early four decades after it hit the shelves, Banana Yoshimoto’s Kitchen still stands out for its evocation of love, bereavement and loneliness in contemporary Japan. Originally published in Japanese, Kitchen garnered significant popularity among younger readers and went on to become a bestseller. The slim book, comprising two unconnected yet thematically similar novellas, also won him prestigious literary awards. The Independent on Sunday billed Yoshimoto as “the voice of Japan.” Some critics claimed that Yoshimoto had single-handedly paved the way for a new era in Japanese literature.

Over the years, Yoshimoto’s work has been widely translated into various languages, including English. Those who have read her novels in English have praised the deceptive simplicity of her language and her ability to treat serious subjects with a light touch. Vanity Fair has likened her novels to “jewel boxes” — a testament to her remarkable skill as a storyteller.

Such glowing praise reaches appropriate justification in Yoshimoto’s The Premonition. This coming-of-age novel, which was initially published in 1988, has now been rendered into English by Bristol-based translator Asa Yoneda.

A quick glance at the synopsis might lead readers to believe that The Premonition is a radical departure from Kitchen as grief isn’t the primary focus of the newly translated novel. However, a book can’t solely be judged according to the text on its jacket. The two works are inextricably linked to each other. However, they present contrasting approaches to coping with tragedy. In the two novellas published in Kitchen, characters wage daily battles against the earth-shattering losses they encounter. In The Premonition, grief operates like an undersea creature, lurking beneath the waves and occasionally rearing its head and making its presence felt. Yoshimoto’s newly translated work carries echoes of her unforgettable debut novel.

The novel’s intriguing premise serves as a reminder of how difficult it is to escape the stranglehold of the past. Nineteen-year-old Yayoi was raised by parents who never spared an opportunity to share memories of her happy childhood. However, Yayoi is sceptical of their anecdotes and earnestly believes that she has forgotten some crucial facets of her formative years. Her suspicions are heightened by an extrasensory perception that, though somewhat dormant as compared to what it was when she was a child, compels her to view life as increasingly brittle. Driven by a burning desire to uncover the truth, she takes a break from her family for a few days — a reliable coping mechanism that has always worked to her advantage.

The Independent on Sunday billed Yoshimoto as “the voice of Japan.” Some critics claimed Yoshimoto had single-handedly paved the way for a new era in Japanese literature.

Yayoi seeks refuge at the house of Yukino, her enigmatic aunt, whom she describes as a “reserved, spinster” music teacher at a high school. While the rest of her family is repelled by Yukino’s eccentricities, Yayoi has always felt an unexplained affinity with her. At her aunt’s house, she feels liberated as “none of the usual rules or routines of life” seem to matter. As she spends time with her aunt, Yayoi recalls some traumatic events from her childhood. The troubled nineteen-year-old eventually discovers unimaginable secrets about her relationship with her aunt.

It doesn’t take long for Yayoi to come to terms with these unsettling realities as she views it as the antidote to a lifetime of ambiguity. Fuelled by a new-found courage, she is geared up for the unpredictable ways in which the secrets will alter the course of her life. Meanwhile, her aunt isn’t prepared to confront her past and reckon with its effects on her present. Their conflicting priorities propel the novel towards a moving denouement, unmarked by resolutions but laced with emotional intensity.

The narrative is filtered through the first-person perspective of Yayoi and often lapses into sentimentality. This shouldn’t be construed as a fault as Yayoi reveals from the outset of the novel that she is “oddly sentimental” when she thinks of her relationship with her aunt.

The Premonition presents a unique cast of characters. Readers who expect the characters to be a product of a particular culture will be delighted by their refreshing universality. Yoshimoto possesses the distinct ability to create full-blooded characters and Yayoi and Yukino are no exception. As they navigate through life, both women respond to joy and tragedy in a realistic vein, without excessive melodrama.

Yoshimoto’s novels have often dealt with transgressive themes. One of the novellas in Kitchen features a transgender person who isn’t depicted through a stereotypical lens. The Premonition deals with a romantic relationship between a man and a woman who aren’t biologically related but are raised as siblings. Yoshimoto explores the ebbs and flows of this somewhat transgressive relationship with sensitivity and a touch of realism.

Barring a few clichés, Yoshimoto’s newly-translated novel is propulsively readable. Readers may find themselves racing through it in a desperate attempt to find out the fate of Yayoi’s relationship with her aunt.

Written with verve and intensity, The Premonition is an elegant examination of grief as a debilitating force and memory as a means of healing from trauma. Yoshimoto’s newly translated work solidifies her reputation as a poignant storyteller.

The Premonition

Author: Banana Yoshimoto

Publisher: Faber & Faber

Pages: 140

The reviewer is a freelance journalist and the author of No Funeral for Nazia