Sam Kraus - 10/29

The Flying Tobita Sisters was interesting as it begins with a romanticization of flying. The narrator expresses, "Our ancestors wanted so badly to fly in the air. I want to understand how they felt, looking up at the sky but unable to fly..." Everyone has wings, they eat flying fish, the narrator recounts the history of flight: Wright Brothers -> World Wars -> Space, etc. However, after that initial romanticization, in comes the Tobita sisters. These sisters are described as possessing enchanting bird-like features, yet there is another interesting aspect of them - they serve as an anomaly to this obsession with flight. For example, they wear colorful sneakers which is odd for this world, their dad tried to cut off his wings, the mom's ancestors were marathon runners, etc. Furthermore, the Tobita sisters plan to run to the sea on foot, something which is not done anymore. It's difficult to make sense of Japanese magical realism in comparison to western magical realism, as Japanese literature tends to be a lot less clear cut in terms of themes and messaging. And in saying that, I am implying that there is even distinct messaging at all. Still, I am noticing that flying is an aspect of humanity that we lack, and in this world, it is coveted by all. It is perceived as something that would enhance the human experience, and the narrator expresses, "So eventually we left our feet behind. No need to run when you can fly." However, the Tobita sisters represent an aversion to this sentiment, and our narrator seemingly concludes this as well, as at the end of the novel, she exits her classroom and begins running, an action that was shortly before, made out to be unthinkable. As for what all of this could mean, my mind leads toward technological advancement ≠ unquestionably benefiting humanity. The narrator also mentions at one point that the internet and telephone communication made the world feel too small and crowded. And with the development of wings, new problems arise - sleeping is difficult, new air traffic systems must be developed, etc. Therefore, I wonder if Erika Kobayashi is making a statement on technology and innovation. Although we desire progress and methods of making life easier, the true question is... will life really be easier? Along with that, what new problems will that technology or innovation bring with it? 

As for I Chase the Monkey..., I have two conflicting thoughts. Either I am missing something, and to better like this piece of work, I need to understand it better, or on the other hand, I just genuinely did not like this story at all (which is really rare for me). Ultimately, this story boils down to this for me - it feels like Masatsugu Ono took every terrible quality in a Murakami book and condensed it down into one story. To start, he writes many sentences that COULD ONLY come from a man. For example, "I wondered, placing my finger gently against my nipple, wiping a bead of milk onto the soft, full flesh and then slipping my finger into my mouth, licking the milk..." what? And if you read the story, you would know that there are plenty more examples. Furthermore, I feel as if the story is trying WAY too hard to be unique and experimental. Of course, one of the main gimmicks being the constant stream of thought, only concluding with a period at the end of the paragraph. But for me personally, instead of this being innovative or interesting, it just makes the story hard and even annoying to follow. It just feels like the story is trying to be super quirky, and for me, it falls flat. I tried re-reading it, but I quickly felt annoyed again and moved on. There is a major difference between magical realism being awe-inspiring and simply nonsensical. In this instance, for me, it came off more as nonsensical, rather than inspiring (such as The Ice Man, for example).

On a more positive note, I enjoyed Mogera Wogura. However, who knows how much of this might just be due to the fact that the bar was really low following the previous read. Still, I think the magical realism/surrealism worked in this story. As humans, we often collect and have dominance over other species - we keep pets, have zoos, domesticate farm animals, etc. However, in this story, we have the Japanese mole who has power over a bunch of humans. This mole collects them, takes care of them, discards them once their life is over, etc. In short, this Japanese mole and his wife have domesticated a bunch of humans. Still, this very mole participates in human society - he goes out to work, the bar, etc. We get to view human society through the eyes of a mole, and through this perspective, we come to understand that human life is quite dull. The humans in Tokyo are described as being very isolated and quiet, such as when the mole expresses, "sometimes I wonder why humans are so distant from one another." Some of the humans the mole collects are similarly described as, "People who don't die, but don't live." "Pretty much the only time they ever cry or blow their noses are otherwise express emotion is when one of their number dies." And lastly, "No more spirit to live." In essence, this story makes me think of modern, industrialized life. What does the mole do? It spends most of its life alone and underground, and very rarely comes out. As for the modern human? We spend most of our time working and communicating to and from. Furthermore, for job opportunities, we move far from home and into a city where we do not know anybody, are cramped into small apartments, etc. In this instance, I believe the mole was cleverly utilized to show how its lifestyle is not that different from a modern human. This modernization has stripped many of their humanity, and seemingly, just how farm animals are domesticated for resource production, we are too. That is why I enjoyed this story much more than the last - it utilizes magical realism, but uses it strategically and cleverly.

I think there is a lot going on in A Peddler of Tears, but most notably to me, the protagonist gives up parts of herself to please others - especially the Maestro. From the beginning of her time, she has used her bodily tears as a commodity. For her customers, the low quality tears were sufficient. However, one day, she falls in love with the Maestro who she desperately wants to please. As we learn, the more pain/suffering she feels, the higher the quality of the tears. She wants only the best for the Maestro, so as she expresses herself, "I was prepared to give up everything else." And in fact, she does - she cuts off her toes, lips, calves, etc. Notably, she mentions cutting off parts of her womanly body - nipples, ovaries, urethra, etc. To please this one man she has fallen deeply in love with, she cuts herself apart, and metaphorically and physically loses what makes her her. And as this ends, we learn that only the tear ducts and tear sacs are left. Although there are many themes at play, I perceive this story as a commentary on giving yourself up and losing who you are for the sake of another person - in this instance, for a man. Although her life was fine before, long after this encounter with the Maestro, she is left with nearly nothing.

I was really excited to read My Baby, as well, I want to read anything with Mieko Kawakami's name on it. This story seems to tackles ideas of the patriarchy, motherhood, and fear as a commodity. To start, the mother's greatest fear is the Mies. She is terrified of them, and she desperately pleads to her husband to do something about them. However, the husband is extremely neglectful and dismissive. He tells her not to worry about them, and most notably, he ignores the emotional pain that she is experiencing. Given Kawakami's common feminist themes, I see this as a critique of a dismissive and belittling man that a patriarchy produces. Similarly, Kawakami often discusses themes of motherhood in her works, most notably, this and Breasts and Eggs, all of which deeply ties into her personal life as a mother. Therefore, although I have less of a complex analysis to lay out here, Kawakami relays the feelings of being a mother - always desperately attempting to protect your child and putting their safety above all. She keenly perceives the danger around her, of which, her husband is ignorant to. Lastly, fear is a prominent aspect of this story. As the narrator expresses, "The greatest human tragedy is worrying over the worst-case scenarios while missing out on the joys of the present." She is not even able to enjoy spending time with her child as she can only feel fear. And in fact, there appears to be a minor capitalist critique as this very fear is profited off of. As the story mentions, "People make a fortune off our fear of the Mies with these silly cribs..." Every emotion is a commodity under capitalism, and fear is no exception. We sell home safety systems, protection plans on items, insurances, etc. Therefore, getting rid of the "Mies" could be problematic for the very men in charge of these structures - without Mies, they would sell less cribs, of course meaning... less profit. 

Lastly, I do not have a lot to comment on Paprika Jiro, but I enjoyed it enough. It felt very comedic at times and cartoonish. The way Jiro sets up the trap and captures the man, riding him all the way into the desert, was quite funny. As tradition follows, he inherits the stall from his grandfather, and he carries on the family business. He is happy to do the job and dedicate himself to it without fear - as the narrator says in the last line, "As a mark of utmost respect, Paprika Jiro does his best to react in exaggerated astonishment as they careen through, fearlessly confronting obstacles head-on."