As much as any short story collection possesses a dominant mood or prevailing tone, Kuniko Mukoda’s tales of modern Japan, The Name of the Flower, embrace a sense of urban foreboding, of men and women moving through their daily rhythms and routines in a disturbingly listless, dispassionate way. The characters who haunt these stories are weary and spent, drained of any meaningful emotional energy whatsoever. They sit, watch and wait. Welcome to the world of Kuniko Mukoda.
The Name of the Flower