What do you think?
Rate this book
Butter: A Novel of Food and Murder
The cult Japanese bestseller about a female gourmet cook and serial killer and the journalist intent on cracking her case, inspired by a true story.
There are two things that I can simply not tolerate: feminists and margarine.
Gourmet cook Manako Kajii sits in Tokyo Detention Center convicted of the serial murders of lonely businessmen, who she is said to have seduced with her delicious home cooking. The case has captured the nation’s imagination but Kajii refuses to speak with the press, entertaining no visitors. That is, until journalist Rika Machida writes a letter asking for her recipe for beef stew and Kajii can’t resist writing back.
Rika, the only woman in her news office, works late each night, rarely cooking more than ramen. As the visits unfold between her and the steely Kajii, they are closer to a masterclass in food than journalistic research. Rika hopes this gastronomic exchange will help her soften Kajii but it seems that she might be the one changing. With each meal she eats, something is awakening in her body, might she and Kaji have more in common than she once thought?
Inspired by the real case of the convicted con woman and serial killer, "The Konkatsu Killer," Asako Yuzuki’s Butter is a vivid, unsettling exploration of misogyny, obsession, romance and the transgressive pleasures of food in Japan.
There are two things that I can simply not tolerate: feminists and margarine.
Gourmet cook Manako Kajii sits in Tokyo Detention Center convicted of the serial murders of lonely businessmen, who she is said to have seduced with her delicious home cooking. The case has captured the nation’s imagination but Kajii refuses to speak with the press, entertaining no visitors. That is, until journalist Rika Machida writes a letter asking for her recipe for beef stew and Kajii can’t resist writing back.
Rika, the only woman in her news office, works late each night, rarely cooking more than ramen. As the visits unfold between her and the steely Kajii, they are closer to a masterclass in food than journalistic research. Rika hopes this gastronomic exchange will help her soften Kajii but it seems that she might be the one changing. With each meal she eats, something is awakening in her body, might she and Kaji have more in common than she once thought?
Inspired by the real case of the convicted con woman and serial killer, "The Konkatsu Killer," Asako Yuzuki’s Butter is a vivid, unsettling exploration of misogyny, obsession, romance and the transgressive pleasures of food in Japan.
464 pages, Hardcover
First published April 21, 2017
About the author
Asako Yuzuki
34 books127 followersAsako Yuzuki (柚木 麻子, Yuzuki Asako) is a Japanese writer. She won the All Yomimono Prize for New Writers and the Yamamoto Shūgorō Prize. Asako has been nominated multiple times for the Naoki Prize, and her novels have been adapted for television, radio, and film.
Ratings & Reviews
Friends & Following
Create a free account to discover what your friends think of this book!
Community Reviews
Displaying 1 - 30 of 1,693 reviews
March 26, 2024
A book with a cover as inviting as butter – rich yellow and beautifully designed – how could I resist?
We always choose butter but not margarine to cook.
Asking a woman who loves to cook for a recipe is to strike them in their weakest, most unprotected spot.
I baked cakes using this recipe from my auntie. It's a French 'four quarter' pound cake, made with equal parts egg, flour, butter, and granulated sugar (150 grams each).
A journalist (Rika Machida), interviews a food-loving serial killer (Manako Kajii), but the focus is on recipes, not crimes, blurring the lines between them.
This book is really well-written, but it is quite lengthy. If you have the time to dedicate to a long read, I highly recommend it.
We always choose butter but not margarine to cook.
Asking a woman who loves to cook for a recipe is to strike them in their weakest, most unprotected spot.
I baked cakes using this recipe from my auntie. It's a French 'four quarter' pound cake, made with equal parts egg, flour, butter, and granulated sugar (150 grams each).
A journalist (Rika Machida), interviews a food-loving serial killer (Manako Kajii), but the focus is on recipes, not crimes, blurring the lines between them.
This book is really well-written, but it is quite lengthy. If you have the time to dedicate to a long read, I highly recommend it.
May 31, 2024
"She recalled that milk came from blood. The same must then be true of butter. She licked the blood on the scab again. It tasted of metal and sweat."*
Hear me out... Butter is Julie & Julia if Julia Child were a serial killer and Julie's feelings for the skilled cook transgressed beyond admiration, with a pinch of murder and a generous serving of feminism.
What I thought this book would be: A startling thriller in which a female serial killer whips up delicious gourmet meals and serves them to her unsuspecting victims while a journalist writing about the mounting murders starts piecing clues together to crack the case and find the killer.
What this book actually is: Something else entirely . . .
Butter is based on a true story and opens with serial killer Manako Kajii (also known in real life as the Konkatsu Killer) already in prison, where she refuses to speak to any interviewers, especially women. Journalist Rika Machida is keen to interview Kajii and manages to connect with the imprisoned woman by exploiting her interest in food (i.e., asking for a recipe).
According to the media, the most surprising thing about Kajii's case was not how she used dating sites and exquisite food to lure would-be husbands before (allegedly) murdering them, it was that Kajii was "was neither young nor beautiful"* and was considered overweight. The media questioned: Why would a man, no matter how lonely he was, find her desirable?
Gaining weight and observing how society treats women who have gained weight is central to Rika's journey toward self-acceptance (note: this could be triggering for some readers). Meanwhile, her interactions with Kajii center on exploring food and discussing feminism.
The story follows journalist Rika (not Kajii) as she learns to cook and gains weight, wrestles with being comfortable in her new body, navigates patriarchal views of women's roles and bodies, researches Kajii's history, strives for autonomy, and ultimately discovers how she wishes to exist as a woman.
At its heart, this is a story about hunger: for food, for connection, for sensuality, for friendship, for knowledge, for independence, and for acceptance. It's also a story of opposites with Kajii and Rika holding diametric opinions toward women and feminism.
There's little in the way of violence or gore in this book. Instead, it offers an abundance of sumptuous descriptions of food: textures, aromas, flavors, sensations, etc.
I think a more apt title for the book would have been, Butter: A Novel of Food and Feminism. It may not be as catchy or have sold as many copies, but it more accurately represents what this book offers.
--
Many thanks to Ecco for sending me an advanced reading copy. Butter publishes April 16, 2024.
*Note: Quotes taken from an advanced reading copy and are subject to change by the final printing.
--
This book sounds wild! About a woman who lures lonely businessmen with her gourmet cooking then murders them and the journalist intent on cracking the case. And it's BASED ON A TRUE STORY? 😳 I need to read this.
Hear me out... Butter is Julie & Julia if Julia Child were a serial killer and Julie's feelings for the skilled cook transgressed beyond admiration, with a pinch of murder and a generous serving of feminism.
What I thought this book would be: A startling thriller in which a female serial killer whips up delicious gourmet meals and serves them to her unsuspecting victims while a journalist writing about the mounting murders starts piecing clues together to crack the case and find the killer.
What this book actually is: Something else entirely . . .
Butter is based on a true story and opens with serial killer Manako Kajii (also known in real life as the Konkatsu Killer) already in prison, where she refuses to speak to any interviewers, especially women. Journalist Rika Machida is keen to interview Kajii and manages to connect with the imprisoned woman by exploiting her interest in food (i.e., asking for a recipe).
According to the media, the most surprising thing about Kajii's case was not how she used dating sites and exquisite food to lure would-be husbands before (allegedly) murdering them, it was that Kajii was "was neither young nor beautiful"* and was considered overweight. The media questioned: Why would a man, no matter how lonely he was, find her desirable?
Gaining weight and observing how society treats women who have gained weight is central to Rika's journey toward self-acceptance (note: this could be triggering for some readers). Meanwhile, her interactions with Kajii center on exploring food and discussing feminism.
The story follows journalist Rika (not Kajii) as she learns to cook and gains weight, wrestles with being comfortable in her new body, navigates patriarchal views of women's roles and bodies, researches Kajii's history, strives for autonomy, and ultimately discovers how she wishes to exist as a woman.
At its heart, this is a story about hunger: for food, for connection, for sensuality, for friendship, for knowledge, for independence, and for acceptance. It's also a story of opposites with Kajii and Rika holding diametric opinions toward women and feminism.
There's little in the way of violence or gore in this book. Instead, it offers an abundance of sumptuous descriptions of food: textures, aromas, flavors, sensations, etc.
I think a more apt title for the book would have been, Butter: A Novel of Food and Feminism. It may not be as catchy or have sold as many copies, but it more accurately represents what this book offers.
--
Many thanks to Ecco for sending me an advanced reading copy. Butter publishes April 16, 2024.
*Note: Quotes taken from an advanced reading copy and are subject to change by the final printing.
--
This book sounds wild! About a woman who lures lonely businessmen with her gourmet cooking then murders them and the journalist intent on cracking the case. And it's BASED ON A TRUE STORY? 😳 I need to read this.
February 16, 2024
English: Butter: A Novel of Food and Murder
Female Japanese writers have lately been killing it on the international literary market, and rightly so: I love the brutal, disturbing, evocative feminist social commentary of authors like Sayaka Murata or Mieko Kawakami. Asako Yuzuki has delivered a huge bestseller with "Butter", but beware: While Murata sends blood-related lovers to a remote hut where they eat each other to make a point, the super-subversive gesture in Yuzuki's novel is that a woman puts lots of butter on rice. Yes: This is a book that will offend no one, disturb no one, and confuse no one. It's a very tame, very easy to understand novel, which doesn't mean that it isn't fun to read - readers just have to be aware that this is entertainment literature.
Our protagonist Rika is a 30-something magazine employee who wants to interview a woman who is accused of murdering three men after first having seduced them with her delicious cooking. Rika manages to meet Kajii and falls under her spell; she gets manipulated by the deeply disturbed woman and starts eating, you know, lots of butter. Topics that arise are misogyny (especially in the workplace and relating to female body images), pleasure, and, most importantly: loneliness. The men Kajii seduced were lonely, Rika's male friends and colleagues grapple with alienation, and so do, to a degree, the women we meet, from Rika who mainly lives for her thankless job, her friend Reiko who tries to conform to the traditional image of a wife, and Kajii who declares to idealize traditional female roles, but turns out to be unable to build any real relationships that go beyond the strict rules of convention.
For what it is, the novel is too long, and the culinary delights (a stand-in for pleasure in life or sometimes, more directly, sex) and their descriptions take lots of space, which will certainly appeal to the foodies out there (personally though, I love Japanese food, and I found many of the butter orgies to be culinary crimes - who drowns their tasty ramen and rice in butter? Yikes.). And of course, the whole butter metaphor is undercomplex, and so is the book. The final scene is basically Bridget Jones's Diary-level feminist commentary.
For a 400-page-book, this reads extremely fast, which also has to do with the stellar translation done by the wonderful Ursula Gräfe. Still, this novel is not an example of why Japanese female literature is currently so highly regarded in international literary circles, it's just too tame, on-the-nose, and simplistic - but nonetheless, pretty fun to read.
Female Japanese writers have lately been killing it on the international literary market, and rightly so: I love the brutal, disturbing, evocative feminist social commentary of authors like Sayaka Murata or Mieko Kawakami. Asako Yuzuki has delivered a huge bestseller with "Butter", but beware: While Murata sends blood-related lovers to a remote hut where they eat each other to make a point, the super-subversive gesture in Yuzuki's novel is that a woman puts lots of butter on rice. Yes: This is a book that will offend no one, disturb no one, and confuse no one. It's a very tame, very easy to understand novel, which doesn't mean that it isn't fun to read - readers just have to be aware that this is entertainment literature.
Our protagonist Rika is a 30-something magazine employee who wants to interview a woman who is accused of murdering three men after first having seduced them with her delicious cooking. Rika manages to meet Kajii and falls under her spell; she gets manipulated by the deeply disturbed woman and starts eating, you know, lots of butter. Topics that arise are misogyny (especially in the workplace and relating to female body images), pleasure, and, most importantly: loneliness. The men Kajii seduced were lonely, Rika's male friends and colleagues grapple with alienation, and so do, to a degree, the women we meet, from Rika who mainly lives for her thankless job, her friend Reiko who tries to conform to the traditional image of a wife, and Kajii who declares to idealize traditional female roles, but turns out to be unable to build any real relationships that go beyond the strict rules of convention.
For what it is, the novel is too long, and the culinary delights (a stand-in for pleasure in life or sometimes, more directly, sex) and their descriptions take lots of space, which will certainly appeal to the foodies out there (personally though, I love Japanese food, and I found many of the butter orgies to be culinary crimes - who drowns their tasty ramen and rice in butter? Yikes.). And of course, the whole butter metaphor is undercomplex, and so is the book. The final scene is basically Bridget Jones's Diary-level feminist commentary.
For a 400-page-book, this reads extremely fast, which also has to do with the stellar translation done by the wonderful Ursula Gräfe. Still, this novel is not an example of why Japanese female literature is currently so highly regarded in international literary circles, it's just too tame, on-the-nose, and simplistic - but nonetheless, pretty fun to read.
June 15, 2024
3.5⭐️
I found the premise of Butter: A Novel of Food and Murder by Asako Yuzuki (translated by Polly Barton) to be truly intriguing. The plot revolves around Rika Machida, a thirty-three-year-old journalist who pursues a story on the suspected serial killer, Manako Kajii who enticed men she met on dating sites with her lavish cooking and extracted huge sums of money from them. After three of her suitors were found dead under mysterious circumstances, the now thirty-five-year-old Kajii was found guilty and is currently awaiting her second trial after appeal while being held in a detention facility. Initially reluctant to talk to Rika, she agrees to meet her after Rika expresses her interest in Kajii’s cooking. Though Kajii refuses to talk about the case, she is more than eager to share her views on food (butter being an integral ingredient in her recipes) and as the narrative progresses, we follow how Rika’s approach to life, her worldview, and of course, her relationship with food changes and beliefs about body image change as she is drawn into Kajii’s world.
Inspired by true events (the 2012 case of the 'Konkatsu Killer' Kanae Kijima), this is a slow-moving lengthy character-driven novel that touches upon themes of friendship, food and culture, family, misogyny, societal expectations, feminism, body image and self-acceptance.
The story primarily revolves around how Rika’s life is impacted as a result of her association with Kajii and her obsession with Kajii as a person which often derails her from her investigative intentions before she begins to see Kajii for exactly who she is. Kajii is an interesting character- straightforward, unapologetic and shrewdly manipulative. All the characters are well thought out and the descriptions of the food and Kajii’s recipes make for interesting reading. I particularly enjoyed how the author incorporates folklore into the narrative and found how the parallels between the same and the events in the novel are drawn fascinating.
Please note that the “murder” element is not a central theme of this novel, which I did find a bit disappointing. Several sub-plots are woven into the story and I did feel that the narrative digressed often and lost momentum as it progressed. The author has touched upon several relevant themes in this novel and the author is brutally honest in her depiction of the unpleasantness that women have to deal with in terms of body image and how the same affects one's sense of self-worth. Despite the slow pace and digressions, the story is engaging and kept me invested as details from both Rika’s and Kajii’s lives were gradually revealed with several twists and surprises along the way. Though I didn’t enjoy the novel as much as I had hoped (which I believe was partly because I expected a bit more focus on the criminal aspect), I certainly found it to be an interesting read.
