In the aftermath of the Second World War, the children of American GIs are born and surrendered to an orphanage. Wildcat Dome is hung on the frame of the lives of these orphans: we follow Mitch as he wanders restlessly between jobs and across the world, Kazu as he seeks solace and connection in the natural world, and Yonko, who is not an orphan, but whose life has been shaped by them nonetheless. Over the decades, these three strive to create their own lives, but are continuously drawn back together and to Japan by a trauma they witnessed in their youths.

Early on in Wildcat Dome, a character describes the experience of childhood: ‘It’s like living in a cocoon inside a dream’. Some works of literature create clean, precise lines, bringing into focus that which you had never seen so clearly before. This novel of Yuko Tsushima’s does quite the opposite. The characters’ lives happen all at once, memories linking freely through time and space, with as many imagined conversations explored between them as real ones. There are no clear truths offered; the dream of these characters’ lives is simply deepened and intensified with layered details.

There is, however, a second story being told beneath this one, where Tsushima turns her characters’ lives and struggles into a metaphor for the all-consuming fear of radiation. The colour orange haunts the narrative, a reminder of the insidious nature of this poisoning and its long reach through time and space.

The result is a deeply impressionistic novel – an ambitious and experimental rendition of a nation’s fears. It is a challenging read at times, but offers a rare insight into an underexplored facet of a complex nation.