I received this from NetGalley in exchange for an honest review.


A story that grabs you from the very beginning. The prose is sparse and beautiful, and the story is intriguing and captivating. I preferred the parts of the story that took place in Japan, rather than Algiers, but overall, I enjoyed the story and look forward to reading more by the author.

‘There are times in your life when something happens after which you’re never the same. It may be something direct or indirect, or something someone says to you. But whatever it is, there is no going back. And inevitably, when it happens, it happens suddenly, without warning.’

‘The Snow Kimono’ is mainly set in Paris and Japan, between the late 1950s and late 1980s. There are three main characters: the retired police Inspector Jouvert (a Frenchman), and two Japanese men a former Professor of Law, Tadashi Omura, and his schoolfriend, the writer Katsuo Ikeda. The two main storytellers are Jovert and Omura, and the story moves backwards and forwards in time as it passes between them.

The story begins in 1989, when Jovert receives a letter from a stranger, a woman claiming to be his daughter from a relationship he had in Algeria thirty years earlier. Shortly after receiving this letter, Jovert is approached by Tadashi Omura who has his own story to tell.

‘And we lapsed into silence, falling back into our own separate worlds, hers with its unknown
future, and mine with its inescapable past.’

I found I had to pay careful attention when reading this novel. Nothing is obscure or irrelevant, but not all connections are easily made. Truth is not fixed, interpretations often seem to suit a particular selfish purpose. The role of Katsuo Ikeda is central, even though the man himself seems to be at the periphery of the story. He’s in gaol, we learn, quite early in the novel. Why won’t become apparent until much later. Jovert is looking for truth, but life (unlike crime) cannot be solved.

‘He’d been looking in the wrong direction. The retrospective piece had fallen into place.’

And for the pieces do fall into place, memory has to be questioned. Memory is not fixed and immutable, as Jovert may have once believed. And once Jovert realises this, there are possibilities to be considered.

It took me a while to get into this novel, a while to appreciate the interconnectedness of the pieces of the puzzle, a while to accept the evolution of memory. There’s a lot to admire about this novel, about the way Mr Henshaw constructs the various elements of the story and then pulls it all together.

Jennifer Cameron-Smith

The writing was so beautiful and the book just flowed. It's difficult to write a book that is measured and delicately paced without losing your audience, but I was enthralled throughout. My only problem was that I really had to pay attention as narrators would change without notice and there are a lot of characters to keep track of as they drift in and out of chapters. Definitely worth the effort.

Paris, 1989--Auguste Jovert receives a letter from a woman claiming to be his daughter. Shortly after, he suffers an accident that renders him home-bound. At this time, a stranger appears at his door. The stranger is Tadashi Omura, and soon Jovert's and Omura's lives intertwine. As the two men's stories develop, stories that will take readers from Paris to Japan and back again, Jovert and Omura discover that they are connected through love lost, past friendships, and a mysterious dead body. More than this, they will grapple with the knowledge that everything they know is based upon lies.

Review: I love stories about Japan, Asia, and everything that includes. So, when I saw this book, I immediately requested to do a review for it. i must confess that I didn't know what to expect though because it's written by a western author, and I've had bad luck lately with book about Asia or Asian characters. Even after that, this novel was a surprise, and a pleasant surprise at that. I fell in love with it from the first few pages, and I can confidently say it's one of my favorite novels of 2015. I'm shocked I haven't heard more people talking about this release. Everyone needs to read it--it's amazing.

What pulled me into this story immediately was the way Henshaw writes. His prose possesses a fluidity and lyricism that is infectious, sweeping, and it will wrap you up like a warm hug. Though this novel isn't exclusively about Japan, the atmosphere Henshaw invokes specifically recalls the modern masters of Japanese literature--Kawabata, Mishima, Dazai--and this is a feat few have been able to perform. I wanted to reach for my Yasunari Kawabata collection and reread those gems of the modern Floating World. Henshaw does it effortlessly. The simplicity, the focus on the small things, the things not said--characteristics of Japanese fiction, add to the sheer beauty of this novel where everything matters.

