Netsuke: A Novel

By Rikki Ducornet

This captivating descent into a psychoanalyst’s troubled, erotic, and harrowing inner world “tenaciously plums the tension between impulse and restraint” (American Book Review). Ruled by his hunger for erotic encounters, a deeply wounded psychoanalyst seduces both patients and strangers with equal heat. Driven to compartmentalize his life, the doctor attempts to order and contain his lovers as he does his collection of rare netsuke, the precious miniature sculptures gifted to him by his wife. This riveting exploration of one psychoanalyst’s abuse of power unearths the startling introspection present within even the darkest heart. A finalist for the National Book Critics Circle Award, Ducornet has fashioned a brilliant novel “as fascinating as it is dirty and dark,” where “sex and psychosis are indistinguishable” and “the plot is impossible to resist” (Publishers Weekly, starred review). “Ducornet is a novelist of ambition and scope. One is grateful for what she’s accomplished here.” —New York Times “An unflinching meditation on the twinned drives of lust and destruction . . . Ducornet makes her characters real and scary beneath the ruminative, quietly observant prose. Highly recommended for literate readers.” —Library Journal “An enticing, fast-moving exploration of one man’s obsession with his calculated power and unhinged desires.” —Booklist “This story has some fascinating insights and noholds-barred language.” —New York Journal of Books “It has important things to say, embedded in the deadly beautiful prose. . . . Readers owe it to themselves to encounter this slim but complex novel on its own terms.” —Jeff Vandermeer

• Language: English
• Publisher: Coffee House Press
• Release date: May 1, 2011
• ISBN: 9781566892711

Rikki Ducornet

Rikki Ducornet is a transdisciplinary artist. Her work is animated by an interest in nature, Eros, tyranny and the transcendent capacities of the creative imagination. She is a poet, fiction writer, essayist, and artist, and her fiction has been translated into fifteen languages. Her art has been exhibited internationally, most recently with Amnesty International’s traveling exhibit I Welcome, focused on the refugee crisis. She has received numerous fellowships and awards including an Arts and Letters Award from the American Academy of Arts and Letters, the Bard College Arts and Letters Award, the Prix Guerlain, a Critics’ Choice Award, and the Lannan Literary Award for Fiction. Her novel The Jade Cabinet was a finalist for the National Book Critics Circle Award.

Book preview

One

Although it is still very early, the wealth of the day is upon him.

He is running. He is listening to Monteverde and he is running. He is very muscled and lean. He lopes along hungry as a wolf. There is something regal about the canopy of leaves above him. The sun has only just lifted over the rim of the world.

His days are made up of what he calls real time and the interstices. Real time provides an identity, a footing. The interstices, however, provide him with a life. The sun begins to spill onto the path. He runs dappled with light. Hooked to Monteverde, he doesn’t hear the birds rioting in the trees. He runs like a creature of the woods before the world truly began. Long before the first great cities of the world had ever been conceived. He is aware of his sex when he runs.

There is a pretty woman, surely half his age, running toward him. As they are about to pass one another, his eyes leap into hers. She slows down and turning, runs backwards, looking at him. When he glances over his shoulder, she bursts into laughter. A gentle breeze lifts. The day shimmers with the music of Monteverde. Still laughing, she turns away and runs into the trees. It is like a movie, maybe an animated cartoon: he playing the centaur to her nymph. Yes, that’s it: a centaur.

In an instant the world compresses into one point of heat and light. Off the path now, deep in the trees, they begin to devour one another’s tongue and teeth, panting each time they surface for air. He pushes her up against a tree and takes her. She burns at the center of his life. He will never weary of fucking her. She rides him, he rides her; she drowns, he swims into her depths; she cries out; she trembles; she says wow and laughs again, but very quietly; he emerges from her, and with a graceful, almost imperceptible gesture, rearranges his cock; he hesitates a moment; he tenderly brushes her cheek with the back of his hand and says:

Sorry, Sweetheart. I’ve got to go to work.

Yeah. She nods, and beams down at him as he fumbles with the lace of his sneaker. She sighs; she, too, pulls herself together. So what’s work? she asks, lightly. Not wanting to appear overly curious. Needful.

Psychoanalysis, he says, eager now to get on his way. He thinks she looks like a kid, her straw-colored hair barely holding in a rubber band. A sweet-looking kid. A daisy, among many of the field.

