This was my first time reading a Japanese novel, and I was both excited and anticipating the charming, whimsical feel of Japanese cinema, famously captured by the line “Ogenki desu ka?” from a film long ago. I listened to The Suburban Rocket via Willa Audiobook. This novel, depicting the trials faced by ‘Tsukuda Manufacturing’—a small workshop crafting ultra-precise valves on the city outskirts—as it supplies core components to a major space rocket development corporation, felt vividly real, almost like a true story. The plot follows the president, a former aerospace researcher, who resigns after taking responsibility for a rocket launch failure. He then perfects the valve technology that caused the failure, secures a patent, and ultimately fulfills the dream of rocket launch by supplying the conglomerate.

The novel delivers a thrilling story centered on fuel injection valves, grounded in the unique Japanese craftsmanship spirit that treats product quality as sacred and navigates internal political struggles. Although he could have simply transferred the patent rights for a large royalty payment, the president won over the trust of the major corporation’s department head by convincing him of his unwavering confidence in the product’s quality. This narrative also beautifully depicts his triumphant overcoming of the trauma from the rocket launch failure he experienced during his researcher days, caused by a defect in a valve he had created.

My past experience in corporate sales allowed me to deeply empathize with the novel’s content. In the sales field, one must navigate countless stages: from field engineer reviews to manager approvals, price negotiations with the purchasing team, and the tedious back-and-forth over contract wording with the legal team. Throughout this process, a salesperson’s emotions inevitably swing wildly. The novel perfectly captured the harsh reality of business, where mountains to climb are endless.

However, seeing the setting where the rocket’s core component is an ultra-precise valve suddenly reminded me of Japan’s ‘automatic seal stamping machine’. Doubting such a machine could exist, I searched online and discovered it actually does: a scanner-equipped device that applies ink and stamps seals. While it might be an efficiency-boosting innovation in that field, in an era where the paradigm has shifted to digital, seals are relics of the past. It left a bitter aftertaste, as if I were witnessing the limitations of Japanese-style innovation contrasted with Google’s ‘Moonshot’ projects. I found myself enjoying the pleasant fantasy: if a Korean author were to write a novel blending Japan’s intricate craftsmanship with America’s ingenious creativity, wouldn’t it surely become a global hit?