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持続可能な魂の利用
この国から「おじさん」が消える――女性アイドルに恋する三十女の熱情が、日本の絶望を粉砕！ 新米ママ、同性愛者、会社員も連帯し、“地獄”を変える“賭け”に挑む。著者初長篇にして最強レジスタンス小説。
- GenresJapan
248 pages
First published May 25, 2020
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16 people want to read
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May 5, 2021I wanted to read this book for a lot of reasons, primarily because I’m a huge fan of the author and because the premise as originally advertised (on twitter? or the book blurb itself?) seemed fascinating. I also saw people calling this a Japanese answer to Kim Jiyong Born 1982, which I loved, so I maybe had unconsciously high expectations going in.
Having read it, my first impression was that it wasn’t really what I was expecting. It still had powerful scenes, memorable lines, and thought provoking sections, but as one whole cohesive novel, I’m not sure I enjoyed it as much as I have Matsuda Aoko’s other work.
I listed out some reasons why after I finished reading it (spoilers ahead):
- Other reviewers/readers have pointed this out, but it seems both very self-aware and lacking in self-awareness to have a segment of the novel that examines the harm that real-person fanfic can do to its subjects in a novel that is arguably a real-person fanfic. Not my biggest issue with the book by any means, and obviously a sexual fantasy written by an adult man about an underage girl (which the book criticizes) is different from a non-sexual social-revolution fantasy written by an adult woman (which this novel arguably is), but both are still adults putting their hopes and ideals onto children who are just doing a job. That being said, this book isn’t *explicitly* a real-person fanfic, so maybe it’s a moot point, but I definitely mentally filed it under “things that made me go ‘hmmmmm.’”
- This book seems like it's trying to do two things: unflinchingly depict everyday sexism faced by women in Japan (and in doing so raise/develop shared feminist consciousness and demand action), and explore sexism in society on a more theoretical/philosophical level through magical realism/science fiction. Matsuda Aoko is great at magical realism and science fiction, and in this book, she's great at depicting everyday sexism. I just couldn't help feeling that these didn't belong in the same book. The fantastical aspects of the magical realism and the dark humor/intentional absurdity of the sci fi worked to undermine the intense realism of the rest of the novel. Most of this novel is *so* clearly and unsubtly based in reality that even I could identify what and who was being referenced. "Ah, this is AKB, this is Keyakizaka46, this is Akimoto Yasushi. This is referring to the Blue Hearts, here she's dissing Koizumi Shinjiro, here she's referencing Greta Thunberg." It's refreshing to have something so timely and so unafraid to take on big names (I almost said "unafraid to name names," but Matsuda never does that -- it's just *so* clear what she's talking about that it feels like she does). This makes the fantastical aspects of the novel feel almost disappointing, though.
- It feels almost like the novel runs out of steam and hand waves the ending: "and there was a government conspiracy, actually, and then they let idols run the nation, and the idols did a much better job because of Solidarity and Girl Power." What?? It's like the novel became an entirely different novel that didn't have time to develop. I would love to read *that* novel -- a sci-fi political satire that actually went into detail with that plot line -- but this novel just narrates what happens without giving any details. I like the sarcastic humor behind the idea "the government must want this nation to collapse because there's no other explanation behind their absolutely shit policies," but if this book wanted to be a sci-fi that engaged with that idea in a "what if that's LITERALLY the case?" kind of way, then it needed to raise the idea way earlier in the book, and then actually *engage* with it. Don't you think right wing people would react to that in a negative way? If not -- why not?? This is Matsuda Aoko's first full-length novel. I love her short stories, and I couldn't help but feel like she had sort of shoved one (or more than one) short story idea into a normal, literary-fiction novel. It didn't feel cohesive, which was disappointing because the ideas were interesting.
- The beginning and the ending confused me. I hope this book is translated into English because I want to know if my confusion comes from me not understanding the Japanese well or from the book being confusing. The novel starts with this magical realism concept of "girls (shoujo)" becoming invisible to "older men (ojisan)” (scare quotes on both because the categories are suggested to encompass more than what the word itself suggests). Ultimately, “girls” are quarantined from “older men” for the two parties’ mutual safety. I thought the novel would then take place in this universe where “girls” are invisible to “older men” but it... didn't. However, it's interspersed with narration from a group of girls doing research on a distant past: our society. “Ok,” I thought, “so these girls live in the future where older men can't see them.” But then at the end, we get the weird "and then Japan closed up shop as a nation" part and the closing, "and now we have us, in the present day, or actually only me, and we don't have bodies, 'we' exist inside 'me'." WHAT? (Human instrumentality project who?) If the book ended like this without connecting this part to the prior narration with the girls in the future, then that would be one thing. But this is given as the conclusion of these girls' (this girl's??) presentation for a school project. But earlier in the book the girls try on school uniforms and play volleyball and have acne. But they don't have bodies? And also they're just one person?? Is it not supposed to make sense? Am I just supposed to ~feel~ the ending? Is it all a metaphor???
- I promise I mean this genuinely and am not trying to sound catty when I say this, but: This book might have benefitted from saving some of the long, loving, in-depth descriptions of idol groups for AO3 and replacing those bits with parts that would connect all the different pieces of plot more.
