The book opens with a description of a view through a window, highlighting the monotony of the protagonist’s protracted days. Living with his wife in a quiet suburb of Tokyo, a writer is working hard to realise his ambition of becoming a full-time poet.

With certain authors, such as Flaubert or Wilde, a certain lack of content can be forgiven in light of their artistry with words, but it is hard to defend a story that says very little without that beauty.

After reading, I was left with the feeling that nothing had really happened and, had the characters or the story developed at all, they had done so only infinitesimally. Perhaps some readers were enticed by the understated but beautiful cover and the papyrus-like paper. Whether or not this lethargy is the appeal that saw The Guest Cat reach both The New York Times and The Sunday Times best seller lists, I couldn’t say. The pace of the book is lethargic, leaving the narrative to meander a little too often. Having read novellas by poets before and becoming accustomed to their rich imagery, I was surprised to find the prose in The Guest Cat bare and clinical. The Guest Cat, considered to be both autobiographical and surrealist, won the Kiyama Shohei Literary Award in 2001. He has won a litany of awards and released works covering an array of different genres and forms. Takashi Hiraide, now in his mid-sixties, is one of the foremost post-war poets in Japan.

The guest cat