Read: February 2024
This book is a work of art, from the cover outside to the photos inside. The text is a finely crafted mix of autobiography, descriptions of walking along small coastal villages of Japan and its inhabitants. Every few pages, there are beautiful, high quality shots with a melancholic vibe of buildings and landscapes that Craig Mod encountered along the way, often with an interesting colour palette and a play of light and shadow.
The owner said she never intended to own the place. But the guy she married turned out to be a nudnik, couldn’t hold a job, and so she entered the kissa game. Took over this shop from someone else thirty years ago. That husband was long gone, but she kept at it, loved the work, loved the view. She was buoyant and chatty and her arms and legs had the subtle quality of a finely made marionette, shaking as if animated by the beating heart of some puppeteer above.
The whole thing is a bit melancholic, a bit wehmütig for times gone. In his own personal life he describes a brother-like friendship that illuminated his rough childhood. And in the surroundings he’s walking in, he describes the derelict coastal towns with aging populations and shuttered store fronts, where you still come across gems of people that lighten up your day.