Murata’s latest novel...continues to explore life on the fringes in Japan through an even darker and weirder lens, one that will take most readers on a wild ride far beyond the outermost limit of their comfort zones ... so much of the story’s grotesque joy depends on the surprise at just how perverse things can get ... It is a book that must be experienced firsthand, but it is also a book for which a single trigger warning would not be adequate, as it enthusiastically challenges most of our most deeply held societal taboos ... Whereas Murata’s goal with Convenience Store Woman may have been to gently unsettle her readers, it’s clear that Earthlings’ mission is to actively disturb. By disrupting her readers’ complacency, Murata allows us to better empathize with the misfits she champions. As her characters’ unease and discomfort becomes our own, we gain greater awareness of how it feels to be an outsider looking in ... The journey is often rather harrowing and bewildering and will appeal to few readers. But for adventurous readers who revel in a book that defies expectations and dares to be outlandishly different, Earthlings is a mind- and soul-expanding countercultural battle cry that is utterly one of a kind.
The novel’s tone hovers between deadpan and naïveté: Even in its episodes of violence it has an affectless quality, which we presume is a function of Natsuki’s PTSD from the sexual assault (plus her E.T. origins, of course). Its appeal lies precisely in this tonal flatness — the anthropological distance the narrator maintains from her subjects. Reminiscent of certain excellent folk tales, expressionless prose is Murata’s trademark. If her description of 'the Factory' strikes a superficial note, we can ascribe its stripped-down literality to Natsuki’s automaton identity. Extraterrestrials, it seems, are less like living beings than rudimentary robots with limited powers of affective analysis ... no need, in Murata’s stories, for a tedious interpretive struggle ... Their project of de-acculturating themselves is rendered matter-of-factly, without suspense, since — existing in a half-life of childish patter and reductive reasoning — they didn’t exhibit much tension of personality or emotional intelligence in the first place. But the proposition that we can deconstruct our socialization through an act of will is intriguing and important. Here it comes with a dose of pathos, since these characters don’t possess the conceptual tools to explore with depth or nuance the human nature they’re so focused on rejecting. Their beef with society is the reproductive pressure it exerts; other systemic oppressions that might give a thoughtful alien pause, like widespread inequality and injustice, are of no interest ... If the Marquis de Sade were reanimated as a polite Japanese millennial — less French, less political, less relentlessly graphic and less obsessed with feces — he might produce a document like Earthlings ... Murata’s presentation of alienation as a natural response to the pressures of conformity may not give us much that wasn’t on offer in, say, European existentialist writing of nearly a century ago. The strength of her voice lies in the faux-naïf lens through which she filters her dark view of humankind: We earthlings are sad, truncated bots, shuffling through the world in a dream of confusion.
As sole narrator, Natsuki relates all this in a spare, blunt tone that appears to hide nothing. The transparency of Murata’s prose and dialogue is jarring, seeming to rob the reader of all rights to interpretation. Yet what it really does is repeatedly throw us off balance—such matter-of-factness is dizzying. What are we to think of a character who has earned our sympathy yet whose unflinching take on a parent’s grief is: 'Humans got really worked up when an organism that had inherited their genes was killed' ... What happens when they return to Akishina is shocking, hilarious and hugely, darkly entertaining. Murata has crafted an unforgettable, original hybrid of absurd fantasy and stark realism.
[A] deeply disturbing exploration of one woman’s attempt to try to survive outside cultural norms in Japanese society ... what transpires is both horrifyingly bizarre and wildly transcendent; there are no traditionally romantic 'Earthling' endings in store ... Murata doesn’t shy away from writing extreme violence (some may be too much for some readers) and at times the graphic gore can seem gratuitous but there are also elements of sharp cultural critique and very dark humor that help to shift this novel into a powerfully good read.
Murata displays her gift for scrambling notions of utopia and dystopia to propulsive effect—only this time, her characters are convinced that they’re rebelling, not conforming ... As Earthlings swerves into violent, transgressive, fantastical territory, Murata—ever the good scientist—keeps us in thrall by never putting her thumb on the scale. Her matter-of-fact rendering of wild events is as disorienting as it is intriguing. There is no right or normal, there is a narrator but no clear protagonist. Again and again, Murata frustrates our desire to make judgments or find meaning based on accepted norms. If the book’s ending feels unreal and unsatisfying, perhaps Murata has succeeded in her experiment—and we were her subjects all along.