Henshaw's skill with description, world-building, and characterization brings Paris and Japan to life in a completely immersive world and story. The characters are believable, sympathetic, and real. They reach from the page and pull you into the mystery and magic of the story. Feelings of loss, nostalgia, regret, all emanate from the page with prose that illustrates the fact that each word is chosen with care. Each character, as he tells his story, reveals an authentic voice that further reflects the completely rounded and fully developed world within this story and the people that populate it. That is especially rare when writing Asian characters, and Henshaw again does what most cannot. Omura particularly doesn't fall into habitual stereotypes of Japanese or Asian male figures that seem to populate a lot of Western fiction. Omura is real, accessible, a worthy protagonist. Likewise, the scenes that whisk us away to Paris or Algiers offer a real glimpse at these locales with an acute attention to detail.

Most noticeably, this novel is about memory, the nature of reality, and the nature of the little "realities" we create for ourselves throughout our lives. The notion that "When he thought about it later, it seemed to Jouvert that he had spent most of his life listening to people, sifting through what they said, weighing, assessing. Trying to fit things together. But life, unlike crime, was not something you could solve. What people told you was not always the truth; the truth was what was to be found out, eventually, by putting all the pieces together. And sometimes not even then" reflects the very postmodern nature of this novel. Jovert and Omura try put put the pieces of their lives in place to solve the mysteries of their past that plagues their present. Life is about putting together the pieces in hope that we find enough pieces to not just make sense of our lives, but ourselves as well, that we may hope to learn and find peace.

After all, that's literature; it helps us learn, to understand, to know who we are and who others are. That's what makes this novel so beautiful--the prose, yes--but watching and learning from these characters as they attempt to grapple with the notion of truth, and as they come to learn about themselves and their world. As they come to understand what went wrong in their lives. This novel will make the reader question, and questions are beautiful too.

Really, I don't even know how to review this book except to repeat the fact that the writing is gorgeous, the world and characters within engrossing, and the immediate mirror to Japanese classics is a mark of Henshaw's skill. I recommend everyone read this book. It sucked me in and I need more. It's left me utterly speechless.

Disclaimer: I received a copy of this book from the publisher in exchange for a review, and it in no way influences my opinions.
This review originally appeared on my blog: The Literarium

I took notes as I read this for book club, and I'm so glad I did as it's quite a complicated piece of work. There's a mix of characters to love and hate, and some twists right towards the end that I never saw coming. Bless the author, he came to our bookclub to give some insights and was so engaged and entertaining. We'll have to see if we can have more authors join us. One insight was the power of the first sentence. In this case:

There are times in your life when something happens after which you're never the same.

Masterful and intricate story telling and tender tone. Gasp.

Read full review at: http://thereadingarmchair.blogspot.gr/2015/05/arc-review-snow-kimono-by-mark-henshaw.html

Disclaimer: I received an advanced copy of this book from the publisher via NetGalley in exchange for an honest review

After the shock of learning that he has a daughter in Algeria, inspector Jovert gets to know his neighbour Tadashi Omura. The Japanese man has to share an interesting story with the inspector, although he never explains the reason he feels the urge to do so. As Omura's life unravels we learn more about his childhood friend, Katsuo Ikeda, who has played a major part in the story that has brought the elderly man into the present. In the meantime, Omura's complicated story forces Jovert to face his own, buried memories.

The story of The Snow Kimono is filled with love and loss. Great emotions, as well as relationships that feel strong, lead to isolation. Secrets well-hidden eventually come to light and drive the lives of the protagonists into unexpected paths. Memory is a savage editor. It cut's time's throat. In the end, the lives of the people involved seem staged by this strange fate. It's like all of this happened in order to make Jovert and Omura do what they should long ago. But the story is not just emotional. At times, it's shocking and disturbing, making the crimes committed even more painful.