Many thanks to Ecco for the digital review copy via NetGalley. All opinions expressed in this review are my own. This novel was published on April 16, 2024.
Connect with me! ✏ Instagram ✏ My Blog ✏ The StoryGraph
I found the premise of Butter: A Novel of Food and Murder by Asako Yuzuki (translated by Polly Barton) to be truly intriguing. The plot revolves around Rika Machida, a thirty-three-year-old journalist who pursues a story on the suspected serial killer, Manako Kajii who enticed men she met on dating sites with her lavish cooking and extracted huge sums of money from them. After three of her suitors were found dead under mysterious circumstances, the now thirty-five-year-old Kajii was found guilty and is currently awaiting her second trial after appeal while being held in a detention facility. Initially reluctant to talk to Rika, she agrees to meet her after Rika expresses her interest in Kajii’s cooking. Though Kajii refuses to talk about the case, she is more than eager to share her views on food (butter being an integral ingredient in her recipes) and as the narrative progresses, we follow how Rika’s approach to life, her worldview, and of course, her relationship with food changes and beliefs about body image change as she is drawn into Kajii’s world.
Inspired by true events (the 2012 case of the 'Konkatsu Killer' Kanae Kijima), this is a slow-moving lengthy character-driven novel that touches upon themes of friendship, food and culture, family, misogyny, societal expectations, feminism, body image and self-acceptance.
The story primarily revolves around how Rika’s life is impacted as a result of her association with Kajii and her obsession with Kajii as a person which often derails her from her investigative intentions before she begins to see Kajii for exactly who she is. Kajii is an interesting character- straightforward, unapologetic and shrewdly manipulative. All the characters are well thought out and the descriptions of the food and Kajii’s recipes make for interesting reading. I particularly enjoyed how the author incorporates folklore into the narrative and found how the parallels between the same and the events in the novel are drawn fascinating.
Please note that the “murder” element is not a central theme of this novel, which I did find a bit disappointing. Several sub-plots are woven into the story and I did feel that the narrative digressed often and lost momentum as it progressed. The author has touched upon several relevant themes in this novel and the author is brutally honest in her depiction of the unpleasantness that women have to deal with in terms of body image and how the same affects one's sense of self-worth. Despite the slow pace and digressions, the story is engaging and kept me invested as details from both Rika’s and Kajii’s lives were gradually revealed with several twists and surprises along the way. Though I didn’t enjoy the novel as much as I had hoped (which I believe was partly because I expected a bit more focus on the criminal aspect), I certainly found it to be an interesting read.
Many thanks to Ecco for the digital review copy via NetGalley. All opinions expressed in this review are my own. This novel was published on April 16, 2024.
Connect with me! ✏ Instagram ✏ My Blog ✏ The StoryGraph
April 2, 2024
i was excepting something with a bit more bite...
The audiobook edition of Butter spans over 17 hours, yet its narrative could have been condensed into a fraction of that time. The story feels weighed down by excessive filler content, and while its intended themes hold potential they are belabored to the point of being ham-fisted. The characters, particularly the protagonist Rika and her friend Reiko, are often made to behave moronically for seemingly no reason other than to create conflict, but these misunderstandings and instances of idiocy diminished the coherence of the narrative.
The novel revolves around Rika Machida, a journalist in her 30s with a very poor work/life balance. Seeking a hit story, Rika reaches out to Manako Kajii who is currently serving time in the Tokyo Detention Centre after being convicted of the serial murders of businessmen she allegedly lured with her cooking skills. Kaji refuses to see her until Rika, at the suggestion of her friend Reiko, takes a different approach. Rather than asking Kaji about the murders, she asks for her beef stew recipe.
As they interact, their exchanges focus more on food and Kaji’s ideas of ‘etiquette’ than murder, prompting not only a personal introspection for Rika but a culinary awakening. Rika’s newfound appetite results in her gaining weight, and we see how that affects the way she is seen by the people in her life. Her boyfriend, who is just as work-oriented as she is, critiques her for it, seeing it as a sign of her ‘letting herself go’, and believes that women should be especially careful of their appearance. Rika’s closest friend, Reiko, also, despite once being outspoken on matters of sexism, expresses ‘concern’ over Rika’s weight, but her remarks may have to do less with Rika’s body than Reiko feeling jealous of Rika’s fixation with Kaji. Inspired by true events, Asako Yuzuki's Butter explores themes of misogyny, obsession, beauty standards and culinary pleasures in contemporary Japan.
The cover and blurb for Butter are somewhat misleading, as the novel proves to be less unsettling than they suggest. While the book does feature vivid sensory descriptions, particularly regarding food—its preparation, aroma, and taste—Yuzuki’s storytelling relied too much on repetitive depictions of glistening lips and sweaty bodies to elicit discomfort. There was an intensity ascribed to these descriptions that made many scenes feel unintentionally over the top (i was reminded of the business card scene from American Psycho…but in Butter these instances lack the former’s self-awareness and are delivered seemingly with seriousness).
Butter aligns more closely with contemporary social critiques like Kim Jiyoung, Born 1982, Diary of a Void, Breast & Eggs, Boy Parts, Ripe, The Glow, and Natural Beauty, books that explore themes of women challenging or questioning gender norms and navigating misogyny and beauty standards within various societal contexts.
Throughout Butter, every scene appears to reinforce these thematic points. It delves into the double standards around aging and the pressures faced by women to conform to traditional gender roles, especially within cultures with more conservative values. The novel extensively interrogates ideas surrounding femininity and the expectations placed upon women, particularly the impossible standards of the 'ideal' Japanese woman. While I appreciate narratives featuring diverse portrayals of female characters and exploring complex female friendships, Butter falls short in this regard.
Rika, the protagonist, comes across as painfully uninteresting and exists seemingly only to convey certain messages. Her experiences, such as gaining weight and rejecting societal pressures regarding relationships, feel didactic rather than authentic. Despite Yuzuki’s attempts to depict complexity and contradiction in her female characters, their behaviors often feel contrived and surface-level, emerging only to serve the narrative's thematic agenda. I wouldn't have minded as much if said themes had been explored in-depth, but I found the story's treatment and portrayal of misogyny somewhat superficial. There are several scenes in which Rika reflects on societal expectations regarding women's appearance and behavior (and comes to the conclusion that no, women should not have live their lives in accordance with what men find sexually attractive) and that show her professional integrity being questioned by a male colleague (who assumes that she couldn't possibly have a male friend and that she is exploiting said man to gain information for scoops). And the novel also touches upon the cultural expectations placed on married women to prioritize their husband's well-being, including taking care of household chores and cooking for him.. But I just wanted more, especially given the novel's 'run-time'. But Yuzuki never delves into the more insidious aspects of sexism and misogyny. If anything, I found her takes somewhat naive. For instance, portraying a woman who emerges unscathed after spending time with a dubious man who is certainly a creep and could have also been involved in a murder. The lack of consequences felt overly idealistic to me.
The supposed tension between Rika and Kaji, the central dynamic of the novel, lacked oomph. Kaji's influence on others, including Rika, feels unconvincing given her grating demeanor and, for all her portending to be an expert in culinary matters, her ‘hot takes’ weren’t all that hot. While Rika eventually sees through Kaji's facade, her prolonged influence on Rika's perspective on food and possibly life seems disproportionate to her actual impact. Kaji's character, at first presented in an enigmatic manner akin to Hannibal Lecter had neither the charisma nor depth necessary to maintain my interest.
If Butter had delved deeper into Rika’s experiences at her workplace and prioritized the development of her friendship with Reiko, perhaps I wouldn’t have felt so exasperated at this story. I found the narrative to be full of unnecessary dramatic moments (including Reiko impulsively playing detective to prove…something? What was going through her head? And then what…she just gives up like that?, Reiko is traumatized by her parents' open relationship and by the fact that her husband, like her father, also finds physical intimacy between spouses wrong—using her father’s words almost verbatim—Rika’s own trauma around her father’s death and cooking, the whole stuffed turkey thing at the end).
Several plot points are introduced that seem promising enough but ultimately lead nowhere. The characterization of Kaji remains shallow, failing to evolve beyond her initial portrayal, making me wonder to what extent Rika truly understood her ‘twisted’ psyche. The novel’s conclusion was jarringly cheesy, as Rika and the people around her advocate for self-acceptance (a trite "found family" trope is shoehorned for good measure), which felt contrived and lacking in depth.
Rika's inadequacies as a journalist are... noticeable. She’s a shit journalist. She claims to want to write an article on Kaji but her tactics to get Kaji to open up are incoherent (she does what Kaji wants her to do, but then asks very stupid questions or makes tone-deaf remarks—she tactlessly complains about her weight gain—that are bound to alienate someone as demanding and misanthropic as Kaji). Also, why didn’t it occur to Rika, like it did for Reiko, to find the man Kaji was staying with prior to her arrest?
The exploration of Kaji's family and past feels cursory, presenting a cliched portrait of a Daddy’s Girl without offering meaningful insight.
The narrative dangles several intriguing threads—such as the implication of a character's predatory tendencies and Kaji's alleged crimes—yet Yuzuki fails to follow these up satisfactorily. Despite being referred to as a serial killer, Kaji's actions and motivations receive only a surface-level examination and consequently Rika's view of Kaji is rather simplistic and her newfound understanding of her feels unearned (Kaji’s vices are emphasized throughout the narrative—her body too is described in a way that left much to be desired as if to emphasize just how ‘uncontrollable’ and defiant to norms she is— but then at the end we are meant to find her pathetic and kind of a victim—of her internalized misogyny, of the public’s gaze, of her need for male validation). Kaji's real life counterpart was also convicted on murder charges despite the lack of evidence, and Japan does have an incredibly high conviction rate...so why did not have Rika question whether Kaji deserved to be convicted? Or seen and spoken of a serial killer...? Kaji is antisocial, narcissistic, callous, manipulative and she doesn't seem to feel any remorse over the fact that she targeted/defrauded men…but then again their relationship seemed to me very much transactional…so why does Rika so readily accepts that Kaji is this 'serial killer'?
Overall, Butter fell short of delivering the darker, psychologically gripping narrative I had hoped for. Rika's journey towards uncovering the ‘truth’ feels aimless, and the murder aspect of the story is glossed over in favor of these overly dramatic moments that fail to provide a meaningful exploration of the novel’s thematic elements. I had expected the novel to explore Rika's (supposed) 'corruption', but it never happened (unless you count gaining weight and learning to love food again as 'bad'). As a result, her own anxiety and Reiko's concern about her growing too close to Kaji seemed somewhat uncalled for. Like, chill. Not like Kaji is urging Rika to kill men. To give the author the benefit of the doubt, one could argue that she deliberately crafted a narrative of smoke and mirrors, teasing depths and thrills without fully delivering on them.
I just was hoping for something darker, something more on the lines of a psychological cat-and-mouse game. Maybe on the lines of The Silence of the Lambs, or something in the realms of Barbara Vine or even My Sister, the Serial Killer. And, sure, maybe I thought that this book would deal with, shall we say, more monstrous appetites (i do love a cannibal story).
Was this novel terrible? No. Was it frustrating? Sure. But, as I said before, it was so annoying as to be almost amusing. The type of book that makes you want to rant to someone about how unbelievably stupid the characters are or how ridiculous the story is.
I wanted to genuinely like this novel as I am fond of the woman-being-weird-about-another-woman subgenre, but Butter missed the mark. Yuzuki's attempt to balance seriousness, realism, and drama didn't quite coalesce into something cohesive, resulting in a narrative that tone-wise felt very uneven. Even her exploration of misogyny, though earnest, lacked depth and wasn't all that thought-provoking. There seemed to be potential in delving deeper into Reiko's experiences as a stay-at-home wife, but her perspective only receives brief attention towards the end of the novel. Similarly, the portrayal of Rika's challenges in a male-dominated industry could have been more compelling, especially considering the doubts cast upon her professional abilities (then again she is a shite journalist so...).
I've read plenty of books that tackle the themes this novel sets out but fails to explore them deeply. And if I were to view it as a slice-of-life narrative about the experiences of women in the workplace, in marriage, and so on, Butter wasn't as compelling as most female-centered dramas out there.
If this novel is on your radar, I recommend you check out more positive reviews or give it a try. Who knows, you might find something in it that resonates with you in a way that it didn't for me.
Also, credit goes to the narrator of the audiobook, Hanako Footman. I really enjoyed her performance and I doubt I would have managed to finish this book if not for her narration.
The audiobook edition of Butter spans over 17 hours, yet its narrative could have been condensed into a fraction of that time. The story feels weighed down by excessive filler content, and while its intended themes hold potential they are belabored to the point of being ham-fisted. The characters, particularly the protagonist Rika and her friend Reiko, are often made to behave moronically for seemingly no reason other than to create conflict, but these misunderstandings and instances of idiocy diminished the coherence of the narrative.
The novel revolves around Rika Machida, a journalist in her 30s with a very poor work/life balance. Seeking a hit story, Rika reaches out to Manako Kajii who is currently serving time in the Tokyo Detention Centre after being convicted of the serial murders of businessmen she allegedly lured with her cooking skills. Kaji refuses to see her until Rika, at the suggestion of her friend Reiko, takes a different approach. Rather than asking Kaji about the murders, she asks for her beef stew recipe.
As they interact, their exchanges focus more on food and Kaji’s ideas of ‘etiquette’ than murder, prompting not only a personal introspection for Rika but a culinary awakening. Rika’s newfound appetite results in her gaining weight, and we see how that affects the way she is seen by the people in her life. Her boyfriend, who is just as work-oriented as she is, critiques her for it, seeing it as a sign of her ‘letting herself go’, and believes that women should be especially careful of their appearance. Rika’s closest friend, Reiko, also, despite once being outspoken on matters of sexism, expresses ‘concern’ over Rika’s weight, but her remarks may have to do less with Rika’s body than Reiko feeling jealous of Rika’s fixation with Kaji. Inspired by true events, Asako Yuzuki's Butter explores themes of misogyny, obsession, beauty standards and culinary pleasures in contemporary Japan.
The cover and blurb for Butter are somewhat misleading, as the novel proves to be less unsettling than they suggest. While the book does feature vivid sensory descriptions, particularly regarding food—its preparation, aroma, and taste—Yuzuki’s storytelling relied too much on repetitive depictions of glistening lips and sweaty bodies to elicit discomfort. There was an intensity ascribed to these descriptions that made many scenes feel unintentionally over the top (i was reminded of the business card scene from American Psycho…but in Butter these instances lack the former’s self-awareness and are delivered seemingly with seriousness).
Butter aligns more closely with contemporary social critiques like Kim Jiyoung, Born 1982, Diary of a Void, Breast & Eggs, Boy Parts, Ripe, The Glow, and Natural Beauty, books that explore themes of women challenging or questioning gender norms and navigating misogyny and beauty standards within various societal contexts.
Throughout Butter, every scene appears to reinforce these thematic points. It delves into the double standards around aging and the pressures faced by women to conform to traditional gender roles, especially within cultures with more conservative values. The novel extensively interrogates ideas surrounding femininity and the expectations placed upon women, particularly the impossible standards of the 'ideal' Japanese woman. While I appreciate narratives featuring diverse portrayals of female characters and exploring complex female friendships, Butter falls short in this regard.
