Sam Kraus Week #3

When reading Diary of a Void, I was immediately reminded of a funny story my friend once shared with me. At her workplace, the women were always tasked with planning mini birthday celebrations for co-workers. For whatever reason (I am unable to recall why), one week, the women were unable to plan the celebration for one of the other workers. No other co-worker stepped up (by this, I mean no man), and hence, no party occurred. This became a trend in which the women stopped throwing the parties, and they watched in amazement at how a celebration never occurred again. I say this because it reminds me of the coffee portion of this reading. When our protagonist stops picking up the coffee cups, the room becomes littered with them as no man is willing to do this job. In this story, it is of course the pregnancy that finally relieves her of these appointed yet menial tasks delegated to solely women. I love the blend of surrealism in which the line between delusion and reality is blurred, as towards the end of the reading, our protagonist and even ourselves are led to believe that this pregnancy truly exists. Lastly, I also enjoyed the humor of the protagonist, especially when she makes a sarcastic remark regarding the young male co-worker amazed at how easy - INSTANT - coffee is to make. Japan is one of the most notable 1st world countries in which gender roles are starkly evident, and the silent rebellion against this with the fake pregnancy made for a humorous yet informative narration. 

The Lonesome Body Builder appears to wrestle with the idea of women being "responsible" for appeasing and building up men. It is evident that the husband is insecure about himself, and it appears to be an exhausting cycle of the wife having to build him up. For example, he claims that she would likely prefer the male boxer over himself. Especially in recent years when it comes to social media and masculine discourse, men appear to always take it upon themselves to dictate what a women wants in a man... Anyways, I loved the reoccurring theme of the roller coaster - if the protagonist had just taken the risk and jumped on it, perhaps she could have met a more powerful, liberated version of herself. Of course, at this moment, she decided to become a body builder. Upon transforming into this new version of herself, the power dynamic in the relationship begins to change - at the end, the husband can no longer ignore her, keep her down, or even take her for granted. She has become powerful and liberated, and she no longer will allow a society dominated by men to hold her back. Interestingly, this and the above story exemplify that it took physical transformation of the body to garner psychological liberation. I would like to think that Yukiko Motoya would agree that all women hold this power within them; it is just a matter of how to awaken it, especially in a society that actively wants to prevent that from occurring. 

I have less readily available thoughts regarding The Woman in the Purple Skirt, but I did notice that color plays a central role in the storytelling. Characters are described by their representative colors, and I found it interesting how at the end, the woman in the purple skirt wears a black uniform for her work, which contrasts with her usual purple style. She appears to be a quite free-spirited woman who marches to the beat of her own drum, but upon finally getting a job, the very characteristics that describe her being are removed from her. Perhaps some of her freedom is stripped from her in this instance. I wonder if there is some critique of work culture and capitalism mixed in, as the woman is consistently not presentable enough to hold down a job. On a different note, the protagonist's obsession and jealousy of the woman in the purple skirt was fun to witness. She so desperately wanted to understand this person, but she was too elusive to ever catch. 

I am less eager to jump out and speak on Aoko Matsuda's The Most Boring Red on Earth, as there is a section within this very reading teasing men who write women, or more specifically, write about their periods - analyzing something like this likely should fall to someone else. However, I wonder if something like this is a shot at men in general, or something like a shot at a writer like Haruki Murakami, who for his entire career, has had to contend with these type of criticisms (even from people like Mieko Kawakami who asked him about this in an interview). This reminded me of when I was at a talk given by Murakami at Wellesley College (I believe Professor Elliot was there too). At the end of the talk, the Wellesley students lined up to ask him questions, and most of them were about how he portrays women in his writings (it was sort of amusing to be honest). Anyways, I love the quote, "She had finally imbibed society's maxim that it was more important to not cause those around you any bother than it was to take care of your own body." Discussions of these sorts are ignored, leaving women to have to cope with it on their own (they are expected to silently endure it without burdening others). Towards the end, she says, "It's sort of beautiful, my period," and I see this as liberating. I see it as a representation of the beauty of womanhood, especially in regards to something that is often seen as gross or inappropriate to discuss (referring to Japan here). It seems to be liberating, empowering, and most of all, there is nothing to be ashamed of. Of course, this is easier said than done in a world that sweeps bodily functions like this under the rug in favor of perfectionism. Again, this may appear to be "duh," in western cultures, but I would imagine this new wave of feminism in the last few decades is liberating for the voiceless in eastern Asia.

So Breast and Eggs is actually my favorite novel out of modern Japan (although I love Wind Up Bird-Chronicle), and Mieko Kawakami is currently my favorite author who I am writing my thesis on. I have been yapping a lot, and I could talk about this novel for many cycles of the moon, so I will try to keep this brief. There is a lot going on, whether that is critiquing the patriarchy, exploring bodily autonomy in women, exploring sexuality, young love, critiquing capitalism, etc. I believe that Kawakami masterfully implements all of these themes into her novel without it becoming a convoluted mess, and in the midst of it, her writing is beautiful - "I imagined Midoriko and Haruyama walking down some quiet road, spending an hour together, speaking a language only they could understand..." That is an incredible line. One of my favorite parts of this section is the divide between Natsuko's wisdom as an adult and Midoriko's innocence. For example, Natsuko lost precious time with Naruse due to her having to work all the time to support her family at a young age. However, thanks to Natsuko and Makiko, Midoriko has some wiggle room for being able to roam around and be autonomous (I mean she has actual time to be a child before capitalism grabs her by the ankles). It is a bittersweet moment as Natsuko is so happy that Midoriko is exploring the world young and in love, but at the same time, she is reminded of what was taken from her at that time - due to poverty, she was unable to have that relationship with Naruse. It is always great when a parent is able to give their children the things they could not have, but to me, it is sort of one of those ostensibly sweet stories - it is a shame that Natsuko was stripped of her innocence so young.

As for The Dilemmas of Working Woman, my first impression is yet another critique of work culture in Japan and this obsession with capitalism. With Izumi, before her life of being unemployed, there was no clear distinction between what she wanted and what she thought she wanted. She thought that she wanted designer clothes, a better body, aging-treatments, etc, but in reality, these were more-so things that society wanted out of her. In a grind-set bubble, that distinction is hard to discern. Upon exiting the vicious work culture of Japan, she came to realize that she cares less about these things than previous thought. Across the world, as a random dude from rural Tennessee, she makes me think - out of all of the things I do daily, what do I REALLY enjoy, and what would I truly enjoy/live for outside of this cut-throat grind to exhibit individual excellence?