Butter: A Novel of Food and Murder

by Asako Yuzuki

And yet, Kajii had given herself that permission. Ignoring other people’s yardsticks, she had decided that she was enough as a woman. To be treated well, to be adored, to be showered with presents and affection, and to eschew that which she disliked, including work and group socialising – she went on demanding these things as though they were perfectly within her rights, and as a result, she had carved out for herself an environment she found comfortable, in which she could live apart from the world.

She was tired of living her life thinking constantly about how she appeared to others, checking her answers against everyone else’s.

He liked these girls because they made an effort, and anyone who didn’t wasn’t worthy of his praise. It struck her that she’d have found it much easier to accept if he’d come out and said he liked them because they were cute.

Maybe, if she weren’t receiving so much criticism from the people around her, she would be fine with the way she looked.

It was the tarako pasta all over again: the more she emphasised that she’d not put any effort into it, the further he’d shrunk back.

‘Don’t you think that’s a disease of the contemporary age? It feels like these days our value is determined by how much effort we make on a daily basis. That matters even more than our results. After a while, the concept of effort starts to become mixed up with things feeling difficult, and then you reach the point where the person seen as the most admirable is the one suffering the most. I think that’s the reason people are so vicious towards Manako Kajii. She refuses to live that life, refuses to suffer.’

Kajii could pursue her desires so wholeheartedly precisely because she wasn’t tied to anybody.

She’d been masquerading as a woman in search of a marriage partner, but the truth was that she had no intention of belonging to anyone.

I didn’t ask for help, and that stopped other people around me from asking for it.’

‘I think not taking care of yourself properly is a form of violence.’

‘Treating yourself badly is a way of directing your anger at someone. I myself . . .’

‘I always thought that I’d be imposing on you if I did something like this, but I think that, on reflection, that’s exactly what’s been lacking. I’ve started to realise that nothing ever happens if you don’t impose on people.’

‘It’s the lemon zest. It’s not “the taste of authentic home cooking” or anything – it’s just lemon zest. Your mum didn’t have the time, and that’s okay. Doing this takes time. It’s not about affection, I’ve realised – it’s just about time. You don’t realise that until you do it.’

If she could hone her powers of decision-making about the rest of her life choices, was it possible that she’d find the time to cook, and read, and bake quatre quarts for fun at the end of the working day? Maybe that was the kind of wall that Kajii was talking about.

‘The more I come to know about all the different flavours out there, the softer I seem to become on myself. I don’t really mind any more if people call me lazy or fat. I feel like I’m just going to keep going until I’m satisfied. I still feel a long way off fully understanding what the right amount is for me.’

‘I feel envious, actually. You’ve gained confidence in yourself. You seem really good. Maybe that’s what “a good amount” is truly about. Also, I know this is going to make me sound like an interfering old woman, but they say that the ideal weight for someone of five feet five is actually sixty kilos.’

Even Reiko, who had railed so hard against society’s double standards when it came to men and women – it had even got to her, in the end.

As I went on telling lies, I started to feel as though they were becoming the truth . . .

She had her vision of how things should be, and anybody who didn’t agree was excluded from consideration. Just like when Rika had warned her friend in all seriousness about the dangers of giving up work, and Reiko had refused to listen.

Rika had given up feeling guilty about asking for information and offering nothing in return. She now believed that if Shinoi wanted something, he would ask her for it. If that happened, she would use whatever means available to her to get it for him. Even if it was impossible right now, she would build a relationship between them that was, in the long term, of a give-and-take nature.

That version of herself had no confidence in anything she did. She hadn’t even known what she wanted to eat.

Being that upset about what happens to somebody else’s body! How can someone be so conscious of what shape another person takes, of the extent to which they’ve liberated their desires? It’s not normal to feel such anxiety about that. If you’re paying more attention to the form other people are assuming than what’s taking place inside yourself, it means something is seriously wrong with you.’

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? Why, then, when I was helping people in this way, did I feel this hollow and miserable?

‘Cooking is enjoyable, but the moment it becomes a duty, it grows boring. The same is true of sex, and fashion, and beauty. When you’re forced to do something, it becomes a chore, and the pleasure disappears.’

The idea that a single home-cooked dish could save a person was a delusion. But how much suffering, how much bondage did that delusion cause for women?

But actually, thinking that she could solve their problems was sheer arrogance – just as she’d been unable to do anything to save her father in the final stretch of his life. Her loved ones’ issues were their own domains, as individuals, and not places that she could go stomping into. Quite possibly, the only thing she could do was to create a place of escape where the people close to her could come when they needed to.

Even without her lifting a finger, the world would keep on changing. The fact stunned her. Even without her trying, the people around her would form connections, intertwine in complex ways, and keep on growing, like the roots, leaves and stems of a plant. She felt as though she could see their rich green spreading out behind her eyelids.

The reason the cooking school received as much attention as it did is the preconception that women are creatures who are forever comparing themselves with one another. But that only happens because men try and use their yardsticks to establish some kind of order among women.

You should reach out to other people, you should rely on others, Rika had preached to the people around her. Helping and depending on one another is nothing to be ashamed of. But now it was her own turn to be in trouble, she found herself incapable of doing what she’d been advocating.

Rika knew that to get herself out of this place, she had to traverse the bewilderingly long path towards the light. To do so, she had to line up the lowest hurdles she could find, and jump them. Starting by calling upon the people she felt able to call on.

‘I was trying to sumo wrestle all by myself. I was going round and round in circles, and ended up compromising both my workplace and my sense of belonging, and hurting the people around me.

She remembered how the young mother had described her son as someone who felt compelled to start fights with the people he liked the most, who tried to peel off other people’s scabs as well as his own.

Blood and butter both hardened in no time – which was why she would be okay.

‘Right. If God exists, He wouldn’t take joy or satisfaction in the sight of suffering. Which means, you don’t have to get through everything alone. You don’t have to always be growing as a person either. The far more important thing is just to get through the day.’

That was what I got divorced for. It wasn’t to make things harder for myself, but to make them more enjoyable.’

She wanted to meet her and tell her that this world deserved to be lived in. Or, no – that this world deserved to be tasted, greedily.