Hiroko Oyamada’s novella The Hole (tr David Boyd) may have nothing to do with a literal black hole, yet it possesses its own event horizon and a powerful gravitational pull. The narrative seamlessly oscillates between mundane realism and a dreamlike domain. On one level, the book captures the drudgery of ordinary life in a rural town where the loudest noises are the constant hum of cicadas. On another, it drags the reader into metaphorical black holes populated by strange, unknown creatures. The Hole is an intriguing, surreal work that can be read in a single sitting. Furthermore, its psychedelic green cover—featuring an oval shaped like a manhole without a lid—will feel like a strangely familiar sight to Indian pedestrians.