As part of Lit Society’s Book Review Program, members are reading and reviewing books by independent writers we think deserve more attention. This review reflects one reader’s honest experience and aims to spotlight exciting new voices.
Big Take? Want to revisit that time you were seeing someone, things seemed to be going just fine (or you convinced yourself they were), and then suddenly... they weren't? If the answer is yes, this book is for you. If the answer is no, it's also for you, if only for the sheer pleasure of cringing at the painfully obvious signs that things weren’t quite right, yet watching it all unfold anyway—because that’s what we sometimes do as humans. And who are we to judge?
- Would You Recommend It? Yes
- Book Club Worthy? Yes
- Would You Read This Author Again? Yes
- Did It Change How You See Something? No
- Is It More Plot or Ideas? Plot
- Pace: Slow
- Emotional Impact: Light
- Best For: When you want to have a conversation with friends about a hookup but you would rather just read a short book on the couch.
- Skimmable or Demands Attention? Skimmable
- Would You Reread It? No
I read this book at 33, and throughout, I kept wishing I could experience it twice: once as myself now, and once as my 19-year-old self in college. I'm certain it would resonate with me quite differently at either age. But since I can only speak to how it struck me now, I'll leave my younger self to her imagination.
The title of Nao-Cola Yamazaki’s debut 2004 novel, recently translated into English by Charlotte Goff for SJP Lit, offers the reader a very specific instruction: Don't Laugh at Other People's Sex Lives. But we've all been there, right? You’re at a brunch when a friend tells you they've met someone who can only hang out on Wednesdays because they’re so busy with work, but they just clicked, so it's okay. You sit there, wanting to be supportive while simultaneously anticipating all the ways this could go horribly wrong. Reading Yamazaki’s novel took me back to those post-date debrief brunches, which have become fewer and farther between now that I've reached my 30s.
The book wastes no time giving the reader reasons to question the decisions its characters are making. We meet our narrator, Mirume, a young art student wearing a scarf his much older art teacher, Yuri, gave him for his birthday. He hasn't seen her in eight months. So, I already know this isn't going to be a particularly straightforward or healthy situation, but I stick with it anyway. Because, contrary to the title, I actually love judging other people's sex lives—even when I suspect that, in the end, this is going to be a heartbreaking tale.
Why? Because I've been there too.
Maybe not in the exact circumstances of Mirume, but in that familiar position of finding yourself in a situation that, when explained out loud, sounds considerably worse than it felt when you were actually living it. The kind where you're defending decisions you haven't fully thought through, and the curiosity, excitement, and attraction somehow outweigh every possible warning sign.
That's where Yamazaki's story becomes more interesting than simply watching someone else's questionable romantic decisions unfold. There's something recognizable about the way we rationalize attraction, convince ourselves our situation is different, and hold onto the smallest gestures as evidence that something meaningful is happening.
Of course, this isn't simply a story about a young man falling for an older woman. Yuri is married, she's his teacher, and the power imbalance is impossible to ignore. Yet we're experiencing the relationship primarily through Mirume's eyes, a young man who doesn't always understand his own feelings, let alone the person he's falling for.
It's also not necessarily a book for everyone. The plot is minimal, and Yamazaki's emotionally restrained writing doesn't always bring the reader particularly close to the characters. I found myself wanting more explanation and emotional depth, particularly from Yuri, who remains somewhat elusive. But perhaps that's the point. We're watching someone navigate an experience he doesn't fully understand. Yamazaki offers an interesting, occasionally uncomfortable glimpse into a flawed and self-questioning mind without spelling everything out for us.
At 19, I think I would have read this book looking for romance and probably been left heartbroken. At 33, I finished thinking, "Well, we've all been there. I can't judge." I still wanted to reach into the pages and tell Mirume to please, for the love of God, make a different decision. But I also understand how attraction can make us do things that, in hindsight, seem completely irrational.
Maybe that's the real difference between reading this at 19 and 33. At 19, you think your experiences are entirely unique. At 33, you realize people have been making the same questionable romantic decisions forever.
So, should you read it? Absolutely, particularly if you've ever been the friend at brunch trying to figure out how to tell someone that the person they're seeing probably isn't the great love story they think it is. And if you don't mind a little secondhand cringe.
And if you've ever been that person yourself, don't worry. You're in good company.
Just remember the title. Don't laugh at other people's sex lives. Or at least try not to laugh too hard at your own.
Favorite Lines?
“Wanting to touch somebody out of loneliness is dumb. The point of sex is to do it with someone you care about, as you build a relationship with them, little by little.”
“Even if we don’t see each other, though, it doesn’t mean that things between us are over.”
“In falling for someone though, I came to understand that all my tastes and preferences were kind of irrelevant. Your feelings took on the shape of the person in front of you—that was how it worked.”
Recommended Media?
🎬 The Graduate (1967 film)
📚 Conversations with Friends by Sally Rooney
🎵 “Pale Blue Eyes” by The Velvet Underground
Interested in purchasing Don't Laugh at Other People's Sex Lives? Support Bond & Grace and purchase the book via Bookshop here.