Bye, Sweetheart, he says, and off he goes, turning once to smile at her and wave, the gesture charming, attentive, and yet …

Hey! she calls out after him. He is vanishing down the path. Hey!

Theirs is a big city.

Back home he showers and works up a lather. He’s Neptune in a sea of foam. He is a god leaping from the interstices back to the real world. He recalls that for the gods, the real world was, in fact, the interstices: a playground, a mirror of the heavens, a theater. Each morning after his run is like this: he, in a lather, reflecting, pummeled by water. He will stay in the shower for an hour, making himself over, making himself new. The process, he thinks, is alchemical. Today he is feeling especially philosophical. He considers the nature of women. The daisies of the field, so fuckable, so breakable. The ones who call out Hey! and stamp their feet in irritation, like mares. The ones who blossom early, only to succumb to nerves. Those who startle easily and sour in an instant; love with them is like sucking lemons. The lazy, careless women in need of pedicures, who, when darkness falls, can be seen lolling about, unkempt, in tapas bars. The aging actresses, their sweet vulnerabilities on parade. Incandescent alcoholics as troublesome as fever dreams, fantastic in the early hours of the evening, but only then. The chameleons. The gorgeous exotics prone to outbursts of temper. The luscious North Africans, their balaclava pussies. The antelope who cannot settle down—a good fuck on an airplane, taxicab, the train. The new mistress one fucks before sitting down to dinner with one’s wife. The women who give courage (these are rare). The wild ones with magenta manes who wear boots in all seasons. The whore who brought down Enkidu, who showed him the things a woman knows how to do. The tribal types who like sex in clusters. The women who, at Christmas, consider suicide. The frisky ones. The ones who talk too much. The ones who kill with silence. The risk takers. The ones with Big Ideas. The death cunts who kill with a look. The tender ones, the Feyaways, like islands, who love in cautious isolation, who rub one’s feet; they have juicers. One abandons them judiciously, all the while cooing like a dove. The clients whom one fucks in the name of a Unique Experiment. The wives whom one betrays, extravagantly. The current wife: Akiko. The one for whom the interstices were superseded, if only briefly, by the Real. Akiko. Whose beauty no longer troubles his sleep. (His world is mazed with cunts and he has not yearned for hers in centuries.)

An old Prince of Darkness—this is what he has become. His teeth worn to the gums, his tongue swollen with overuse, his cock, like his heart, close to breaking.

1

A SMALL PRIVATE PARK that Akiko has transformed into a scene from The Tale of Genji extends beyond the house; it has a broad path that leads to the public trails, thickets, a wetland, a lake.

I run from our house into the public land in the mornings, often alone, in the early light. I can run for over an hour without hearing the hum of city traffic. This early in the day, there is something more than royal about this domain: it is mythical. I run toward the past—not my own past, mind you, but a distant, primal past. A past in which my own infancy, or the current lousy state of affairs, or even the great city beyond the bluff—is unimaginable.

Today when I return to the house, I see the lights are on in Akiko’s studio. This means I will find a thermos of fresh green tea waiting for me on the kitchen counter. A sweet gesture, considering how evasive I am with her. Akiko has come to confuse my evasiveness with a retiring nature. In her words, I am the silent type. My silence conceals a wealth of worlds best left undisclosed.

We have been together ten years. Long enough for my idiosyncrasies to have faded into invisibility. Akiko, too, has faded. She is the white noise I have come to depend upon and possibly cannot live without. Akiko is witchy, clairvoyant. Her astonishing dreams are astute, surgical. They keep me on my toes. This marriage of ours puts us both at risk. She is in danger because I lie incessantly and the habit of these lies has blunted her gift and confused her. Love has caused her to distrust her own intuitions. Yet I am in danger also, because I cannot help but offer her clues. It is inevitable that sooner or later I will falter, offer one clue too many and in this way bring us both down. When I fall, she will fall with me. Perhaps this is a comfort of a kind.

2

MY PRACTICE BELONGS to a shelf in the Devil’s Kitchen. Insulated, above suspicion, I take my pleasure and am sustained by the sorrow of others. Their carnality. The ceaseless ebb and tide of human inconstancy, negligence, cowardice.

In the world I know, everyone is betrayed sooner or later.

