As I’ve mentioned previously I’ll be at Bristolcon later this month – and over on their site this week they’ve posted the official programme. It looks great – an amazing line up of authors and panelists – and I thought I’d take a few minutes here to highlight what I’ll be doing:

10.00 – When Did Science Become The Bad Guy?

Science seems to have become unfashionable and is now suffering from funding cuts. When and how did science lose its cool?

With Dev Agarwal (Mod), Eugene Byrne, Simon Breeze, Tim Maughan, Raven Dane & Jonathan Wright

13.00 – Copyright or Wrong?

Until recent changes in the law, copyright in the UK was regarded as being decades out of date, struggling to keep up with advances in technology. It’s clear copyright law must change and adapt in order to survive the impact of technology and remain relevant to new media. Copying is easy, affordable and everybody does it – what options does the creator have to combat copyright infringement? Or is it time to offer everything for free?

With Jonathan Wright (Mod), Juliet E McKenna, Mike Shevdon, Tim Maughan, Raven Dane & Bob Neilson

18.00 – Sci-Fi Now!

Sliding doors, tricorders, communicators, space stations, and exploration of Mars. What have we achieved that was only science fiction fifty years ago? What happened to teleporters, jetpacks and flying cars? Will we ever get our base on the moon for our vacations? If so, when?

With Gareth L Powell (Mod), John Meaney, Eugene Byrne, Dev Agarwal, Paul McAuley & Tim Maughan

I’ll also be doing a reading from Paintwork at 10.50 – straight after the ‘When Did Science Become The Bad Guy?’ panel.

Hopefully see you there!

Apologies for being quiet over the last few weeks, but I have been kind of busy. I was off making my inaugural visit to the Great American Empire, and I can report on my return that our colonial cousins – despite poisoning themselves with excessive use of corn syrup – seem to be doing jolly well. In fact I was so taken with this new nation that I decided to get wed there, in the virtual reality gaming and entertainment construct known as ‘Las Vegas’, followed by an enjoyably relaxing honeymoon on the delightfully terraformed orbital spa ‘Hawaii’. It was quite splendid.

Anyway, having got back, cleaned the airliner grime from my frame, and started to recover from a severe case of desynchronosis – it’s clear I have a few bits of news to get you guys up to speed on. First off I’m very pleased to report that Paintwork is continuing to pick up glowing reviews:

“Havana Augmented is the third short story in Tim Maughan’s excellent Paintwork (2011), a collection that focuses on the meaning of artistry in a near-future cyberpunk landscape…(it) follows two streams of conflict. Paul and Kim battle with enormous robots which is, frankly, awesome. Mr. Maughan knows how to write an action sequence without letting it take over. The battles are short, streamlined, vicious and very, very fun…this is the crown jewel of an excellent collection. I’m a sucker for sports movies, especially when the game or match has some sort of Great Significance. Mr. Maughan tugs at my heartstrings with Havana Augmented – a giant robot smackdown with a country’s future on the line.” – Pornokitsch

“The title story Paintwork is an interesting examination of the lives and work of graffiti artists in the near future, trying to keep their art relevant in a world whose environments can become virtual with the blink of an eye. This is a Bristol story through and through, and Tim has done a great job of taking our landmarks and weaving them into a world that is very futuristic while remaining completely familiar to residents of the city…anyone who has an interest in urban art will draw much from this story. I loved Paintwork. All three stories show a writer with a real gift for accelerating the world we know into a believable future, with a deft local touch that adds an extra something for us Bristol folk…(it’s) a great read, that pinches a few ingredients from the SF greats and blends them with a unique flavour all of its own.” – Guide2Bristol

“Tim writes in a small subgenre that could loosely be called cyberpunk, but perhaps would be more accurately described as virtual reality fiction. He brings his near future VR fiction to life in a gritty and believable subculture, and he is very good at it…All three are excellent stories that transport the reader to the action…Tim’s work is a hidden gem. I’m very excited that a story I selected was nominated for the BSFA short fiction award, and I was excited to read this small collection. It is well worth your time.” – Rick Novy

As Rick mentions in that review, he was responsible for my first ever fiction sale, for which I am forever grateful. He’s got a book out himself at the moment – Neanderthal Swan Song – which I heartily recommend you go and check out.

