Banana Yoshimoto (よしもと ばなな or 吉本 ばなな) is the pen name of Mahoko Yoshimoto (吉本 真秀子), a Japanese contemporary writer. She writes her name in hiragana. (See also 吉本芭娜娜 (Chinese).)
Along with having a famous father, poet Takaaki Yoshimoto, Banana's sister, Haruno Yoiko, is a well-known cartoonist in Japan. Growing up in a liberal family, she learned the value of independence from a young age.
She graduated from Nihon University's Art College, majoring in Literature. During that time, she took the pseudonym "Banana" after her love of banana flowers, a name she recognizes as both "cute" and "purposefully androgynous."
Despite her success, Yoshimoto remains a down-to-earth and obscure figure. Whenever she appears in public she eschews make-up and dresses simply. She keeps her personal life guarded, and reveals little about her certified Rolfing practitioner, Hiroyoshi Tahata and son (born in 2003). Instead, she talks about her writing. Each day she takes half an hour to write at her computer, and she says, "I tend to feel guilty because I write these stories almost for fun."
"My hundrum world disappeared when my mother died." This is the first line of "Argentine Hag," as told through the eyes of Micchan who lost her mother when she was 18. Micchan is similar to Mikage, the lead character of Banana Yoshimoto's brilliant debut novel, "Kitchen," because Mikage has just lost her grandmother and is also grieving. But the difference between the two books is that in "Kitchen," grief is something you experience and expect to move on from. In "Argentine Hag," you accept the fact that you never will.
In "Argentine Hag," Micchan tells us how she and her father deal with the aftermath of her mom's death. Her dad deals with the loss of his wife by trying to completely erase her out of his life. He seems to feel that the life he planned for didn't work out as he'd hoped so he is now going to completely reject having a life that has any semblance to the one he shared all those years with his family. Instead, he chooses to find a woman and lifestyle that is completely different. Micchan sees this as an expression of his anger towards life. But perhaps he feels that trying to continue life as he'd known it is too much of a reminder of his life with his late wife and that if he remembers her at all, he will not only remember the good times, but the pain will come to the surface also. He can't just move on. He has to obliterate that life completely from his memory to not feel the pain.
Micchan's dad begins dating the eccentric woman who the town have nicknamed "Argentine Hag" and who lives in a broken-down building. She looks old to them and wears thick make-up, flashy clothes, and used to teach the Argentine Tango and Spanish in the building. Micchan tells her dad that his association with Argentine Hag embarrasses her: "Dad," I said in a lowered voice. "Argentine Hag! I don't want to say this, but everyone in town is laughing at you."
When Micchan actually meets Argentine Hag, she finds out her name is Yuri and that the inside of the house is just as run-down as the outside. Micchan refers to it as "ruins." There is no heat, and layers of hair (both human and cat) are piled up on the rug. The house smells like cat urine. Even Yuri has her own smell which Micchan finds gross at first but then gets used to it. She begins to like Yuri and discovers that sometimes what appears to be negatives at first can actually be positives, such as the dark-stained ceiling which Micchan finds has happiness up there.
In Yuri's home, everything is preserved. The house resembles a storage area for an antique store. She repairs old lamps, and anything broken, with packing tape and cloth coverings. The teacups are discolored by 20 year-old stains. She'd rather repair things than part with them or buy new. She wants to keep the old things forever: "Within the Argentine Building, nothing was ever lost; time was suspended by the power of the human mind."
By the end of the book, Micchan finds out that Yuri is not as old as she'd thought. She is actually 50 and winds up having the dad's baby by C-section. But there were complications from the birth that she never heals from and she dies suddenly of a heart attack 6 years later. The lesson Micchan learns is that people are not always on the inside how they appear to be on the outside. She learns through Yuri how to deal with the grief she suffers from losing her mom: "Do you know why people make ruins?" Yuri asked me. "It is a wish that we don't want people we love to die, we want this day to last forever." This is the message of "Argentine Hag": to make this day last forever and to dance on the roof as Yuri and Micchan's dad said they often did. And it is okay to feel bad about loss, and as much as people try to move on, it is still okay to embrace your grief. It is why Yuri lives with all her old things and can't give them up. She is drawn to the past and can't move on and lead a normal life like the rest of society without all her old things and the feelings connected to them. "Argentine Hag" is a story of being stuck in your grief and stuck in both your childhood and the past. But that's okay because you can still dance on the rooftops once in a while.
