This book feels like a person you gaze at from the window of a bus. In one moment, your attention is fully on them, only for that moment to pass as quickly as it came.

Subtle, but so tangible. If you enjoy prose-like sentences and Rachel Cusk you’ll enjoy this. Also recommend reading when it’s cold haha.

Thanks to net galley and new directions for the arc.

Books published by Fitzcarraldo Editions are always worth reading. Cold Enough for Snow is a difficult book to capture. A short novel with depth, it centres on a trip to Japan made by a mother and daughter, the narrator, but that is much less important than the series of reflections - on their relationship, their wider family and identities - that it prompts. It is beautifully and calmly written - the clarity of its prose somehow gets under your skin and it's been with me since I finished it a couple of days ago. As the narrator writes, "It was strange at once to be so familiar and so separated. i wondered how I could feel so at home in a place that was not mine." That's also what the book was for me and I am grateful to have read it.

A short, melancholic and poetic novel about a woman going on a trip with her mother to Tokyo. She reflects on her mother’s upbringing and how that informed her childhood, as well as the difference between the generations in her family. I really enjoyed dipping in and out of this book. It was comforting and immersive and I recommend it if you want something totally unique to read.

I was really drawn to this book and I was impressed with the simplicity within it. It's a story about a mother and daughter trip to Japan. It made me think about the relationship between myself and my mum. This is a beautiful novella which I will recommend recommend to my own mother.
Thank you Netgally and Jessica Au for the ARC.

Cool, subtly dissociative and melancholy : living behind opaque glass

3.5 raised to 4

Beautifully written, this is (fortunately) more of a long short story or novella than a novel, as it is really told in a single voice, through a single viewpoint, and in many ways ‘nothing happens’

It’s a little like the kind of endless journey feel of walking down a long quiet, empty road, when slightly stoned, or very tired, a dreamlike, déjà vu, not quite present, feel.

A grown up daughter (unnamed, a one time University student of English literature, and now a writer – Au herself or Au as springboard for her invented alter ego?) takes her mother, born in Hong Kong, to Japan for a short intensive holiday. Her mother’s first language is Cantonese, she does not speak Japanese. The daughter, and narrator, has English as a her first language, and has been to Japan before, and is fascinated by the culture, having researched and planned exactly what will happen on the trip. She is also fascinated by visual art and crafts

The daughter is absolutely fully engaged ‘mindfully observing’ each present external moment, so the novella is full of scrupulously detailed descriptions of food, skies, museum exhibits, art works – and there are memories evoked of previous times, both from her childhood, and from other times in her life, as an impressionable student, but, still, the sense all through is of a life lived outside itself. In a sense, this is the observation of the artist.

What becomes increasingly and disturbingly missing though, is relationship itself, somehow. The mother – often tired, seemingly without much input into itinerary is taken hither and thither by the daughter. There is clearly love, but also some kind of never connect.

There is even a strange recounting, in a hotel the two are staying in, which almost suggests that the mother might not exist, briefly, as a hotel employee suggests the daughter is staying on her own.

Is she an unreliable narrator, and if so do all recollections about the past, including her relationship with her husband, and their conversations about whether and when to have children, have external ‘truth’.

The strongest sense of the daughter which I had, was the sequence she remembers, as a student, where she is almost trying to invent herself, trying to discover and create what persona she should have.

To an extent, this still seems to be that way, as she delivers lectures to her mother on the art works she takes her to see – as if she is still trying to find a way to form herself

Her relationship with her own self and her own feelings seem as difficult to grasp as her relationship with the mother.

The clearer and more detailed description of external objects, landscapes and artefacts became, the more self-effaced and self-effacing the daughter herself became.

Often, with books I have particularly enjoyed, I feel that the author has turned their imaginary characters into people so real that I can believe they do exist, and, more that I could recognise them ‘if I ever met them’ (and the feeling is, they are so real that I might, indeed, do so)

Here, it is the reverse. I would recognise the landscape, the meal, the museum, its artefacts but the narrator is a person shadowed, indistinct, and formless.

This was, for that reason, an unsettling read, leaving me with the sense that a lost soul was drifting around me…………………….

For this sense of strangeness, it captures, perhaps, something about growing up or living in cultures which are not your own, so however close you might get, something feeling not quite home, prevents complete submersion and identification

A quiet and beautifully written book that evokes both the scenery of their travels and the scenery of their mind, so to speak. If you pick this up because you have an interest in Japan, you may be disappointed because it is really more of an interior journey. But if you pick it up because you're interested in a carefully written and rich tale of a mother and a daughter, you will be a very satisfied reader. I admit to wanting to read it because it was partially set in Japan, but I was not at all sorry that I did.

Just a simple tale or not?

After finishing this last week, I'm still in doubt. Because like the proverbial onion, this has layers.
Is it just a trip taken by mother and daughter to Japan where as well as touring Japan, their relationship and other relationships are examined. Or is it a pilgrimage taken with the same examinations but taken after, later on?