The Practice is not of my own making. I mean: it is an inheritance of a kind. I have wandered its maze since infancy. I do not know another way to live. I often wish I did. The Practice is the inevitable extension of my own private dilemma. It is lethal, and yet without it I would perish. Assiduously, I portion out its poisons. Assiduously, I orchestrate the days. Like a game of chess, the Practice proposes an infinite set of circumstances. Or, rather, not exactly infinite. For I begin to—and this admission is terrifying—to see how redundant, how compressed, the games are.

My clients are thwarted, famished, and lonely.

Reviews for Netsuke

[melissalenhardt · Rating: 2 out of 5 stars]

What makes fiction "literary" instead of, you know, good, is a focus on language instead of story or character, on how the story is told instead of telling a good story. I can't think of a better review of Netsuke than that.

[bookworm_naida · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

Netsuke is the story about a married psychiatrist who sleeps with his patients. The narrative is lyrical and at times blunt and this novella was an unexpected gem.Author Rikki Ducornet does an excellent job at getting inside the doctor's mind and at expressing his thoughts. This psychiatrist is unwilling to stop cheating on his wife and has been living this secret life for many years. He seems to want his wife to find out about his infidelities, he drops clues often, but she turns a blind eye. The wife, Akiko, is a successful artist, often away due to her work. This is the doctor's third marriage and the couple live well off because of their professions. The doctors lover's all have issues and he seems to enjoy playing with fire this way. One of his partners is a young woman who cuts herself, another is a cross-dresser. He has no shame in his sexual encounters, whether they occur in his office or in his home. He even schedules his affairs into his week on a regular basis, i.e. Fridays afternoons are kept open for sex with patients.The doctor himself is despicable, not only is he unfaithful, but he is taking advantage of his patients. I couldn't help but be sucked into this story and was curious as to whether he would get caught. He was unstable and impulsive, and his actions kept shocking me until the final page. When he wants to impress a patient, he goes out and buys new clothes, bringing his wife along for her opinion.I felt he both loved and hated his wife. He resents her for his own unfaithful ways, blaming her for his behavior. His complex character is what made the story. I found it ironic that the doctor was the one that needed the therapy. This is the type of book that you read slowly. Some of the passages were poetic, and I found myself re-reading them. Due to the subject matter, I found this to be very impressive. I also found it impressive that for being just 127 pages long, this was heavy reading. This is not the type of book you read in a single sitting. But always the clock strikes. The knife falls. In love I am only blind. There is no knowledge there. No purifying fire. A moment's bliss and then: the mule brays.p.37I should mention that there is graphic language used in this story, I know some readers would veer away from that. Sex is a main theme in this book. I didn't mind the explicit language, I felt that it added to the straightforwardness and darkness of the story. Rikki Ducornet is an interesting writer and a poet, and I would definitely read her work again.

[taletreader_1 · Rating: 3 out of 5 stars]

I received this book through Goodreads' giveaway. This is not the kind of book I'd usually pick up--the reason being not the content, but the cover. In fact, as engrossed in the book as I was, I still couldn't help but feel the cover brought the story down. It just irritated me to say the least! As for the content, what a beautiful use of language! The plot is OK--an ironic case of a psychologist, check--lots of sex and dirty talk, check--a bit of humor here and there, and a void of what even the most "respected" person's psyche can end up being. I felt the stories the main character went through with his "clients" was a little strung out, almost as if the author was trying to brag about how often this guy got laid (the main character I mean). I did like the behavior and relationship between the main character and his wife, however, and how the clients fit into that subplot. I liked the length of the book (I love short, short chapters) and how much detail the author was able to fit into such a small literary work. As for the prose, wow! Like I said, what beautiful language the author uses. I wish I could quote her, but let me just say that a lot of metaphors concerning something grotesque end up juxtaposed with beautiful, naturesque subjects such as the ocean or wolves. While the cover would never have caught my attention, I'm so glad I read this book. Props to the author on language that both caught me off guard and made me smirk.

[knomad_1 · Rating: 3 out of 5 stars]

A netsuke is a small beautifully crafted container for personal items that one would hang from ones kimono. Keeping ones personal identity abstracted from your physical body. Ornamenting the ordinary every day object by enclosng them in highly crafted containers that expressed the merit of the owner. Is the main character in this novel a Netsuke(?) - or is the novel itself a Netsuke(?) - both perhaps. Very well polished prose that encloses and keeps seperate the emotional and personal identities of the character and the book itself - turning both into objects that stand apart from themselves and their meanings.

