Kitchen by Banana Yoshimoto, translated by Megan Backus, Washington Square Press, 1994.
Reviewing books that have been translated is always difficult because it is hard to know if anything has been 'lost' in the translation. Unfortunately, reading Kitchen, I often did feel lost.
The small novel begins with the lines; "the place I like best in the world is the kitchen. No matter where it is, no matter what kind, if it's a kitchen, if it's a place where they make food, it's fine with me". For the full first two pages, the narrator continues to discuss her love for kitchens. You may wonder what I expected, given the title of the novel, but it was not this simplistic, childlike writing style. Many readers have praised Yoshimoto's writing and Kitchen has received many positive reviews in both the Western and Japanese media. Certain parts of the novel do have a poetic quality to them. But I was let down by the novel as a whole.
At first I attributed the juvenile voice of the main character to a stylistic device. I believed the narrator was a young girl, therefore the story was being told from her perspective. Then I realized that the character was a University student. Despite tackling some morbid and serious subjects, the novel carried on in this exuberant and airy style. The main character is left alone after the death of her grandmother and caregiver. She is approached by an acquaintance of her grandmother, a boy close to her age, who asks her to come and live with him and his mother. Even though she has just met this boy she agrees, and the novel follows the development of their relationship.
The book was not unpleasant or completely unenjoyable. it does have a certain charm to it. But given the accolades it had received, including two of Japan's most respected literary awards, the writing style was unexpected. This might sound harsh, but it is the type of book best read on the beach in the summer, or with a slight head cold. The light style and odd plot work better when you are not overly analytical of what you are reading.
Comments
This reviewer missed the point entirely. Psychic pain creates a surreal apprehension of life. A mind numbed by pain (or by painkillers) becomes simplistic. It's all about survival. One moment at a time. Not thinking, just functioning. Unfortunately, Ms. Hain's, like so many supposed critics, has led a very sheltered life, so is unprepared to consider the sufferings of others and accept the manifestations of their suffering. Here's an idea for Ms Hain -- put yourself in the shoes of victims of abuse, war, violence. Imagine their feelings. Cry cry cry for all the lost in this world and for the cruelty of their masters. Only then will you have the humanity to review books like Kitchen. I read it years ago, and although I didn't completely understand it, was blown away by the narrators gentle narration and its surreal settingIt has stayed with me ever since.
Perhaps only an artist or poet can appreciate these feelings and the art that's based on them.
Silly solipsistic response to a fair review. Is "Poet" a "victim" of war? Is Mikage? Stick to the story.
Ice cold loneliness
Is to live alone with an old person.
Although I was raised with love, I was always lonely.
When my grandmother died, time died, too.
I walked along, stepping on my shadow;
Alone under the stars in a strange place.
Paralyzed with loneliness, he looked sad—
Whoever he was.
Grandmother loved cut flowers; and so did I.
We have always acted like Brother and Sister.
But we are a man and a woman in the primordial sense,
Contemplating a double suicide.
Isn’t it great being an only child?
this poem is comprised of images taken directly from Kitchen
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