Hooked by Asako Yuzuki is one of those novels that creeps under your skin before you realise it. I went in expecting something sharp and unsettling and found myself pulled into a story that felt both painfully intimate and a bit disorienting. At its heart, this is a book about obsession and loneliness and the strange ways people try to fill the hollow spaces inside themselves. It follows two women in Tokyo whose lives could not look more different on the surface, yet both are shaped by the same aching sense of isolation. Eriko is a driven corporate woman who has never quite managed to form meaningful friendships with other women. Shoko is a stay-at-home wife whose blog persona has begun to take on a life of its own. When Eriko becomes fixated on Shoko’s online presence and manoeuvres her way into her real life, the story begins to unravel in ways that are uncomfortable, compelling and often sad.
The novel moves between their perspectives, and I found that structure effective in showing how easily assumptions take root. Both women misread each other and the people around them, and those misunderstandings grow into something far more tangled. Yuzuki captures the quiet desperation of wanting to be seen and the danger of projecting fantasies onto others. The book also touches on the pressures placed on women in Japan, though the emotional landscape feels universal. The longing for connection, the fear of inadequacy and the desire to be chosen are all recognisable, even when the characters behave in ways that are frustrating or morally questionable.
What worked particularly well for me was the way Yuzuki writes flawed women without softening their edges. The characters reminded me of Butter in that same unvarnished, sometimes unlikable way. Their inner worlds are rich and messy, and I often found myself shifting between empathy and discomfort. The slow unravelling of their mental states is handled with care, and the tension builds steadily even when very little is happening on the surface. I was always waiting for something to snap.
Where the book faltered slightly was in its length. Certain ideas are repeated so often that the momentum dips, and I occasionally wished for more subtlety rather than extended explanation. The ending also felt a little gentler than I expected. I almost wanted the story to lean further into the darkness it had been circling.
Readers who enjoy character driven fiction, especially stories in translation that explore womanhood, loneliness and complicated female relationships, will find a lot to sit with here. It is not a thriller in the traditional sense but rather a study of two women who are both lost in different ways and collide at the wrong moment.
In the end, Hooked left me thoughtful and slightly unsettled, which feels exactly right for a novel about obsession and the fragile ways we try to connect.
With thanks to JBP.
