Kitchen

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The hybrid narrative is multimeaningful. The story about a tiny kitchen depicts a clear way in which the Japanese people overcome hardship together. In the adorable plots of Mikage and Yuichi, it seems that they are in love; in fact, the relationship between them is just human care, which is greater than any form of romantic love. The fact that Yuichi invites Mikage to stay at his house comes from a genuinely humane gesture during her hard time. Therefore, when Yuichi’s mother dies, Mikage switches her position with Yuichi to help him with the same suffering. From Kitchen, the readers can realize that humans usually have to overcome challenges that are out of their control. During this lonely time, one always needs some form of caring from other people to light up the dark paths. This perspective influences the whole story. Both Yuichi’s lover and Mikage’s boyfriend cannot determine what kind of relationship exists between the two protagonists. These two supporting characters are simply selfish: they are not capable of comprehending the protagonists’ hardships. People also need to respect the pricelessness of humane care more than the daily love stories of immature young people.

When Mikage enters Yuichi’s apartment, she is drawn to the kitchen full of plates, pots, and pans, and sinks into the massive, soft sofa. Mikage is dazzled by Eriko’s beauty and amazed when Yuichi explains that “[Eriko] is a man.” Eriko was actually Yuichi’s biological father, but after Yuichi’s biological mother died of cancer when Yuichi was a baby, Eriko decided to become a woman, open a nightclub, and raise Yuichi as his mother. It seems perfectly natural to Yuichi to see Eriko as his mother as she’s so feminine. Mikage feels strangely comfortable in their apartment and agrees to stay, sleeping on the giant sofa in the kitchen, next to a window framing a dark sky dotted with stars. Mikage stays with Yuichi and Eriko for several months, falling into an easy rhythm of working part-time and tending to the house. She cooks for Eriko and Yuichi often and they enjoy sharing meals together. Eriko is very motherly towards Mikage, which warms Mikage’s heart. All this said, the handling of Eriko in the book is rather frustrating and almost lead me to abandon it. Eriko is trans, and Yoshimoto seems to constantly remind you ‘ she used to be a man’. Which is just uncool. Granted this was 1988 and was probably progressive at the time, though other novels have approached trans identity. If it was just at the beginning I wouldn’t be as bothered, but it is relentless. And this is about the character that is the emotional centerpiece of the novel. Yoichi frequently reminds Mikage of her dead name and the level of passing the women at the club have is remarked upon as if their most defining trait. Granted, the discourse we have now wasn’t around at the time, but it still seems worth mentioning as it will definitely offend some. Eriko being trans is passed off as she simply decided she didn’t want to be a man, which seems to sidestep a lot of emotional aspects that would have fit really well into the novel. While it was nice to see a trans character be openly embraced, the handling left so much to be desired and irked me.

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Banana creates a hybrid first-person narrator. These people play two roles: following the lives outside and observing themselves. “I” compels the readers by being frank with both themselves and their surroundings. Therefore, this narrative always creates credibility and consistency in Banana’s fiction and urges audiences to look at things from different perspectives. A certain tension is created in narrative parts: “The faint colors of his form, even the heat of the tears running down my cheeks: I desperately struggled to memorize it all. The arching lines described by his arm remained, like an afterimage, suspended in the air” (Banana, 1993, p. 146). The small happiness of Tsugumi’s little family is similar to a kitchen that is always unstable. The moments they spend together consistently bear a likelihood of uncertainty and farewell. Even the father, who only meets his daughter, offers lessons that sometimes show his uncertain ego or feelings about the past. The daughter’s ego, in parallel with the “I” of the narrator, has reflected a sweet paternal love while sketching the uncertain perspective of unpredictable things in the future. Banana’s works, even though minimalist in the train of thought, are always warm and humane. Wong writes, “She is hence recognized as a ‘Healing-Kei’ writer—one who brings positivity, love, and warmth to readers” (Wong, 2016). Maybe this is the way Banana hopes her readers practice creating happiness for themselves and society. Truly great people emit a light that warms the hearts of those around them. When that light has been put out, a heavy shadow of despair descends. Perhaps Eriko's was only a minor kind of greatness, but her light was sorely missed. And so here we have a love story. But one that reads like a puppet show, with Mikage tied to death’s right hand, and Yuichi to his left. For many reasons deeply rooted in social structure, politics and laws, Shinto and Buddhist traditions, and myriad other factors, Japan as a culture places deep and sacred value in death. I thoroughly agree with her and that magical quality transforms what could have been a rather banal book into a great one. Yosimoto es minuciosa en el tratamiento de temas escabrosos y delicados (muerte, soledad, familia, sexo…) y lo hace de manera natural, sencilla, nada soez. Y, aunque su visión es realmente pesimista, parece que al final deja un rayo de luz para la redención.

We’ve all had that ‘what if?’ thought. Perhaps it’s about a missed job opportunity or a potential partner we never had the courage to ask out. These are big things that slip through our fingers. We sometimes wish away a bad day at work, only to then be faced with the realisation that this day is one of a finite number we have. Maybe this is the main idea that Japanese writers aim for. Getting accustomed to one’s own new situation is the foremost rule of survival. The Japanese people are born in a land filled with death, so they have developed their strangely brave and patient characteristics. The same applies to Banana. While writing about disasters and accidents, she is fully aware of the spirit of the Japanese—they are ready to face their challenges calmly. This is how Banana tells the rest of humanity that the Japanese can overcome any injury. However, how do they overcome them? And if so, are they the winner in all cases?Due to the complexity of the layers of metaphor, Banana’s stories seem to barely have any connection, which, in fact, is untrue. Its complexity reaches an advanced level at which the characters themselves can produce different meanings as readers reinterpret and try to relate them to their personal lives. The storyline is written in a postmodernist style, and there are few details to create dramatic conflicts such as in older forms of narrative found in Akutagawa or Mishima’s fiction. However, this does not mean that this story has no conflict. This narrative still maintains conflicts; they appear in the depth of cultural meaning instead of being expressed explicitly, creating forever internal conversations and making the “meanings” of the story change according to how the readers interpret it at different times.

Later, Eriko asks Mikage to live with them, which she accepts. The apartment her grandmother left was too expensive for her to continue living in. The rent was free in exchange for soupy rice, and the stress of living with an elderly person was lifted. Mikage's ex, Sotaro, calls and informs her that Yuichi's girlfriend slapped him due to her living with him. Oniki Y (1996) A brief overview of J-Pop fiction. http://jpop.com/feature/02jfiction/yoshimoto/html. Accessed 8 Jan 2022 Chika—A loyal employee who inherited the gay nightclub from Eriko and helps the relationship between Mikage and Yuichi. Yuichi Tanabe — Son of Eriko Tanabe. Main character. His mother died of cancer when Yuichi was a very young child. He lives with his loving transgender mother and supports Mikage in her time of grieving. He eventually loses his mother, and relies on emotional support from Mikage.

The weaknesses here made me cross. Anyone concerned with LGBTQ issues (especially trans ones) may feel the urge to throw this book at the wall. One has to remember it's a different culture, a generation ago, but the trouble is, it doesn't feel like a historical novel. if a person hasn't ever experienced true despair, she grows old never knowing how to evaluate where she is in life; never understanding what joy really is. I'm grateful for it.