The Factory

The Factory is a short and powerful novella (at less than 120 pages). It is not always easy reading, but focus and perseverance pays off. This is a stunning indictment on the limits of capitalism and the pointlessness of modern life. Critics rightly identify Oyamada's style as being in a similar vein to Kafka (struggle in the face of nameless bureaucracy; alienation). But I was also reminded of Magnus Mills and his principle of taking the mundane and extending it to absurdism. The eponymous ‘factory’ is more akin to a city where its boundaries begin and end is unclear. It could be anywhere; it could be both anywhere and nowhere. The novel charts the progress of three new employees at the factory and how their distinct journeys increasingly overlap. Each has their expectations drastically reset. In their unique ways, they realise both the pointlessness and futility of their assigned tasks. The epiphany comes, however, as the boundaries between reality and fantasy (or dream state) start to disintegrate. The novel closes with one employee metaphorically, if not literally, becoming part of the factory itself. It is necessary for readers to pay attention as the narrator can shift abruptly, as can temporality, increasing a sense of disquiet. At the close, I almost wanted to reread from the start. 9 out of 10.

By Hiroko Oyamada