Rabbits / Kanai Mieko -- Fuji / Sono Ayako -- A bond for two lifetimes-gleani / Enchi Fumiko -- A mother's love / Okamoto Kanoko -- Crabs / Kono Taeko -- Happiness / Uno Chiyo
Phyllis Birnbaum is a novelist, biographer, journalist, and translator from the Japanese. Her work has appeared in The New Yorker, The Times Literary Supplement, and other publications. She lives near Boston.
A collection of six stories by Japanese women edited and translated by Phyllis Birnbaum, taken from a cross-section of eras. Birnbaum’s selection features Kanai Mieko’s now-classic “Rabbits” a surreal, intensely disturbing tale from 1972. Kanai plays with aspects of Lewis Carroll’s Alice in Wonderland which was enjoying a moment of renewed popularity in Japan at the time. As with other instances of Kanai’s work this revolves around a writer, here dealing with some kind of writer’s block, who encounters a strange, hermit-like girl who’s chosen to live inside a rabbit costume made from their bloody skins. It’s a cruel, visceral and striking examination of trauma, relations between fathers and daughters, greed, sensuality and death.
Equally striking is Kono Taeko’s “Crabs” which won the 1963 Akutagawa Prize. Kono’s frank discussion of resentment and sexual desire in a conventional marriage is centred on a wife recovering from illness in a coastal town, a memorably perverse exploration of power and masculinity which contains echoes that trace back to WW2 and Japanese militarism. Sono Ayako’s “Fuji” is a conversational, subtle glimpse of issues around class divides, domesticity and gender rules, issues that also surface in Enchi Fumiko’s 1957 “A Bond for Two Lifetimes: Gleanings” a detailed tale of grief, sexual exploitation, and grief surfacing in the interaction between a woman and her former professor.
Poet and Buddhist scholar Okamoto Kanoko’s “A Mother’s Love” dates back to the late 1930s. An evocative story centred on a woman recently returned to Tokyo from Paris, where her son has remained to study art. There are some interesting observations linked to the tension between cultures as well as some fascinating nationalistic undercurrents. But the piece revolves around the woman’s growing obsession with a young man who resembles her lost son, leading to an unusual tangle of the erotic and the maternal that sometimes reminded me of Colette’s work. Fluid but marred by overwrought passages. For me the weakest entry in the collection was Uno Chiyo’s 1970 “Happiness” about an older women looking back at her life, particularly during wartime, and her attempts to order her existence. A curious mix of styles that didn’t work for me.
An excellent collection of some very disparate Japanese authors. Birnbaum candidly chose works she prefers, and makes no pretense that this is a complete overview: the seemingly random nature of the collection and its lack of cohesion is both its strength and its weakness.
I always wanted to have a copy of this ever since I read it in college--mostly because I really enjoy Kono Taeko, whose Crabs is featured in this collection, but the story about the rabbit-girl still makes me blaze right through it to the end. A rarity for me, considering that I do not often enjoy re-reading things I've read before nearly as much as others.
I loved the cover. Nobody but a Japanese woman has a wrist like that! This book has a been around for a while. I love reading about translators of Japanese. Anyway, this is a classic. The first story is weird and I don't "get it." Maybe it's about an incestuous relationship? Who knows? I also love reading weird Japanese stories I don't really understand, of which this is a good example. Maybe the girl feels forever out of place because of it, and wears a rabbit costume all the time. She depicts herself and her father as gluttons, representing something inappropriate. Another story that was interesting was the one about the lady who has cancer and spends summer with her nephew collecting crabs. It reminded me of Mishima's Death in Midsummer, where the child drowns. The sea in all it's sunny summer glory juxtaposed alongside death. So, a story evoking pathos.
I really enjoyed this compilation of Japanese stories written by women. Many of the stories are striking but all were evocative and very well written (and translated). The authors explore different aspects of the female experience and use evocative and beautiful nature descriptions and metaphors.
I have read only a small portion of this, after buying it for two or three bucks from the University of Hawai'i Press during one of the clearance sales. Unfortunately it got thrown out, along with five or six hundred other books, when I unexpectedly have to leave out from my old living space. I've struggled to track down the name of this book, because I'd like to find out some information about one of the authors. She wrote a story about becoming a rabbit and wearing its skin and fur on her naked body. Does anyone have any info or just the author's name?? What a terrific, memorable story she wrote. Edit: I found her: Mieko.
To be honest there were only a couple of stories that I really enjoyed - Rabbits was one of them, as well as Fuji and Crabs. But the rest seemed to drag on and on, which is why it took me so long to finish this book even though it's quite small. I didn't originally realize that this collection was from 1982, and I'd love to see an updated edition. As with any anthology, the selection seems to reflect the author's personal tastes at least to some extent.
there were some seriously appealing moments to some of these stories, but on the whole i thought the collection was ill-chosen. the translations were executed well, but i felt like there was an overall cohesion missing. oh, whatever. that's ok. if you want to read more stories by japanese women, check it out. if not, don't bother.
I've only read the piece titled Rabbits (I had a copy from my professor), and I enjoyed Rabbits a lot. I may have to actually purchase the entire book and read the rest of the stories contained therein, now.
Got this for the Fumiko Enchi story, which absolutely did not disappoint. That alone is worth the price of admission, but as it turned out the other stories pulled their weight. Yay.