As an autistic person, Murata’s sparse, straightforward prose is easy to read and get lost in. But it wasn’t just her linguistic style; reading Keiko struggle through social interactions, pushing down her own emotions and observing how other people interact and mimicking how they speak, I saw myself. When I worked in the service industry, I struggled with the social expectations of the job, but, like Keiko, I found comfort in having a script and a routine. I thought I was alone until I read autistic novelist Naoise Dolan’s piece on the Guardian earlier this year: 'I thought I was too different to see myself in a novel – but Sayaka Murata got me.' ... If Convenience Store Woman is about, in part, the comforts of routines and scripts, Earthlings is about the opposite: the freedom to be found when you stop trying, when you abandon all of the rules and indulge entirely in what makes you feel good and comfortable at any cost ... It’s a sharp interrogation of the way our brains and bodies react to trauma and to feeling 'other' that forces anyone to question what their place is, what’s truly necessary to exist in society, and what 'normal' truly means ... Murata’s novels are a valuable, heightened exploration of the intense discomfort that people, autistic or not, who are just a little outside of society can feel when they try to force themselves to fit in. Murata’s message is: stop trying.
... skillfully translated ... a dark, surreal, and brutal novel ... while there’s never a sense that Murata condones or supports their extreme choices, her refusal to cast judgement allows the reader to view these monstrous acts as a reaction to society’s inability (or unwillingness) to accept those who are different, who don’t see life as a conveyor belt of production and procreation. I’m sure some will argue that Murata didn’t need to go to such stomach-churning lengths to make her point. But for me, it’s the book’s visceral, grim savagery, and those final shocking pages, that makes this such a vital, powerful novel. In the current pandemic haze where it’s easy for the days to blur together, Earthlings is the sort of challenging, confronting fiction that wakes you up with a jolt and leaves a lasting impression.
One of the greatest appeals of many novels is that, because we are all the protagonists in our own story, we see ourselves as the special ones and readily identify with characters who are singled out—regardless of whether our hardships align with theirs. But Earthlings subverts this old formula. Natsuki and Yuu fail to escape formal society, and instead of a grand, redemptive journey, their lives are an endless struggle to assimilate ... And so the novel is rather cynical. Despite the bleakness of its message, Earthlings is not overtly misanthropic. Its satire is padded with a sense of earnestness.
Murata revels in the otherness itself rather than the implications, losing some of the bite of her previous work ... In Convience Store Woman, Murata shows a deft hand, expertly assessing and critiquing society on both sides of the coin; both the bought-in and the othered. However, in Earthlings, Murata doesn’t allow herself the same nuance, and instead seems to feel the need to up the ante at each turn ... I’m rare to give a warning, but this isn’t a book for the faint of heart ... That’s not to say her criticisms or assessments aren’t just as clear-eyed as before; they are. Her writing remains compelling down to the sentence level, though at times the words feel more like Murata’s than Natsuki’s. Murata’s focus seems to be simply on highlighting the depravity we as Earthlings can engage in. She calls attention to some aspects of the Factory we take for granted; but her drive to continually escalate the scenario and push the line undermines this aim. Convenience Store Woman left me eager to read another book of Murata’s — after Earthlings, I’m once again left waiting.
... ends with one of the most visceral, unforgettable descriptions of lives gone awry that you might ever read ... deftly translated ... The book should come with a warning on the cover: not for the squeamish or faint of heart ... a radical rollercoaster of a story that zips along from one outlandish scenario to the next ... lacks the restraint of Convenience Store Woman, and Murata doesn’t care if it’s palatable to readers. This is both a good and bad thing. Sometimes the zaniness of the plot leads to rushed transitions and gaps in information and character development, but ultimately the author is to be applauded in her aim, namely to provoke revulsion and anger at the way people, women in particular, are viewed by society as procreators.