In other – just as exciting – news I’ve got a couple of appearances coming up. First up is The Bristol Festival of Literature, where I’ll be taking apart in a panel looking at politics in sci-fi with the brilliant title “Should David Cameron read more Science Fiction?” It’s on Friday 21 October at Hamilton House in Stokes Croft at 6pm. Tickets are £5 and can be ordered here.

And then the very next day is Bristol’s own sci-fi and fantasy convention Bristolcon, where I’ve officially been announced as a guest. Not sure quite yet what I’ll be up to exactly there – more details as I get them – but with an impressive line-up of authors and artists I’m very honoured to have been invited. If you’re in the area it looks like an unmissable event, so come down and say hi.

Paintwork is out now – you can get Kindle versions from Amazon US and Amazon UK, and versions for all other popular e-readers (including iPad and Nook) at Smashwords.

Print versions are now available from Createspace or Amazon US and Amazon UK.

I’m very pleased to announce that the print version of Paintwork is finally available to order from Createspace now, and with Amazon to follow in just a few days. I received a proof copy earlier this week, and have to say it looks great. This is by far the best way to enjoy that fantastic Bobi Richardson designed cover.

It can be yours right away for $5.99, or if you can wait and feel like blowing some cash the Limited Edition Paintwork set is available for pre-order.

UPDATE: The LE set is now SOLD OUT. Thanks to everyone that bought one! I will hopefully be doing another run of these later in the year, so stay tuned.

The LE Set includes:

*A signed paperback copy of Paintwork, with personalised message if required

*A 1GB USB memory stick, containing:
-Over 3 hours of exclusive DJ mixes by me, featuring music that inspired Paintwork
-eBook versions of Paintwork for all major devices (Kindle, Nook, iPad, iPhone, PDF etc)
-Exclusive desktop and mobile device wallpapers
-Exclusive author’s notes
-Audio of interviews and podcast appearances

*FREE postage worldwide

Any questions? Ask away in the comments.

Had a lot of fun this weekend when I returned as a guest on the Beta Male Experience podcast, alongside host Corey and the ever-entertaining Ed Sizemore. In the first half of the show you can hear us discussing the movies we’ve seen recently, before moving on to talk about my new book Paintwork. It’s a fairly spoiler-free chat, where I answer the guys’ questions and go into quite a bit of detail about the ideas, influences and technology behind the stories. Well worth a listen, even if I say so myself. Plus Ed and Corey are always great value – go check it out now.

BME Podcast Episode 55 – Sit On My Lap with Paintwork

BME Podcast on iTunes

Paintwork is out now – you can get Kindle versions from Amazon US and Amazon UK, and versions for all other popular e-readers (including iPad and Nook) at Smashwords. Print versions will be available soon – check back for details.

Paintwork is out now – you can get Kindle versions from Amazon US and Amazon UK, and versions for all other popular e-readers (including iPad and Nook) at Smashwords. Those of you that prefer to buy your eBooks from an independent store can grab it from The Wizard’s Tower.

Print versions are now available from Createspace or Amazon US and Amazon UK.

“In an era of “post-cyberpunk” science fiction, Maughan is firmly cyberpunk — or maybe “cyberpunk++,” a genre that captures all the grit and glory of technology with a higher degree of plausibility and respect for real computers and networks than the genre had in its glory days…Maughan has a keen eye for the fictional possibilities of technology, a good hand with the what if/ten seconds in the future mode of storytelling, and he’s quite adept at filling his work with hyper-cool eyeball kicks. These stories are fun and thought-provoking, a great combination.”
- Cory Doctorow, author of Down and Out in the Magic Kingdom and Little Brother (read full review)

“In our hothouse present, where technology is little more than vapour, Tim Maughan catches those fleeting moments of possibility in stories that ought to have no shelf-life whatsoever – and which, regardless, linger in the mind. I don’t know how he does this. I don’t know whether he is very naive, or very clever. One thing I do know: these stories are very, very good.”
- Simon Ings, author of Hot Head, The Weight of Numbers and Dead Water.

