was too abrupt and harsh.

I loved the twists and turns of the protagonist’s mind as well as the turning points within the plot. (The end felt very fitting!) I can see how the themes played well and the book was long-listed for the International Booker Prize.

The story withholds certain details and yet goes overboard with some others (some conversations felt too crass to be real, for instance, and some descriptions too explicit)

But I am learning the inclination that Japanese literature has for simple, straightforward sentences over prose is not my cup of tea.

Hunchback was extremely powerful in parts of- when they take jabs on the privilege in accessing superior care, the publishing industry’s duplicity, and the vanity of readers…all of those are points I would have loved to see explored in detail.

An own voice story about a women with disabilities writing erotic stories online, offered an experience by her male carer.
An unique story & great to hear lived experiences own voices.

Best read in one go, Hunchback is an intelligent and subversive story in conversation with disability literature and ableism.

Ultimately, I came away unsatiated; Hunchback seems to me rather like the title short story of a collection than a fully fleshed novel(la) as advertised. However, I am glad that it was published as such stories are a rarity and it makes an exciting debut for Ichikawa! I am intrigued to see what she writes next.

Thank you to NetGalley and Penguin for the opportunity to read Hunchback in exchange for an honest review.

This book just was not for me, I did continue with it due to the length but I wasn't enjoying it. The one thing I can highlight is the writing - it was visceral and filled with vivid descriptions.
Thank you to the publisher and NetGalley for the chance to read this ARC.

Translated from the Japanese by Polly Barton

At only 112 pages, this novella can be read in a single sitting, but it packs a heck of a punch and you’ll be left thinking about it for days afterwards. I definitely was.

It was honestly the cover that initially made me click on this one - it’s stunning! - and I’m always on the lookout for translated fiction that tickles by pickle and ‘Hunchback’ sounded like nothing I’ve read before.

Born with a congenital muscle disorder, Shaka Isawa has severe spine curvature and uses an electric wheelchair and ventilator. Within the limits of her care home, her life is lived online: she studies, she tweets indignantly, she posts outrageous stories on an erotica website. One day, a new male carer reveals he has read it all – the sex, the provocation, the dirt. Her response? An indecent proposal…

Written by the first disabled author to win Japan’s most prestigious literary award and acclaimed instantly as one of the most important Japanese novels of the twenty-first century, Hunchback is an extraordinary, thrilling glimpse into the desire and darkness of a woman placed at humanity’s edge.

Even though this book has lingered with me, I’m still not quite sure how I felt about it, or even what the author wanted me to feel about it. It’s uncomfortable at a lot of points and it’s really some scenes are quite difficult to read, and that’s very much a deliberate choice.

‘Hunchback’ is written by a woman with the same condition as our main character, Shaka, and it forces the reader to directly confront disability, the people that reside in disabled bodies, and the attitude towards disability, especially in Japan. For the most part, Japanese people who has disabilities are hidden people in society, often reduced to less that human and are shrouded in shame. In the last twenty years, new laws have been introduced in Japan to protect disabled people and try to prevent discrimination, but it’s very much an ongoing mission by activists (who are directly mentioned in the text) to change the way that society at large views disabled people.


Shaka is a very confronting protagonist and from the very first word of her narration, her desires and wants and goals in life are just as complex and human as anyone else’s, and this, I believe, is one of the points that Ichikawa is trying to make. The portrayal of people with serious and life-altering disabilities are usually portrayed in fiction and media as innocent, childlike or pious in some way, but that’s just not the case; disabled people are people who can also have desires both expected and unexpected. From having a sexual encounter, getting pregnant and then having an abortion, to reading a physical book without the legacy of pain afterwards, Shaka begins to lay the foundations for getting what she wants to achieve within the restrictions of her body and her illness. It was incredibly interesting to see the consequences of one of these actions to be something that nearly kills her.

“Here was I, feeling my spine being crushed a little more with every book that I read, while all those ebook-hating ablebodied people who went on and on about how they loved the smell of physical books, or the feel of the turning pages beneath their fingers, persisted in their state of happy oblivion.”
I already mentioned how short this novel is, and I’ve come to recognise that as a standard for translated Japanese literary fiction, but I would really have liked a little more from this. Everything happened so quickly and the action escalated at a wild pace, with us thrown into what felt like the middle of a story that I missed the beginning and end of; I was left wanting after finishing ‘Hunchback’. Especially with the ending scene being so confusing! It’s not very often that I find myself googling the ending of a book to find out what the heck actually just happened and if I was reading it correctly - it turns out that plenty of people felt the same way and there are a plethora of theories out there. It left me slightly frustrated, but with a few days distance from it, I appreciate and respect the choice and it is fun for a story’s ending to be left open to interpretation.

‘Hunchback’ is an incredibly powerful novel and I recommend you read it, even if translated literature isn’t usually something that appeals to you. I knew very little about the treatment of disabled people in Japan until I started reading around after finishing this novel and it’s something I’m definitely going to start seeking out more in my reading.

Thank you to NetGalley and Penguin for the review copy.

An intriguing, seedy little tale that was in the end, unexpected! In such a short space of time the author conveys the way that disabled people are either desexualised completely, or fetishised, & the way that huge parts of the human experience are taken away from them. A story that will stick with me for sure.

a novella (or a short story, really) following shaka, a woman in her 40s who was born with a congenital muscle disorder. shaka lives in a care home outside tokyo and the novel is made up of reflections on her days - the e-learning courses she takes, the anonymous erotica she writes online, and her provocative trolling on twitter. it’s quirky and humorous and i really enjoyed the narrator’s voice, especially her frustrations at the difficulties faced by disabled people on a societal level that are often overlooked. it touches on so much: desire, individuality, gender, reproduction, disability, ableism, the duality of mind/body, power (to name a few). i just wish it was a bit longer so we could really dig into those themes properly, the book felt like it ended just as it was really beginning. but still a kooky little book which deserves its place on the international booker longlist.