Setting this question aside the examination of the relationships between mother and daughter, author and sister, author and partner are glimpses into how these relationships work. How our needs cannot all be met by one person but we build up a structure of relationships from which we satisfy our different needs. This works vice versa of course. How we have different personas with different people. What the author needed from her mother, maybe the closeness desired was not always forthcoming but I felt the closeness and the similarities underneath. Complex like any relationship.

I enjoyed Au's quiet, often reflective writing.

An ARC gently given by author/publisher via Netgalley.

As someone who's obsessed with everything Japanese, I was so keen to read this. However, to me it read like I was reading someone's diary or journal, which I wasn't that interested in. A lot of potential but unfortunately the writing style not to my liking

This book is beautifully paced like a gentle stroll in nature, taking in the scenery. I really enjoyed the relationship between the mother and daughter as they travelled to Japan. to spend some time together. We read from the daughter's viewpoint, as the narrator, with only a guess at the mother's feelings or thoughts on the various aspects of the trip. There was plenty of room to come to your own conclusions which I enjoyed very much, giving me the ability to look at situations from both sides. The daughter has more than a passing interest in galleries and artefacts and this is woven through the story as settings for the dialogue and memories that arise as they travel through Tokyo. I was delighted by the details of travel, the food and overnight stops that added another dimension onto the slow paced ordinariness of this interesting story.

Jessica Au's Cold Enough for Snow has made her the inaugural winner of The Novel Prize awarded by the literary publishers Giramondo Publishing, Fitzcarraldo Editions, and New Directions. The book follows two women - mother and daughter - on their trip to Japan, but the magic of the novel is not in the story (nothing really happens other than visits to art galleries, anecdotes, and introspection), it's in the writing. I'd recommend this book to anyone who prefers writing over plot and characters.

As for me, I am a 'character-driven reader' - I like to get to know the characters and root for them, or at least understand them. The main character herself remembers how, visiting someone else's house, she'd feel no emotional connection to their things even if understanding their magnificence - as if she was looking from the outside in. I felt this reflection described how I felt about the book - a mix of ethereal and remote piece that just left me cold (not sure if 'cold enough for snow,' but at least distant from the story and the characters).

I was really looking forward to reading this novella, mainly for two reasons: it's set in Japan plus people here on Good Reads have compared Au's writing to Cusk's. I was slightly disappointed though. I kept wondering what the author was trying to say. There was hardly any emotion, I felt remoteness, which made it hard to care for the daughter or the mother. Whereas with Cusk there's always emotion/feeling hidden underneath it all, making for very interesting characters. I liked the travel diary style and the bits about Japan though. I'm afraid my expectations may just have been too high.
Thank you Fitzcarraldo and Netgally for the ARC.

“Maybe it's good, I said, to stop sometimes and reflect upon the things that have happened, maybe thinking about sadness can actually end up making you happy.”


Cold Enough for Snow is a slight novella narrated and characterized by a crisp prose. Despite the introspective nature of this work (there are no dialogues and the few conversations that occur are summarized by our narrator), I felt a certain distance from the narrator and her musings had a remoteness to them that I was never quite able to immerse myself into her story. That is not to say that this was not an enjoyable read. It brought to mind authors such as and Rachel Cusk as well as María Gainza (Optic Nerve is a personal favourite of mine). These kinds of books are not plot or necessarily character driven but they present us with a series of observations regarding art, travel, places/spaces, memory, connection, and human nature. Similarly to Jhumpa Lahiri's Whereabouts, the people that our nameless narrator speaks of remain unnamed, and the vagueness surrounding her and others struck me as very much intentional. The narrator, who lives in, you guessed it, an unnamed country, and her mother, who is based in Hong Kong, meet up in Tokyo for a holiday.

“It was strange at once to be so familiar and yet so separated. I wondered how I could feel so at home in a place that was not mine.”


The narrator describes the various landscapes and locales she visits, all the while thinking back to her and her mother’s pasts. We are given brief glimpses into their lives that are often somehow connected to their present journey. This is the kind of novella that is more about creating and sustaining a certain nostalgic mood than of presenting us with a particularly immersive story. While I did appreciate the narrative’s melancholic and reflective atmosphere, I did find my attention wandering away from our protagonist’s contemplations and introspections. Her relationship with her mother often fades into the background, sidelined in favour of eloquent observations that don’t really leave a lasting impression. The title in many ways is rather apt as this novella is in many ways like snow. At first, you are taken in by how beautiful it is but within a couple of hours (or days), well, the snow has melted. That is to say, the beauty of Cold Enough for Snow is of a temporary nature.
Still, if you are a fan of travel journals or the authors I mentioned above you may find this to be your kind of read.

