Japanese writer Rie Kudan’s novel “Simpati Tower Tokyo”, which received the Akutagawa Prize in 2023, was published in Russian translation by Anna Slashcheva and was included in the list of finalists for the Yasnaya Polyana Prize. There was a scandal associated with the book, as the writer admitted that she used the help of a neural network. However, it later turned out that only 5% of the text was generated. The fact that the novel is interesting not only for this is told Elizaveta Sharygina.
The dystopia of the young Japanese writer Rie Kudan is given suspiciously close coordinates: the action takes place in 2030. A little earlier, the entry point of an alternative reality was established: this is 2016, when the project of the Tokyo stadium of the famous Zaha Hadid was rejected. In the novel by Rie Coudan, the stadium was built anyway – and its beauty haunts the main character named Sarah Makin, also an architect. Sarah, 37, designs the building that gives the novel its title. Together with the stadium, the Tokyo Tower of Sympathy should show the world a kind of paired harmony. The only problem is the purpose of this tower formulated by the customer. Although it is called the English word “Sweetheart”, it is a prison. As they say, “cute but wild.”
However, the visual theme in the novel ends before it even begins. The writer does not tell us at all what exactly the notorious tower looks like. In the spirit of the same Hadid or in the spirit of the great Japanese Kenzo Tange? Even the authors of the covers – and the novel has already been published in several translations, including Vietnamese – depicted a rather abstract general imprisonment against the backdrop of the rising Japanese sun. It’s worth warning right away that you shouldn’t expect miracles of visual art from the book; the descriptions here are rather crude: “It was as if the goddess was addressing the world in the latest, most beautiful language” or “And I’m sensitive to any terrible force, so I need to be careful not to simply mistake her charm for charm.”
And having taken up the topic of “crime and punishment”, the writer, throughout all 188 pages of her colleagues, mentions only Hugo with his “Les Miserables”.
There is almost no Jean Valjean among the characters. In the image of a conventional Cosette, the unfortunate A. appears briefly, faced with the cruelty of the capitalist world, which builds “not schools, but prisons.” “Cute Tower Tokyo” is a concept created by another character. Sociologist Masaki Seto comes up with “reverse stigmatization” for criminals, a comfortable prison from which they do not want to leave after serving their sentences. The whole storyline of the “tower”, where there is a good library and social networks are prohibited for peace of mind, looks too general.
The author seems to feel this and cannot help but mention such “good old” real prisons, which are unlikely to go anywhere in 2030. For example, Futu, on the western outskirts of the city, where communist leaders and proletarian writers were held for long periods, up to 18 years. It was to them that Konstantin Simonov dedicated the poem “No” in 1948 (“Did he recognize the divinity of the Mikado? Does he swear in the future not to break the law?..”). However, if the context of the novel had expanded in this direction, it is unlikely that it would have been included in the short list of the Yasnaya Polyana Prize.
The line between Sarah Makin and her friend looks much more natural in the novel than the hints “the whole world is a prison.” It is with him that she tries to establish human contact, despite the difference in generations. Sarah talks confidentially about the obstacles she has faced literally all her life. While you try to formulate all this, no one will listen to the end. That’s at least one of the difficulties.
For the heroine, that same Zaha Hadid stadium is the embodiment of a healthy sporting feeling: not competition or national superiority, but the forgotten philosophical call “Oh sport, you are the world!”
She doesn’t want to admit victory in unnatural races. After all, as a schoolgirl she won the Mathematical Olympiad, but received only bronze in the overall competition. Then, as a 14-year-old girl, it was difficult for her to prove anything to adults. The next misfortune is katakana, one of the systems of the Japanese graphic alphabet, which is not given to the heroine: “I cannot love a structure that will turn into a pile of sticks if you remove at least one of them, I cannot love these dull lines, devoid of beauty and pride, without any content, which still have the audacity to express the words of any foreign language.”
Finally, the heroine has already been attacked by the merciless ageism of those around her, expressed most aphoristically in the novel. Here translator Anna Slashcheva at least had a place to shine: “I was born in the years of Showa, and I have no vibe, no relevance, no empathy.” The heroine has to be consoled by a handsome guy named Takuto. This particular character turned out to be very lively and recognizable: he wears expensive branded clothes, but honestly introduces himself to everyone as “a miserable part-time worker with no income, renting a one-room apartment in Adachi for fifty-five thousand yen.” Takuto, with whom almost the only unexpected plot twist is associated, embodies the eternal type of victim of corporate culture, so familiar to all fans of Japanese literature and anime. The wealthier Sarah is unlikely to help him financially, but she will at least try to teach him how to live.
Rie Kudan. Sympathy Tower Tokyo / Trans. from Japanese by A. Slashcheva.— M.: Eksmo, 2026.
