SOSUKE NATSUKAWA The Cat Who Saved Books. Reviewed by Robin Riedstra
Japanese author Sosuke Natsukawa’s second novel brings together a cat and a bookshop, and contains more than its slim volume suggests.
The Cat Who Saved Books is like a TARDIS. It has simple language and is only 224 pages, yet in many ways it is ‘bigger on the inside’ as it is richly complex and contains altered dimensions. The novel follows the story of Rintaro, a ‘hikikomori’ or reclusive high school student, who has recently lost his grandfather. Seems straightforward enough, but throw in a talking cat and a quest to save books and suddenly we’re in a whole new realm.
The book opens with the line, ‘First things first, Grandpa’s gone.’ Ordinary, direct, blunt. And yet as the book goes on to explain in the very next breath, ‘The tale that follows is pretty outrageous.’ Despite its physically light heft, this book is anything but simple. However, it is through the grounding of these fundamental facts and a matter of fact tone that the book can explore its more esoteric content without disappearing into the ether.
Death is a looming presence in Rintaro’s life. His mother died before he started primary school, and he went to live with his grandfather. When his grandfather dies, Rintaro is still in high school. And this death is followed by the potential death of his grandfather’s bookshop, the only place where the ‘completely average’ Rintaro has ever felt truly comfortable. However, there is hope of something beyond this mortal life, and the notion of the supernatural is introduced in the prologue when an acquaintance of Rintaro’s casually references ghosts as if they are a part of everyday life.
‘Oh right, you don’t have any friends. Must make life simple. But seriously, your grandfather must be worried sick about you. You’ve probably got him so anxious, his ghost’s still wandering around. How’s he supposed to rest in peace? Your grandpa’s too old to get this much grief.’
This isn’t your typical book about grieving and setting your de facto parent’s affairs in order, but a book where life and the afterlife merge and meaning is fought for.
When Tiger the talking tabby is introduced in chapter one, urging the hikikomori Rintaro, or ‘miserable, good-for-nothing shut-in’ as Tiger calls him, to save some imperilled books, it seems plausible. As does the journey into the world of books. We are pulled into this new world by a conversation with a cat, and it just feels natural. A world where bookshelves extend out infinitely, where mimosa trees have ‘cottony blossoms’ out of season, and where particles of light sparkle ‘like dancing water droplets’.
The information is drip-fed, never revealing more than you need to know. It is a lesson in patience, and so well executed, it isn’t a lesson in frustration. You learn that the grandfather dies, then a couple of pages later you learn that the mother had died much earlier, and it is another couple of pages before you learn that Rintaro will need to sell his grandfather’s bookshop.
This process is echoed in Rintaro and Tiger’s first mission to ‘save books’. At first you learn that there are books to save but not the titles, and Rintaro is told it will be disappointing if he doesn’t go on the quest. It is only once he is out of the bookshop and transported to a strange place that Tiger reveals the consequences should Rintaro fail. Rintaro calls it a ‘dirty trick’, but Tiger contends that if Rintaro had known more then he wouldn’t have come. Rintaro and the reader are like the frog in a pot. Before we realise it, we’re in too deep. And at the risk of being like Tiger, I won’t reveal the consequences, titles, or the mission, either.
The book is split into four delicious bite-sized chunks that really help you to power through the novel as each adventure gives you a quick hit of wonder, leaving you wanting more. The whole book has a sense of urgency, like the fate of the world depends on it, like the fates of Rintaro and Tiger depend on it. So much so that when you finish reading it, you’ll press a copy into your friends’ hands and tell them earnestly not just to read it but to engage, and then share it. Because freedom of the mind comes from sharing stories and ideas.
I thoroughly enjoyed this slim book, and when Tiger says of a location, ‘It looks like it’s full, but it’s actually empty,’ I couldn’t help but think that this was a critique on society. The Cat Who Saved Books is a small book that is jam-packed with gems, whereas other works might be bloated with mere filler yet receive more praise. A statement that substance rather than appearance should matter. Lovers of Weird Fiction will eat this book up. It is brief, it is elegant, and it makes the surreal real. Plus, cats and books. What’s not to like? Perhaps the perfect metaphor for The Cat Who Saves Books comes from the book itself – simply drawn lines, constructed with care, by a master artist.
The image of his grandfather quietly reading a book under a lamp placed on the small desk was seared into Rintaro’s memory; its lines drawn simply but with care, like an oil painting by a master artist.
Sosuke Natsukawa The Cat Who Saved Books Pan Macmillan 2021 PB 224pp $19.99
Robin Riedstra is a reader, writer, reviewer and 2020 Dorothy Hewett Literary Award Shortlistee. In her down time she teaches, and blogs at Write or Wrong about mental health, her love of Australian literature and whatever tickles her fancy bone.
You can buy The Cat Who Saved Books from Abbey’s at a 10% discount by quoting the promotion code NEWTOWNREVIEW here or you can buy it from Booktopia here.
To see if it is available from Newtown Library, click here.
If you’d like to help keep the Newtown Review of Books a free and independent site for book reviews, please consider making a donation. Your support is greatly appreciated.
