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A review by angethology
Butter by Asako Yuzuki
3.5
"It took a deathly earnestness to remain faithful to her desires at all times."
When journalist Rika Machida realizes that the way to unravel serial killer Manako Kajii's tales is through her stomach, Rika finds herself in a new world of fancy, gourmet, and a variety of cuisine that confronts her own lifestyle. Kajii is accused of killing older, wealthy men, whom she always cooked for with her superb chef skills, though all of their deaths look like accidents. And Rika tries to find her motive — or maybe whether she could be innocent.
Completely immersing herself in Kajii's world, Rika's perception of life slowly starts shifting: "Until not long ago, she'd had no idea what it was she wanted to eat, but since she'd begun using her kitchen, she was becoming able to picture, albeit vaguely, the objects of her desire." Her sense of gratification is summoned as she gets closer to Kajii, and though as a "consequence," she gains weight alongside judgement from her life, Rika's relationship with food seems to be healthier — but how does that translate to her relationship with Kajii, her best friend Reiko, and her boyfriend Makoto?
Her sympathy with Kajii becomes apparent; with Japan's misogyny and beauty standards, Rika recognizes the sexist lens in which Kajii's crimes are seen: "Her appetite and her sex drive run to such extraordinary degrees that they took a toll on the lives of the people .." Instead of recognizing Kajii's capability of evil due to her personality, her acts are instead associated with a lack of femininity. Kajii acted "masculine," and is considered overweight, which is the supposed catalyst for her crimes, and a woman's moral values are therefore reduced to sexist norms. Funnily enough, this is in complete contrast to Kajii's own philosophy, since she loathes feminists and thinks that women should essentially bow down to men as their main purpose in life.
She wants to live the trad life, but is simultaneously seen as the complete opposite of a "perfect" housewife, and seemingly punishes men for not abiding by her standards. What I find interesting is Kajii's link to Reiko, who actually does adhere to feminist values to an extent. However, Reiko also dreams of being a stay-at-home mother, despite her experience and love for working a "regular" job. As long as one is under the claws of the patriarchy, Reiko, Kajii, and Rika are hard-pressed to feel free, whether that freedom includes being a mother or a working professional, or both. Even "well-meaning men" like Reiko's husband, Ryosuke, and Makoto, and Rika's dad, who claim to support progressive values still absolutely benefit from the patriarchy and perpetrate harmful norms, sometimes without them realizing it.
I personally adore the messaging and the themes touched in on the book throughout; the nuances that include sexuality, gender roles, and eating habits are well-thought out. But my main gripe is that every single interesting interaction that might make readers ponder a bit are immediately spelled out by the author. It just leaves no room for interpretation, and kind of assumes that the audience may not have the brain cells to grasp the messages conveyed. I do appreciate the queer tensions that are consistent, especially with Rika having that boyish charm (I wish the author leaned more into it but that forbidden love/tension is also what makes it more fascinating).
For most of the book, the food descriptions are often mouth-watering and delectable, and actually made me want to try some of the recipes, especially ones with butter. Halfway through, some of them start going over my head, and I think the last part involving a Turkey homewarming scene almost ruins it for me. It felt like it was unnecessarily becoming a Lifetime movie.
It's obvious that food to Kajii is also a kind of fetish that relates to sex, with the way she vicariously lives through Rika, and she uses that to deliberately steer Rika's life, and to the journalist, she almost seems like a god at times. But when Rika realizes Kajii's cognitive dissonance and manipulation tactics are not as mysterious and impressive as she thought they were, the readers learn that Kajii merely wants to be seen — she wants to stick to the archetypal role of a woman, but also be that rebellious outcast that redefines that archetype. The true weight that Kajii collapses under is not because of her past trauma of being bullied or shamed, it comes from wanting to be extraordinary, when she's anything but.
When journalist Rika Machida realizes that the way to unravel serial killer Manako Kajii's tales is through her stomach, Rika finds herself in a new world of fancy, gourmet, and a variety of cuisine that confronts her own lifestyle. Kajii is accused of killing older, wealthy men, whom she always cooked for with her superb chef skills, though all of their deaths look like accidents. And Rika tries to find her motive — or maybe whether she could be innocent.
Completely immersing herself in Kajii's world, Rika's perception of life slowly starts shifting: "Until not long ago, she'd had no idea what it was she wanted to eat, but since she'd begun using her kitchen, she was becoming able to picture, albeit vaguely, the objects of her desire." Her sense of gratification is summoned as she gets closer to Kajii, and though as a "consequence," she gains weight alongside judgement from her life, Rika's relationship with food seems to be healthier — but how does that translate to her relationship with Kajii, her best friend Reiko, and her boyfriend Makoto?
Her sympathy with Kajii becomes apparent; with Japan's misogyny and beauty standards, Rika recognizes the sexist lens in which Kajii's crimes are seen: "Her appetite and her sex drive run to such extraordinary degrees that they took a toll on the lives of the people .." Instead of recognizing Kajii's capability of evil due to her personality, her acts are instead associated with a lack of femininity. Kajii acted "masculine," and is considered overweight, which is the supposed catalyst for her crimes, and a woman's moral values are therefore reduced to sexist norms. Funnily enough, this is in complete contrast to Kajii's own philosophy, since she loathes feminists and thinks that women should essentially bow down to men as their main purpose in life.
She wants to live the trad life, but is simultaneously seen as the complete opposite of a "perfect" housewife, and seemingly punishes men for not abiding by her standards. What I find interesting is Kajii's link to Reiko, who actually does adhere to feminist values to an extent. However, Reiko also dreams of being a stay-at-home mother, despite her experience and love for working a "regular" job. As long as one is under the claws of the patriarchy, Reiko, Kajii, and Rika are hard-pressed to feel free, whether that freedom includes being a mother or a working professional, or both. Even "well-meaning men" like Reiko's husband, Ryosuke, and Makoto, and Rika's dad, who claim to support progressive values still absolutely benefit from the patriarchy and perpetrate harmful norms, sometimes without them realizing it.
I personally adore the messaging and the themes touched in on the book throughout; the nuances that include sexuality, gender roles, and eating habits are well-thought out. But my main gripe is that every single interesting interaction that might make readers ponder a bit are immediately spelled out by the author. It just leaves no room for interpretation, and kind of assumes that the audience may not have the brain cells to grasp the messages conveyed. I do appreciate the queer tensions that are consistent, especially with Rika having that boyish charm (I wish the author leaned more into it but that forbidden love/tension is also what makes it more fascinating).
For most of the book, the food descriptions are often mouth-watering and delectable, and actually made me want to try some of the recipes, especially ones with butter. Halfway through, some of them start going over my head, and I think the last part involving a Turkey homewarming scene almost ruins it for me. It felt like it was unnecessarily becoming a Lifetime movie.
It's obvious that food to Kajii is also a kind of fetish that relates to sex, with the way she vicariously lives through Rika, and she uses that to deliberately steer Rika's life, and to the journalist, she almost seems like a god at times. But when Rika realizes Kajii's cognitive dissonance and manipulation tactics are not as mysterious and impressive as she thought they were, the readers learn that Kajii merely wants to be seen — she wants to stick to the archetypal role of a woman, but also be that rebellious outcast that redefines that archetype. The true weight that Kajii collapses under is not because of her past trauma of being bullied or shamed, it comes from wanting to be extraordinary, when she's anything but.