Rika, the protagonist, comes across as painfully uninteresting and exists seemingly only to convey certain messages. Her experiences, such as gaining weight and rejecting societal pressures regarding relationships, feel didactic rather than authentic. Despite Yuzuki’s attempts to depict complexity and contradiction in her female characters, their behaviors often feel contrived and surface-level, emerging only to serve the narrative's thematic agenda. I wouldn't have minded as much if said themes had been explored in-depth, but I found the story's treatment and portrayal of misogyny somewhat superficial. There are several scenes in which Rika reflects on societal expectations regarding women's appearance and behavior (and comes to the conclusion that no, women should not have live their lives in accordance with what men find sexually attractive) and that show her professional integrity being questioned by a male colleague (who assumes that she couldn't possibly have a male friend and that she is exploiting said man to gain information for scoops). And the novel also touches upon the cultural expectations placed on married women to prioritize their husband's well-being, including taking care of household chores and cooking for him.. But I just wanted more, especially given the novel's 'run-time'. But Yuzuki never delves into the more insidious aspects of sexism and misogyny. If anything, I found her takes somewhat naive. For instance, portraying a woman who emerges unscathed after spending time with a dubious man who is certainly a creep and could have also been involved in a murder. The lack of consequences felt overly idealistic to me.
The supposed tension between Rika and Kaji, the central dynamic of the novel, lacked oomph. Kaji's influence on others, including Rika, feels unconvincing given her grating demeanor and, for all her portending to be an expert in culinary matters, her ‘hot takes’ weren’t all that hot. While Rika eventually sees through Kaji's facade, her prolonged influence on Rika's perspective on food and possibly life seems disproportionate to her actual impact. Kaji's character, at first presented in an enigmatic manner akin to Hannibal Lecter had neither the charisma nor depth necessary to maintain my interest.
If Butter had delved deeper into Rika’s experiences at her workplace and prioritized the development of her friendship with Reiko, perhaps I wouldn’t have felt so exasperated at this story. I found the narrative to be full of unnecessary dramatic moments (including Reiko impulsively playing detective to prove…something? What was going through her head? And then what…she just gives up like that?, Reiko is traumatized by her parents' open relationship and by the fact that her husband, like her father, also finds physical intimacy between spouses wrong—using her father’s words almost verbatim—Rika’s own trauma around her father’s death and cooking, the whole stuffed turkey thing at the end).
Several plot points are introduced that seem promising enough but ultimately lead nowhere. The characterization of Kaji remains shallow, failing to evolve beyond her initial portrayal, making me wonder to what extent Rika truly understood her ‘twisted’ psyche. The novel’s conclusion was jarringly cheesy, as Rika and the people around her advocate for self-acceptance (a trite "found family" trope is shoehorned for good measure), which felt contrived and lacking in depth.
Rika's inadequacies as a journalist are... noticeable. She’s a shit journalist. She claims to want to write an article on Kaji but her tactics to get Kaji to open up are incoherent (she does what Kaji wants her to do, but then asks very stupid questions or makes tone-deaf remarks—she tactlessly complains about her weight gain—that are bound to alienate someone as demanding and misanthropic as Kaji). Also, why didn’t it occur to Rika, like it did for Reiko, to find the man Kaji was staying with prior to her arrest?
The exploration of Kaji's family and past feels cursory, presenting a cliched portrait of a Daddy’s Girl without offering meaningful insight.
The narrative dangles several intriguing threads—such as the implication of a character's predatory tendencies and Kaji's alleged crimes—yet Yuzuki fails to follow these up satisfactorily. Despite being referred to as a serial killer, Kaji's actions and motivations receive only a surface-level examination and consequently Rika's view of Kaji is rather simplistic and her newfound understanding of her feels unearned (Kaji’s vices are emphasized throughout the narrative—her body too is described in a way that left much to be desired as if to emphasize just how ‘uncontrollable’ and defiant to norms she is— but then at the end we are meant to find her pathetic and kind of a victim—of her internalized misogyny, of the public’s gaze, of her need for male validation). Kaji's real life counterpart was also convicted on murder charges despite the lack of evidence, and Japan does have an incredibly high conviction rate...so why did not have Rika question whether Kaji deserved to be convicted? Or seen and spoken of a serial killer...? Kaji is antisocial, narcissistic, callous, manipulative and she doesn't seem to feel any remorse over the fact that she targeted/defrauded men…but then again their relationship seemed to me very much transactional…so why does Rika so readily accepts that Kaji is this 'serial killer'?
Overall, Butter fell short of delivering the darker, psychologically gripping narrative I had hoped for. Rika's journey towards uncovering the ‘truth’ feels aimless, and the murder aspect of the story is glossed over in favor of these overly dramatic moments that fail to provide a meaningful exploration of the novel’s thematic elements. I had expected the novel to explore Rika's (supposed) 'corruption', but it never happened (unless you count gaining weight and learning to love food again as 'bad'). As a result, her own anxiety and Reiko's concern about her growing too close to Kaji seemed somewhat uncalled for. Like, chill. Not like Kaji is urging Rika to kill men. To give the author the benefit of the doubt, one could argue that she deliberately crafted a narrative of smoke and mirrors, teasing depths and thrills without fully delivering on them.
I just was hoping for something darker, something more on the lines of a psychological cat-and-mouse game. Maybe on the lines of The Silence of the Lambs, or something in the realms of Barbara Vine or even My Sister, the Serial Killer. And, sure, maybe I thought that this book would deal with, shall we say, more monstrous appetites (i do love a cannibal story).
Was this novel terrible? No. Was it frustrating? Sure. But, as I said before, it was so annoying as to be almost amusing. The type of book that makes you want to rant to someone about how unbelievably stupid the characters are or how ridiculous the story is.
I wanted to genuinely like this novel as I am fond of the woman-being-weird-about-another-woman subgenre, but Butter missed the mark. Yuzuki's attempt to balance seriousness, realism, and drama didn't quite coalesce into something cohesive, resulting in a narrative that tone-wise felt very uneven. Even her exploration of misogyny, though earnest, lacked depth and wasn't all that thought-provoking. There seemed to be potential in delving deeper into Reiko's experiences as a stay-at-home wife, but her perspective only receives brief attention towards the end of the novel. Similarly, the portrayal of Rika's challenges in a male-dominated industry could have been more compelling, especially considering the doubts cast upon her professional abilities (then again she is a shite journalist so...).
I've read plenty of books that tackle the themes this novel sets out but fails to explore them deeply. And if I were to view it as a slice-of-life narrative about the experiences of women in the workplace, in marriage, and so on, Butter wasn't as compelling as most female-centered dramas out there.
If this novel is on your radar, I recommend you check out more positive reviews or give it a try. Who knows, you might find something in it that resonates with you in a way that it didn't for me.
Also, credit goes to the narrator of the audiobook, Hanako Footman. I really enjoyed her performance and I doubt I would have managed to finish this book if not for her narration.
February 19, 2024
LOST IN TRANSLATION?
Gourmet cook Manako Kajii is in a Tokyo detention centre, accused and convicted of murdering three lovers and extorting money from a succession of men, seducing them with her delicious cuisine. The case causes a sensation throughout Japan, with people riveted and passing many a judgement on Manako. She refuses visitors and definitely prison interviews until journalist Rika Machida of Shumei weekly writes and asks for a recipe for beef stew (beef bourguignon as it turns out) and a meeting and a gastronomic exchange of letters begins. Clever Rika, you might think for finding a way to connect using Manako’s love of food where others have failed. I’ll let you decide. Incidentally, there’s a shortage of butter and Manako is very keen on the glory of butter and she convinces Rika.
Well, this is definitely a game of two halves as I like to call it. I really like that it’s inspired by the true story of the Konkatsu killer (Kanae Kijima) and it is worth having a little read about that case as the narrative follows the true crime case. I really enjoy reading a novel based somewhere different from my usual settings and some cultural references are fascinating. There are good themes in the novel, especially that of female friendship, which the book is steeped in. You have the “relationship” between Manako and Rika, who have very different views on women and also between Rika and her best friend Reiko who has a much more traditional view of women. There are multiple examples of misogyny which makes me wince and there are characters who develop different obsessions. One of the things that drives the interest in the case in Japan is female body image, Manako is not thin, she is described by many as fat which is viewed as not culturally acceptable. Is this true of Japan today?? She is not beautiful, so those following her case wonder how she attracts the men in the first place. Yes, that’s hard to take, but it’s part of the plot so I set personal thoughts aside!
The characters are not especially likeable especially Manako Kajii, but that will be no surprise, with some of the things that come out of her mouth being simply awful. The interactions between Manako and Rika or some of the best parts of the book as they are intriguing, if not riveting conversations with plenty of manipulation going on, but initially you’re not sure by whom. This takes the storytelling in unexpected directions as Rika tries to get to Manako Kajii’s truth, and there are twists and turns along that route.
This is described as a novel of food and murder. I’d say it’s a novel about food with murders chucked in. Now, I like food and some of it (no, much of it) is mouthwatering, but there’s way too much, even for my foodie taste. This becomes a negative but the biggest one is that, probably because of the food, the pace is leisurely, almost snail pace slow as it meanders from one meal to the next. It’s way, way too long and in places it’s hard to read as it goes off on tangents and becomes confusing. It needs stamina and snacks to keep going. I’d also say it’s not really a thriller either, although it has a psychological thriller element to it.
No, let’s deal with the butter. It goes on and on about butter. Yes, really. This part of the novel goes way over my head and whatever the significance of it is, it totally passes me by!
Overall, well, it’s different and I do like variety. Do I enjoy it? I can’t in all honesty, say I do as it’s just too much like hard work although I do find the murder case of Manako gripping. However, if you want to read something out of your comfort zone then this could be for you.
With thanks to NetGalley and especially to 4th Estate for the much appreciated arc in return for an honest review.
Gourmet cook Manako Kajii is in a Tokyo detention centre, accused and convicted of murdering three lovers and extorting money from a succession of men, seducing them with her delicious cuisine. The case causes a sensation throughout Japan, with people riveted and passing many a judgement on Manako. She refuses visitors and definitely prison interviews until journalist Rika Machida of Shumei weekly writes and asks for a recipe for beef stew (beef bourguignon as it turns out) and a meeting and a gastronomic exchange of letters begins. Clever Rika, you might think for finding a way to connect using Manako’s love of food where others have failed. I’ll let you decide. Incidentally, there’s a shortage of butter and Manako is very keen on the glory of butter and she convinces Rika.
Well, this is definitely a game of two halves as I like to call it. I really like that it’s inspired by the true story of the Konkatsu killer (Kanae Kijima) and it is worth having a little read about that case as the narrative follows the true crime case. I really enjoy reading a novel based somewhere different from my usual settings and some cultural references are fascinating. There are good themes in the novel, especially that of female friendship, which the book is steeped in. You have the “relationship” between Manako and Rika, who have very different views on women and also between Rika and her best friend Reiko who has a much more traditional view of women. There are multiple examples of misogyny which makes me wince and there are characters who develop different obsessions. One of the things that drives the interest in the case in Japan is female body image, Manako is not thin, she is described by many as fat which is viewed as not culturally acceptable. Is this true of Japan today?? She is not beautiful, so those following her case wonder how she attracts the men in the first place. Yes, that’s hard to take, but it’s part of the plot so I set personal thoughts aside!
The characters are not especially likeable especially Manako Kajii, but that will be no surprise, with some of the things that come out of her mouth being simply awful. The interactions between Manako and Rika or some of the best parts of the book as they are intriguing, if not riveting conversations with plenty of manipulation going on, but initially you’re not sure by whom. This takes the storytelling in unexpected directions as Rika tries to get to Manako Kajii’s truth, and there are twists and turns along that route.
This is described as a novel of food and murder. I’d say it’s a novel about food with murders chucked in. Now, I like food and some of it (no, much of it) is mouthwatering, but there’s way too much, even for my foodie taste. This becomes a negative but the biggest one is that, probably because of the food, the pace is leisurely, almost snail pace slow as it meanders from one meal to the next. It’s way, way too long and in places it’s hard to read as it goes off on tangents and becomes confusing. It needs stamina and snacks to keep going. I’d also say it’s not really a thriller either, although it has a psychological thriller element to it.
No, let’s deal with the butter. It goes on and on about butter. Yes, really. This part of the novel goes way over my head and whatever the significance of it is, it totally passes me by!
Overall, well, it’s different and I do like variety. Do I enjoy it? I can’t in all honesty, say I do as it’s just too much like hard work although I do find the murder case of Manako gripping. However, if you want to read something out of your comfort zone then this could be for you.
With thanks to NetGalley and especially to 4th Estate for the much appreciated arc in return for an honest review.
Want to read
May 26, 2024two of my favorite things for novels to be about
February 18, 2022
Butter ist wie überbackener Käse: Sie macht einfach jedes Gericht besser. Das hat die Serienmörderin Manako Kajii schnell erkannt. Mit ihren buttrigen Speisen hat sie reihenweise ältere Männer in ihren Bann geschlagen - und am Ende umgebracht, so mutmaßt man zumindest. Die junge tokioer Journalistin Rika beginnt, im Fall Kajii zu recherchieren und wird als Einzige zu ihr vorgelassen. Manako Kajii hat aber eine Bedingung: Sie wird mit Rika ausschließlich über ihre Kochkünste sprechen. Schnell findet sich die Journalistin im Bann der Mordverdächtigen wieder und droht, sich in deren Fängen zu verlieren.
"Butter" von Asako Yuzuki, aus dem Japanischen übersetzt von Ursula Gräfe, ist eine spannende Mischung aus kriminologischen Elementen, Gesellschaftskritik und vielen kulinarischen Genussmomenten, die mir beim Lesen dauerhaft das Wasser im Mund zusammenlaufen ließen. Es geht viel um Essen, aber auch darum, mit welchen unmöglichen Erwartungen weiblich gelesene Personen in patriarchalen Gesellschaften permanent konfrontiert werden.
Rika entdeckt im Laufe des Romans ihren Appetit und ihre Leidenschaft für das Essen, was ihr Aussehen von einer zierlichen, androgynen Erscheinung in eine kurvige Form wandeln lässt. Die Lesenden erleben, wie das Umfeld der Journalistin auf ihre Figur vor allem mit Fatshaming reagiert - was mir ob der Parallelen zur Realität sehr nahe gegangen ist. Auch der Kampf ihrer besten Freundin mit der Kinderlosigkeit oder der Verlust der sehr gemochten Stelle einer Arbeitskollegin Rikas durch ihre Mutterschaft haben ein sehr lebensnahes Bild einer von patriarchalen Strukturen durchzogenen Gesellschaft wiedergegeben.
Die Kombination aus Rezeptschilderungen und gesellschaftskritischen Elementen hat mit den Recherchen von Rika zum Fall Kajii nochmals eine ganz besondere Facette bekommen - und dem Roman die nötige Dynamik und Dramatik gegeben. Letztlich konnte ich "Butter" zwischenzeitlich kaum noch beiseite legen. Ein Roman, der trotz all der schweren Themen sehr gut unterhält - nur sollte man ihn definitiv nicht hungrig lesen! Von mir gibt es eine Empfehlung.