“They used to say that Science Fiction was hard to define, but that you’d know it when you saw it. How then to best recommend a collection like Paintwork? A book of augmented realties, icy conceptual surfaces and a healthy dose of contemporary corporate paranoia. Is even a simple book blurb as innocent as it first appears? The best Science Fiction isn’t a road map, it’s a toolkit, and Paintwork is a virtual users guide to a new kind of fictional future. A place where it’s fine to pretend life’s all a game, just so long as you stay on the winning team.

“If Science Fiction is a toolkit, Paintwork is the missing users manual.”
- Tom Hunter, Director, the Arthur C. Clarke Award

“Havana Augmented is the third short story in Tim Maughan’s excellent Paintwork (2011), a collection that focuses on the meaning of artistry in a near-future cyberpunk landscape…(it) follows two streams of conflict. Paul and Kim battle with enormous robots which is, frankly, awesome. Mr. Maughan knows how to write an action sequence without letting it take over. The battles are short, streamlined, vicious and very, very fun…this is the crown jewel of an excellent collection. I’m a sucker for sports movies, especially when the game or match has some sort of Great Significance. Mr. Maughan tugs at my heartstrings with Havana Augmented – a giant robot smackdown with a country’s future on the line.”
- Pornokitsch.com (read full review)

“Paintwork itself is about the making of art, and what it is that makes it authentic. Is it craft or is it result that matters? And following that, is the satisfaction to be gained from doing it properly personal or something more than that?…It would spoil the story’s denouement to go into much more detail, but it revolves around a fascinating set of dichotomies about art as inspiration or product, about the fashion in technologies, whether art is somehow more worthwhile if you go about it in one way or another…and this idea spills over into Havana Augmented, which is a joyful and outrageous story of young games programmers who have moved a virtual game into the augmented reality of their spex and are now playing Rolling Iron through the streets of Havana. Inevitably governments and big business become involved, and I can’t deny that the story’s ending smacks somewhat of the fairytale, but in the end, why not? In all, Paintwork is a very enjoyable and thought-provoking collection of stories about the place of art in the future.”
- Maureen Kincaid Speller, Paper Knife (read full review)

“Hip, cutting-edge cyberpunk with a techno rave attitude. Tim Maughan is definitely a writer to watch.”
- Gareth L. Powell, author of The Recollection.

“The title story Paintwork is an interesting examination of the lives and work of graffiti artists in the near future, trying to keep their art relevant in a world whose environments can become virtual with the blink of an eye. This is a Bristol story through and through, and Tim has done a great job of taking our landmarks and weaving them into a world that is very futuristic while remaining completely familiar to residents of the city…anyone who has an interest in urban art will draw much from this story. I loved Paintwork. All three stories show a writer with a real gift for accelerating the world we know into a believable future, with a deft local touch that adds an extra something for us Bristol folk…(it’s) a great read, that pinches a few ingredients from the SF greats and blends them with a unique flavour all of its own.”
- Guide2Bristol (read full review)

Augmented reality street artist 3Cube wants to break into the mainstream, and as one of the best in the graffiti mecca of Bristol he stands a real chance. Except that someone, some unseen rival, seems set on using even the most old-fashioned of methods to stop him from succeeding.

John Smith was successful once, if only for a fleeting moment. Now the documentary film maker is broke and jobless, and finds himself putting his life on the line as one of the new-breed of paparazzi – snapping celebrity video gamers in virtual worlds.

And on the sun-bleached streets of Havana two young Cubans find themselves locked in a fierce struggle with one of the world’s most powerful organisations, as a seemingly innocent video game tournament becomes a fight for both personal and national pride.

Paintwork is a collection of three stories from our imminent future by British science fiction author Tim Maughan, including the 2010 BSFA Short Fiction Award nominated ‘Havana Augmented’.