“I had wanted every moment to count for something. I had become addicted to the tearing of my thoughts, that rent in the fabric of the atmosphere. If nothing seemed to be working towards this effect, I grew impatient, bored. Much later, I realised how insufferable this was: the need to make every moment pointed, to read meaning into everything. ”

“I had wanted every moment to count for something. I had become addicted to the tearing of my thoughts, that rent in the fabric of the atmosphere. If nothing seemed to be working towards this effect, I grew impatient, bored. Much later, I realised how insufferable this was: the need to make every moment pointed, to read meaning into everything. ”
Au's writing style is both delicate and poignant, which reminds me of Ishiguro's careful, sensitive and elegant prose, whilst the novel in itself is immersive, melancholic and well-structured.

A novella rather than a novel of several threads interlinked into one journey. A mother and daughter meet up in the city of =Tokyo and spend time exploring the sites, museums and chat about memories and their paths in life.
A quiet novel, a melancholic one and one that carries many hidden messages about relationships and that of the mother and daughter in particular

This quiet novella took me by surprise. The deceptively simple premise of a mother/daughter trip to Japan unfurls and expands as sensory memories spark the unnamed narrator to relay stories of the past; her past as well as third-person retellings in a fluid stream of consciousness. As the timeframe slips back and forth, I often lost myself in the memory to the point that I lost track of what was happening in the story. Jessica Au writes beautifully and precisely and gently leads the reader down several paths to contemplate.

Thanks to NetGalley and New Directions/Fitzcarraldo Editions/Giramondo for the opportunity to read this ARC.

I was drawn to this book by its title and its description sparked my interest.
Winner of the inaugural Novel Prize, Cold Enough for Snow is the story of the unnamed narrator and her mother visiting Japan for a holiday. They meet in Tokyo airport having both arrived from an unnamed country and they haven’t seen much of each other in recent years.
The narrator has meticulously planned their trip . They visit galleries and museums, eat in small restaurants and walk in the rain.
Initially it reads like a travel diary. Everything is beautifully and precisely observed and captured and as their holiday unfolds we learn more about them both as memories return to the narrator.
I read this in one sitting, it almost hypnotised me. I found myself questioning elements of the story but only lightly so, (more so now that I have finished it) I was questioning the narrative whilst being wholly absorbed in the story. I was enchanted ,unsettled and moved by the ending. This is one I’ll buy and reread and recommend.
An exceptionally well written, thought provoking compelling read.
4.5 ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

Thank you to Netgalley for this ARC!

If I were asked to describe Cold Enough For Snow in three words, they'd be: jarring, aimless and vivid.

Narrative? This book doesn't seem to have one. The only plot I could really grasp was that a girl and her mother went on a trip to Tokyo. For a large portion of the beginning, the book is incredibly slow; the mother seems wholeheartedly disinterested in visiting museums, and for some reason the narrator describes them in excruciating detail.

Then we come to the majority of the book - the flashbacks. Oh, the flashbacks. They make the book seem permanently stuck in the past, describing irrelevant events with huge paragraphs; with stretching sentences that go on for 5 lines too long. Then, you're jarringly brougt back to the present, where the narrator and her mother are drinking tea. Cool!

The thing stopping me from giving this book 1 star is the descriptions. When used effectively (for example when the narrator housesits for a lecturer), it really immerses you. Au has a talent for painting scenes, but I just wish it was used more effectively :(

I really tried my hardest to stay engaged and push on with this book, but around the 80% mark, I found myself skimming, and not missing anything at all.

I just don't think this book knows what it wants to be. Like the putting on shoes in the end (why???? I don't understand how that's a valid ending) - nothing got tied up.

Cold Enough for Snow made me think hard about my relationship with my mother. And after I finished the book, I realised that I wanted to spend more time with her and get to know her better. Do I really know her? Does she know me? Can we really know our parents? But the important question is, do I want to know her? Do you?

I'd seen pre-publication hype of this novel floating around the internet and spotted on lists of novels to look forward to, but on hearing it had won the Novel Prize I was even more keen to check it out.

The blurb presents a deceptively simple premise - a mother and daughter travel to Japan together - but this is a book which is hard to pin down and categorise, which I suppose is fitting given it has won a prize for novels that "explore and expand the possibility of the form". It reads interchangeably like an internal monologue of the narrator reflecting on memories and past events interspersed with a travel journal, albeit one which the reader never feels sure is real or imagined.

I felt that the chilly atmosphere of Japan and the narrator's solitude was well evoked and this read very quickly, but the novel failed to leave any sort of lasting impression on me. I guess I was just looking for (and expected) something a bit more substantial in Cold Enough for Snow.

This is a quiet book, full of gentle detail. A woman and her mother go on holiday together to Japan. The brief time they spend together gives space for the writer - the daughter - to reflect on their relationship, on her own relationship with her partner, and on her mother's youth. They visit exhibitions, they go shopping, they travel on public transport - we get to know them through their responses to these events. We see the mother through the daughter's eyes. How well can you ever know someone? It left me reflecting on myself as daughter, and as mother. It's an understated gem.

Thank you, NetGalley, for letting me read this.