Review of Strange Houses by Yuzuki KATABUCHI
When I first stumbled upon Strange Houses, I was lured in by the title—after all, who doesn’t have a soft spot for Gothic tales filled with ghostly apparitions and eerie backstories? However, Yuzuki KATABUCHI offers us a far more modern fairy tale, rife with intrigue and a hefty dose of dark family drama. Let’s just say this book is anything but ordinary—its charm lies in the wild ride of its narrative rather than the promise of ghosts lurking in the shadows.
The journey begins when our unnamed narrator, an “expert in the occult,” is pulled into a labyrinth of family secrets by his friend Yanagioka. Initially, it’s a seemingly simple favor: review the floor plan of a prospective house. But what follows is a lesson in paranoia, gullibility, and deep-rooted family curses that tether each character to their dark legacies. Throughout the narrative, KATABUCHI artfully juxtaposes the mundane with the bizarre, making me ponder how our perceptions of family and home are often shaped by the bones of those who came before us.
The character dynamics are perhaps the most compelling part of this tale. Yanagioka, the friend in search of a home, unintentionally kicks off a chain reaction that spins completely out of control. With architect Kurihara spouting wild theories about a “killer child,” the storytelling barrels into an unexpected territory where superstition meets generational trauma. And let’s not forget the jaw-dropping family history involving madness, incest, and curses that had me slack-jawed on more than one occasion.
KATABUCHI’s writing style is refreshingly conversational, making it easy to connect with the narrator’s tone. The humor woven through moments of sheer horror kept me engaged, effectively balancing the darkness with levity. For instance, the author’s nonchalant remark about finding a dead body nearby really drives home the absurdity of Yanagioka’s reactions—“Get a grip, girlfriend!”—a sentiment I found myself echoing as I turned the pages. The pacing, too, deftly shifts between tension and exposition, sparking just enough curiosity to keep me invested.
I particularly enjoyed the exploration of the family curse that drives the plot. The disturbing, yet intriguing ritual of sacrifice—coupled with the innocent perspective of child characters like Momoya—serves as a chilling reminder of the weight of expectations placed on the younger generation. It speaks volumes about societal pressures and the often absurd measures we go to “cleanse” our bloodlines of perceived wrongs.
As I closed the final pages of Strange Houses, I found myself simultaneously relieved and disappointed. Relieved that the familial chaos resolves in an unexpectedly hopeful manner, but disappointed that my spectral aspirations went unfulfilled. Despite the absence of actual ghosts, the spectral echoes of flawed family legacies are all too real.
I wholeheartedly recommend Strange Houses to anyone who relishes a good family drama wrapped in a contemporary Gothic atmosphere. Fans of complex storytelling and intricate character studies will appreciate KATABUCHI’s approach, which forces us to reflect on our own familial connections. While it may not offer the hauntings I secretly hoped for, the echoes of madness and the resonance of profound themes linger long after, making it a compelling read for anyone willing to explore the depths of what truly lies beneath our roofs—both literal and metaphorical.