Review of International Booker-longlisted Hunchback by Saou Ichikawa

"Hunchback: A powerful, original novel challenging ableism, with a unique protagonist navigating societal norms and personal power dynamics."

“My Steamy Threesome …” — that’s how the International Booker Prize-longlisted novel Hunchback begins, enticing readers with a scene in a three-storey swingers’ club.

But the moment this raunchy segment is over, readers are left to marvel at how Saou Ichikawa — who created history by becoming the first author with disability to win Japan’s prestigious Akutagawa Prize in 2023 — deftly steers the narrative engine, making Hunchback a revenge story: a pushback against ableism, that is.

Polly Barton, who has exceptionally translated Ichikawa’s debut novel from Japanese to English, has done a great service to world literature by offering this work new visibility and acclaim. What readers worldwide must do, however, is to not reduce Ichikawa’s artistic brilliance to her disability — congenital myopathy.

Though the author has used her experiences, as writers often do, Hunchback is immensely layered. The protagonist is a 40-something Shaka Izawa, who calls herself a “hunchbacked monster” — a reflection at the intersection of self-image and others’ gaze — for she has a severe muscular disorder and an S-shaped spine, and writes on sex.

Note Shaka is also the Japanese name for the Buddha Śākyamuni. Our heroine’s WordPress account name too is Buddha — a way to humour herself. It’s satirical, too, for she knows that she isn’t like the Enlightened One who left his family in search of nirvana, because she can never leave. She lives in a group home, owned by her family, where she is cared for.

But Shaka’s isn’t a sad story for ableist audiences. The protagonist knows how to take control. She talks about how assistive technology can make a noticeable difference in one’s life. Societal norms, on the other hand, continue to be respected; Shaka is provided with gendered care. Her parents never miss any chance to remind her to be grateful for all they’ve done for her. But Shaka is not looking for sympathy. Nor is she accepting a form of oppression passed off as tradition.

When COVID-19 hits, she accepts the services of a male caregiver, Tanaka, who self-identifies as a beta male. “He’s probably an incel,” Shaka wonders. It’s during a conversation between the two that Tanaka shares that he has read all the provocative content Shaka posts online. Things such as: “I want to get pregnant, then have an abortion.” Or: “In another life, I’d like to work as a high-class prostitute.” Tanaka is an embodiment of someone who can exact harm on Shaka with this knowledge, but Shaka learns he needs money. She propositions something, making this story take a sharp turn and illuminating what it is to exercise power — its relative nature and exploits.