About the Author

Tim Maughan lives in Bristol in the South West of England, and when he’s not writing science fiction he writes about Japanese animation and comics for websites like Anime News Network and Tor. He also daydreams about being a techno DJ and spends far too much time on Twitter.

Paintwork is out now – you can get Kindle versions from Amazon US and Amazon UK, and versions for all other popular e-readers (including iPad and Nook) at Smashwords. Those of you that prefer to buy your eBooks from an independent store can grab it from The Wizard’s Tower.

Print versions are now available from Createspace or Amazon US and Amazon UK.

UPDATE: Paintwork is out now – you can get Kindle versions from Amazon US and Amazon UK, and versions for all other popular e-readers at Smashwords. Enjoy!

Not final artwork, but couldn’t resist sharing. Fantastic work from my much better half.

Paintwork will be out very shortly – in the meantime you can read a short extract here.

The name Natsuhiko Kyogoku is probably unfamiliar to most anime fans, but the novelist has already had one of his works adapted – Madhouse’s 2008 series Mōryō no Hako – with a second, Loups-Garous, being adapted into a movie by Production IG and due for release in 2010. An expert in Japanese folklore tales and yōkai, the supernatural creatures that inhabit them, Kyogoku-san is best known in Japan for his award winning mystery novels. Unfamiliar with his work myself until now, I was intrigued when US publisher Vertical Inc sent me a review copy of his debut novel – and the first to be translated into English – The Summer of The Ubume.

Ubume is the first in his long running series of novels about Akihiko ‘Kyōgokudō’ Chuzenji, a bookshop owner and yōkai exorcist, and a character seemingly based in part on Kyogoku himself. However, reading Ubume for the first time it never feels like Kyogoku ever envisioned Kyōgokudō as the main protagonist, or perhaps never foresaw a series when writing it. The story is instead told, in first person, through the eyes of Sekiguchi, a hack journalist who comes to his old friend Kyogoku for advice on a story he is working on. It’s a bizzare and horrific tale of a local medical clinic run by the Kuonji family, and of missing children, a doctor that has apparently vanished into thin air and a woman that has been pregnant for over 20 months. It is Sekiguchi that investigates the mystery, and until the novel’s chilling climax Kyōgokudō plays little role beyond discussing the case and the alleged involvement of a yōkai known as a ubume with his friend. It’s here that we see how Kyōgokudō becomes an avatar in the book’s world for the author – despite their expert knowledge on the subject, both openly state that they do not believe in the existence of yōkai, instead seeing them as a metaphorical manifestation of societies desires, values and fears.

And it’s here that Ubume’s main themes come to the surface. This theory of folklore seems almost like common sense now, but in Japan in 1951 – when the novel is set – this would have been almost revolutionary thinking to the average citizen. In many ways Ubume is about Japan in the grip of post-war identity crisis, as it attempts to forcefully separate from it’s feudal, Imperial past and embrace a more western form of democracy and modernity. It is world full of tabloid newspapers and trashy magazines, screaming lurid tales of demonic women and yōkai possession, while elsewhere characters embrace medicine and quest for scientific discovery. Memories of war linger in the background at all times, while individuals talk of their struggle to come to terms with realising what they fought for was wrong. It’s here that Ubume’s yōkai metaphor comes to the fore, as Kyōgokudō repeats his mantra ‘there is nothing strange’, and we realise that we are watching a Japan that is undergoing a subtle yet monumental shift in it’s psychological, philosophical and intellectual make up. Whether an exploration of this time was Kyogoku’s original intent, or whether it just provided a convenient setting to tell his stories and illustrate his yōkai theories is never made clear. Either way it’s inconsequential; as readers we are given a valuable and fascinating insight and snapshot of a period in Japan’s social history that makes the book a fascinating read on it’s own.