"Butter" von Asako Yuzuki, aus dem Japanischen übersetzt von Ursula Gräfe, ist eine spannende Mischung aus kriminologischen Elementen, Gesellschaftskritik und vielen kulinarischen Genussmomenten, die mir beim Lesen dauerhaft das Wasser im Mund zusammenlaufen ließen. Es geht viel um Essen, aber auch darum, mit welchen unmöglichen Erwartungen weiblich gelesene Personen in patriarchalen Gesellschaften permanent konfrontiert werden.
Rika entdeckt im Laufe des Romans ihren Appetit und ihre Leidenschaft für das Essen, was ihr Aussehen von einer zierlichen, androgynen Erscheinung in eine kurvige Form wandeln lässt. Die Lesenden erleben, wie das Umfeld der Journalistin auf ihre Figur vor allem mit Fatshaming reagiert - was mir ob der Parallelen zur Realität sehr nahe gegangen ist. Auch der Kampf ihrer besten Freundin mit der Kinderlosigkeit oder der Verlust der sehr gemochten Stelle einer Arbeitskollegin Rikas durch ihre Mutterschaft haben ein sehr lebensnahes Bild einer von patriarchalen Strukturen durchzogenen Gesellschaft wiedergegeben.
Die Kombination aus Rezeptschilderungen und gesellschaftskritischen Elementen hat mit den Recherchen von Rika zum Fall Kajii nochmals eine ganz besondere Facette bekommen - und dem Roman die nötige Dynamik und Dramatik gegeben. Letztlich konnte ich "Butter" zwischenzeitlich kaum noch beiseite legen. Ein Roman, der trotz all der schweren Themen sehr gut unterhält - nur sollte man ihn definitiv nicht hungrig lesen! Von mir gibt es eine Empfehlung.
August 18, 2022
Rika Machida trabaja en la redacción de una revista semanal. Pese a ser la única mujer, y enfrentarse diariamente a lo que conlleva serlo en un entorno machista donde todos son hombres, Rika ha conseguido ganarse el reconocimiento de todos al obtener siempre grandes exclusivas. Un día se propone conseguir la entrevista que nadie ha logrado hasta la fecha, la de la enigmática Manako Kajii. Condenada a cadena perpetua por seducir y asesinar a tres hombres para luego quedarse con su dinero, Manako se niega a hablar con nadie que no sea su abogado. Sin embargo, Rika consigue despertar curiosidad en ella a través de la gran afición de la reclusa: la cocina. La historia girará en torno a los continuos encuentros entre estas dos mujeres.
Creo que lo primero que choca al empezar a leer “La gula”(o “Mantequilla”, que es su nombre original), es que no es un thriller al uso. De hecho, pese a que tiene ciertos elementos de suspense, yo no lo catalogaría como tal. Por eso, ante todo, animo a los que no lean thriller, a que lean esta obra, porque es espectacular y no se van a encontrar una novela de suspense, y a los que estén esperando encontrar un thriller vertiginoso, que aquí no lo van a encontrar. Eso sí, van a encontrar más, mucho más.
Mientras leía “La gula” tenía la sensación de que es ese tipo de historias de las que siempre se puede seguir rascando, sobre la que siempre se puede reflexionar un poquito más, y que el momento en que las leas, las veces que lo hagas o como sea la persona que lo hace, puede despertar muy diferentes sensaciones y pensamientos. Asako Yuzuki nos hace una radiografía del Japón moderno, una crítica constante a todas sus normas de conducta no escritas, muy arraigadas en la sociedad, y que se extienden continuamente entre sus miembros. A través de sus personajes, la autora nos muestra como todas estas actuaciones limitan (¡oh, sorpresa!) especialmente la vida de las mujeres.
Hay una crítica brutal a como las personas reciben el aspecto físico de los demás, y como sacan conclusiones respecto a la personalidad y forma de ser de los demás en función de su imagen. Uno de los principales temas que trata la novela es el peso, y como solo estar delgada (o muy delgada) es lo aceptado socialmente para la mujer. Tanto es así, que Manako despierta mucha curiosidad en la sociedad, y no tanto por sus crímenes, si no porque la gente se cuestiona como fue posible que sedujera a hombres estando gorda. El hecho de engordar para una mujer puede hacerle perder ese leve estatus, que por otra parte, tanto le cuesta ganar.
Nuestra protagonista desarrolla una especie de obsesión por Manako Kajii y esto lleva a Rika a emular todos los platos que la supuesta criminal elaboraba y compartía luego en su blog. Conforme va gananado peso, Rika empieza a sufrir una increíble cantidad de agresiones verbales, hasta tal punto que al defenderse de su propia pareja que le reclama que haya engordado, expresándole que él también lo ha hecho, este contesta “no es lo mismo un gordo que una gorda”. Parece algo absurdo, nimio, pero es la mejor prueba de como funciona la sociedad, cualquier sociedad, no solo la nipona.
Y todo esto lleva al otro “gran” tema de la historia, la comida. Nunca me pasó que un libro me despertara tantas ganas de comer, e incluso siendo vegetariano, cualquier plato, fuera o no vegetariano, despertaba en mí un apetito intenso y el deseo de copiar todas esas recetas. Las protagonistas se relacionan a través de la comida, y estas escenas son narradas con tal nivel de erotismo, que a veces parecía que estuvieras presenciando una escena de sexo y no que la protagonista se estuviera comiendo un tazón de arroz con mantequilla y soja. Nunca me había flipado tanto leer sobre recetas. Simplemente increíble.
Uno de los personajes más interesantes de la historia es la amiga de Rika, Reiko, una mujer que acaba de dejar su trabajo para dedicarse a ser ama de casa, con el objetivo de tener un hijo. Creo que a través de ella vemos otra de las grandes presiones que sufre la mujer, el deber de tener hijos como única manera de estar completa, renunciando al trabajo por ese deber superior. Creo que Reiko, pese a verse sometida a esta presión, se aleja bastante del canon tan estrecho al que se ven sometidas las mujeres en el país. Realmente todos los personajes femeninos de "La gula" escapan como pueden de ese patrón y eso hace que la historia sea muy rica en contrastes y contradicciones en la forma de pensar de los propios personajes. A veces, un mismo personaje podía decir algún comentario con tintes claramente feministas y luego tener otro bastante anticuado. Y esto refuerza esa sensación de un canon tan imposible de alcanzar, que por mucho que hagas, siempre serás criticada. Ya sea por gorda, por vieja, por no tener hijos, por ser muy simpática, por no serlo lo suficiente, siempre hay una ridícula vara de medir para juzgar y coartar la libertad de las mujeres.
Una cosa que me gusta del libro es que no tiene que se redundante en su mensaje para que entiendas de lo que habla, simplemente te va mostrando la sociedad a través de sus personajes, las situaciones que estos sufren y las reflexiones a las que llegan. No cierra herméticamente los temas que trata, y da pie a otras interpretaciones sobre lo que sucede. Por ejemplo, aunque nunca se deja claro, da la impresión de que la novela habla a ratos de ser lesbiana, en un país y en un contexto, donde el machismo al que las mujeres son sometidas por los hombres y, lamentablemente, por otras mujeres, ni siquiera permite que la opción de simplemente poder serlo exista. Ese pensamiento no pasa siquiera por sus cabezas adoctrinadas para ser la perfecta ama de casa que cuida y atiende a su marido.
Y esto me lleva a otro tema que la novela expresa muy bien, y que hace que me lleven los demonios: la infantilización del hombre. Estos no buscan a una mujer, buscan a una madre, que les cuide, les haga la casa y la comida, y un masajito después de trabajar, como si un hombre sin una mujer a su lado, no puediera sobrevivir y cayera en desgracia. Esta novela explora como la sociedad culpa a la mujer por el fracaso o el descuido del hombre sobre sí mismo, y la criminaliza por no seguir aguantándolo, haga este lo que le haga, porque al abandonarlo él solo no podrá salir adelante. Esto es una cosa que pasa en Japón, pero también en el resto del mundo. En mayor o menor medida, todos hemos visto esto en nuestra propia casa.
En fin, que este libro da para debatir catorce vidas, me dejo muchas cosas por mencionar, pero tampoco quiero desvelarlo todo. Es una historia lenta, centrada en sus personajes y sobre como se relacionan entre ellos en una sociedad donde la norma es ocultar las emociones. Y por supuesto, es un libro que hay que leer con los cinco sentidos, absorbiendo todos sus matices, sus sabores y sus olores. Ojalá podamos conseguir más obras de Asako Yuzuki, porque está es un enorme y rotundo sí.
Creo que lo primero que choca al empezar a leer “La gula”(o “Mantequilla”, que es su nombre original), es que no es un thriller al uso. De hecho, pese a que tiene ciertos elementos de suspense, yo no lo catalogaría como tal. Por eso, ante todo, animo a los que no lean thriller, a que lean esta obra, porque es espectacular y no se van a encontrar una novela de suspense, y a los que estén esperando encontrar un thriller vertiginoso, que aquí no lo van a encontrar. Eso sí, van a encontrar más, mucho más.
Mientras leía “La gula” tenía la sensación de que es ese tipo de historias de las que siempre se puede seguir rascando, sobre la que siempre se puede reflexionar un poquito más, y que el momento en que las leas, las veces que lo hagas o como sea la persona que lo hace, puede despertar muy diferentes sensaciones y pensamientos. Asako Yuzuki nos hace una radiografía del Japón moderno, una crítica constante a todas sus normas de conducta no escritas, muy arraigadas en la sociedad, y que se extienden continuamente entre sus miembros. A través de sus personajes, la autora nos muestra como todas estas actuaciones limitan (¡oh, sorpresa!) especialmente la vida de las mujeres.
Hay una crítica brutal a como las personas reciben el aspecto físico de los demás, y como sacan conclusiones respecto a la personalidad y forma de ser de los demás en función de su imagen. Uno de los principales temas que trata la novela es el peso, y como solo estar delgada (o muy delgada) es lo aceptado socialmente para la mujer. Tanto es así, que Manako despierta mucha curiosidad en la sociedad, y no tanto por sus crímenes, si no porque la gente se cuestiona como fue posible que sedujera a hombres estando gorda. El hecho de engordar para una mujer puede hacerle perder ese leve estatus, que por otra parte, tanto le cuesta ganar.
Nuestra protagonista desarrolla una especie de obsesión por Manako Kajii y esto lleva a Rika a emular todos los platos que la supuesta criminal elaboraba y compartía luego en su blog. Conforme va gananado peso, Rika empieza a sufrir una increíble cantidad de agresiones verbales, hasta tal punto que al defenderse de su propia pareja que le reclama que haya engordado, expresándole que él también lo ha hecho, este contesta “no es lo mismo un gordo que una gorda”. Parece algo absurdo, nimio, pero es la mejor prueba de como funciona la sociedad, cualquier sociedad, no solo la nipona.
Y todo esto lleva al otro “gran” tema de la historia, la comida. Nunca me pasó que un libro me despertara tantas ganas de comer, e incluso siendo vegetariano, cualquier plato, fuera o no vegetariano, despertaba en mí un apetito intenso y el deseo de copiar todas esas recetas. Las protagonistas se relacionan a través de la comida, y estas escenas son narradas con tal nivel de erotismo, que a veces parecía que estuvieras presenciando una escena de sexo y no que la protagonista se estuviera comiendo un tazón de arroz con mantequilla y soja. Nunca me había flipado tanto leer sobre recetas. Simplemente increíble.
Uno de los personajes más interesantes de la historia es la amiga de Rika, Reiko, una mujer que acaba de dejar su trabajo para dedicarse a ser ama de casa, con el objetivo de tener un hijo. Creo que a través de ella vemos otra de las grandes presiones que sufre la mujer, el deber de tener hijos como única manera de estar completa, renunciando al trabajo por ese deber superior. Creo que Reiko, pese a verse sometida a esta presión, se aleja bastante del canon tan estrecho al que se ven sometidas las mujeres en el país. Realmente todos los personajes femeninos de "La gula" escapan como pueden de ese patrón y eso hace que la historia sea muy rica en contrastes y contradicciones en la forma de pensar de los propios personajes. A veces, un mismo personaje podía decir algún comentario con tintes claramente feministas y luego tener otro bastante anticuado. Y esto refuerza esa sensación de un canon tan imposible de alcanzar, que por mucho que hagas, siempre serás criticada. Ya sea por gorda, por vieja, por no tener hijos, por ser muy simpática, por no serlo lo suficiente, siempre hay una ridícula vara de medir para juzgar y coartar la libertad de las mujeres.
Una cosa que me gusta del libro es que no tiene que se redundante en su mensaje para que entiendas de lo que habla, simplemente te va mostrando la sociedad a través de sus personajes, las situaciones que estos sufren y las reflexiones a las que llegan. No cierra herméticamente los temas que trata, y da pie a otras interpretaciones sobre lo que sucede. Por ejemplo, aunque nunca se deja claro, da la impresión de que la novela habla a ratos de ser lesbiana, en un país y en un contexto, donde el machismo al que las mujeres son sometidas por los hombres y, lamentablemente, por otras mujeres, ni siquiera permite que la opción de simplemente poder serlo exista. Ese pensamiento no pasa siquiera por sus cabezas adoctrinadas para ser la perfecta ama de casa que cuida y atiende a su marido.
Y esto me lleva a otro tema que la novela expresa muy bien, y que hace que me lleven los demonios: la infantilización del hombre. Estos no buscan a una mujer, buscan a una madre, que les cuide, les haga la casa y la comida, y un masajito después de trabajar, como si un hombre sin una mujer a su lado, no puediera sobrevivir y cayera en desgracia. Esta novela explora como la sociedad culpa a la mujer por el fracaso o el descuido del hombre sobre sí mismo, y la criminaliza por no seguir aguantándolo, haga este lo que le haga, porque al abandonarlo él solo no podrá salir adelante. Esto es una cosa que pasa en Japón, pero también en el resto del mundo. En mayor o menor medida, todos hemos visto esto en nuestra propia casa.
En fin, que este libro da para debatir catorce vidas, me dejo muchas cosas por mencionar, pero tampoco quiero desvelarlo todo. Es una historia lenta, centrada en sus personajes y sobre como se relacionan entre ellos en una sociedad donde la norma es ocultar las emociones. Y por supuesto, es un libro que hay que leer con los cinco sentidos, absorbiendo todos sus matices, sus sabores y sus olores. Ojalá podamos conseguir más obras de Asako Yuzuki, porque está es un enorme y rotundo sí.
February 26, 2024
Asako Yuzuki’s Butter builds on the case of infamous “Konkatsu Killer” Kanae Kijima known for the lavish tastes, particularly love of gourmet food – recorded via her recipe blog – that led to the deaths of a series of “sugar daddies” funding her extravagant lifestyle, and resulted in a death sentence for Kanae Kijima. But tellingly, the public and media outcry surrounding Kanae Kijima didn’t centre on her proposed punishment and the disproportionate number of Japanese women awarded the death penalty, or on her crimes, but on Kanae Kijima’s failure to fulfil mainstream, Japanese ideals of beauty. How a woman who, by Japanese standards, was “grossly” overweight attracted so many men became the burning question. A question central to Yuzuki’s novel, sparking a wider examination of issues around women, food, and femininity. An inventive take on Japanese “gastro” fiction a tradition running from Tanizaki’s “The Gourmet Club” to Yoshimoto’s Kitchen to Tawada’s Sugar Time and beyond. Yuzuki apparently studied aspects of culinary arts as background research.
