In these three short pieces Natsuko Imamura reflects on women’s alienation and the possibility of transformation. As Sayaka Murata notes, in her afterword, this is fiction which dissolves the boundaries between reality and fantasy. The first features Asa a girl who’s desperate to nurture everyone around her but is continually snubbed, even the goldfish at school refuses to eat when it’s her turn to feed him. In a process that lies somewhere between mythical metamorphosis and religious reincarnation, Asa becomes a tree and later disposable chopsticks which enables her to finally fulfil her desire. Simply told, Imamura’s account of Asa’s experiences - including the symbolism of chopsticks in Japanese culture – seems to deliberately echo aspects of Shintoism and animism, beliefs in which inanimate objects possess the potential to house spirits. All of which gives this a fable-like quality. But Imamura’s treatment of her material, her choice of settings and characters combine to form a disturbing commentary on contemporary society: partly focused on gender and self-sacrifice, partly broader issues around waste, disposability and needless consumption.
The next entry also revolves around an isolated girl desperate to satisfy her desires. Imamura’s narrative’s an oblique, moving examination of impoverished women, trauma, mental health and exclusion from mainstream society. Imamura introduces Nami, following her from child to adult. Nami has a strange ability whatever’s thrown at her she’s never hit. This attribute enrages her schoolmates and teachers who notice that when they play games like dodgeball, she’s always the last one standing. Singled out as peculiar, Nami begins to hit herself, self-harm which results in commitment to a psychiatric unit. But here she’s exposed to different, unexpected forms of violence and exploitation which end up blighting her entire life.
The final piece links to earlier themes around submission and women whose lives are skewed by destructive external forces. It’s narrated by a woman who seems to have slotted into her role as housewife, worker and mother with relative ease but she’s secretly haunted by events from her youth. Unable to fall in line with social and cultural expectations, she ran away to live like a cat, on all fours, scavenging for food. She met a boy who’d also become a cat, forming a tentative bond that was brutally ruptured. Although it’s evident that even as a cat the woman failed to evade a more submissive role. Imamura’s writing’s inventive and fluid, I found these stories gripping and tantalisingly complex, but her overall perspective on women’s prospects appears bleak. Although the women in her fiction each triumph in some sense, their achievements come at, what seemed, an exceptionally high price. Translated by Lucy North. Afterword translated by Ginny Tapley Takemori.
Thanks to Netgalley and publisher Faber for an ARC