It also, paradoxically, leads me to my single, very minor note of concern about Ubume. Much of this exposition is presented in the form of lengthy, deep discussion between Kyōgokudō and Sekiguchi – and while I found it a fascinating read others may find it a little impenetrable at first, especially as it begins in the first dozen pages of the book. For the first half of the book the plot moves very slowly as a result, but as a fan of this typically Japanese style of philosophical musing – and the works of anime filmmakers like Mamoru Oshii – I found it immensely enjoyable. And in the end, as with all intelligent literature, its worth putting in the attention it demands, as watching the mystery unravel and reach it’s startling, dark climax is another joy altogether. The Summer of the Ubume is yet more proof, if it was needed, that Vertical’s eye for spotting the more unusual and captivating work that Japan has to offer makes it a publishing force not to be ignored. Here’s hoping that Ubume is enough of a success to allow them to bring us more of Kyogoku’s novels. I know I can’t wait to read more.

It’s hard to walk down a street in urban Tokyo without being reminded of the ever-present earthquake threat. Large signs on nearly every street notify you of emergency procedures and direct you to evacuation points. While it is undoubtedly drowned out by the background noise and visual blur for the average Tokyo resident, for a tourist it can seem quite startling or disturbing at first, and feel like health and safety overkill. Until, that is, someone points out to you that experts predict there is 70% or higher chance of an earthquake measuring 7.0 magnitude on the Richter scale hitting Tokyo in the next 30 years. It’s a terrifying situation for an urban population that large, and one that forms the basis for Studio Bones and Kinema Citrus’ eleven part series Tokyo Magnitude 8.0

After the scene-setting of the first episode there doesn’t seem to be an awful lot more to say about the show plot wise. School has just broken up for summer, and 12 year-old Mirai Onozawa is reluctantly taking her 8 year old brother Yuki to a robot exposition on the artificial island of Odaiba when the quake hits, and they team up with female motorcycle courier Mari to slowly pick their way through the wreckage of the city and get home. And that is about it. Sure, there are some great action sequences along the way, and a few moments of true suspense and peril, but otherwise there really isn’t much else going on with the storyline; this is pretty much standard disaster movie material. Which is where Tokyo Magnitude 8.0 pulls out its trump card – by presenting the audience with a genre its already familiar with, it gives itself the chance to explore some subtle and deep themes, with the end result being a surprisingly satisfying and emotional drama.

The first episode opens with angsty teenager Mirai wishing something terrible would happen to Tokyo – a sentiment already voiced by characters in another show from last season, Production IG’s slightly disappointing and flawed post 9/11 drama Eden of the East – but before that we’ve already been subjected to TM8′s impressive opening sequence, a montage of black and white line drawings of various Tokyo landmarks destroyed by the earthquake. The images seem to mimic the painstaking detail of architectural designs, only to joyfully celebrate introducing chaos and destruction. It can be seen almost as a reminder of science and engineering’s ultimate futility against the power of the natural world and the environment, but there also seems to be a further commentary on human nature and society. Throughout the series there is a feeling of excitement as Tokyo and its citizens are descended into utter chaos as their transit systems are rendered useless and the precious cellphone network fails, and it was something that reminded me instantly of the disaster novels of science fiction author J.G. Ballard. Ballard focused on and discussed the voyeuristic, almost primeval desire for us to be witness to large scale disasters, in what Bruce Sterling once described as ‘psychic wish fulfillment’. As terrifying as it may be we want to see the destruction, and even more we want to see the aftermath, because we want to see what our controlling society looks like with the electricity gone, the buildings turned inside-out and the laws no longer enforceable. It is the ultimate act of human rebellion, deep seated within all of us, the wish to have the very nature of the mundane, day-to-day reality we are forced in inhabit ripped apart, and to see what life might be like outside our cell-like routine. Arguably all disaster fiction attempts to fulfill the same need, but not only does TM8 do it with graphic style and flair, it also balances it with perfectly with it’s second, more obvious, theme.