Yuzuki’s primary narrator is Tokyo-based, journalist Rika Machida who’s investigating Manako Kajii, a convicted killer awaiting retrial in an attempt to overturn a life sentence. Rika’s intent on a scoop, an interview with the notoriously reclusive Kajii, as well as an opportunity to assess whether Kajii is actually the innocent victim of a misogynistic system. Like Kajii, Rika is relatively isolated, her closest friend is Reiko who’s recently abandoned her career to embrace married life in suburbia. But, unlike Kajii, Rika rigorously polices her body, strictly maintaining her 50kg weight. Rika has so expertly internalised the idea that appearance is essential to success she no longer recognises hunger. But after she establishes an ongoing bond with Kajii, Kajii’s influence, particularly her obsession with cooking and luxury foods, reawakens Rika’s appetite in unexpected ways, leading to a battle between Kajii and Reiko for Rika’s loyalties.
Yusuki’s complex, sometimes convoluted, narrative takes on a number of social and cultural issues, stemming from concerns over the ways in which Japanese women’s emotional and domestic labour serves to sustain men at women’s expense. A world in which women are expected to feed and nurture men but literally, and metaphorically, starve themselves – at one point Reiko observes that the average Japanese woman now routinely consumes fewer daily calories than women post-WW2, a period in Japan notorious for famine and mass starvation. For women indulgence in food is regarded as gluttony, signifying a lack of overall self-control, something Rika’s colleagues and boyfriend don’t hesitate to point out as her changing body gradually begins to take up more than the socially-desired space. So that, at least at first, Kajii is presented as a potential, feminist icon, someone vilified for rejecting conventional models of femininity and her refusal to deny her own desires - unlike ambitious but self-effacing Rika. Although Rika too is represented as sneakily challenging, even queering, gender expectations, her “boyishness” earned her the title “prince” at her all-girls’ school, and is still a source of fascination for Reiko. Although by framing Rika’s gender nonconformity via tropes associated with Class S stories, Yuzuki shuts down many of the possibilities that Rika’s “queerness” might open up - Yuzuki’s emphasis is on heterosexuality here. Similarly, the more radical outcomes opened up by Kajii’s character are carefully reined in as Yuzuki’s story unfolds.
I thought Yuzuki’s book was a worthwhile read overall, it offers some interesting insights into Japanese society, poses some intriguing questions and contains numerous compelling scenes. But, at the same time, I found her underlying arguments muddled, frustratingly contradictory and compromised. I enjoyed the referencing of writers like Kawabata; and Yuzuki’s various uses of butter as a means to expose wider social and cultural issues were often productive, and entertaining, although its impact diminished as her story progressed. Yuzuki’s blurring of genre boundaries had a J-drama feel at times, her fiction’s been widely adapted for television. She combines her form of “gastro-lit” with Japanese crime-writing conventions, particularly in its socially-aware, post-WW2 phase, which means stretches of her novel may be too dry or overly detailed for some readers. For me, an improbable twist, followed by a move towards more melodramatic, psychological crime served up with a generous helping of life lessons was far more of a problem – especially the way in which it appeared to reinstate the eccentric or non-conforming as dangerously “other”. Translated by Polly Barton.
Thanks to Netgalley and publisher 4th Estate for an ARC
Rating: 3 to 3.5
Yuzuki’s primary narrator is Tokyo-based, journalist Rika Machida who’s investigating Manako Kajii, a convicted killer awaiting retrial in an attempt to overturn a life sentence. Rika’s intent on a scoop, an interview with the notoriously reclusive Kajii, as well as an opportunity to assess whether Kajii is actually the innocent victim of a misogynistic system. Like Kajii, Rika is relatively isolated, her closest friend is Reiko who’s recently abandoned her career to embrace married life in suburbia. But, unlike Kajii, Rika rigorously polices her body, strictly maintaining her 50kg weight. Rika has so expertly internalised the idea that appearance is essential to success she no longer recognises hunger. But after she establishes an ongoing bond with Kajii, Kajii’s influence, particularly her obsession with cooking and luxury foods, reawakens Rika’s appetite in unexpected ways, leading to a battle between Kajii and Reiko for Rika’s loyalties.
Yusuki’s complex, sometimes convoluted, narrative takes on a number of social and cultural issues, stemming from concerns over the ways in which Japanese women’s emotional and domestic labour serves to sustain men at women’s expense. A world in which women are expected to feed and nurture men but literally, and metaphorically, starve themselves – at one point Reiko observes that the average Japanese woman now routinely consumes fewer daily calories than women post-WW2, a period in Japan notorious for famine and mass starvation. For women indulgence in food is regarded as gluttony, signifying a lack of overall self-control, something Rika’s colleagues and boyfriend don’t hesitate to point out as her changing body gradually begins to take up more than the socially-desired space. So that, at least at first, Kajii is presented as a potential, feminist icon, someone vilified for rejecting conventional models of femininity and her refusal to deny her own desires - unlike ambitious but self-effacing Rika. Although Rika too is represented as sneakily challenging, even queering, gender expectations, her “boyishness” earned her the title “prince” at her all-girls’ school, and is still a source of fascination for Reiko. Although by framing Rika’s gender nonconformity via tropes associated with Class S stories, Yuzuki shuts down many of the possibilities that Rika’s “queerness” might open up - Yuzuki’s emphasis is on heterosexuality here. Similarly, the more radical outcomes opened up by Kajii’s character are carefully reined in as Yuzuki’s story unfolds.
I thought Yuzuki’s book was a worthwhile read overall, it offers some interesting insights into Japanese society, poses some intriguing questions and contains numerous compelling scenes. But, at the same time, I found her underlying arguments muddled, frustratingly contradictory and compromised. I enjoyed the referencing of writers like Kawabata; and Yuzuki’s various uses of butter as a means to expose wider social and cultural issues were often productive, and entertaining, although its impact diminished as her story progressed. Yuzuki’s blurring of genre boundaries had a J-drama feel at times, her fiction’s been widely adapted for television. She combines her form of “gastro-lit” with Japanese crime-writing conventions, particularly in its socially-aware, post-WW2 phase, which means stretches of her novel may be too dry or overly detailed for some readers. For me, an improbable twist, followed by a move towards more melodramatic, psychological crime served up with a generous helping of life lessons was far more of a problem – especially the way in which it appeared to reinstate the eccentric or non-conforming as dangerously “other”. Translated by Polly Barton.
Thanks to Netgalley and publisher 4th Estate for an ARC
Rating: 3 to 3.5
June 11, 2024
reading vlog: https://youtu.be/B3t-xN1vC1w
bestie this book could've been half as long!! just not for me unfortunately
bestie this book could've been half as long!! just not for me unfortunately
February 12, 2024
'What's wrong with coating barren, flavourless reality in oodles of melted butter and seasoning it with condiments and spices'.
Inspired by real life events, ‘Butter' is a dense, complex, and challenging story that meanders, as its main protagonist, Rika, ponders convicted serial killer, Kajii's psychology, 'To drink in a person in their entirety, to chew them up until there was nothing left of them - that was Kajii's mode of communication'. In trying to comprehend Kajii's murderous motives, Rika is swept up by Kajii's delectable debauchery - so diametrically opposed to the traditional expectations of a Japanese woman - so contrary to what Rika has always strived to be within the man's world she works in, 'Japanese women are required to be self-denying, hard-working and ascetic...'. The more Rika explores how Kajii lived prior to her conviction, the more she transforms herself - both literally and figuratively, 'In principle, all women should give themselves permission to demand good treatment, but the world has made doing so profoundly difficult'.
'Butter' is a marathon, not a sprint, to read. The story takes many twists and turns before revealing its truth. It is as much of a personal journey of discovery as it is a journalistic investigation. This book will appeal to readers who enjoy a considered read and can take the time to savour the words and digest their meaning. I would have appreciated some end notes from the author though, to better understand how the real-life story inspired this one.
'Your problem is you've decided that butter is bad without even understanding what it tastes like'.
Inspired by real life events, ‘Butter' is a dense, complex, and challenging story that meanders, as its main protagonist, Rika, ponders convicted serial killer, Kajii's psychology, 'To drink in a person in their entirety, to chew them up until there was nothing left of them - that was Kajii's mode of communication'. In trying to comprehend Kajii's murderous motives, Rika is swept up by Kajii's delectable debauchery - so diametrically opposed to the traditional expectations of a Japanese woman - so contrary to what Rika has always strived to be within the man's world she works in, 'Japanese women are required to be self-denying, hard-working and ascetic...'. The more Rika explores how Kajii lived prior to her conviction, the more she transforms herself - both literally and figuratively, 'In principle, all women should give themselves permission to demand good treatment, but the world has made doing so profoundly difficult'.
'Butter' is a marathon, not a sprint, to read. The story takes many twists and turns before revealing its truth. It is as much of a personal journey of discovery as it is a journalistic investigation. This book will appeal to readers who enjoy a considered read and can take the time to savour the words and digest their meaning. I would have appreciated some end notes from the author though, to better understand how the real-life story inspired this one.
'Your problem is you've decided that butter is bad without even understanding what it tastes like'.
Read
June 24, 2024This was frankly weird. Ostensibly about a woman jailed for multiple murders and her relationship with a journalist. Actually about misogny in Japan, much of it internalised, and the pressure on women (be thin, pander endlessly to idle childish men, be good at your job, be a mother, be a great cook). Fundamentally about fat.
Actually that's it. It's full of lavish, glutinous descriptions of animal fat melting and coating and oozing. The heroine's weight is tracked throughout and her changing body rigorously monitored. The murderer's real crime seems to be that she's unashamedly fat (by the standards applied in this book at least: she seems to be just "not skinny").
The whole book has a major disordered eating feel to it, tbh, and wasn't a comfortable or enjoyable read though obv it wasn't meant to be. I wasn't quite sure what it was meant to be--it's not a thriller/detective book despite the promo. Peculiar.
(Also, for anyone following along with the recipes, you really cannot haul a turkey out of the oven and carve it at once. Let the damn thing rest.)
Actually that's it. It's full of lavish, glutinous descriptions of animal fat melting and coating and oozing. The heroine's weight is tracked throughout and her changing body rigorously monitored. The murderer's real crime seems to be that she's unashamedly fat (by the standards applied in this book at least: she seems to be just "not skinny").
The whole book has a major disordered eating feel to it, tbh, and wasn't a comfortable or enjoyable read though obv it wasn't meant to be. I wasn't quite sure what it was meant to be--it's not a thriller/detective book despite the promo. Peculiar.
(Also, for anyone following along with the recipes, you really cannot haul a turkey out of the oven and carve it at once. Let the damn thing rest.)
Read
February 20, 2024Butter is a deceptively deep novel. On the surface, it presents itself as a thriller, but its darker waters hide provoking themes of isolation, gender roles, societal expectations, body image, and autonomy. Our protagonist, Rika, is a thirty-something journalist who is attempting to get an exclusive interview with a woman who is on trial for the murder of three men—all former lovers.
My full thoughts: https://booksandbao.com/japanese-lite...
My full thoughts: https://booksandbao.com/japanese-lite...
February 13, 2022
Vorab kann ich eins versprechen: jeder Leser wird während des Lesens mehrmals sich ertappen, wie ihm sprichwörtlich „das Wasser im Mund zusammenläuft“. Dieses Buch ist sehr besonders und zugleich ein wunderbares Lesevergnügen.
Die Inhaftierte Serienmörderin Manako Kajii ist dafür bekannt, dass sie ihre Verehrer durch ihre Kochkünste zuerst verführt und dann anschließend umgebracht haben soll.
Die Journalistin Rika will für ihre Leser eines Magazins die Wahrheit über Kajii herausfinden und begibt sich auf Spurensuche. Nach langem Zögern willigt Manako ein und die Begegnungen zwischen den beiden Frauen im Gefängnis von Tokio werden zu einem Genuss der Sinne.
Der Leser taucht auf 442 Seiten in eine spannende Geschichte voller Wendungen und interessanten Aspekten ein. Die Figuren sind stark ausgearbeitet und die Entwicklung der Protagonisten fand ich persönlich sehr spannend. Die gesamte Thematik ist modern, klug umgesetzt und dabei mitreißend und interessant bis zur letzten Seite.
Das Wort „Butter“ wird gefühlt auf jeder 5. Seite erwähnt und ich habe den Eindruck, dass Leser nach Beenden der Lektüre dieses Lebensmittel mehr schätzen werden.
Zurecht ein Bestseller in Japan, der auf eine große Leserschaft auch weltweit stoßen wird und bereits gestoßen ist. Für alle, die japanische Literatur lieben, ist dies ein Must-Read, aber auch für Kochliebhaber und diejenigen, die moderne Geschichten mögen.
Die Inhaftierte Serienmörderin Manako Kajii ist dafür bekannt, dass sie ihre Verehrer durch ihre Kochkünste zuerst verführt und dann anschließend umgebracht haben soll.
Die Journalistin Rika will für ihre Leser eines Magazins die Wahrheit über Kajii herausfinden und begibt sich auf Spurensuche. Nach langem Zögern willigt Manako ein und die Begegnungen zwischen den beiden Frauen im Gefängnis von Tokio werden zu einem Genuss der Sinne.
Der Leser taucht auf 442 Seiten in eine spannende Geschichte voller Wendungen und interessanten Aspekten ein. Die Figuren sind stark ausgearbeitet und die Entwicklung der Protagonisten fand ich persönlich sehr spannend. Die gesamte Thematik ist modern, klug umgesetzt und dabei mitreißend und interessant bis zur letzten Seite.
Das Wort „Butter“ wird gefühlt auf jeder 5. Seite erwähnt und ich habe den Eindruck, dass Leser nach Beenden der Lektüre dieses Lebensmittel mehr schätzen werden.
Zurecht ein Bestseller in Japan, der auf eine große Leserschaft auch weltweit stoßen wird und bereits gestoßen ist. Für alle, die japanische Literatur lieben, ist dies ein Must-Read, aber auch für Kochliebhaber und diejenigen, die moderne Geschichten mögen.
May 30, 2024
⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️
“All women should become goddesses.”
I absolutely love Japanese books; whether they have been translated or a Japanese author has written in English. I find everything about their culture and way of life fascinating. Furthermore, this book in particular was a fascinating insight into the Japanese culture in relation to women and food.
It was initially a slow buddy read, that turned into me reading myself as my buddy was drowned in work. Because of that I have had plenty of time to stew over it and gather my thoughts. Which for such a complex and beautiful, intricately written book is almost a necessity. There is so much to take in, I feel like reading it all at once, much of the finer details would be missed.
From the start it was clear this was a beautiful exploration of food and friendship. It really highlighted for me was how much a ritual the Japanese make regarding their food. They don’t just throw things together or skimp on ingredients, they cherish and nurture the experience. Abundance is key. Butter never margarine.
My favourite quote of this unique book is: “All you need to do is to eat as much of whatever it is you most desire at any given moment. Listen carefully to your heart and your body. Never eat anything you don’t want to. When you take the decision to live that way, both your mind and your body will commence their transformation.”
