If Orpheus Was a Carp

Norwegian Wood meets Perfect Blue in a contemporary evocation of the classical Greek myth. Brutal and haunting. Tender and intimate. A debut novel about a young musician‘s collision with rage and grief. The Yoshida family is dysfunctional. The father, Kiichiro, is a leading member of the Miyajima-gumi crime syndicate, while the mother, Miyuki, works long hours as the commissioner of police. With the matriarch and patriarch of the household habitually absent, their oldest, George, must take care of his little brother, Naoyuki. After a revelation in the form of a letter, Naoyuki confirms his suspicions: his birth may have exacerbated the frigid loneliness and hidden hostility their family occupies. Determined to make amends, Naoyuki concocts a plan. He‘ll gather everyone together for his birthday party, and once there, he‘ll play a song-in this song, communicating his sincere longing for connection and love. Everything goes as he hopes. George agrees to it, putting aside his disdain for their parents, and helping Naoyuki prepare for the performance. But when the day arrives, tragedy strikes in the form of a blood-splattered crime scene. Years later, despite his recent success as a musician, Naoyuki still senses a debilitating self-hate from within himself. When his father-fresh from prison-appears at his doorstep, Naoyuki is offered an opportunity for atonement. And so, Orpheus braves the underworld for his revenge. Devastatingly beautiful, If Orpheus Was a Carp is a lyrical reckoning with and voyage through connection, legacy, and the elusive nature of memory. It marks the sincere and poignant entry of a young literary voice.