‘Butter’: rebelling against Japanese beauty standards
Butter by Asako Yuzuki is a bold, indulgent and confronting look at misogyny, loneliness and food in Japanese culture. The book is based on the real case of the ‘The Konkatsu Killer’, and tells the story of Manako Kaji, a talented home cook and ‘femme fatale’ who uses her culinary skills to seduce and kill her lovers.
The book begins with Kaji in the Toyoko Detention House awaiting trial. Her case is a media sensation: everyone is talking about it, and every journalist is vying for an interview. Kaji, however, refuses them all. Early in the novel, it becomes clear that the true horror and fascination that the public hold with over this case is less about the grisly murders and more about the fact that Kaji is considered ‘fat’ and ‘ugly’ and couldn’t possibly have been loved by these men as she claims. This provides our first glimpse into the obsessive and oppressive culture around women’s aesthetics in Japan.
Kaji wholeheartedly defies this; she rebels against the expectations of weight and womanhood that are thrust upon her. She takes great pride in her figure and love of indulgent food. She boldly states: “There are two things that I simply cannot tolerate: feminists and margarine.” It seems to me, however, that her act of defiance is more feminist than even she realises.
On the other side of the spectrum is Rika Machida. Rika is a hard-working journalist in her 30s. She works most nights and weekends, survives off convenience store bento boxes and maintains rigid control of her slim figure. She appears to be the very antithesis of Kaji. Rika attempts to gain an exclusive interview with Kaji by asking her for beef stew recipe – the last meal eaten by one of her victims. To her surprise, Kaji agrees and the two begin an intimate and controversial relationship.
Butter is a bold, indulgent and confronting look at misogyny, loneliness and food in Japanese culture
Their meetings are more culinary masterclasses than investigative journalism. Rika hopes that these informal exchanges will soften Kaji, but instead, it is Rika who begins to change. Kaji’s complete rejection of anything considered ‘feminism’ shifts something inside Rika and forces her to confront some of the contradictions that women are faced with: “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.”
These unforgiving expectations are cleverly juxtaposed with the incredibly lenient ones placed on men. The book has a few older, male characters whose lives have fallen into disrepair. But instead of this being seen as a failure of personal responsibility, it is looked upon kindly and politely excused. Taking this one step further, Yuzuki points out that, in fact, it is often the responsibility of women to care for these men and it is seen as their failure if their father/husband/brother allows themselves fall apart.
Butter clearly tackles some meaty themes (as well as some delicious meats) and does so in such a clever way. The food descriptions in the book are rich and luscious, they seem to ooze off the page - and contrasted with the constant barrage of fat phobia - it makes for a compelling mix.
The ‘crime thriller’ element, which I expected to drive the novel, becomes secondary to the social commentary, and what evolves is a book centred around women: our roles, our responsibilities, the expectations and pressure we face, the power of female connectivity, and the true potential that lies beyond all these oppressive forces.
This blog was written by our book club volunteer, Jess Pagel.
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