Goodnight, Tokyo

Best-selling Japanese writer Yoshida's English-language debut, enabled by Australian literary translator Haydn Trowell, is a delightful montage portraying strangers serendipitously connecting in the wee hours despite the vast anonymity of living in one of the world's busiest, most populous cities. Each of the overlapping dozen chapters opens with, "rapidly approaching," "precisely," "already," at 1:00 A.M. Every character links to another. Film props procurer Mitsuki regularly calls taxi driver Mitsui for help. Searching together for an elusive fruit, loquats, they encounter Kanako, a self-proclaimed (once-a-year) loquat thief who works at a call center. Mitsui picks up an "irregular" passenger who turns out to be well-known detective Shuro, whose successes have inspired books and movies. In seeking to rediscover his actor father via nearly forgotten films, Shuro meets a part-time theater worker who might be a missing runaway. Shuro's also got unfinished (culinary) history with Ayano, one of the owners of the nighttime diner, Yotsukado (meaning crossroads), which serves as an intersection for nourishment and companionship. In his afterword, Yoshida promises "ten books in one." He charmingly, ingeniously, utterly delivers.

A series of quests in Tokyo turn out to be related. It's after midnight in Tokyo, and something is missing. Mitsuki Sawatari is at the prop warehouse, searching for an obscure artifact to meet a movie director's exacting specifications. Mitsuki is tasked with tracking down whatever an artist requires, whether it's out-of-season fruit or potentially nonexistent household appliances, no matter the hour. When the resourceful procurer is out of ideas, she turns to Matsui, a late-night cab driver and her confidante. Amiable and professional, Matsui is loath to divulge the details of his own quest to his customers. Still, when a young man who may or may not be a detective hops into his cab one night, his curiosity is piqued and he's tempted to ask him for help. He discusses the matter with another customer, Kanako Fuyuki. Kanako's job at the Tokyo No. 3 Consultation Room has taught her to answer all manner of questions. Though she can counsel a broken heart or find watercolors before daybreak, she too has a person from her past who cannot be found. The cast seems to grow exponentially with each chapter. Every interaction, however cursory, unlocks new pathways, catalyzes relationships, and nudges at fate. To Matsui, those connections happen, not despite the size of Tokyo, but because of it: "When you consider that every person has their own connections, that those networks spread out in a myriad of intricate ways, you realize that the greater the number of people, the greater the rate of the spread, like a contagious disease." There's something magical about these late-night fairy-tale interactions, every person unwittingly walking the city with the key to a stranger's mystery in their pocket. As the coincidences grow in number, though, their impact turns feeble, and the final twists of fate underlying the premise have an air of resignation. A sweet series of interconnected stories that ultimately fails to dazzle. Copyright (c) Kirkus Reviews, used with permission.