Tokyo Magnitude 8.0 is primarily about death. As much as we we enjoy the spectacle of destruction, the series never lets us forget that death stalks the upturned streets. We frequently see bodies, and although usually covered as they wait for collection, this serene anonymity seems to add a certain oppressiveness to the atmosphere – especially when couple with scale. We frequently see lots of bodies. Schools, churches and other public buildings are filled with them, lined up in calm, neat and respectful rows awaiting to be identified. In fact, death almost becomes the only order in the characters’ world; the cold, pristine makeshift mortuaries offer a stark, peaceful contrast to the random chaos of the rubble outside. Presenting this to us through the eyes of children allows us to step away from our conventions and preconceptions, and while it’s not a new trick in anime – the likes of Grave of The Fireflies and Barefoot Gen did it decades ago – TM8 brings it all up to date, with very identifiable characters and a recognizable contemporary setting.

And mostly it works. On occasion there is a feeling of overt sentimentality or less-subtle emotional manipulation, but usually TM8 delivers it’s human drama with distressing authenticity. This holds true through to the end, and even if you see the inevitable twist in the story’s finale coming from miles back it doesn’t make the bombshell any less gut-wrenching, and makes you want to watch it over again to see if the clues were there all along. At its heart TM8 has a largely positive message amongst its chaos and suffering, that people are fundamentally good, that perhaps are sometimes suffocating society is a small price to pay for our safety and civility. For a child centered, family show that at first looked to be promising little more than thrills and adventure Tokyo Magnitude 8.0 is a satisfyingly deep show, and evidence that Japan can, when it wants to, still produce television based anime that is both thrilling and poignant.

Even if you’ve never read a single page of manga before, the chances are you’re familiar with Osamu Tezuka – and if the name isn’t familiar, then it’s likely that his most famous creation Astro Boy, is. Even though she’s never, to my knowledge, read a page of the manga herself, my girlfriend’s most prized purchases during last year’s Tokyo shopping exhibitions where the t-shirts featuring the iconic robo-Pinocchio she picked up in Harajuku. But Tezuka – often referred to as the ‘God of Manga’ and the ‘Father of Anime’ – had an impact beyond his cute character designs and children’s adventure stories, with even Astro Boy at times exploring the darker sides and moral ambiguities of human nature, and perhaps his strongest vehicle for this being the character Black Jack.

Written in the 1970s and 80s, the Black Jack stories deal with an enigmatic but mercenary, unlicensed surgeon for hire. Drawing on his own experience training (though never practicing) as a physician, Tezuka combines what appears to be often sound medical details with Jack’s almost super-human surgical skills to create Japan’s most iconic anti-hero. However, it is not Black Jack’s amazing feats of medical prowess that are the stories’ real focus, but more his complex, often self-contradicting, moral standpoints and choices.

I’d first dipped into Black Jack years ago, so I was thrilled when US publisher Vertical sent me a copy of their fifth volume of their complete re-issue of the decade spanning series for review. Fears that entering the series at Volume 5 would leave me lost quickly disappeared on being reminded of the series’ format; these are short, 20 or so page stand-alone tales rather than an ongoing serial, and while there are re-occurring characters and themes it is easily picked up at any point, without any real prior introduction. They follow a fairly standard formula: Jack is hired to tend to a patient that, for whatever reason, requires aid that cannot be found within the normal, legal medical channels. For example, in “Yet False the Days” Jack is approached by a paralysed pop idol’s greedy management to perform plastic surgery on a girl to make her look like the famous star. But as with all the stories there is a twist in the tale, and even when Jack insists instead on curing the idol so she can perform again and the surgery is a near-miraculous success, the end result is ultimately tragedy. Elsewhere Tezuka takes aim at the medical establishment, portraying other surgeons and hospital administrators as bloated, self important buffoons – and this combined with Jack’s own, often mercenary, attitude seems to throw some light on the author’s own views of the world of medicine. Clearly fascinated by the science of surgery, Tezuka seems just as intrigued with the feelings of power and control that wielding this knowledge brings, and here he explores both sides in detail, perhaps also throwing some light on to why he never practiced medicine himself.