[beckylynn_1 · Rating: 1 out of 5 stars]

Horrible. The writing, the story, the characters, all of it. Yes, I know, seems a little much, but that's truly how I feel. However, in saying those things, I did finish the book. Often times when their this bad I don't waste my time on them, but I had to see this one out. The writing alone was painful, hard to follow, and it seemed the author was trying to make it confusing. There was absolutely no character development and what little you learned about them, it was contradicted later in the story. Basically, the entire time your asking yourself, is this man going to stay with his wife, continue cheating, and get away with it? Will he do the right thing and leave his wife to pursure these other women? Or will he say screw it and continue on the same path he's on? Don't bother, because there's what I call an 'M. Night Shamalyn' ending that is strangely predictable...

[mrshemery · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

I won a copy of this book from LibraryThing in their Early Reviewers Giveaway this past April. I've decided for this review I'm not going to follow my usual format of breaking it down into four sections. Instead, I'm just going to do a regular review:Starting off, we are introduced to a psychoanalyst whose name we do not know. Right away, we are aware of his somewhat disturbing sexual appetite ... whether it is with a random woman while jogging, a patient who's known as 'The Cutter' or a transvestite.As the story progresses and we encounter deeper recesses of the doctor's mind, it becomes apparent that, perhaps, the doctor is in need of a psychoanalyst himself. His sexual encounters endanger the relationship he has built with his wife, Akiko. His obsession with these encounters becomes so much that he acquires a new office space in town to better facilitate these bizarre activities.Part two of the book introduces us to Akiko, the doctor's wife who is an artist. I believe she knew all along what the doctor was up to, but chose to turn a blind eye in the hopes that he would be able to stop the acidic relationships on his own.By the end, it was never said if the doctor and Akiko stayed together or not, but the ending definitely gave you a strong sense of where their relationship was heading.This book, though short, was definitely different. It's the type of story that sticks with you in the back of your mind long after you've finished reading it. If you're looking for a book that is a quick read, but gives you an deep intimate look into the mind of serious sexaholic, then this would be the book for you.

[wrmjr66 · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

**semi spoilers below**The main character in this short novel would be at home in a Roth novel. His sexuality is all-consuming, even perverse, and it torments him. As the novel begins, he is able to maintain a careful balance between his comfortable, solid home and professional life and the sordid "interstices" (his word) where he betrays wife and profession. He seems to exude an animal magnetism at times, but most often his sexual liaisons are with those who seek help from him. As a psychoanalyst, he has access to wounded and needy people, and he takes the almost cliched view that he is helping them as he screws them.The first part of the novel is told almost entirely from his point of view. We get to know his wife, Akiko, and his patients (or as he calls them, "clients") only through the lens of his torment. The second part, which makes up the final 3rd of the novel, switches to a third person narration that allows us to see the damage he is doing as his life and interstices mix together and collapse. I found the ending to be too rapid, and though descents such as his do occur, I felt like Ducornet robbed the novel of some of its power by having his life unravel so quickly. The ending felt a bit like Checkov's early plays where, though the ending is appropriate, it is somehow at the same time lacking in power. Checkov, of course, went on to write masterpieces like The Cherry Orchard; perhaps Ducornet has a potential masterpiece in her as well.

[dedenoel · Rating: 2 out of 5 stars]

To be honest, I found this novel kind of hard to read. It was at times very boring and lengthy. None of the characters were relatable to me and I just couldn't get into it.

[kanadani_1 · Rating: 3 out of 5 stars]

A short, tightly-written story about a psychologist as he observes his own spiral of self-destruction. Unfortunately the book was not to my taste. I found the POV changes off-putting and while I normally find despicable characters fun to read I could not find any sympathy or curiosity that would cause me to keep my attention. However, it was tightly-written and despite the short length of the book it told its story with great detail and a gallery of character studies to pick from.

[kmboyett-1 · Rating: 2 out of 5 stars]

Can't say I was a big fan of this book. While it should have been more of a study of a man's psychological breakdown, it was instead a disjointed, rambling frenzy.

[melmmo · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

As much blame as other readers place on Akiko, I believe that she is a product of her culture and blameless. To me, this is a truly beautiful novel (novella?), as the prose is so beautiful, and the story speaks nothing but the truth. While it is dark, to me it was also inspired. Artful. I want to read it again and again, but for the first time, and I only wish it were longer.