... Murata’s new novel takes the quietly spoken themes of her cult hit Convenience Store Woman and sends them into orbit. The two books might be seen as siblings, though Earthlings would definitely be the evil twin ... the book switches from muted tones to a Technicolor explosion, as Murata throws in a convulsion of sudden shocks including murder, necrophilia and cannibalism. This is a high-risk move: it takes a story about not fitting in and turns it into a sort of freak show – even though it’s hinted that the Grand Guignol grotesqueries of these scenes aren’t really happening. But whatever Earthlings is, whatever planet it comes from, it’s a tale of quiet desperation to make your brain fizz.
The descriptions of dissociating from [Natsuki's] body are particularly gut-shredding ... Natsuki makes for a compelling narrator, and Earthlings is a frequently disturbing but pacy read, with its own off-key humour. I ripped through it, despite some misgivings. While Natsuki is vividly drawn, especially in childhood, other characters are frequently less convincing, and the story hurtles towards a lurid finale that Murata doesn’t quite pull off.
Earthlings is not the easiest novel to stomach. Parents, drawn to the cutesy cover, may be inclined to pick up the book for their children, but should be forewarned that it contains adult themes such as incest - albeit consensual - cannibalism, sexual awakening and child abuse ... Likewise, Murata's tale is a wholly original contemplation of the ills that threaten Japanese society today and their potentially debilitating effect on mental health. She gives a voice - albeit a twisted one - to the voiceless: the bullied schoolchildren, the minors who fall prey to paedophiles and the adults who are pressured to conform to societal norms.
Murata revels in the otherness itself rather than the implications, losing some of the bite of her previous work ... In Convience Store Woman, Murata shows a deft hand, expertly assessing and critiquing society on both sides of the coin; both the bought-in and the othered. However, in Earthlings, Murata doesn’t allow herself the same nuance, and instead seems to feel the need to up the ante at each turn ... I’m rare to give a warning, but this isn’t a book for the faint of heart ... That’s not to say her criticisms or assessments aren’t just as clear-eyed as before; they are. Her writing remains compelling down to the sentence level, though at times the words feel more like Murata’s than Natsuki’s. Murata’s focus seems to be simply on highlighting the depravity we as Earthlings can engage in. She calls attention to some aspects of the Factory we take for granted; but her drive to continually escalate the scenario and push the line undermines this aim. Convenience Store Woman left me eager to read another book of Murata’s — after Earthlings, I’m once again left waiting ... There’s a perverse sort of musicality to the way Murata plants her own seeds through Natsuki’s adolescence, building up her protagonist’s dogged, strong-willed personality and deadpan observations of the world around her. The result is a scathing indictment of Japanese cultural priorities ... mired in Natsuki’s internalized sense of uselessness and worthlessness, the first portion of Earthlings comes off as an emotionally draining experience ... With this quasi-anthropological approach to dissecting conformity and dominant social paradigms, Murata builds a fragile bubble in which Natsuki struggles to preserve her pseudo-xenozoological qualities. It’s a lifetime of trauma packed into an unforgiving story about self-identified aliens seeking a home among a hostile populace. Murata’s candid, matter-of-fact tone only serves to highlight the gulf between accepted 'normalcy' and Natsuki’s brand of unearthly otherness ... an exhausting read, but one that forces the reader to confront their own biases and standards for what is socially acceptable, and more importantly, what they deem acceptable in others. Horror is often a mirror for things we’d rather not see, and sci-fi often a vehicle to places we’d rather be. Murata marries elements of both into one meticulous journey to the heart of human psychology—one that forces us to address our own reflection—if you have the endurance to get to the end.
...internal conflict is conveyed in prose that becomes ever more unreliable. It’s never clear whether a handful of key events are real or an extension of Natsuki’s coping mechanism and sign of mental trauma. The sense of unreality is heightened by the tonally flat style of writing, which maintains a steady pace and neutrality that lends abuse and stuffed toys the same amount of emotional weight. The prose style fits its subject matter – capturing the emotional deadness of a woman who’s disassociated from her own body – but it also means there’s no real sense of narrative suspense. It also means that while the book has plenty of black humour it’s hard to connect with any of the characters or to be truly shocked by the finale.