While it is hard to deny the concise efficiency of Tezuka’s storytelling, outside Japan some younger critic’s have taken issue with the style of his drawing. Clearly influenced by US artists such as Walt Disney and Grim Natwick, even though his work helped to craft what has become accepted as the modern style, it does at times seem removed from what we now instantly identify as manga. However, to criticise him, as others have, for being ‘old-fashioned’, ‘too American’ or ‘not-Japanese enough’ looking seems not only ridiculous to me, but blatantly inaccurate. Just flicking through the book reveals not only Tezuka’s detailed, graphic depictions of surgery, but also character designs that could be nothing else but Japanese in their origin, with visual elements and archetypes that can still be seen in every newly published manga today. Yes, Tezuka’s style may be different from today’s artists, but to dismiss or dislike it for just these reasons seems both infantile and narrow-minded, and a sad reflection on the tastes and mindsets of the contemporary manga fan that seems to value conformity and the familiar over variety and being challenged. It’s perhaps worth pointing out to these self-proclaimed foreign ‘otaku’ that back in Japan these distinctions are made far less often, and that widening your tastes beyond what you perceive and pigeonhole as ‘the manga style’ may open up some new, rewarding experiences.

But anyway – before I descend into frustrated ranting: this book is an excellent package. Vertical have done yet another fantastic job with the presentation, the quality of the print is excellent, and of particular note is the unique and stylish front cover. The book even includes a 12-page sample excerpt from Tezuka’s Dororo – seen as many as being the predecessor of Black Jack. As mentioned previously the short, episodic, stand-alone nature of the stories within make the book accessible to any reader – whether they are new to Black Jack, Tezuka or even manga itself, and based on this volume I wouldn’t hesitate in recommending grabbing any of the Vertical Black Jack editions you come across. An essential read.

Mariko Koike is one of Japan’s best known women writers, having built a reputation on the popularity of her romance and detective novels, short stories and essays. While winning critical and commercial acclaim in Japan, along with a string of award, she has of yet failed to gain popularity outside her home country, mainly due to the obvious language barriers. Which is way I was particularly interested when publishers Vertical Inc sent me a copy of her first novel to be translated into English, The Cat in the Coffin.

The story follows aspiring young artist Masayo, who moves to Tokyo to work for artist Goro Kawakubo as a live in housekeeper and tutor to his daughter Momoko. It seems like a dream opportunity for her; a generous salary, accommodation in the city and – most importantly – one-on-one art lessons from widower Goro, the son of a far more famous Japanese artist.

Things, however, do not go exactly to plan. For a start young Momoko is increasingly reserved after the death of her mother, retreating into a world where her main companion is her cat Lala, with Masayo struggling to communicate with her outside of the classroom. To complicate matters even more, Masayo finds herself falling for the suave, dominering and – at times – slightly creepy Goro. Just as she’s making headway with both, things take a tuen for the worse, when Goro meets, and starts having a relationship with the glamourous but cat-hating Chinatsu.

Not surprisingly most of the story centers around the resulting love triangle, but to dismiss the book as yet another ‘chick-lit’ romance novel. This was certainly my fear when I first picked it up – especially as someone that, although obsessed with many aspects of J-culture, tries hard to not enthuse about something just because ‘it’s from Japan’; those of you familiar with my views on J-Pop and high school anime dramas will have heard the rant before.

But The Cat in the Coffin goes deeper than that. From even the earliest chapters there’s a darker edge to proceedings, and Koike succeeds in portraying a sense of the awkwardness of 1950s Japan as it undergoes shifts in its social and sexual structures. To this male reader the character of Goro comes over as somewhat creepy and insidious from the very start, although perhaps the aim is for female readers to find his dominating sexual arrogance attractive, as the female protagonists do.

It’s certainly an accessible book – feeling perhaps a little too so for my personal tastes at times, although it’s unclear whether the sometimes simple writing style is Koike’s own or a byproduct of the (excellent) translation by Deborah Boliver Boehm. It’s short too, making the book a great wet weekend read or – as I found – the great way to fill a nine-hour long haul flight. If you fancy a bit of darkly tinged romance or a quick sample from the world of Japanese woman’s writing, plus a way of supporting one of the most interesting independent translating publishers around at the moment, The Cat in the Coffin is well worth picking up.