Eating what you want when you want it makes your senses come alive.
When journalist Rika pursues accused serial killer Manako Kajii for an exclusive interview, her life changes. Through the exploration of the recipes and restaurants used by the Gourmet cook Manako Kajii, Rika Machida tries to understand her motivation behind the convicted murderers she has been charged with. Rita regularly visits Kajii in the Detention Centre and very quickly they form a unique bond of what starts out as friendship but slowly morphs into a case of manipulation by Kajii. In the beginning of their relationship, Rita begins to admire and obsesses over Manko’s indulgent lifestyle.
Overtime, as Rika emulates Kajii’s lifestyle she finds herself gaining weight at a consistent rate. The reactions of Rika's friends, family and work colleagues to the change in Rika is most fascinating and clearly portrays the ideals that women have to hold themselves to; of which are unattainable and damaging. A dark cloud of what appears to be fat-shaming haunts the characters throughout the book however, I personally see it as the opposite. I felt, personally, like the author Asako Yuzuki was trying to call out the fat shaming culture and in turn make the reader aware of these Japanese beauty ideals.
Yuzuki also very cleverly describes food and effortlessly weaves in recipes, and their preparation and consumption in society, adding an extra dimension to the narrative. Every sentence is as carefully crafted as the dishes Rika makes.
Overtime, Manako threatens Rika’s career however, Rika also learns a way to satiate herself with friendships and meaningful connections, as well as food: “You need to place like that, don’t you? Everyone does. Life is hard when you don’t have a place where you feel safe…”.
I really enjoyed reading this incredibly compelling and highly intelligent piece of work. Yuzuki wrote so very clearly about a multitude of topics from cultural gender roles to the most intricate and exquisite recipes. The characters she created all highlighted a different aspect to the book and all served a purpose in the plot. Overtime, I felted bonded to the characters and by the end when they are all sitting around together, I wanted to join in with this complex group of individuals.
Highly recommend this incredible piece of cultural insight 🧈
July 30, 2022
Aburridísimo.
August 8, 2022
Cuando comencé ‘La gula’ esperaba encontrar un thriller con reminiscencias a ‘El silencio de los corderos’ a la japonesa. Sin embargo, tengo que decir, que no he encontrado, salvo algunas pinceladas muy puntuales de thriller psicológico, nada que me recuerde a ese género. Si bien es cierto, he encontrado algo, para mí, mucho mejor.
‘La gula’ es una novela que hace una crítica bastante descarnada a no pocos aspectos de la sociedad japonesa actual (muchos de ellos aplicables globalmente). El tema más importante es claramente la denuncia a los valores tradicionales japoneses que asocian la delgadez a la belleza y lo saludable (lo dicho, esto no ocurre solo en Japón, pero es cierto que allí se aplica de una forma más extrema) y el absoluto escarnio y juicio público a cualquier mujer (y esto es importante, los hombres no pasan ese escrutinio) con un peso no-normativo dentro de sus cánones. El nivel es tal, que una mujer que coja peso, puede incluso llegar a perder consideración en su trabajo, puesto que está mostrando que no tiene capacidad de control y moderación. Telita. Tengo frases y frases subrayadas de este libro que afronta el tema de una forma brillante, mostrándonos las opiniones y acciones de diferentes personajes, que tener una visión muy completa.
En un inicio encontramos una periodista interesada con hablar con una mujer condenada a cadena perpetua por su supuesta relación con la muerte de tres hombres. La asesina es el centro de un caso muy mediático, no tanto por los crímenes, sino que, ha logrado la atención del público porque la condenada está gorda (para los estándares japoneses). Sin embargo, con el paso de las páginas vemos como el centro de la trama gira en torno al rol de la mujer en Japón, a través de principalmente tres personajes (aunque habrá muchos más que dan profundidad a la historia), que tienen un arco fantástico y coherente y, aun así, logra sorprenderte. Se exploran traumas, el impacto ante la pérdida, relaciones matrimoniales, maternidad, sexualidad reprimida, jornadas laborales infinitas que anulan la vida de las personas, la soledad y el autocuidado entre otros temas, buscando acabar con estigmas como las mujeres solteras, el pedir ayuda o el volver a empezar.
Imposible pasar por alto el personaje de Manako Kajii, la mujer condenada. Alguien atrayente hasta el extremo, no solo para los personajes, sino también para el lector. La autora crea un aura de misterio a su alrededor que solo quieres traspasar. Su forma de pensar, libre, diferente y muy controvertida, la convierte en alguien único. Cada una de sus frases tiene capas y capas de significado y merece la pena dedicarle un tiempo a pensar porqué lo que dice no se corresponde con cómo se comporta. ¿Por qué alguien cuyas acciones son feministas en extremo declararía que odia a las mujeres feministas? ¿Qué le ha llevado a pensar así?
A través de ella, y de los paralelismos que encontrará con su vida, la periodista protagonista, Rika, emprende un viaje de autodescubrimiento que le llevará a conocer la satisfacción a través de la comida, la libertad de decidir, la felicidad de ignorar lo que opinen demás… al tiempo, que investiga día y noche sobre el caso Kajii.
La comida (y la mantequilla, en concreto) es la piedra angular de esta novela. Asociándose como he comendado como un alimento de liberación, satisfacción, disfrute y autoconocimiento para aquellas personas capaces de soltar el lastre de los prejuicios de la sociedad y dejarse envolver por los placeres de lo auténtico, lo epicúreo. Por cierto, hay un genial simbolismo en la mantequilla, representación de lo genuino que desaparece cada vez más de nuestras vidas y no debe olvidarse que el título original de la obra no es otro que ‘Butter’. Las descripciones de los alimentos e ingredientes son sublimes, rozando lo erótico en ocasiones, y como poco te darán mucho hambre (yo ya he preparado una receta que menciona).
Mirad, podría seguir escribiendo horas y horas de esta novela de personajes, de crecimiento y aprendizaje, que tiene mil detalles que comentar y que me ha fascinado... pero, en definitiva, con sus mil y una reflexiones que no te deja indiferente, ‘La gula’ me deja con ganas de leer todo lo que escriba Asako Yuzuki.
‘La gula’ es una novela que hace una crítica bastante descarnada a no pocos aspectos de la sociedad japonesa actual (muchos de ellos aplicables globalmente). El tema más importante es claramente la denuncia a los valores tradicionales japoneses que asocian la delgadez a la belleza y lo saludable (lo dicho, esto no ocurre solo en Japón, pero es cierto que allí se aplica de una forma más extrema) y el absoluto escarnio y juicio público a cualquier mujer (y esto es importante, los hombres no pasan ese escrutinio) con un peso no-normativo dentro de sus cánones. El nivel es tal, que una mujer que coja peso, puede incluso llegar a perder consideración en su trabajo, puesto que está mostrando que no tiene capacidad de control y moderación. Telita. Tengo frases y frases subrayadas de este libro que afronta el tema de una forma brillante, mostrándonos las opiniones y acciones de diferentes personajes, que tener una visión muy completa.
En un inicio encontramos una periodista interesada con hablar con una mujer condenada a cadena perpetua por su supuesta relación con la muerte de tres hombres. La asesina es el centro de un caso muy mediático, no tanto por los crímenes, sino que, ha logrado la atención del público porque la condenada está gorda (para los estándares japoneses). Sin embargo, con el paso de las páginas vemos como el centro de la trama gira en torno al rol de la mujer en Japón, a través de principalmente tres personajes (aunque habrá muchos más que dan profundidad a la historia), que tienen un arco fantástico y coherente y, aun así, logra sorprenderte. Se exploran traumas, el impacto ante la pérdida, relaciones matrimoniales, maternidad, sexualidad reprimida, jornadas laborales infinitas que anulan la vida de las personas, la soledad y el autocuidado entre otros temas, buscando acabar con estigmas como las mujeres solteras, el pedir ayuda o el volver a empezar.
Imposible pasar por alto el personaje de Manako Kajii, la mujer condenada. Alguien atrayente hasta el extremo, no solo para los personajes, sino también para el lector. La autora crea un aura de misterio a su alrededor que solo quieres traspasar. Su forma de pensar, libre, diferente y muy controvertida, la convierte en alguien único. Cada una de sus frases tiene capas y capas de significado y merece la pena dedicarle un tiempo a pensar porqué lo que dice no se corresponde con cómo se comporta. ¿Por qué alguien cuyas acciones son feministas en extremo declararía que odia a las mujeres feministas? ¿Qué le ha llevado a pensar así?
A través de ella, y de los paralelismos que encontrará con su vida, la periodista protagonista, Rika, emprende un viaje de autodescubrimiento que le llevará a conocer la satisfacción a través de la comida, la libertad de decidir, la felicidad de ignorar lo que opinen demás… al tiempo, que investiga día y noche sobre el caso Kajii.
La comida (y la mantequilla, en concreto) es la piedra angular de esta novela. Asociándose como he comendado como un alimento de liberación, satisfacción, disfrute y autoconocimiento para aquellas personas capaces de soltar el lastre de los prejuicios de la sociedad y dejarse envolver por los placeres de lo auténtico, lo epicúreo. Por cierto, hay un genial simbolismo en la mantequilla, representación de lo genuino que desaparece cada vez más de nuestras vidas y no debe olvidarse que el título original de la obra no es otro que ‘Butter’. Las descripciones de los alimentos e ingredientes son sublimes, rozando lo erótico en ocasiones, y como poco te darán mucho hambre (yo ya he preparado una receta que menciona).
Mirad, podría seguir escribiendo horas y horas de esta novela de personajes, de crecimiento y aprendizaje, que tiene mil detalles que comentar y que me ha fascinado... pero, en definitiva, con sus mil y una reflexiones que no te deja indiferente, ‘La gula’ me deja con ganas de leer todo lo que escriba Asako Yuzuki.
March 25, 2024
This is not a terrible book, and there is certainly an audience for it that might appreciate it much more than I did. The problem is that this is not what it is sold as. There really is no thriller or mystery element. It is just a very long book about the societal pressures Japanese people face and, in a way, how to overcome them.
The 'murderer' is not even a murderer. And no matter what her sentence in the book or what the MC says, she is not responsible for anyone's death. If she is a murderer, so is everyone who has ended a relationship that isn't working anymore. And the fact that the main character decides she is guilty even after knowing the truth (that she didn't push, drown, or poison anyone), she simply dated men who couldn't freaking function by themselves and went off the rails once she stopped mommying them. It is especially idiotic coming from the MC, who has managed to overcome the guilt of causing her father's death by not being by his side after he divorced her mom.
If the book had been sold for what it is, about characters struggling to fit in, public shaming, saving face, loneliness, shame, etc.—then that's fair enough, but they are marketing it as something that it isn't. So, it was a complete slog for me and I really would not have even picked it up if they had been honest about what the book is really about.
The 'murderer' is not even a murderer. And no matter what her sentence in the book or what the MC says, she is not responsible for anyone's death. If she is a murderer, so is everyone who has ended a relationship that isn't working anymore. And the fact that the main character decides she is guilty even after knowing the truth (that she didn't push, drown, or poison anyone), she simply dated men who couldn't freaking function by themselves and went off the rails once she stopped mommying them. It is especially idiotic coming from the MC, who has managed to overcome the guilt of causing her father's death by not being by his side after he divorced her mom.
If the book had been sold for what it is, about characters struggling to fit in, public shaming, saving face, loneliness, shame, etc.—then that's fair enough, but they are marketing it as something that it isn't. So, it was a complete slog for me and I really would not have even picked it up if they had been honest about what the book is really about.
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
April 1, 2024
Manako Kajii is a convicted serial killer. She’d seduced three men by cooking them gourmet food and then killed them off, one by one. Or did she? There is a degree of ambiguity surrounding the circumstances of each death. Perhaps she’s just been unlucky, and the deaths were actually caused by suicide, accident, or misadventure? A retrial is scheduled, and it’s the talk of Tokyo. Manako is remaining tight-lipped and is refusing visitors, but one woman - journalist Rika Machida - is determined to speak to her to wheedle out Manako’s account of events.
Inspired by a real case, that of a 34 year old woman labelled The Konatsu Killer, this story is part murder mystery, part cookery book. Manako is portrayed as a somewhat portly woman (something highly unusual and also, it seems socially unacceptable in Japan), someone who is unrepentantly fond of eating lavishly prepared dishes. So, in order to ingratiate herself to Manako, or at least pique her interest, Rika starts to correspond with her on the subject of food. Eventually, she manages to get permission to visit her in prison and a relationship of sorts is developed.
There are other characters close to Rika here, too, but really, it's this central relationship between the journalist and the convicted killer that’s at the heart of the story. In the course of the weeks that follow Rika’s interest in cooking - and eating - accelerates to the point that she too begins to gain weight. Several people comment on this, none positively. There is a good deal of detail here on food preparation, cooking, and the experience of eating the painstakingly assembled dishes. In truth, I began to find this all a little monotonous. But what did interest me was the associated impacts of these events on Rika’s life: the way she was perceived by and treated by others around her.
There are features of Japanese culture covered here that I was hitherto blind to, or at least somewhat dismissive of. These include what seems to be institutional misogyny in the workplace and a work ethic that is collectivist, in the sense that each worker forms ‘a family’ with their colleagues and anything less than total commitment to the cause is deemed to demonstrate of a lack of loyalty. Manners matter a great deal, and adherence to unwritten standards of behaviour are paramount. I found this to be an absolute education. I liked some elements and wished we employed more of these in my own country, but others I found to be strange and disturbingly controlling.
In the end, I thought the story rather petered out without coming to a definitive or rounded ending. The lessons learned by Rika, and to a lesser extent, some of her friends are the only real points of focus. I think the book could have done with some serious editing (less on the food) and also a more rounded summary of how things played out at its conclusion. That said, there’s a certain quality to the writing and, in particular, the way in which characters are developed and portrayed that I found engaging. Overall, it’s a three star rating for me.
My thanks to 4th Estate for providing a copy of this book via NetGalley in return for an honest review.
Inspired by a real case, that of a 34 year old woman labelled The Konatsu Killer, this story is part murder mystery, part cookery book. Manako is portrayed as a somewhat portly woman (something highly unusual and also, it seems socially unacceptable in Japan), someone who is unrepentantly fond of eating lavishly prepared dishes. So, in order to ingratiate herself to Manako, or at least pique her interest, Rika starts to correspond with her on the subject of food. Eventually, she manages to get permission to visit her in prison and a relationship of sorts is developed.
There are other characters close to Rika here, too, but really, it's this central relationship between the journalist and the convicted killer that’s at the heart of the story. In the course of the weeks that follow Rika’s interest in cooking - and eating - accelerates to the point that she too begins to gain weight. Several people comment on this, none positively. There is a good deal of detail here on food preparation, cooking, and the experience of eating the painstakingly assembled dishes. In truth, I began to find this all a little monotonous. But what did interest me was the associated impacts of these events on Rika’s life: the way she was perceived by and treated by others around her.
There are features of Japanese culture covered here that I was hitherto blind to, or at least somewhat dismissive of. These include what seems to be institutional misogyny in the workplace and a work ethic that is collectivist, in the sense that each worker forms ‘a family’ with their colleagues and anything less than total commitment to the cause is deemed to demonstrate of a lack of loyalty. Manners matter a great deal, and adherence to unwritten standards of behaviour are paramount. I found this to be an absolute education. I liked some elements and wished we employed more of these in my own country, but others I found to be strange and disturbingly controlling.
