This is a strange book. The story concerns an ex-pat who is in Tokyo. The story delves into his past, his early days in Nagasaki, where his “ghost” memories haunt him. The book slips seamlessly from present to past to present, so a lot of the time I was confused about where I really was, past or present. The author presents some great anecdotes, but as I said, in a rather confusing, stream of consciousness manner that can be off-putting to some readers. I am not really sure I fully grasped the idea, theme or plot (if you will) of the book, but it was interesting to read about japan and how the main character viewed things. Anyone interested in Japan would like this book. The title can be a tiny bit misleading if you are looking for some sort of supernatural historic story, but the book does give the reader a sense of what the main character went through and how it affected him. I received this book from the author to read and review. ( )

I finished this book at the end of last month and have been trying to decide how best to describe it - not an easy task. It will not be for everyone, but I really liked it. It is original and surreal and surprising. Always surprising because just when you think you know where it is taking you, it goes in a completely different direction. It has a nonlinear stream of consciousness thing going with the narration that takes a bit of getting used to but that really works quite brilliantly. I liked the narrator who has been damaged by life but who really wants to let go of his cynicism and anger and self-doubt and find himself worthy of his own journey. To go forward, he must go back and all along the way there are ghosts that complicate the journey, and though they all seem to belong to him, he does not know who some of them are. That is until he finds a book on a bus that he is riding - some of his ghosts are characters from this book.

It takes about the first third of this book to settle into its rhythms, I think, but the time and the effort are not wasted. There is beauty here and originality. A tale that makes you want to start the book all over again once you have finished it just to see what you make of it the second time around. Now that you know where it is going. I like books like that. The narrator talks about Hemingway and Fitzgerald and Murakami, and that is so intriguing because that is exactly what the writing reminded me of in this book. The unpredictable surreal slide between reality and fiction of Murakami, the magic of Fitzgerald's Great Gatsby, and the unadorned writing style of Hemingway. And all of this for the bargain price of $.99 if you own a Kindle.

"My college history teacher, Professor Clarke, always stressed the importance of looking at things through different lenses. Lenses, like glasses. I never liked thinking about history as optometry. Though I found the insight helpful, I found the issue of 'seeing' the world less an issue of lenses and more an issue of angles." ( )

Ghost World…

A young American businessman begins to type. He is in his swanky Tokyo apartment. Suddenly the words begin to flow and he is flooded with memories of four years earlier. The haunting time he spent in Nagasaki. A place littered with ghosts. A city that led him to a particular crossroads, located on a mysterious island, where he ached to find
personal salvation or be lost forever.
This is a tricky story to explain but the narrative unfolds with a hypnotic drive, which reminded me of the Murakami touch. The mundane, mixed with the magical.

“Japan is euphoria. The October night air coalesces into drinking, then carefree drinking, and finally reckless drinking. Soon, I’m a Travolta clone in a late seventies discotheque. I’m performing my parody of the era.”

“I land head first on the sandy beach. For a moment the world is dark. With no
fireflies to illuminate the night air, only the cynical battered moon to guide me, it’s hard to see anything at all.”

The whole book is filled with strong writing. I can not recommend this higher and I really look forward to what this author offers next. ( )

The Ghosts of Nagasaki by Daniel Clausen reminded me in some ways of folk art. Not following any particular school or rules of writing, and feeling fresh and spontaneous. However, I suspect it would frustrate a number of readers who like their plot linear. As Alex said in recommending this, if you enjoy reading Murakami, you've got the right mindset. If a first person stream of consciousness narrative of what often becomes dreamy and surreal doesn't suit, you'll probably want to take a pass.

Nagasaki was bombed after Hiroshima, and those ghosts haunt the book, but the principal ghosts seem to be both memories and guides, bringing back pieces of his life to the young narrator and trying to help get him where he needs to go (he can be stubborn, though). He's acquired a heavy heart over his brief life, and wants to lift it, but doesn't know how. Due to an entrepreneurial friend, he's a financial analyst in Nagasaki who also teaches business English to the local employees. His narration skips around in time, mostly over a four year period, as well as geographically to Tokyo and the U.S. He was a foster child growing up, repeatedly mistreated until he met up with a kindred spirit foster mother, Debra - who grows ill and dies. He's now adrift, trying to find his way, going out with his similarly searching expat friends to nomi-hodai (all you can drink) bashes, singing karaoke, trying to ditch work, and obsessively typing up this narrative.

An excerpt:

* * *

It’s a week before payday and the weather has gotten colder. Quickly approaching the state of absolutely broke, the Welshman and I have resorted to drinking cheap beer in our apartment and reminiscing about our pasts. Bad news, because whenever the past comes up, the ghost of Debra appears out of nowhere, sits down to take a load off, and starts talking in vague terms about problems―mine mostly, but sometimes just “problems.”

“You’ve got problems, I’ve got problems, the whole world’s got problems,” she says.

“Sometimes I think if we didn’t have these problems the whole world would stop spinning on her axis, we’d all stop spinning on our axises, axes, or whatever you want to call them, and then we’d have to settle into the nasty business of finding a way to be happy.”

I listen to her, sip my beer, and try to imagine what in the after-earth kind of problems a ghost would have.

And, because she can read my mind, she says, “Oh Lordy, you have no idea, young man. Life ends, but politics, well…” She leaves it at that. Then she checks her watch, as if she has somewhere to be.

More haunting to do? I ask, speechlessly.

She shrugs, “Or something.”

* * *

There may come a time when you may find yourself saying, oh, I see where this is going, and figuring it's going to turn into a simplistic fable despite its crazy quilt format. Luckily it dodges that fate and remains interesting and, for me, brain-opening, all the way to its thoughtful end. At one point he follows red shoes, any red shoes, wherever they will take him, and it turns out they take him somewhere worth going, to someone worth meeting. And in the context of the narrative his doing so is not at all surprising. What is surprising is that this is a creative, well-written book, generally clear of clunkers, that seems to be available in the USA only on Kindle, and at a bargain price of 99 cents. I would expect it to be better-known, pricier, and more widely available. Maybe it will be down the road. ( )

Like I’ve said many times before, this book was received as a courtesy from the author. Despite that endlessly kind consideration, I will give it candid feedback below.

On first glance it’s rather hard to know what exactly to expect from “Ghosts”. Supernatural thriller? Bildungsroman? Simple personal drama? Thinly veiled autobio? Stylistically it’s a stream of consciousness put to paper, almost a Blair Witch of the printed page. The narrative bounces effortlessly from point to point, backwards and forwards in time and the reader is left to untangle the meaning of all of it for themselves in much the same way that real life is left as an exercise to the person living it.

Clausen’s novel is a complex and interwoven narrative and has a certain quality to it that buries it quietly into your skull. You may think momentarily to yourself that you need to put it down and go let out the cat but before you know it an hour has passed and the cat is still rather disgruntled and awaiting your attention. Our author weaves a tale with great draw that you just have to get to the bottom of. Along the way he plants images in your head that somehow linger after the book is over.
In summary, Clausen’s book is well worth the read but the potential peruser is cautioned to exercise patience. This is not your typical novel woven of fluff and cotton candy. It is best consumed on a long, cold rainy day in January when the whole rest of the world can be shut out, leaving you in Clausen’s capable hands. ( )