I'd say this book of essays was a mixed bag. The first few ones were mind-opening, but the writer started repeating himself towards the middle. I think reading one or two chapters from the beginning is enough to get a good grasp of his aesthetic philosophy.
This would have been a good foundation for a better marketing philosophy in the digital era, but it doesn't escape me how horribly whitewashed the cultural discussion is. A lot of Eastern references made in the book (not a lot now that I think about it, actually) are viewed in such a twisted Western lens. She has this nasty habit of othering cultures that are not hers, which scathingly shows its claws whenever she describes how things are in Japan as she saw them. The treatment was sickening. I'd take away the frameworks but not her opinions.
Ocean Vuong is a poet, and that shows even in his prose. Each line is imbued with meaning, both literal and metaphorical. There's a lot to digest. Maybe too much at times—I felt like I had to distance myself from the work every once in a while. But there's no denying that Vuong's gift of perception is rare.
I picked up this book thinking it would be a light novella about how delicious red bean paste is made, but I was not prepared for the onslaught of emotions it came with. It had me thinking a lot about who we deem useful to society, and more importantly, how we treat the people we deem "useless," such as the disabled and incarcerated. Should we really determine the value of a human being by how much they're able to contribute?
I've been mulling over how society has been pressuring women in particular to meet unrealistic beauty standards, so this book could not have come at a better time. The lines aren't as clearly drawn as people might think. In as much as it saddens me to see celebrities ruin their pretty face by getting one too many plastic surgeries, I'm not blameless either—my skincare and makeup routines are also emblematic of my participation in this ruthless system.
The truth is, beauty can afford us status and opportunity in an increasingly capitalistic world, and when you're born without wealth or proximity to those who do, sometimes beauty is all you can have to crawl out of poverty.
I am in no position to judge any female character in this incredibly nuanced novel. The world has wronged women so much that some of us would rather endure the pain of going under the knife than face the sting of societal rejection.
If I were to choose a favorite out of the Japanese novels I've read so far, this would probably be my answer. Beautifully written with complex characters. Of course, I may be biased because the protagonist is a copyeditor, pretty much right up my alley. Kawakami did a brilliant job in her metaphors—I can't wait to read more of her work.
Not as long of a read as I expected—I got a digital copy—but it did leave a lasting impression on me.
The description of a konbini (convenience store) in this novella is unlike anything I've ever read before. Imagine writing about something so mundane in such a crisp, refreshing light. Often the konbini is just a liminal space that I pass by without giving it much thought. Now I don't think I could see the place the same way again.
It's also interesting how the author chose to write in the perspective of the antisocial Keiko—am I the only one who thinks she's not quirky, she's quite literally psychopathic?—to comment on how odd their social mores actually are. The deliberate choice of the konbini setting as a microcosm of Japan is genius. I could talk about this all day to anyone who cares to listen.
The picture Murata paints in this story can look bleak to many, though I don't necessarily think it's fatalistic. Sure, society can force you to participate in its capitalistic endeavors, but to a certain extent we can choose how we want to participate and find meaning in its trappings. The way she does in the end, with full awareness of the consequences.
I still believe the "bitter young man" she meets is a horrible person I'd rather not have known, but that's kind of the point.
I'm rambling, I know, but I can't help but gush about how much this book made me think about societal expectations that I've taken for granted. It's haunted me to sleep. For that alone I'm rating this 5 stars.