Miller’s writing is cinematic . . . at all times the author is in command

Revelatory

A quite beautifully written coming-of-age novel . . . a precisely, lovingly rendered evocation of imperial Japan

Miller’s trademark is silken prose which gleams with acutely rendered detail

Miller’s writing is a joy . . . a memorable novel, one that stays true to the randomness of life, to unplanned acts and fateful outcomes . . . Deeply moving, written with loving attention to language, it felt like Pasternak back from the dead

A real achievement

Not only does he combine delicious literary conceits with thought-provoking explorations into the human condition, he has the rare gift of tossing out perfect sentences that make you stop in your tracks

There are moments of beauty, truth and irony

Andrew Miller is one of Britain’s most graceful historical prose stylists . . . He deftly captures the nuances of his subject’s emotional maturation against the brittle bellicosity of mid-war Tokyo

Miller’s masterful coming-of-age story ranges from a subtle and spare poetry to an almost Proustian evocation of experiential time

Miller’s writing reaches across historical distance . . . Like one of the silk umbrellas that Miller’s characters carry, the novel unfurls slowly to reveal the intricate, hand-painted patterns hidden at its centre