Gifted ... or Not so Much

Suzumi Suzuki "Gifted".

Gifted claims to be a story about a mother–daughter relationship at an intense crossroads in their lives. The mother is dying; the daughter, who works in Tokyo’s entertainment district, quits her job to spend time with her. That framing sets the bar very high. One would reasonably expect tense conversations, long-buried arguments, revelations about shared past. At the very least, the novel could offer insight into Tokyo’s underbelly or into how elderly care is organised in Japan -especially given the country’s well-known aging population crisis.

Unfortunately, what could have been a compelling novel turns into a bleak, pale catalogue of daily activities: the sound a key makes in a door, nearly finished toothpaste, and other banal details that lead absolutely nowhere. As Anton Chekhov famously said, “If in the first act you have hung a pistol on the wall, then in the following one it should be fired. Otherwise, don’t put it there.“ 

A museum of unfired pistols

Gifted unfortunately completely ignores this basic rule of storytelling. Suzumi Suzuki introduces the reader to plenty of what could be purposeful elements - intriguing family stories that could lead to character development or conflict resolution. However, none of her “pistols” fire at the end of the story.

The key that opens the door with a specific noise leads to no further development. The toothpaste running out connects to nothing. Most importantly, the burn the mother once made on the daughter’s arm, loaded with emotional significance, offers no additional insight into their relationship whatsoever.

The father never appears in the story, yet we are treated to a strange episode involving a man, a former admirer of the mother, who visits the hospital and hands over a large sum of money to the daughter of a woman he hasn’t seen in years. Are we really supposed to believe this? Who wouldn’t want a mysterious stranger to show up with a stack of cash every time a parent gets sick? “Sure, give me the Money.” While this is a pleasant fantasy, it is not a believable storyline, especially when it appears and disappears without any narrative consequence.

And what about the promised mother–daughter dynamic?

What actually happens between them? We are told the mother comes to stay with her daughter for her final days, yet there are no meaningful discussions or dialogues that help us understand their relationship. Very quickly, the mother ends up in the hospital - and that’s it. Her storyline is over before it even begins. She has no role left to play in the novel. Confusing, and ultimately disappointing.

We do learn fragments of childhood memories, but they are uneven, one-dimensional, and once again lead nowhere.

So perhaps the Tokyo entertainment district will save the book?

This section shows a bit more promise. While it is not advertised as the core of the narrative, we at least get some insight into Japan’s hostess bar industry. Women paid to create artificial, transactional intimacy with men who can afford it. Japan’s deeply sexist and hierarchical culture is well known, and while Gifted hints at offering deeper insight, it hardly justifies struggling through 120 pages of poorly written, disconnected storytelling.

A quick Google search of “Japanese bar hostess” would give you enough information to skip this book entirely.

What are we left with in the end?

Gifted promises a story about relationships and delivers 120 pages of unfinished, disconnected plot threads you can safely ignore. Suzumi Suzuki's novel was all about overpromising and underdelivering, much like your corporate boss.