I'm giving this three stars because it is in large part a matter of taste, but I thought it was rather tedious, and it's only 151 pages. I generally don't read “serious contemporary fiction,” and this reminds me why. I read this because I was intrigued by the use of the kitsune motif, although I had only heard of the version where a vixen turns into a woman.

The New York Book Review said, “But absurdist fiction, like psychotherapy, requires an investment of energy and a suspension of judgment.” They're not getting it from me in either of those two cases. Wunnicke wrote: “Sachiko, Hanako, and Yukiko often spent hours and days in such conversations that led nowhere and which no-one understood.” (Chapter 8, p.77) That summed up a lot of the book for me. It seemed to spend a lot of time frettingover meaningless details and dead ends, particularly in the sections concerning Shimamura's illness. As is often the case, the author matches this with vagueness about things that happened. I think the parts set in Europe were better for being stronger narratives. There are some interesting elements and good writing here, but I am not satisfied with the use that Wunnicke made of them.

Some my reaction, I suspect is age and familiarity. I might be more taken with Wunnicke's judgements about about late 19th to early 20th century psychology if I hadn't read what I think was much more interesting and effective nonfiction on the subject. (I recommend Frederick C. Crews Freud : the Making of an Illusion.) I've seen so many literary tricks so many times that they don't have the charm of novelty. So yes, Sun'ichi Shimamura is yet another unreliable narrator, at least in some parts of the book; it doesn't intrigue me. I want an involving read that leaves me feeling satisfied and characters that interest me. Most writers aren't good enough to do something really unusual and make it work.

I'm sure other readers do enjoy absurdist fiction so they want to read more sympathetic reviews. Most of the male characters are real people, one can find them in Wikipedia. For the most part, Wunnicke seems to have stuck to the basic facts, even if the details had to be made up to flesh out the story. Sun'ichi Shimamura isn't in the English language Wikipedia, but an internet search will bring up the basic facts of his life in Wikidata and Wiki Commons, as well as an English-language abstract from the National Library of Medicine, of a biographical article written in Japanese. It would be interesting to know if he left any writings about his adventures in Europe and the Shimane Prefecture where he went to investigate possession by fox demons. ( )

It's a bit odd, writing about another culture that's not your own. I think for a lot of Japan books, particularly fiction, I get worried in advance of reading them that they're not going to capture the history or culture well. There's a lot of Orientalizing out there. So I approached this particular slim novel by a German author with some degree of trepidation. But I'm very glad to say there's nothing to worry about here. This is quite the book and packs a big and thoughtful punch for its size.

This book is set around the turn of the 20th century, and tells the story of a Japanese psychologist (the Dr. Shimamura of the title) who's been dispatched to the countryside to turn the tools of his trade on the phenomenon of fox possession, where fox spirits are said to take over a person's body, control their behavior, and can lead to their death. This doesn't sound very scientific, and so in a modernizing country, the Japanese people need a better diagnosis and treatment plan. And so thenceforth goes our doctor... and then things get weird.

Really, this book hops back and forth around in time and place, with jaunts to Shimamura towards the end of his life after he's retired from his position as an institute director with the women in his life arrayed around him; his time in Europe taking in what he could about psychology on the Imperial dime and being orientalized in turn; his time in the countryside looking at the foxes and what was going on there. A lot is covered in a short book, with an assurance of tone and destination that's really remarkable for a book concerned with the surreal.

And there is quite a lot of that, too: this book has some real high-impact scenes (one with hypnosis and spirits (?) in Charcot's psychological theater in Paris was a particular favourite of mine), and the tone shifts from a more realistic to a more out there and back over the course of the book. It leaves you wondering how much of what Shimamura took on as true, and where and how the spirits acted, if they did at all. There's a real level of attentive imagination here.

I also really appreciated the points of view from the women around Shimamura: his wife, his mother and mother-in-law, his domestic assistant, the woman perhaps taken by a fox spirit. The points of view of these characters seem realistic for the time to me, and provide a view that isn't seen that much in works focusing on the period, particularly if you're circling around this scientist abroad.

All in all, I really enjoyed this. It's very sticky for a short book, and I'm happy to recommend it to people. This is the kind of fox that it's safe to let in your head. You may even want it there. ( )

Was das Buch bedeuten soll, kann ich nicht sagen. Aber ich kann erzählen, was ich da hinein interpretiere.
Zunächst mal stellt das Buch für mich eine Abrechnung mit den Anfängen der Psychologie/Psychiatrie um 1900 dar. Viele der bekannten Persönlichkeiten kommen vor, auch Shimamura selbst soll ja wirklich gelebt haben. Diese Darstellung ist mitunter erstaunlich witzig und humorvoll, mir gefällt der „Fuchsgähst“ (wienerisch auszusprechen) oder auch, dass Shimamura sich bei Binet (dem Vater der Intelligenzmessung) dessen Namen immer als „Bidet“ merkt. Überhaupt, das Bidet. Das ist nur eines der Motive, die auf „schmutzige“ oder „saubere“ Sexualität hindeuten. Und damit bin ich eigentlich bei dem, wie ich den Fuchs interpretiere. Die Psychologie des beginnenden 20. Jahrhunderts war in der heutigen Wahrnehmung ja sehr stark geprägt von einer Pathologisierung von Sexualität, Lust, Unkonventionalität bzw. der Auseinandersetzung mit dieser Pathologisierung. Das beste Beispiel dafür ist die „Hysterie“. Gerade die Auseinandersetzung mit dieser Krankheit, die Erklärungsmuster, die Heilmethoden sind nicht nur veraltet und bizzar, sie zeigen auch eine unglaubliche männliche Dominanz über Frauen. Dazu passt das Bild auf dem Buchrücken. Es zeigt Charcot, dozierend über eine hypnotisierte, hysterische Patientin. Was man auf dem Ausschnitt nicht sieht, sind die Reihen mit männlichen Zuschauern, die diesem Anfall zuschauen. Ich finde das gruselig.
Und nun kommt da also der Fuchs, bzw. eigentlich könnte es an vielen Stellen auch eine Füchsin sein. Sie lässt sich nicht bändigen, ist für die Frauen nicht nur negativ, ist von den Männern nicht zu fassen. Shimamura, selbst ein Mann, wird vom Fuchs ebenfalls befallen und ist danach nie mehr der Alte. Kleine Seitenhiebe auf Heilmethoden fehlen nicht. Die Hypnose etwa erweist sich an einer Stelle als völliger Humbug.
Ja, das wäre in Kürze meine Kurzinterpretation. Es gibt viel, was man zu dem eigentlich kleinen Büchlein noch schreiben könnte. ( )