Jovert and Omura are both very likeable characters. The Japanese man at the beginning seems a little weird because he acts like a stalker. He waits for Jovert outside of his apartment, he invites himself in it and even makes an appointment for dinner without asking the inspector beforehand. But as we learn more about his life, we see that he is a man of principle. The French man, on the other hand, is someone that hasn't come to terms that he's retired. This is the reason why he feels that he's missing something from his life. He's offered, though, another explanation for this emptiness and this is the existence of his daughter. At first, he is sceptical towards Omura, but who wouldn't be? Lastly, Katsuo is a self-centered character. He has a way of looking down on everyone else and plays with their feelings. He is the reason for many of Omura's misfortunes.

The Snow Kimono is well-written. The narrative is poetic and this makes it a heartfelt read. Sometimes I lost myself between the stories because the author jumped from one character to another without an introduction or a transitional passage. At other times, I got the feeling that I was reading more Katsuo's story than that of Omura or Jovert. Indeed, most of the narrative concerned incidents from Katsuo's life that Omura was present. Nevertheless, the end was rewarding and I forgot most of my objections.

After reading this novel, I want to search the rest of Mark Henshaw's books. The writing impressed me and the story made me feel a variety of emotions. So, I would say that The Snow Kimono is a novel worth reading. I would recommend it to everyone, especially those who like deep, emotional reads.

To be honest, this is one of those books that I could simply list appropriate adjectives for. This book is poignant, evocative, moving, heartfelt, shocking and, unerringly beautiful in equal measure. Such is the complexity of the writing and plotting, that it almost defies its own inclusion into the crime genre, as its literary credentials are plain to see, and the pace and lyrical intensity of the slowly unfurling plot, take the reader on a wholly mesmeric journey. With each strand of the narrative pivoting between separate characters telling their story, and the shifting location from France to Japan, and the unique characteristics of these two societies, rural and city, weaving in and out of the plot, the reader is constantly kept on the back-foot, and deliciously toyed with as to how the plot will develop. Henshaw cleverly harnesses the haunting simplicity of Japanese fiction, with all the style and impetus redolent of European crime fiction, in this utterly enthralling and highly original novel. Wonderful writing, and a book that I cannot urge you strongly enough to discover for yourselves.

The Snow Kimono, by Mark Henshaw, was described by the Sydney Morning Herald as ‘a thriller of the intellect.’ That being the case I suspect that I am not intellectual enough to appreciate the nuances of plot and complexities of interwoven character development. Put simply, I finished this book without understanding what the author was trying to say.

There are two main threads to the tale. First we have the Japanese story which revolves around Katsuo Ikeda, an apparently brilliant young author who also happens to be a narcissist and possible sociopath.

“he seemed to suck the light out of things”

His story is told during conversations held in a Paris apartment between his old friend, Tadashi Omura, and Auguste Jovert, a recently retired Inspector of Police who has his own story to tell.

This second tale forms the parallel thread. In his younger days Auguste worked in Algiers where he lived a double life as an undercover government operative. I found this strand particularly confusing. I did not pick up on how he ended up as Inspector of Police in Paris.

I harboured an expectation that at some point the stories would merge, or at least exhibit some similarities. If this happened then I missed it. Both men had difficult upbringings, numerous relationships and distanced children but these are hardly unusual life events. Their stories seemed to be building to more. The tangled threads contained many knots which I struggled to undo.

I suspect that one of the reasons for my confusion was the proliferation of unfamiliar names. I lost track of exactly who the many women with whom Katsuo became involved were. Likewise, the Algerian women became muddled together in my mind. To me this book resembled a mathematical puzzle that required note taking and relationship maps to enable the reader to keep track and understand key events. I could not simply read and enjoy.

The first chapter failed to grab my attention but by the end of the second chapter I was appreciating the quality of the writing, the imagery and the potential for a mystery to be developed and solved. That I got to the end without understanding left me feeling dissatisfied. Elements were explained, the Mariko, Sachiko, Fumiko strand being the most straightforward. The links between Auguste’s numerous relationships remained unclear.

That this book did not work for me need not mean that it will not work for other readers. The language, structure and phrasing are nicely done but, for this reader, the raison d’être remained obfuscated.

My copy of this book was provided gratis by the publisher, Tinder Press.