Earthlings is an original depiction of how one woman processes her childhood trauma. And though the tone is generally lighthearted, there’s a dark undercurrent beneath. Murata’s style can be polarizing, and the book could use a little more emotional resonance. Yet somehow, despite the severity of its themes, it’s still a quick and compulsive read.
Earthlings is a curious novel --- quaint and quirky at the start, then increasingly bizarre and frightening right up until its horrific and unbelievable end. With sparse language and sharp social commentary, masterfully translated by Ginny Tapley Takemori, Sayaka Murata skewers the trappings of modern life and introduces readers to an innocent pushed to the very edge of sanity.
Sayaka Murata’s Earthlings swerves between the absurd and the inane, sending the reader on an intoxicating rocket ride into outer space while their feet are still firmly planted on the ground. Her language is evocative and lyrical and marks a stark contrast with the down-to-earth dialogue between characters. This is coupled by Ginny Tapley Takemori’s masterful translation — a seamless and faithful recreation of the original Japanese ... at its heart, a scathing review of the society we live in. Her carefully curated world unravels in startling ways, with each twist outdoing the last, creating an unrivaled mind-blowing reading experience that will have you talking about it for weeks. It’s an absolute must-read for 2020.
Takemori has indeed rendered a bona fide page-turner, but the novel also retains the idiosyncratic lightness of Murata’s distinctive style. 'She has such a unique voice and she’s so nonjudgmental of her own characters,' says Takemori. 'She presents them and lets the reader decide. Even though the novel says so many dark, important things about society and families, and how they can unknowingly facilitate abuse, it’s all so layered and cleverly revealed.' As Natsuki, her husband and Yuu struggle to break free from 'the factory' of Earthling society, even at its most heavy-handed moments, Murata’s use of repetition and subtle persuasion echoes the psychological playbook of cults, and her critical eye on society is sharp.
Murata has risen to even more bizarre heights, revealing modernity’s pernicious system of human commodification and social control with disturbing, visceral clarity ... Murata is a master at fostering an almost unbearably unsettling mood: her dialogue, translated by frequent collaborator Ginny Tapley Takemori, is self-consciously unnatural, an uncanny simulacrum of human interaction that signposts the falseness that Murata sees in human relationships under capitalism ... Tinges of dark humour notwithstanding, Earthlings makes for unpleasant reading that at times borders on the excessive, yet given the state of our world, Murata can hardly be blamed.
...societally defiant, shockingly disconnected, disturbingly satisfying fiction ... Murata again confronts and devastates so-called 'normal,' 'proper' behavior to create an unflinching exposé of society.
... on finishing Sayaka Murata's novel, Earthlings , I was left quite speechless. It is the kind of book that needs you to pause, take a step back and then decide upon a response ... the themes it deals with are largely dark, some clearly exaggerated for the purposes of fiction, but nonetheless relevant to the modern world. However, the approach does keep a distinct gap between reality and fiction, so the reader may observe, but in the manner of a cinemagoer: thankfully, this alternate reality is sufficiently strange to prevent the reader from full immersion into its peculiar horror ... The childlike prose persists with Natsuki as an adult, adding to the sense of detachment, but also masking the more chilling undertones of the narrative.
Murata’s unsettling, madcap 11th novel...chronicles the nightmarish discontent of one girl amid the deadening conformity of modern Japanese society ... The author’s flat, deadpan prose makes the child Natsuki’s narration strangely and instantly believable and later serves to reflect her relationship to Japan’s societal anxiety. This eye-opening, grotesque outing isn’t to be missed.
A dark coming-of-age story ... The sense of whimsy Murata creates is quickly crushed beneath the weight of the depravity Natsuki endures and the very unpleasant places her escape into fantasy takes her. Like Convenience Store Woman, this new novel is a critique of cultural expectations that limit what women can be and what they can do ... Like many an author before her, Murata uses surrealism and the tropes of horror and science fiction to explore real-world problems. But, here, she writes without subtlety or depth. Shocking scenes follow one after the other in a way that ultimately feels more pornographic than enlightening ... Simultaneously too much and not enough.
