What I’m Reading: Butter by Asako Yuzuki
I’m tempted to say this is the kind of book you devour (pun intended), but the truth is that would be getting it the wrong way of around. It’s more like it consumes you while you read it; it gets under your skin a little.
The description on the back of the book sums it up accurately: “Butter is a vivid, unsettling exploration of misogyny, obsession, romance and the transgressive pleasures of food in Japan”. There’s a lot to unpack here, but I’ll start with the premise.
The protagonist, Raki, is a journalist trying to get an interview with serial killer and gourmet cook Manako Kajii. Kajii is being held in Tokyo Detention Center, convicted of the serial murders of lonely businessmen that she allegedly seduced with her fabulous home cooking. This part of the story is actually inspired by a real-life convicted serial killer in Japan known as ‘The Konkatsu Killer’, which I think makes the premise even more fascinating.
Kajii has been refusing interviews, but Raki finds a way to get through – by asking her for a recipe. Their first few meetings are based solely on food, as Kajii tells Raki (who pretty much lives on foods like instant ramen) which foods to try: the first being rice with soy sauce and a good quality butter. A head’s up – you’ll be hearing a lot about butter in this book! Maybe have some in the house to enjoy on a cracker while you read.
The food descriptions are a delight to read in themselves, and are suitably quirky for a Japanese novel:
“The grease of the butter melded with the grit of the sugar and the pungent soy sauce. By the time she'd finished chewing, the roots of her teeth were trembling pleasurably.”
As Raki learns more about Kajii and her way of thinking, she explores food with an indulgence she has never allowed herself before. In the process, we see her start to reflect on her life and relationships.
*Note – spoilers from here onwards! Despite the novelty of the crime being the hook of this story, it’s not a crime novel. Rather it’s the story of Raki, and others around her, changing after their interactions with Kajii. It also gives an insight into Japanese culture, particularly the misogyny, fatphobia and gender roles that still govern people’s behaviour.
At first, Kajii seems progressive. She is someone that gives in to her desires and doesn’t play by society’s expectations: she eats what she wants, when she wants it, for example, paying no heed to Japanese society’s expectations for women to be thin. But then Raki learns she hates other women, and believe it's women’s jobs to care for the men in their lives. However, that’s because men are weak and can’t take care of themselves. Twisted, right?
This makes Raki reflect on her own childhood. Her mother had left her father because he was an alcoholic, and on the weekend he died from a stroke, Raki was meant to come over and cook for him, but she cancelled last minute. Since then she has tried not to think of that day, because she wonders that maybe if she hadn’t neglected him, he wouldn’t have died.
Without realising it, she has been holding on to some of those beliefs about gender roles and blaming herself for her father’s death, rather than acknowledging he was a grown man who could have chosen to take care of himself.
Then there is Reiko, Raki’s friend, who used to work with her as a journalist, but then quit the demanding role so she could focus on trying to get pregnant with her husband. She is initially worried about the influence Kajii is having on Raki, but then starts to investigate herself without telling Raki. It is only once Reiko goes missing that Raki realises Reiko has been speaking to Kajii too.
At this point the book switches to Reiko’s point of view, and it’s one of the more disturbing parts of the novel. As part of Reiko’s investigation, she goes to the house of a man she suspects is a sex offender and one of Kajii’s first lovers. They had been talking online, and she pretends she needs help; however, her goal is to stay there for three days, as Kajii said she did, and see if she can win him over by cooking and cleaning for him.
It doesn’t work, but whilst there she has a realisation: she’s doing the same things she did at home for her husband, despite being at a different house with a different man. This reflection of hers struck me:
“Yet I couldn't rid myself of the sense that if I stopped moving, the merry-go-round called our family would simply cease to rotate. If I stopped moving, then I wouldn't be loved. And if I was the one moving, then I had no proof that I was loved. What did it mean to be loved, in any case? Was it to be needed?”
Although gender roles have become less rigid, I still think many women are the movement behind the merry-go-round that is family life. Women who make sure their family eats their vegetables, that birthdays are remembered and gifts purchased, who choose the safe cleaning products for their household. The question the author poses of how much is love tied up with need in these dynamics is an interesting one, that’s for sure, and it lingers after you turn the last page.
If I had to sum up Butter in a few words, I would say sensory, sometimes sexy, and definitely unsettling. It made for a great summer read, where I could dedicate lazy afternoons to reading chunks at a time. I recommend you do the same, with some snacks at the ready.