[rachelpenso · Rating: 3 out of 5 stars]

This book is about a psychoanalyst who has a nasty habit of seducing his patients. I was really unsure what rating to give this book. It was very dark and not at all enjoyable, but definitely interesting. The main character had not a single likable thing about him and I felt frustrated that his sweet and caring wife had wasted so much time being with him. The book was barely over one hundred pages, which is good. I don't think I could have read two hundred plus pages of that story.

[tlm0000 · Rating: 3 out of 5 stars]

This is my first experience with Rikki Ducornet. I loved the flow of the language. It's written as if the author is writing as the characters brain thinks. I think this is a glimpse into self importance and narcissism of a Doctor and what happens to a person who has no accountability for his actions and seeks only to fulfill his own wants.Good book, quick read, but definitely not for everyone.

[rentie_1 · Rating: 2 out of 5 stars]

I admit that it was a quick read, but I was expecting a different kind of a book. It was a little to off kilter and risque for my taste.

[michaelg16 · Rating: 3 out of 5 stars]

"I was bred in anger, born and bred to rage. I eat away at the ripe flesh of things like a wasp eats away at the body of a fig, leaving it to rot." The psychoanalyst at the heart of this odd powerful novel speaks these words - not, as one would expect, one of his patients. Rikki Ducornet has a small and loyal readership through poems short fiction and novels, like this one, and really deserves far more based on style and thoughtfulness alone. Netsuke are small beautifully rendered Japanese jade animal pieces that contain hidden glimpses in to a society and an artistry that can be subtle to the point of disappearance. The odd and difficult "plot" of this novel is not unlike that. Is one meant to understand the therapist and his highly suspect - and certainly unethical actions? Or are we to engage him in our internal dialogue and see if the fullness of this story yields some smaller exquisite "meanings" that we can only enjoy in the deepest and most private part of our own psyche? I can only say that this is a harrowing tale told by a harrowing voice and reads quickly and yes - sexily - though I am somewhat unconvinced that the author wants us to like anything but the craftily constructed prose.

[laylanm-1 · Rating: 2 out of 5 stars]

I really thought I would like this book, as I generally enjoy reading about people who operate outside the bounds of what society says is normal. I was therefore very disappointed to find that I didn't like this book at all. The characters have no redeeming value whatsoever, particular the unnamed psychoanalyst at the heart of the story. He is the most megalomaniacal character I can ever recall reading, and his behavior is so far out of control that it becomes unbelievable. The book also was very short, and I felt as if none of the characters was fully actualized.

[ellenflorman · Rating: 2 out of 5 stars]

I thought the premise of this book was promising- a psychoanalyst who operates outside of the bounds of personal and professional ethics. He sleeps with his patients and then feels compelled to drop "hints" about his exploits to his wife. As I read, however, I found that I despised the characters- especially the unamed psychoanalyst. I didn't get a complete enough analysis as to why this man is such a miserable exxcuse for a human being. His wife's passivity and refusal to confront him was frustrating to watch. I also found it somewhat unbelievable that none of his sexual conquests felt compelled to report him to the authorities. The story just did not seem believable.

[eliz12_1 · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

This was an extraordinarily curious book, filled with characters I pretty much loathed. Very dark, very odd and disturbing. There's a great deal about power and sex and loneliness. It reminds me of a painting with stark color and terrifying images that you would linger before at a museum, but wouldn't want in your own home.The story is quite basic: an obsessed therapist, sex, his artist wife and a series of patients all seemingly as enthralled with the therapist as he is himself, and all more than eager to sleep with him. (Call me too practical, but I did keep wondering: didn't a one of these many men and women ever consider calling the police, or the national board of psychiatry or whatever?)That said, Ducornet is a magnificent writer who manages to use just a few potent words where most writers would require at least 100. And unlike so many books about strange incidents and human nature, this one is not bloated or sentimental or neatly wrapped up. I read it in practically one sitting and it certainly took me out of my ordinary world and into one profoundly different from my own.

