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The two volumes of Missin’ are actually three novellas. The first, “Little Shop Called End of the World,” is about a freelance journalist who quits writing to open a shop selling Vivienne Westwood merchandise who enters a strange relationship with a silent loli who frequents the shop. Like with Kamikaze Girls, one of favorite books from last year, Novala Takemoto uses the narrator’s dwelling of the subculture and its history to carry the story, and it was pretty entertaining until we got to pedophilia and “disturbed girl commits suicide after being cut off from her source of illegal sex. The second story, “Missin’” is the narrative of an angry, obsessive teenaged stalker in love with an angry, violent rocker. Missin’ 2: Kasako continues that with what happens once the stalker is allowed to enter into the rocker’s world.
Novala Takemoto’s writing is incredibly engaging, especially when he’s dwelling on subculture and its history, and having his characters give their thoughts on the same. Unfortunately, I ended up actively disliking every single character, and with writing that involving, I realized that it actually made me angry in the two days I was reading it. Though I think that that in itself is significant, as specific fiction almost never makes me angry in general when I’m not actually consuming it. Well, except for Dollhouse*, but I don’t think well written books that aren’t for me can really be compared to a TV show that basically exists to endorse rape fantasies and human trafficking.
*For which the universe owes me an apology in the form of a series where Dichen Lachman and Enver Gjojak play spies in love who sometimes try to kill each other, with Gina Torres and Olivia Williams as their bosses. I will settle for nothing less.
Novala Takemoto’s writing is incredibly engaging, especially when he’s dwelling on subculture and its history, and having his characters give their thoughts on the same. Unfortunately, I ended up actively disliking every single character, and with writing that involving, I realized that it actually made me angry in the two days I was reading it. Though I think that that in itself is significant, as specific fiction almost never makes me angry in general when I’m not actually consuming it. Well, except for Dollhouse*, but I don’t think well written books that aren’t for me can really be compared to a TV show that basically exists to endorse rape fantasies and human trafficking.
*For which the universe owes me an apology in the form of a series where Dichen Lachman and Enver Gjojak play spies in love who sometimes try to kill each other, with Gina Torres and Olivia Williams as their bosses. I will settle for nothing less.
