DOMO

In Hiroko Oyamada’s The Hole, the horror isn't a monster lurking in the dark; it's the quiet, suffocating dread of everyday life. The protagonist, Asahi, gives up her job to move to the countryside for her husband’s career, only to be swallowed by domestic isolation. The neighbors don't even call her by name—she is simply "the bride".

Her entire reality becomes defined by the overwhelming, invisible weight of Japanese social expectations and on the other side by suburban loneliness . It’s a gut-wrenching feeling of missed reality, an uncanny dread which reminded me of the haunting climax of Twin Peaks Season 3 when Dale Cooper asks in horror: "What year is this?"

It’s DOMO—the Dread Of Missing Out.

When designer Janet Hansen was tasked with creating the cover for the US edition, she chose a photograph of grass by Guy Henderieckx. At first glance, it’s just lawn. But still, somehow, a deeply disturbing sensation creeps in.

Compare this with Luke Bird’s UK cover for the same book, which boldly shows the hole front and center (evoking a surreal, graphic vibe straight out of Yellow Submarine). Bird gives you orientation. Hansen gives you disorientation (It’s pretty fascinating how she basically makes non-existence non-existent, but I feel like I'm tumbling down my own rabbit hole here).

Why does Hansen’s Hole-less hole give you the chills? Is there a shadowy face staring back at you from the tangled blades of grass? Are you going crazy, or is the texture playing tricks on your mind? Is it the mere fact that the book is titled The Hole, yet there is no hole to be seen? Or is it the general feeling that we are missing SOMETHING - the internal terror of the void we fail to notice until we've already fallen in? As the shut-in brother-in-law in the novel - himself completely unnoticed by his family - notes: "People always fail to notice things."

Hansen’s design doesn't show you the trap; it makes you feel like you missed it. It’s about the dread of missing out, which might just be an echo of the dread of being missed out. But alas - what year is this? - it’s probably too late.