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Few novels have so deliberately blurred the boundaries between fiction and reality as The Man Who Cried I Am (1967)
especially the rage-prone
'Anyone looking for the most readable survey of the history of art from the [sic] cave paintings to the 20th century should buy the new
Finnegan describes the edgy yet enduring brotherhood forged among the swell of the surf
Kōhine Christina Bryan Rosenberger Few novels have so deliberatelyTokyo is a humming backdrop to an array of outsiders: a young woman arrives to work as a stripper, the manager of a love hotel hatches a sleazy plan, a spirit wanders Harajuku, and a mother embarks on a sad journey.
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