Audition desperately needs a modern rewrite. For all the vivid, visceral imagery Ryu Murakami delivers, the premise feels like a dusty relic from the late 90s—full of the kind of misogyny audiences come to expect (and roll their eyes at) from this genre. Swap the "audition" idea with some college frat bros scheming in a raunchy early-2000s dude flick, and the story would hardly change.

Khaw’s prose doesn’t care if the reader can’t keep up. Sentences hit like jagged waves, rolling over each other in dense, poetic heaps. At times, readers will find themselves gasping, not for breath, but for clarity.