[isolablue · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

Perfect because the volume is slim yet heavy, the 127 pages of Netsuke are as intricately carved as the tiny Asian art pieces for which they are named. Rikki Ducornet has shown us the culmination of a writer's flight to mastery: perhaps no one has ever said so much in so few words. Netsuke is an intimate look into the mind of a man (in this case, a psychoanalyst) who preys (and plays) upon those who come to him for help. Tortured minds and tortured souls are turned into the sex toys of the doctor whose work life is compartmentalized into two rooms - Drear for the patients who bore him and Spells for the patients who become his focus, fascination, and - ultimately - his victims. Yet somehow the doctor's victims never quite come across as the standard folks we read about in newspaper accounts. They may be unhappy, at times destructive, a strange blend of crafty and insane, but ultimately they are stronger than the doctor, stronger than his all-knowing, all-wonderful persona. He is selfish, yes. He likes to control; he enjoys power. But - ultimately? How does one who has studied the human mind, the human psyche - how does that person live with himself when he examines his own betrayal? Netsuke is much more than a look into the crimes of a psychoanalyst. It is also a novella that examines the role of the traditional modern wife (in this case the wife, an artist, has her art career and her own money in addition to enjoying her prestige as the doctor's wife and enjoying his money as well) and brings up issues of expectations within marriage, the strange inability to communicate within couples, and passivity born of fear, upbringing, or a possible desire to close out the unthinkable. Ducornet's miniature book is a triumph of words, but readers should prepare themselves for walking along the edge of a razor blade as they read. It hurts to read, but one keeps reading because the suspense is great and we become as addicted to the narrator's play as he is. We keep on the tightrope of the razor blade until the last unforgettable word.

[bobbieharv · Rating: 2 out of 5 stars]

I was so pleased to have received this book as an Early Reviewer, and so much looking forward to reading it, and was quite disappointed to find myself so disappointed by it.And yet, the reason is a bit paradoxical - I wanted more of it. It's a surface treatment of a complicated man, his complicated marriage, his complicated (to say the least) relationships with the patients he seduces, and of those patients themselves. If I were her editor I would say: keep the writing the same, but give us more in-depth treatment (yes, pun) of each of those four things. Keep the shifts in point of view (in 127 pages, sometimes within one tiny chapter, she writes from inside the analyst, then his wife, and then two of his patients - this is disorienting, to say the least), but expand them - and, preferably, keep them separate, in separate chapters or even separate Parts.Fascinating topic but execution an extreme letdown.

[iandssmom · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

This book is one that will have you thinking!! It is short so a quick read but so much to take in and think about. The book is way more psychological then erotic as the description has so don't let that put you off reading it. It is a must read!!!

[phoenixterran · Rating: 3 out of 5 stars]

When Rikki Ducornet's Netsuke was offered through LibraryThing's Early Reviewers program, the title immediately caught my eye. I had recently seen a collection of netsuke--miniature sculptures used as toggles to secure personal belongings in traditional Japanese dress--at the Toledo Museum of Art. Now, Ducornet's Netsuke isn't actually about netsuke, although they are used symbolically. Instead it is about the sexual proclivities of a troubled psychoanalyst, but I found this premise to be fascinating as well. I haven't read any of Ducornet's previous works but in addition to Netsuke, released by Coffee House Press in May 2011, she has written seven novels, three short story collections, five poetry collections, and a book of essays, many of which have been translated into multiple languages. In addition to being a writer and a poet, Ducornet is also an illustrator and a painter.Netsuke closely examines the internal turmoil of an unnamed psychoanalyst. Akiko is his third wife and their marriage is close to failing as well. If she suspects him of being unfaithful, she mostly keeps her suspicious to herself. In the meantime, he feels compelled to drop hints and leave clues about his many and frequent affairs although he claims not to want to hurt her. He sleeps with complete strangers and people he picks up at local establishments. Most damning of all, he abuses his power as a psychoanalyst and seduces his own patients, trying to convince himself that it is for their own good as well as for his own. But it is only a matter of time before his life completely unravels as he struggles to keep control of the volatile situation he has created.The protagonist is really not a likeable guy or a sympathetic character. He is completely aware of what he is doing but does not fully understand the extent his actions affect other people although he obviously knows that they do. His betrayals of his wife, of his patients, and of his sexual conquests are harsh, brutal, and ultimately explosive. I can't help but wonder about his previous two marriages; surely there must have been some indication or warning for Akiko that he would be dangerous person to become involved with. It is apparent from the very beginning of Netsuke that things cannot possibly end well for the psychoanalyst or any of those connected to him. And although it is often painful to watch his demise, unlikeable though he is, it is also oddly compelling and difficult to look away. The ending is not entirely unexpected but it still makes a stunning impact.Netsuke is a very brief but very intense novel. From most of the review I've seen, it is a book that readers either absolutely love or absolutely hate. I can certainly understand why some people have problems with the novel. The subject matter, for one, is rather dark, difficult, disconcerting, and distressing. The language that Ducornet employs is strong and could easily be offensive. Just about every iteration of "fuck" is used as well as many other choice words and phrases. I didn't have an issue with the language and found it to be appropriate to the story, but others would probably appreciate the warning. Ducornet's narrative style in Netsuke, while lyrical and often evocative, is also fragmented. Of course, this is a reflection of the protagonist's state of mind and Ducornet captures it extremely well. This does mean that the reader never gets the full story and is almost exclusively limited to the extraordinarily biased viewpoint of one character, but the technique is very effective.Experiments in Reading