If I had gone into the book knowing just how much it’s primarily about idols, I may have felt differently about it (or I might not have read it, because idols don’t interest me as much as they clearly do the author). It’s certainly a memorable book and I’ve mostly seen Japanese readers heap praise on it, so it’s quite likely that I’m just not the target audience. At any rate, it’s made me really eager to finally sit down and watch Revolutionary Girl Utena. (Which, from what I hear, also has a weird ending... Maybe this book’s conclusion will make sense after watching it.)
Having read it, my first impression was that it wasn’t really what I was expecting. It still had powerful scenes, memorable lines, and thought provoking sections, but as one whole cohesive novel, I’m not sure I enjoyed it as much as I have Matsuda Aoko’s other work.
I listed out some reasons why after I finished reading it (spoilers ahead):
- Other reviewers/readers have pointed this out, but it seems both very self-aware and lacking in self-awareness to have a segment of the novel that examines the harm that real-person fanfic can do to its subjects in a novel that is arguably a real-person fanfic. Not my biggest issue with the book by any means, and obviously a sexual fantasy written by an adult man about an underage girl (which the book criticizes) is different from a non-sexual social-revolution fantasy written by an adult woman (which this novel arguably is), but both are still adults putting their hopes and ideals onto children who are just doing a job. That being said, this book isn’t *explicitly* a real-person fanfic, so maybe it’s a moot point, but I definitely mentally filed it under “things that made me go ‘hmmmmm.’”
- This book seems like it's trying to do two things: unflinchingly depict everyday sexism faced by women in Japan (and in doing so raise/develop shared feminist consciousness and demand action), and explore sexism in society on a more theoretical/philosophical level through magical realism/science fiction. Matsuda Aoko is great at magical realism and science fiction, and in this book, she's great at depicting everyday sexism. I just couldn't help feeling that these didn't belong in the same book. The fantastical aspects of the magical realism and the dark humor/intentional absurdity of the sci fi worked to undermine the intense realism of the rest of the novel. Most of this novel is *so* clearly and unsubtly based in reality that even I could identify what and who was being referenced. "Ah, this is AKB, this is Keyakizaka46, this is Akimoto Yasushi. This is referring to the Blue Hearts, here she's dissing Koizumi Shinjiro, here she's referencing Greta Thunberg." It's refreshing to have something so timely and so unafraid to take on big names (I almost said "unafraid to name names," but Matsuda never does that -- it's just *so* clear what she's talking about that it feels like she does). This makes the fantastical aspects of the novel feel almost disappointing, though.
- It feels almost like the novel runs out of steam and hand waves the ending: "and there was a government conspiracy, actually, and then they let idols run the nation, and the idols did a much better job because of Solidarity and Girl Power." What?? It's like the novel became an entirely different novel that didn't have time to develop. I would love to read *that* novel -- a sci-fi political satire that actually went into detail with that plot line -- but this novel just narrates what happens without giving any details. I like the sarcastic humor behind the idea "the government must want this nation to collapse because there's no other explanation behind their absolutely shit policies," but if this book wanted to be a sci-fi that engaged with that idea in a "what if that's LITERALLY the case?" kind of way, then it needed to raise the idea way earlier in the book, and then actually *engage* with it. Don't you think right wing people would react to that in a negative way? If not -- why not?? This is Matsuda Aoko's first full-length novel. I love her short stories, and I couldn't help but feel like she had sort of shoved one (or more than one) short story idea into a normal, literary-fiction novel. It didn't feel cohesive, which was disappointing because the ideas were interesting.
- The beginning and the ending confused me. I hope this book is translated into English because I want to know if my confusion comes from me not understanding the Japanese well or from the book being confusing. The novel starts with this magical realism concept of "girls (shoujo)" becoming invisible to "older men (ojisan)” (scare quotes on both because the categories are suggested to encompass more than what the word itself suggests). Ultimately, “girls” are quarantined from “older men” for the two parties’ mutual safety. I thought the novel would then take place in this universe where “girls” are invisible to “older men” but it... didn't. However, it's interspersed with narration from a group of girls doing research on a distant past: our society. “Ok,” I thought, “so these girls live in the future where older men can't see them.” But then at the end, we get the weird "and then Japan closed up shop as a nation" part and the closing, "and now we have us, in the present day, or actually only me, and we don't have bodies, 'we' exist inside 'me'." WHAT? (Human instrumentality project who?) If the book ended like this without connecting this part to the prior narration with the girls in the future, then that would be one thing. But this is given as the conclusion of these girls' (this girl's??) presentation for a school project. But earlier in the book the girls try on school uniforms and play volleyball and have acne. But they don't have bodies? And also they're just one person?? Is it not supposed to make sense? Am I just supposed to ~feel~ the ending? Is it all a metaphor???
- I promise I mean this genuinely and am not trying to sound catty when I say this, but: This book might have benefitted from saving some of the long, loving, in-depth descriptions of idol groups for AO3 and replacing those bits with parts that would connect all the different pieces of plot more.
If I had gone into the book knowing just how much it’s primarily about idols, I may have felt differently about it (or I might not have read it, because idols don’t interest me as much as they clearly do the author). It’s certainly a memorable book and I’ve mostly seen Japanese readers heap praise on it, so it’s quite likely that I’m just not the target audience. At any rate, it’s made me really eager to finally sit down and watch Revolutionary Girl Utena. (Which, from what I hear, also has a weird ending... Maybe this book’s conclusion will make sense after watching it.)
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
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