In the end, I thought the story rather petered out without coming to a definitive or rounded ending. The lessons learned by Rika, and to a lesser extent, some of her friends are the only real points of focus. I think the book could have done with some serious editing (less on the food) and also a more rounded summary of how things played out at its conclusion. That said, there’s a certain quality to the writing and, in particular, the way in which characters are developed and portrayed that I found engaging. Overall, it’s a three star rating for me.
My thanks to 4th Estate for providing a copy of this book via NetGalley in return for an honest review.
April 29, 2024
A Japanese-style story of self-discovery and, ultimately, self-acceptance against all social impositions. It wasn't quite the book for me, but I kinda liked it anyway.
-------
Una storia in salsa giapponese di scoperta di sé e, in ultima analisi, di accettazione di sé contro tutte le imposizioni sociali. Non era esattamente un libro adatto ai miei gusti, ma mi è piaciuto comunque.
-------
Una storia in salsa giapponese di scoperta di sé e, in ultima analisi, di accettazione di sé contro tutte le imposizioni sociali. Non era esattamente un libro adatto ai miei gusti, ma mi è piaciuto comunque.
April 11, 2024
Thanks to this book, I now have a HUGE craving for butter, and you bet your ass I'm going to buy the highest quality butter and put it on a bowl of steamed rice with soy sauce and maybe a fried egg on top.
The way the author writes about food is how I wish all food writers would write. She gives vivid descriptions of everything the main character eats — from the smell to the texture, the taste, the aftertaste. It makes me feel like I'm savouring the food at that moment, with the main character.
On the surface, this book is about a journalist who seeks to find the truth about a serial killer, but as you read, you uncover that it explores gender inequality, fidelity, female friendship, and womanhood in Japan.
The serial killer, Kajii, has an infamous line in the book: "There are two things that I simply cannot tolerate: Feminists and margarine." This bold statement gives a glimpse of who she is as a person, someone with so much internalised misogyny that she can't even stand the idea of women. The book delves into how these attitudes are nurtured. Kajii's environment and her mother failed her, casting her out just because she was different. The only person who showed her love was her father, which is why she's drawn to older men, constantly trying to replicate the love her father gave.
The book also emphasizes the importance of female friendship. Unlike Kajii, Rika has a ride-or-die friend, the biggest distinction between the two. Kajii is a lone wolf who can't stand the idea of friendship; she'd rather have worshippers than a friend who mutually respects her. Thanks to Rika's friendship, she prevented Rika from spiralling and becoming like Kajii, who acts like an abusive partner, dictating how Rika lives and slowly isolating her from her social circle. But Reiko said nope, not going to happen on my watch, and in a way, that friendship saved Rika.
Body image is another constant theme throughout the book. Japan is a country where your image is everything. If you don't present yourself well in society, you bring shame upon yourself and those around you. The moment Rika started gaining weight, people around her questioned why she was eating so much and told her to slim down. Kajii, adopting the "I'm not like other girls" mentality, embraces her body because she wants to enjoy doing what she wants, rejecting society's expectations of how a woman should present herself. In a way, Kajii teaches Rika a valuable lesson: she shouldn't live for other people. If she wants to enjoy good food, she should go ahead. At the end of the book, Rika fully embraces herself and even tells others that she's not going to slim down, this is who she is. And come on, she's healthy. Her weight before the book was borderline anorexic.
So even though this is a book about a serial killer, whether or not Kajii actually killed those men is not the main issue; it's how society perceives women and the unrealistic expectations it puts on them.
The way the author writes about food is how I wish all food writers would write. She gives vivid descriptions of everything the main character eats — from the smell to the texture, the taste, the aftertaste. It makes me feel like I'm savouring the food at that moment, with the main character.
On the surface, this book is about a journalist who seeks to find the truth about a serial killer, but as you read, you uncover that it explores gender inequality, fidelity, female friendship, and womanhood in Japan.
The serial killer, Kajii, has an infamous line in the book: "There are two things that I simply cannot tolerate: Feminists and margarine." This bold statement gives a glimpse of who she is as a person, someone with so much internalised misogyny that she can't even stand the idea of women. The book delves into how these attitudes are nurtured. Kajii's environment and her mother failed her, casting her out just because she was different. The only person who showed her love was her father, which is why she's drawn to older men, constantly trying to replicate the love her father gave.
The book also emphasizes the importance of female friendship. Unlike Kajii, Rika has a ride-or-die friend, the biggest distinction between the two. Kajii is a lone wolf who can't stand the idea of friendship; she'd rather have worshippers than a friend who mutually respects her. Thanks to Rika's friendship, she prevented Rika from spiralling and becoming like Kajii, who acts like an abusive partner, dictating how Rika lives and slowly isolating her from her social circle. But Reiko said nope, not going to happen on my watch, and in a way, that friendship saved Rika.
Body image is another constant theme throughout the book. Japan is a country where your image is everything. If you don't present yourself well in society, you bring shame upon yourself and those around you. The moment Rika started gaining weight, people around her questioned why she was eating so much and told her to slim down. Kajii, adopting the "I'm not like other girls" mentality, embraces her body because she wants to enjoy doing what she wants, rejecting society's expectations of how a woman should present herself. In a way, Kajii teaches Rika a valuable lesson: she shouldn't live for other people. If she wants to enjoy good food, she should go ahead. At the end of the book, Rika fully embraces herself and even tells others that she's not going to slim down, this is who she is. And come on, she's healthy. Her weight before the book was borderline anorexic.
So even though this is a book about a serial killer, whether or not Kajii actually killed those men is not the main issue; it's how society perceives women and the unrealistic expectations it puts on them.
February 14, 2022
Ich liebe Essen und Butter.
Es war eine sehr interessante und spannende Erfahrung dieses Buch zu lesen, auch wenn es stellenweise langatmig wurde. Aber es hat alles gepasst und bis zum Ende blieb die Spannung! Es war wie wenn man kochen lernt, es geht nur schrittweise voran, aber am Ende wird man mit einem schönen Gericht belohnt. Die Autorin weiß wie sie Leser fesseln muss: Es ist nicht nur die Geschichte der vermeintlichen (dicken) Mörderin, die einsame Männer umgebracht haben soll, sondern auch eine Liebesgeschichte an sich selbst und das Essen. Die Beschreibungen vom Essen waren wirklich klasse, sodass ich immer sofort Hunger bekommen habe.
Die Autorin hat beim Buch geschickt zwei der Urinstinkte ausgesucht, die der Mensch sucht: Der Instinkt für (gutes) Essen und die (verzweifelte) Suche nach Liebe und Anerkennung. Es geht aber nicht nur um die Liebe zwischen Mann und Frau, sondern auch zwischen Freundinnen und Vater und Tochter. Auch die Essenskultur und der Lebensraum werden hier angesprochen. Je mehr ich darüber nachdenke, desto besser gefällt mir dieser Roman. Vielschichtig und in natürlicher Weise spricht die Autorin alle wichtigen Punkte im Leben einer japanischen Frau an, die von außen und auch von innen an der Seele zerren und kräftigt am Herzen rühren.
Am Anfang dachte ich, dass es nur ein Unterhaltungsroman mit einer doofen Frau im Mittelpunkt sein wird (am Anfang habe ich die Protagonistin nicht sonderlich gemocht oder verstanden), aber mit jeder Seite bekam die Geschichte mehr Farbe und mehr Leben. Am Ende wurde ich mit einer tiefgründigen und unglaublich schönen Geschichte beschenkt, was ich wirklich schätzen gelernt habe. Den Mittelteil hätte ich vielleicht etwas verkürzt oder anders geschachtelt, daher 4,5 Sterne auf 5 hochgerundet.
** Dieses Buch wurde mir über NetGalley als E-Book zur Verfügung gestellt **
Es war eine sehr interessante und spannende Erfahrung dieses Buch zu lesen, auch wenn es stellenweise langatmig wurde. Aber es hat alles gepasst und bis zum Ende blieb die Spannung! Es war wie wenn man kochen lernt, es geht nur schrittweise voran, aber am Ende wird man mit einem schönen Gericht belohnt. Die Autorin weiß wie sie Leser fesseln muss: Es ist nicht nur die Geschichte der vermeintlichen (dicken) Mörderin, die einsame Männer umgebracht haben soll, sondern auch eine Liebesgeschichte an sich selbst und das Essen. Die Beschreibungen vom Essen waren wirklich klasse, sodass ich immer sofort Hunger bekommen habe.
"Es war ein Irrtum zu glauben, dass eine hausgemachte Mahlzeit einen Menschen retten konnte. Und wenn, müsste sie zumindest besser schmecken. Wie viele Frauen quälten sich mit dieser Illusion herum?"
Die Autorin hat beim Buch geschickt zwei der Urinstinkte ausgesucht, die der Mensch sucht: Der Instinkt für (gutes) Essen und die (verzweifelte) Suche nach Liebe und Anerkennung. Es geht aber nicht nur um die Liebe zwischen Mann und Frau, sondern auch zwischen Freundinnen und Vater und Tochter. Auch die Essenskultur und der Lebensraum werden hier angesprochen. Je mehr ich darüber nachdenke, desto besser gefällt mir dieser Roman. Vielschichtig und in natürlicher Weise spricht die Autorin alle wichtigen Punkte im Leben einer japanischen Frau an, die von außen und auch von innen an der Seele zerren und kräftigt am Herzen rühren.
Am Anfang dachte ich, dass es nur ein Unterhaltungsroman mit einer doofen Frau im Mittelpunkt sein wird (am Anfang habe ich die Protagonistin nicht sonderlich gemocht oder verstanden), aber mit jeder Seite bekam die Geschichte mehr Farbe und mehr Leben. Am Ende wurde ich mit einer tiefgründigen und unglaublich schönen Geschichte beschenkt, was ich wirklich schätzen gelernt habe. Den Mittelteil hätte ich vielleicht etwas verkürzt oder anders geschachtelt, daher 4,5 Sterne auf 5 hochgerundet.
** Dieses Buch wurde mir über NetGalley als E-Book zur Verfügung gestellt **
February 17, 2024
Butter is the latest cult favorite from a Japanese female author that crosses boundaries and presents a view of life heretofore unexpected from Japan. Having never visited that country, I was intrigued by the importance of foodie culture exhibited here, having only experienced traditional exported Japanese cuisine, never thinking to marry butter with soy sauce onto freshly cooked white rice, and found the fusion elements causing my mouth to water throughout. Add to all of that a baffling serial killer mystery, and all this whips up into a truly immersive read. The only quibble I have is that the book runs on for about 100 pages too many, and would have been better if it had been tighter. Still, the descriptions of flavors popping on the tongue, the increasing connection of food to the joy of living, and the final description of roasting a turkey was a joy to read.
March 31, 2024
A journalist sits down for a coveted interview with a convicted serial killer. They do not talk about her crimes, only food. Instead the incarcerated woman tells the free woman to go take a bowl of just cooked rice, add a little soy sauce, and then get a bite with a pat of cold butter on top. Let the butter melt in your mouth, she says. "When I'm eating good butter I feel somehow as though I were falling."
I wasn't sure if I wanted to read a 450+ page novel, but it was this sequence that won me over. When Rika goes home from the interview, she follows instructions. She cooks so rarely she has to buy a rice cooker just for this purpose. And when she eats the rice with butter it is, somehow, transformative. It is the beginning of a journey.
Rika is a workaholic journalist, stuck in the grind of reporting, hoping to work her way up to the editorial desk. Rika doesn't plan to marry or have children, she has a boyfriend she doesn't care much about and barely sees, she never cooks. Manako is a career girlfriend, now imprisoned, after three of her much older boyfriends died suddenly. Manako doesn't like other women, she sees her whole purpose in life as to be a domestic ideal, providing food and pleasure to men who keep her in a comfortable lifestyle. And to make the story a more complex triangle there is also Reiko, Rika's closest college friend, who left a strong career in marketing to get married and is in fertility treatments to try and have chidren. Reiko and Rika seem to be growing apart, but Manako, who somehow is a counterpoint to both of them, becomes the object of a mutual obsession.
Rika wants a big cover story interview. But over time it becomes less about the interview and more about what she is experiencing. The fancy imported butter, an exquisite French restaurant, eating ramen in the middle of a cold winter night right after sex. She continues to recreate Manako's greatest pleasures, exploring this woman who is so different from herself.
There is so much wrapped up in here about women in Japanese culture. Manako is the object of intense scorn and derision even though it seems likely she didn't kill anyone. It is less that these men are dead and more that Manako has won over the adoration of these wealthy men before they died when she is not the ideal of a thin, subservient woman. She is fat and happily so, comfortable with herself, bold, opinionated, often brash. Rika wants to understand her, but as she indulges in foods Manako tells her about, she does not exactly become Manako but she does become someone else.
This is not a procedural or a thriller. We do not have a mystery to solve. It's never clear if Manako actually contributed to the death of these men and it's not really the issue. Instead Manako herself is the mystery, how can a woman like this exist? And what is missing from Rika's own life? It is a story of pleasure and desire, through food in particular. It's about dysfunctional families and patriarchy and what it means to build community. While it can feel very dark at times, this is ultimately a very optimistic novel where we see Rika and Reiko explore themselves. (I also found a lot of queer subtext here, kept waiting for it to become text, but sadly it never does. The only real fault I have with this book is the way it ultimately sidesteps sexual discovery when it seems like it's heading right for it.)
Yes, it took a while to read but I was so happy to come back to it night after night.
I wasn't sure if I wanted to read a 450+ page novel, but it was this sequence that won me over. When Rika goes home from the interview, she follows instructions. She cooks so rarely she has to buy a rice cooker just for this purpose. And when she eats the rice with butter it is, somehow, transformative. It is the beginning of a journey.
Rika is a workaholic journalist, stuck in the grind of reporting, hoping to work her way up to the editorial desk. Rika doesn't plan to marry or have children, she has a boyfriend she doesn't care much about and barely sees, she never cooks. Manako is a career girlfriend, now imprisoned, after three of her much older boyfriends died suddenly. Manako doesn't like other women, she sees her whole purpose in life as to be a domestic ideal, providing food and pleasure to men who keep her in a comfortable lifestyle. And to make the story a more complex triangle there is also Reiko, Rika's closest college friend, who left a strong career in marketing to get married and is in fertility treatments to try and have chidren. Reiko and Rika seem to be growing apart, but Manako, who somehow is a counterpoint to both of them, becomes the object of a mutual obsession.
Rika wants a big cover story interview. But over time it becomes less about the interview and more about what she is experiencing. The fancy imported butter, an exquisite French restaurant, eating ramen in the middle of a cold winter night right after sex. She continues to recreate Manako's greatest pleasures, exploring this woman who is so different from herself.
There is so much wrapped up in here about women in Japanese culture. Manako is the object of intense scorn and derision even though it seems likely she didn't kill anyone. It is less that these men are dead and more that Manako has won over the adoration of these wealthy men before they died when she is not the ideal of a thin, subservient woman. She is fat and happily so, comfortable with herself, bold, opinionated, often brash. Rika wants to understand her, but as she indulges in foods Manako tells her about, she does not exactly become Manako but she does become someone else.
