100 Books Like The Fine Art of Invisible Detection

Writing about the internet is notoriously difficult but Sudjic swings it, sublimely. Although ostensibly set between London and New York, Sympathy almost transcends setting with its focus on millennial Alice Hare’s online haunting of writer Mizuku Himura. After becoming infatuated with Mizuku over Instagram, Alice maneuvers an IRL friendship, which spirals into sexual obsession and possessiveness. It’s a brilliant character study and meditation on alienation, online personas, and the algorithmization of attraction. 

This story is not only a history of Singapore and Malaya before, during, and after the war, it is also a beautiful love story and gripping family Saga. It’s a chunky book in which Noel Barber paints an indelible picture of pre-war colonial life in Singapore for both the colonials and the Malaysians.

Noel Barber brings to life the British defence build-up and the military and colonial administration’s mistakes, which led to the Japanese invasion. It was as though they could not believe the Japanese could or would invade their territory. The story is romantic and heart-breaking, as Noel Barber delves into family ties and the characters’ fight for survival.

I recommend this book for two reasons: I read a lot, yet this book has stuck with me for over twenty years, so it must have impacted me. Second, this author is no longer with us, so I think everyone… show more.

You may have noticed that hardly anyone uses simple lines on a chart anymore—everyone uses candlesticks. When I was revising my own book, the technical advisor recommended just deleting the part about different types of standard bars and presenting only candlesticks. What’s so likable about Bigalow’s work is his total clarity, in the book and also on his website. He identifies the candles you need the most, shows you what they look like, applies them in real cases, and tells you the outcomes. Not only are the charts as clear as can be, so is his prose.

Wilson describes his walking journey along the ancient Kiso Road through the Kiso Valley and the stops he made in the eleven post towns along the road. Today, some of the towns, like Narai, Tsumago, and Magome, are popular tourist destinations because they have maintained something of the look and character of the Edo Period, but in Wilson’s narrative, even the lesser known towns have something interesting to offer. Walker describes personal experiences with local people he met in the inns where he stayed and provides historical and literary backgrounds that add depth to his journey. The Kiso Road was the most scenic segment of the Kisokaidō (aka Nakasendō), the inland road between Kyōto and Edo during the nineteenth century.

Junji Ito is the master of the unsettling.

His storytelling and artwork combined create books which even the strongest stomached would find uncomfortable. And yet, we are drawn to them, unable to look away. And he understands that the most terrifying thing is not an invasion by something outside of our world but the realisation that the everyday world around us might turn against us. 

Uzumaki is a story about incomprehensible obsession and how it can take over a society to the point of destruction. One by one, the people of a small Japanese town become obsessed with spirals. Not a monster or a ghost, but a shape, until the power behind it destroys everything. 

For me book covers are part of the joy of owning books. My choices are all partly connected to the message conveyed by their covers. On this cover there are the objects associated with the ritual of tea drinking. In my view, we (in the West) have lost too many everyday rituals that make life meaningful. Surak shows the historical connections between the rituals that surround Japanese tea making and the making of society itself.

I found this book a creative addition to the books that attempt to find the origins of modernity in East Asia before contact with the West. Rather than looking at nationalism, Ikegami examines the individualism embedded in the ethics of the samurai. She then shows how starting with Toyotomi Hideyoshi’s ban on swords in the late sixteenth century and the eventual consolidation of the Tokugawa Shogunate in 1603, such individualism had to be curbed or transformed. From this perspective, early modernity in Japan was associated with the emergence of a centralized state that ruled out certain forms of spontaneous aggression, what Weber called the monopoly of violence. 

This book is the first-person narrative of a young woman experiencing the shock of incapacitating grief after the death of her grandmother, who had been her only family. 

When I was a young woman myself, I lost someone close to me. I had trouble getting out of bed and lost interest in other people and activities. I had just graduated from college and, due to the impending death, had not made plans; as a result, I had no structure to fall back on, no concept of the future to keep me going. There was a sensation that time had stopped.

While stuck in this emotional space, one of the only books that helped me was a translation of this book. Yoshimoto depicts in striking and lyrical detail the sense of apartness and timelessness that grief can engender, and the ways that focusing on details of daily living—like cooking—can assist with… show more.

Both the Italians and the Japanese are obsessed with food, and I’m an Italian living in Japan. You do the math. My first shocking encounter with sushi notwithstanding (I mistook wasabi for some kind of green mayonnaise) I love Japanese cuisine, and anime stories are full of people eating all kinds of food. 

If you have found yourself watching an anime and wishing that you could taste a particular dish, with this book you can go one step further: you can make it yourself. Here you will find simple but detailed instructions on how to make lots of Japanese dishes, and their connections with a particular anime title. I wish I owned this book when I first entered Otakudom. 

Written by the 20th century’s leading interpreter of things Japanese, this travel memoir has a timeless, elegiac quality. Donald Richie lived in Tokyo, but he based this work on a series of trips through the waterways and fishing villages of the glittering Inland Sea. Beyond his beautiful sketches of the seascape itself, his warm, human interactions with fishermen, aunties, merchants, and monks give voice to a disappearing side of Japan. They also serve as a mirror into the metaphorical inland sea within himself––the good, bad, and ugly––which he freely reveals. Seeing the world Richie describes vanish evermore in the decades since, the book’s resonance only grows with age. This is why I find myself diving back into it again and again.