Granta 75: Music Book

A compilation of 9 short stories by female authors, the foreword promises an exploration of Japanese womenhood by Japanese women. With such a delightful introduction, written by Ruth Ozeki (whose work I am now avidly seeking out) I was really excited about the promise behind the book.

"Recently I saw and ad for a California-based skateboard company, which featured a different vision of Japanese womanhood: an anime-style image of a saucer-eyed, knock-kneed schoolgirl, dressed in a blood-spattered, miniskirted school uniform and sailor blouse, carrying a chain saw and dragging a severed head.
Hmm."

The book had its highs and lows. The stories, in hindsight, appear to be organized in a rough chronology of age by the lead protagonist. I enjoyed the social complexity and apathy in the first story 'Milk,' by Tamaki Daido. If I understand the word play on the title- the idea that milk is important for growing children, then the title is particularly clever. The second story in the book, 'Inside,' by Rio Shimamoto, was my favorite. I won't say much about these, for they are difficult to present without ruining some of the beauty in the way they unfold.
The third story, 'Piss,' by Yuzuki Muroi, needs to come with a warning label. I don't mind depictions of the violence involved in the sex industry, but to me using ANY depiction of violence with the only apparent goal as 'I'm-gonna-get-paid-for-my-story' not only reinforces the binds which make these horrid conditions possible, but uses the women in the same abusive way as their 'manager.' In short, this story is vulgar, violent, and disgusting only because, as far as I can tell, Muroi-san needed a shock boost in her career.

Both 'My Son's Lips,' by Shungiku Uchida, and 'Her Room,' by Chiya Fujino, focus on the inability of some women to flatly refuse requests. The interplay in this effect was delightful.

Amy Yamada's 'Fiesta' was an unique and interesting play on 'self,' dividing up the main character into a bundle of different emotions and thoughts which act as the main characters in the piece... though it was incredibly predictable to have Desire be a male character, separate from another male character, Reason. The gender of the internal characters is problematic for my sense and understanding of feminist theory, but this may be just personal idiosyncratic tastes.

'The Unfertilized Egg' used many dream sequences, which were nice to see because of they are an important historical trope in Japanese narratives. Since this is a book about women, you can guess what the story is about by the title.

The last story, 'The Shadow of the Orchid,' by Nobuko Takagi, was another one of my favorites, focusing on a women entering menopause. I particularly enjoyed the main protagonists take on television: "She could avoid boredom by turning on the television, but Michiko could not watch the afternoon shows for more than ten minutes at a time. Trivial incidents involving celebrities were hashed out like major world events, and male analysts knit their brows over concerns such as a housewife who shoplifted during her period. It quickly became too much."
That was a refreshing outlook on television aimed at housewives.

For my decidedly American (and slightly askew) liberal college educated feminism, the choice (and I say choice because it's not necessarily all that's out there... just perhaps all that's famous) of nine stories which rely SO HEAVILY on the countenance of a male, and of sex, as a portrayal of how Japanese women are female was a little disturbing. While some stories did have less heterosexual sex emphasis than others, all of them did include a male-female coupling (whether these worked or not is, of course, part of the narrative). All of the narratives rely upon this in some form or the other. This was a bit of a letdown, as if the only way "Japanese Women" can see themselves is through their relationships to men, and their relationship to other women through sex with men.
I wouldn't have found this so problematic if it wasn't for the mission statement given in the introduction of the text.

It cannot be that this is the only core or female identity for women born in Japan.
I have to believe that this, then, represents the core of what is acceptable to PUBLISH on Japanese women's identity... and like the television programing, perhaps the industry is still too male dominated to really write outside stereotypes.