This is not a procedural or a thriller. We do not have a mystery to solve. It's never clear if Manako actually contributed to the death of these men and it's not really the issue. Instead Manako herself is the mystery, how can a woman like this exist? And what is missing from Rika's own life? It is a story of pleasure and desire, through food in particular. It's about dysfunctional families and patriarchy and what it means to build community. While it can feel very dark at times, this is ultimately a very optimistic novel where we see Rika and Reiko explore themselves. (I also found a lot of queer subtext here, kept waiting for it to become text, but sadly it never does. The only real fault I have with this book is the way it ultimately sidesteps sexual discovery when it seems like it's heading right for it.)
Yes, it took a while to read but I was so happy to come back to it night after night.
April 28, 2024
DNF. You know when you look up a recipe online and sometimes there is a little bit of text in front that you always skip to read? That was this book. It's just boring long descriptions of food preparation with no plot. Too bad cause the cover looks amazing.
February 26, 2024
Butter is the first novel, of several award-winners by Japanese author, Asako Yuzuki to be translated into English by Polly Barton. After many frustratingly unsuccessful attempts to visit convicted serial killer, Manako Kajii in the Tokyo Detention House, a suggestion from a good friend finally gains Shumei Weekly journalist, Rika Machida, access to this enigmatic woman.
Kajii gained notoriety when, over a period of six months in 2013, three of the wealthy men she found via an online dating service, on whom she lavished attention with gourmet meals, and who handed over large sums of cash, or funded lessons at the exclusive all-women cooking school, Le Salon de Myuko, all died, apparently by suicide or accident.
Kajii was convicted after a misogyny-tinged trial that seemed to ignore alibis and evidence, and two years on, is awaiting retrial. It felt to Rika that Kajii was tried for her appearance (not young, not beautiful, too fat) and her attitude to men, wanting “‘a mature man, with the capacity for both emotional and financial generosity”, and attacking her concept of chastity. “A woman who didn’t hide the fact that she used her sexuality as a weapon was met with such fierce scorn, and even a kind of terror.”
Rika’s clever request for the recipe that Kajii fed her last victim results in conditional approval for a visit: nothing at all about her trial or conviction may be discussed. Instead, Rika comes away with a recommendation for a very simple dish that requires top quality butter, a commodity currently scarce due to the widespread occurrence of mastitis in cows. She’s still hopeful that at a later visit she may be permitted an interview.
Meanwhile, Rika, with “taste buds are like a child’s. I’m perfectly happy with convenience store bento boxes and curry from cheap restaurants” tries the recipe and is hooked. “Soon enough, just as Kajii had said, the melted butter began to surge through the individual grains of rice. It was a taste that could only be described as golden. A shining golden wave, with an astounding depth of flavour and a faint yet full and rounded aroma, wrapped itself around the rice and washed Rika’s body far away.” Eventual further visits net recommendations for other dishes, and eating establishments to try.
Rika wonders if “To make something yourself that you wanted to eat and eat it the way you wanted – was that the very essence of gratification?” But her best friend, Reiko Sayana observes that Rika seems to be in thrall to Kajii: “You don’t try to see anything she hasn’t shown you”, and Rika admits to herself that she has doubts about Kajii’s guilt, although thinking that her victims displayed “the excessive self-pity felt by lonely men” feels a lot like victim-blaming. Was she losing her powers of judgement?
Some of Kajii’s opinions, though, seem valid: “Japanese women are required to be self-denying, hard-working and ascetic, and in the same breath, to be feminine, soft and caring towards men. Everyone finds that an impossible balance to strike, and they struggle desperately as a result.” But Kajii disabuses Rika of the notion they might become friends: “I don’t want friends. I don’t need friends. I’m only interested in having worshippers.’
Reiko is fascinated with her interactions with Kajii, while continuing to express her concerns over Rika’s mental and physical health, which does give her pause, but Rika is unaware of what her best friend is up to behind the scenes. Will Rika get her exclusive interview? Will the true fate of those men be revealed?
Yuzuki’s tale takes several unexpected turns over the twelve months leading up to, and beyond Kajii’s retrial, and examines the status of women in Japan, and the expectations to which they are subject. Her varied cast of support characters includes a childless housewife, a boyfriend with a girl-band fetish, an industrious mother, opinionated colleagues, a well-known older editor who mentors, and a dairy farmer. Not one of the significant characters has a conventional loving childhood and youth: each is carrying emotional baggage, grief or guilt, creating problems in their relationships, be they romantic or filial.
The only thing missing from this intriguing story is a few detailed recipes: as they consume it, readers will be hungry; those familiar with Japanese cuisine won’t be the only ones salivating. An interesting and entertaining read.
This unbiased review is from an uncorrected proof copy provided by NetGalley and Harper Collins Australia/ 4th Estate
Kajii gained notoriety when, over a period of six months in 2013, three of the wealthy men she found via an online dating service, on whom she lavished attention with gourmet meals, and who handed over large sums of cash, or funded lessons at the exclusive all-women cooking school, Le Salon de Myuko, all died, apparently by suicide or accident.
Kajii was convicted after a misogyny-tinged trial that seemed to ignore alibis and evidence, and two years on, is awaiting retrial. It felt to Rika that Kajii was tried for her appearance (not young, not beautiful, too fat) and her attitude to men, wanting “‘a mature man, with the capacity for both emotional and financial generosity”, and attacking her concept of chastity. “A woman who didn’t hide the fact that she used her sexuality as a weapon was met with such fierce scorn, and even a kind of terror.”
Rika’s clever request for the recipe that Kajii fed her last victim results in conditional approval for a visit: nothing at all about her trial or conviction may be discussed. Instead, Rika comes away with a recommendation for a very simple dish that requires top quality butter, a commodity currently scarce due to the widespread occurrence of mastitis in cows. She’s still hopeful that at a later visit she may be permitted an interview.
Meanwhile, Rika, with “taste buds are like a child’s. I’m perfectly happy with convenience store bento boxes and curry from cheap restaurants” tries the recipe and is hooked. “Soon enough, just as Kajii had said, the melted butter began to surge through the individual grains of rice. It was a taste that could only be described as golden. A shining golden wave, with an astounding depth of flavour and a faint yet full and rounded aroma, wrapped itself around the rice and washed Rika’s body far away.” Eventual further visits net recommendations for other dishes, and eating establishments to try.
Rika wonders if “To make something yourself that you wanted to eat and eat it the way you wanted – was that the very essence of gratification?” But her best friend, Reiko Sayana observes that Rika seems to be in thrall to Kajii: “You don’t try to see anything she hasn’t shown you”, and Rika admits to herself that she has doubts about Kajii’s guilt, although thinking that her victims displayed “the excessive self-pity felt by lonely men” feels a lot like victim-blaming. Was she losing her powers of judgement?
Some of Kajii’s opinions, though, seem valid: “Japanese women are required to be self-denying, hard-working and ascetic, and in the same breath, to be feminine, soft and caring towards men. Everyone finds that an impossible balance to strike, and they struggle desperately as a result.” But Kajii disabuses Rika of the notion they might become friends: “I don’t want friends. I don’t need friends. I’m only interested in having worshippers.’
Reiko is fascinated with her interactions with Kajii, while continuing to express her concerns over Rika’s mental and physical health, which does give her pause, but Rika is unaware of what her best friend is up to behind the scenes. Will Rika get her exclusive interview? Will the true fate of those men be revealed?
Yuzuki’s tale takes several unexpected turns over the twelve months leading up to, and beyond Kajii’s retrial, and examines the status of women in Japan, and the expectations to which they are subject. Her varied cast of support characters includes a childless housewife, a boyfriend with a girl-band fetish, an industrious mother, opinionated colleagues, a well-known older editor who mentors, and a dairy farmer. Not one of the significant characters has a conventional loving childhood and youth: each is carrying emotional baggage, grief or guilt, creating problems in their relationships, be they romantic or filial.
The only thing missing from this intriguing story is a few detailed recipes: as they consume it, readers will be hungry; those familiar with Japanese cuisine won’t be the only ones salivating. An interesting and entertaining read.
This unbiased review is from an uncorrected proof copy provided by NetGalley and Harper Collins Australia/ 4th Estate
May 1, 2024
She thought she was butter, but she was only margarine. And she melted :/
May 3, 2024
A review copy was provided by the publisher
PSA: Do NOT read this on an empty stomach, or when you're even remotely hungry. Just don't do it. Otherwise you might end up eating everything in sight and then order some takeout on top of it.
More to the point though, this novel wasn't really what I expected based on its subtitle - A Novel of Food and Murder. True, the story does revolve around a murderer, but what the author really wanted to explore are societal norms when it comes to women, beauty standards, expectations, and all of that is tied into cooking and food. For my taste (no pun intended) Butter is too long because, while the prose is expressive and effective, there were plenty of times where I wished the book would move along as the point the author was trying to make was clear. It's definitely a slow burn, and I suppose if you're really into elaborate food descriptions and reflecting on mundane things (nothing wrong with that) I can see how this book can be really enjoyable, but I was getting impatient. I also found some of the cooking and eating descriptions to be quite off-putting, but that's just a me thing - overly detailed descriptions of experiencing food make me uncomfortable.
All that being said though, I actually though the characters were interesting and in the end their personal journeys are what kept me going. Butter is a good book, and it was very different from what I normally read, but in the end I just didn't love it.
PSA: Do NOT read this on an empty stomach, or when you're even remotely hungry. Just don't do it. Otherwise you might end up eating everything in sight and then order some takeout on top of it.
More to the point though, this novel wasn't really what I expected based on its subtitle - A Novel of Food and Murder. True, the story does revolve around a murderer, but what the author really wanted to explore are societal norms when it comes to women, beauty standards, expectations, and all of that is tied into cooking and food. For my taste (no pun intended) Butter is too long because, while the prose is expressive and effective, there were plenty of times where I wished the book would move along as the point the author was trying to make was clear. It's definitely a slow burn, and I suppose if you're really into elaborate food descriptions and reflecting on mundane things (nothing wrong with that) I can see how this book can be really enjoyable, but I was getting impatient. I also found some of the cooking and eating descriptions to be quite off-putting, but that's just a me thing - overly detailed descriptions of experiencing food make me uncomfortable.
All that being said though, I actually though the characters were interesting and in the end their personal journeys are what kept me going. Butter is a good book, and it was very different from what I normally read, but in the end I just didn't love it.
March 2, 2024
Bizarre, rambling and unpleasant.
Why two stars instead of one? Because I tried to abandon this book 3 times, but kept going back and managed to finish it. If I could ignore the strong anti-feminist and body negativity messages, it could probably be the quirky Japanese foodie/murder novel I was hoping for. But I couldn't and it wasn't.
Thanks anyway to NetGalley and HarperCollins Australia for the opportunity to read an advance copy.
***
From early childhood, everyone had had it drummed into them that if a woman wasn’t slim, she wasn’t worth bothering with. The decision not to lose weight and remain plus-sized was one that demanded considerable resolve.
***
The previous week, Rika had thrown out her packet of margarine, so despised by Manako Kajii, with the burnable rubbish.
***
Until not long ago, she’d had no idea what it was that she wanted to eat, but since she’d begun using her kitchen, she was becoming able to picture, albeit vaguely, the objects of her desires.
***
In other words, even the high-earning and independent women in the media industry engaged in an alternative form of prostitution to get their hands on the hot tip-offs.
***
If you scrimp on butter, your food will taste inferior, and if you scrimp on femininity and a wish to serve your partner then your relationships will grow impoverished – why can’t you fathom that?
***
It was the era of the high-school girl as a sexual commodity. Walking around Shibuya in uniform, the eyes of men of her father’s generation had pored over her, sizing her up, before they held up a certain number of fingers to indicate the price they’d be willing to pay. It wasn’t just once or twice that this had happened to Rika, but on numerous occasions.
***
When they heard that someone was full-fi gured and liked cooking and eating, most men imagined someone quiet and domestic. Someone whose interior life would not surpass their own. But did that reasoning really hold up?
***
She and her mother had killed him. If they’d stuck with him, managed to keep him in check just as the good wife and good daughter that society required them to be were supposed to do, managed the juggling act needed to maintain his good mood, then they might have been able to live together as a family.
***
‘It sounds like he’s giving up on Scream, anyway.’
‘Really?’
‘Yeah, his favourite member, Megumi, has put on loads of weight. It was all over the news – didn’t you see it? She’s the front girl of the band. She’s fourteen and smack bang in the middle of puberty, so it’s totally normal for her to swell out a bit, but Mr Fujimura was saying he felt disillusioned with her. That it showed she wasn’t really trying hard enough.’
***
‘Don’t get the wrong idea. I like serving men and giving them pleasure. Women who don’t, don’t deserve the name.’
Why two stars instead of one? Because I tried to abandon this book 3 times, but kept going back and managed to finish it. If I could ignore the strong anti-feminist and body negativity messages, it could probably be the quirky Japanese foodie/murder novel I was hoping for. But I couldn't and it wasn't.
Thanks anyway to NetGalley and HarperCollins Australia for the opportunity to read an advance copy.
***
From early childhood, everyone had had it drummed into them that if a woman wasn’t slim, she wasn’t worth bothering with. The decision not to lose weight and remain plus-sized was one that demanded considerable resolve.
***
The previous week, Rika had thrown out her packet of margarine, so despised by Manako Kajii, with the burnable rubbish.
***
Until not long ago, she’d had no idea what it was that she wanted to eat, but since she’d begun using her kitchen, she was becoming able to picture, albeit vaguely, the objects of her desires.
***
In other words, even the high-earning and independent women in the media industry engaged in an alternative form of prostitution to get their hands on the hot tip-offs.
***
If you scrimp on butter, your food will taste inferior, and if you scrimp on femininity and a wish to serve your partner then your relationships will grow impoverished – why can’t you fathom that?
***
It was the era of the high-school girl as a sexual commodity. Walking around Shibuya in uniform, the eyes of men of her father’s generation had pored over her, sizing her up, before they held up a certain number of fingers to indicate the price they’d be willing to pay. It wasn’t just once or twice that this had happened to Rika, but on numerous occasions.
***
When they heard that someone was full-fi gured and liked cooking and eating, most men imagined someone quiet and domestic. Someone whose interior life would not surpass their own. But did that reasoning really hold up?
***
She and her mother had killed him. If they’d stuck with him, managed to keep him in check just as the good wife and good daughter that society required them to be were supposed to do, managed the juggling act needed to maintain his good mood, then they might have been able to live together as a family.
***
‘It sounds like he’s giving up on Scream, anyway.’
‘Really?’
‘Yeah, his favourite member, Megumi, has put on loads of weight. It was all over the news – didn’t you see it? She’s the front girl of the band. She’s fourteen and smack bang in the middle of puberty, so it’s totally normal for her to swell out a bit, but Mr Fujimura was saying he felt disillusioned with her. That it showed she wasn’t really trying hard enough.’
***
‘Don’t get the wrong idea. I like serving men and giving them pleasure. Women who don’t, don’t deserve the name.’
Displaying 1 - 30 of 1,693 reviews