In The Miso Soup by Ryu Murakami
With a rhino’s ass, I made a commitment. A commitment to you, my loyal reader. I promised changes for better or worse, and with this post, I deliver.
I recently borrowed In The Miso Soup by
Now, I tried reading one of
Ok I was lying. I borrowed it because the inside cover said something about the ‘Japanese sex industry’ and ‘serial killer’. To paraphrase a famous movie line, “You had me at hello sex.”
Alright, back to the book. Kenji is a young Japanese man working as a tour guide for foreigners who want to experience the red light districts of Tokyo. He makes a decent wage, has a nice girlfriend, and thinks he has seen his fair share of the typical lonely foreigner looking for a good time. Until he meets his new customer, Frank.
Almost at once, he finds
In The Miso Soup is a well written thriller, and for all its promises of sex, it is strangely devoid of any (I had major issues with that). What it does deliver though, is paranoia and blood. If you are squeamish, best avoid this book as it has one, and only one, violent scene which is equal parts disturbing and funny.
Unlike the typical thriller, it doesn’t paint the killer as an evil monster, but rather a monster that has reasons that are totally alien to normal people. The thing is, although we can’t empathise with him, he genuinely believes in those ideals, so what right do we have to judge?
If you’re looking for a quick, entertaining read, you could do worse.
It still sucks that there was no sex though.
