Although all of the stories carry their own nuances, all of them are loosely
connected thematically through aspects of fire and ice, the suppression of
women’s autonomy, desire, love (the budding and destruction of it),
transformation, etc. Furthermore, the focal point of each story is on the
woman as the protagonist (or the antagonist, as in Dōjōji).
Ice Man and Straw Husband are clearly interlinked, as in both stories,
the main character falls in love with surreal, caricatures of detached
men. In both stories, the families and friends disapprove of the Ice Man
and the Straw Husband, yet out of intense desire, the characters are
too drawn to these mysterious beings to take heed of any advice. Both
relationships begin passionately yet unravel as the story proceeds, and
it is clear that the woman in both feel detached from not only their
partners, but the rest of the world. Along with the Ice Man, the
protagonist becomes frozen in time, stuck in a relationship that has
sailed its course in a land far from home. On the other hand, the
partner of the Straw Husband is overly compliant and is unable
to please her partner after making a trivial mistake. Similarly to
the line of thinking of our other protagonist, she says, “Why did
I get married to a thing like this? Why was I so happy to be married
to a bunch of straw?” In a society that coerces marriage and
relationships, she is left entirely unfulfilled. Furthermore, she
literally has to put her partner back together piece by
piece, echoing a historically patriarchal deed forced upon women -
building up and sustaining men. She demonstrates her pent up emotion,
as her only release is when she is able to burn pieces of his straw
towards the end.
In Dōjōji, we have thematic displays of transformation, yet in different
ways. Dōjōji seems to focus more on 14th century sentiments, in this
case Buddhism. Kiyohime represents the dangers of unchecked desires
and attachments, as her envy leads to her own destruction. Perhaps this
can come across as a little degrading and stereotypical of a woman in
love. However, Aoko Matsuda flips this and presents a woman’s
transformation in a much more positive and feminist light. I found it
interesting that the protagonist was unable to decipher the language
being used at the Noh play as a young child, but upon growing up and
being visited by her grandma in the midst of her heartbreak, the words
become clear to her - the grandma says to her, “Let’s become monsters
together,” and she goes through a powerful transformation in which she
rejects harmful beauty standards placed on women in highly developed
first world capitalist countries. In transforming, I found it to be quite
Jungian too, as she transforms into a version of herself
in which society (and she herself) has tried extensively to repress. I also
found it quite interesting how everything that the protagonist desires
and consumes is western - blond hair, being able to speak in English,
Fabio Rusconi heels, etc. This slight rejection towards the end of these
western-imposed standards almost feels quite Natsume Sōseki like to
me (in terms of Sensei in Kokoro). Similarly to the protagonists in Ice
Man and Straw Husband, she is stuck within the bounds of societal
conformity, except in this case, she is able to set herself free.
Like Dōjōji, The Greengrocer’s Daughter touches on Buddhist thought
(desire and attachment), and I enjoyed this story as it very clearly
carries influence from The Tale of Genji. Many aspects of the story
demonstrate this, but most notably, just like Genji when Murasaki dies,
Kichisaburo retires to monk-hood and “suffers a fate worse
than Oshichi’s.” Furthermore, lines such as, “wet their sleeves with
weeping,” and, “How sad a world it is when I must fall today like the
last blossoms of the cherry and leave my ill fame to blow about in the
winds of spring,” sound incredibly Genji-esque. Of course, a central
component of the story is fire, which connects back with Dōjōji, Straw
Husband, and with the elements in mind, Ice Man too. To end, we have
Aoko Matsuda’s Silently Burning, our analogue to The Greengrocer’s
Daughter. Like others discussed before, this story carries feminist
sentiments such as our protagonist being stereotyped for being a woman
(such as customers being utterly shocked when she produces magnificent
calligraphy). Although unlike Oshichi, she does not outwardly display a
fiery passion, it clearly lurks within her, given her talents, disposition,
independence, and quiet confidence. She is fulfilled without a romantic
passion, a more positive and optimistic ending to all of the stories that fall
before this one.
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