I love the cover image (a larger version is on my cubby wall). It was worth the fifty dollars I paid for the dual language edition to also find the stylistic surprises Yoshitomo Nara added inside. I wish all books were as creatively designed. The short story was almost beside the point, but worth reading in its own right (or is this cognitive dissonance / compensatory thinking at work?).
I read this because I'm a Banana fan, and I discovered Nara in the process. The artwork and design of this book is quite wonderful, making nearly every page a small surprise. The illustrations and photos don't always exactly correlate to the story, but they fit the mood of it.
As for the story, honestly, it's quite standard Banana. There's a death, and there's a young woman attempting to figure out the meaning of death and life. It's familiar territory for her, and the characters are all quite quirky. That said, anyone who's read her knows that she knows how to tell a tale, how to set the mood, and how to put things in a compelling and thought-provoking way. So it's a nice story.
This book is great if you are learning Japanese, to practice with your reading of kanji. It is a simple book, so intermediate level Japanese. I have a copy with Japanese and English, so I can cheat and check my readings. The story is great. It is strange and simple, yet beautiful, covering the life cycle of death and birth, and rediscovering family. Also, the entire artistic package of this book is absolutely brilliant and inspiring.
Really nicely designed book, with scattered drawings, pictures and colours. The story is typical of a Banana Yoshimoto recipe: in a big family bowl, add a cup of death, incorporate a tablespoons of life and spread a teaspoon of unusual on top. Maybe not original from her, but it works well.
It's both in English and Japanese, but most of the time, they're a few pages apart. I'm not sure why, it should have been easy to adapt some pictures to make it fit right, but that's just a minor point. Gorgeous book and lovely story.
I read Kitchen and Midnight Shadow last year, both of which I really liked. Yoshimoto has this dream like quality to her writing that seems to be very popular among Japanese authors (Factory by Hiroko Oyamada and the Lonesome Bodybuilder by Yukiko Motoya are very similar stylistically), but I think Argentine Hag was an example of that being pushed too far. Yoshimoto's favorite themes of family loss and internal conflict are here, but the actual story does nothing to really grab anyone. The titular hag remains inscrutable, and there's the very weird aside about the narrator experiencing sexual assault. It felt like a poor rehash of many of the ideas present in Kitchen. The art was very cool though, and the way the art was woven into the book did give certain sections more power.
Lovely, ephemeral, light, and wistful, just like you would expect from Banana Yoshimoto. I know her writing has been considered "fluff" by some, but ever since reading "Kitchen" in high school, I've always loved her way of painting emotionally stirring, physically vivid feelings and places. She's not overly concerned with plot, but her way with those things makes that feel not so necessary, at least to me. Very glad to have stumbled upon the beautiful bilingual edition with the charming illustrations carefully laid-in throughout.
The usual Banana Yoshimoto fluff, I picked this up at that great 中古本屋 on Brewer Street in London, the one with the big shop sign that says 'De-Luxe Cleaning.' (To keep away the 外人? - http://bit.ly/aca3Mj) Not too much to say about this really - a nice easy read to keep the neuronal pathways lubricated while away from the Big Nip.
What if your mother passes away, then your father finds next woman whose look and smell are quite uncomfortable, living in a devastated building but pure pure mind, when you are in teenage? The main character is a teenager who encountered such situation.
On the contrary to the situation, the storyline moves with tons of tenderness and healing. The woman, Yuri, wearing a black dress with uncomfortable smell, affectionately embraces family situation of aftermath in a creepy house. Sounds wired though, she has something that draws emotion hidden and supressed in the teenager. I think Yuri throws words that the teenager wanted the most at that time from the beginning. This stroy is about healing and reconstruction.
Very touching story that cotains many gems in the short story.