[the_darling_copilots · Rating: 2 out of 5 stars]

This is a book that I wanted to like, based on the description, but found lacking in emotional weight and psychological depth. The interior monologues of the main character are silly and strained, making it seem that the author created a plot and characters that she found beautiful and interesting and then tried to force an interior psychology into it.That said, Netsuke would be good summer reading. Sitting on a beach under the hot sun reading this book, cocktail in hand, Ducornet’s florid and self-consciously precious language would probably distract you sufficiently from the plot and characters--which I found shallow and uninteresting during the chilly damp Pacific Northwest spring when I read it. Oh well.

[speedy74_1 · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

As I read this book, I didn’t know whether to be repulsed by the characters or intrigued by the author’s lyrical prose. The characters are easy to loath as the unnamed psychoanalyst seeks numerous sexual encounters with his clients, and then drops hints to his wife about these relationships. One thing I found frustrating about the main character is that he is only developed in terms of his unethical actions, but not in a way that helps the reader understand how he has come to this path in his life. The psychoanalyst’s wife is also repulsive in the way she “knows” about her husband’s actions and does not act upon them. She seems to wilt under his multiple transgressions. I was angry at her for not being a stronger woman and confronting him about his affairs, or at least try to “catch” him. Her only reaction seems to be to do things she thinks will please him and to be hurt when these actions do not have their intended effect. The power he seems to have over her made him even more sickening as a character. Conversely, the book’s number one redeeming quality is the lyrical prose the writer employs. The writer’s sentence structure and word choice make her prose urgent yet somehow mysterious with its mythical allusions and frequent use of symbols. These elements make Netsuke an interesting book choice for a college course or book club as readers work to decipher its deeper meaning. While I didn’t find this book to be an enjoyable read…it somehow haunts me.

[bale_5 · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

Netsukes are tiny Japanese sculptures that reflect important aspects of Japanese folklore and life. (1) In the novella, “Netsuke” by Rikki Ducornet, they become a symbol for the life led between a pathological psychologist and his wife, Akiko. Akiko has given her husband a number of Netsuke since the time they met. They are housed in a beautiful cabinet within one of his offices (it is important to note, the doctor refers to his various offices as “cabinets”). This lovely cabinet symbolizes their home, filled with quiet beauty. A home that makes it seem the couple have everything - money, beauty and love, with passion for a shared life. They do not. Akiko is simply a possession that represents the life the doctor knows he should appear to have. This is the only reason he has acquired it. One must dress, live and look trustworthy, so that you will not be suspected of what you really are. In order to maintain what has become a house of cards, the doctor must lie repeatedly. He has convinced himself that his sexual acquisitions are simply interstices, meaning the parts lived between his real life with his wife and ordered life, and the sexual deviance he craves. However, the lies he must maintain in order to enjoy these interstices take over and become life itself. The author successfully depicts this with the lyrical prose of a master builder. As the story develops, the reader anticipates a peak moment where the seed of her direction will be revealed with extraordinary verse. Yet it does not. The meter-or that is rapidly descending out of the sky, ready to explode, dissipates before impact and the reader is left wondering, what just happened. This does not diminish the value of the author’s writing before her ending. It simply leaves the reader wanting more, in the style and originality that fueled the first three-quarters of her, otherwise, intriguing novella.1 – “Netsuke.” Wikipedia. 2011. Wikimedia Foundation, Inc.. 25, May, 2011