Some books don’t just tell a story—they confront you. Hunchback by Saou Ichikawa did exactly that for me.
At first glance, it’s a slim volume. A novella that looks like it could slip quietly into your day. But the moment you step in, you realize—there’s nothing quiet about it. Shaka Izawa, our narrator, lives in a care home, her body failing her while her mind roams sharp and free. She tweets blunt, often outrageous thoughts. She writes erotic fiction for a living. She wants things society refuses to imagine for someone like her—desire, agency, even pregnancy. And she says it all without apology.
Reading this book felt like entering a space I’ve never been invited into before. It’s funny in places, painfully honest in others, and deeply unsettling throughout—because it forces you to see what you’ve unconsciously ignored. It makes you question why intimacy, sexuality, and even the idea of choice are considered luxuries for some bodies and birthrights for others.
Polly Barton’s translation captures all of that rawness and wit. Some lines made me laugh out loud. Others stopped me mid-sentence with their quiet ache. It’s not a book that leaves you feeling “good,” but it leaves you thinking—about loneliness, about care, about what it really means to be human in a body the world doesn’t accommodate.
This isn’t just any novella—it’s an award-winning one. Hunchback won Japan’s prestigious Akutagawa Prize in 2023, making Saou Ichikawa the first disabled author to receive the honor. The English translation has since been longlisted for the International Booker Prize 2025, a recognition that speaks volumes about its universal power and resonance.
Would I call this an easy read? Not at all. Would I call it an important one? Absolutely. It’s the kind of story that lingers—sharp, unpolished, and unforgettable.