How well do we really know someone?
Last week, I wrote about Malice by Keigo Higashino, a novel that kept putting me on the back foot. Just when I thought I had worked out what was going on, another twist would force me to rethink everything.
This week, I stayed in the world of Japanese crime fiction with Confessions by Kanae Minato. The original Japanese title is 告白 Kokuhaku, which simply means "confession." In Japanese, though, the word often brings to mind a heartfelt admission or even a romantic declaration. Having lived in Japan for years, I couldn't help but think of all the dramas and stories where kokuhaku is the moment someone finally reveals their feelings.
There is nothing romantic about the confessions in this novel. Instead, each confession peels back another layer of grief, resentment, and revenge, revealing just how far people will go when consumed by their own sense of justice.
The book’s structure is also interesting. Each chapter is told from a different character's point of view, and with every new voice, the story changes shape. Information that seemed clear is suddenly complicated. Motives emerge. Misunderstandings are exposed. Characters who appeared villainous become more human, while others reveal sides of themselves that are far less sympathetic.
As someone who has lived and worked in Japan for many years, I often find Japanese fiction particularly insightful because it explores what is happening beneath the surface. There is frequently a tension between what people feel internally and what they choose to show others. Confessions takes that idea to an extreme.
Reading it reminded me how often we think we understand someone's actions when, in reality, we only see a small piece of the picture.
At work, it's easy to make assumptions about a colleague's behaviour based on a single interaction. In daily life, we form opinions from a brief conversation, a comment, or an observation. But just as in Confessions, every person is carrying their own experiences, fears, insecurities, and motivations that remain invisible to everyone else.
That doesn't mean every action can be excused. One of the most striking aspects of the novel is how the characters justify their own choices. Everyone believes they have a reason. Everyone sees themselves as the protagonist of their own story. Yet the consequences continue to ripple outward, affecting everyone around them.
What stayed with me after finishing the book was not the mystery itself, but the question of perspective.
Both Malice and Confessions challenge readers to rethink what they know. However, where Malice felt like an intellectual puzzle, Confessions felt more like a study of how pain, isolation, and resentment can twist people's understanding of themselves and others.
For this Mindful Monday, I'm taking away a simple reminder: we rarely have the full story.
When someone reacts unexpectedly, misses a deadline, seems distant, or behaves in a way we don't understand, there is often far more going on beneath the surface than we realize. While we may never know the complete picture, approaching others with curiosity instead of judgment is usually a better place to start.
Not every book leaves you feeling inspired. Some leave you feeling unsettled. But sometimes those are the books that make us pause and reflect the most.
