A sharply observed and heartbreaking portrait of what it means to be a woman, in Japan and beyond.”—TIME, The 10 Best Fiction Books of 2020
“Fantastic.”—Kat Chow, NPR
“Stunning.”—Financial Times
“Raw, funny, mundane, heartbreaking.”—Jane Yong Kim, The Atlantic, Best Books of 2020
“Kawakami writes with unsettling precision about the body…she is especially good at capturing its longings.”—Katie Kitamura, The New York Times
“I can never forget the sense of pure astonishment I felt when I first read Mieko Kawakami’s Breasts and Eggs.”—Haruki Murakami
“Breasts and Eggs by Mieko Kawakami is as confronting and modern as its title suggests. I love Kawakami’s depiction of what it is to be female today in Japan.”—Natalie Portman, Natalie’s Book Club
“Mieko Kawakami’s characters live in a world that is made up almost entirely of women but is decidedly not made for them.”—Sarah Chihaya, New York Review of Books
“A unique, direct voice—almost every page contains sentences that stop me in my tracks.”—Marta Bausells, LitHub
“Will transcend cultural barriers and enchant readers.”—Alina Cohen, New York Observer
“Mieko Kawakami’s first full-scale novel to be translated from Japanese into English reveals what a Catherine Wheel of talent she is, how unplaceable and unique.”—John Freeman, Literary Hub
“A striking portrait of contemporary working-class womanhood.”—New Statesman
“Addresses the multifaceted nature of what it means to move through the world as a woman.”—Ploughshares
“Kawakami’s prose is bold, modern, and surprising. Breasts and Eggs is a moving story about womanhood and modern life told through the lens of a supremely confident writer.”—An Yu, author of Braised Pork
“Within an affecting portrait-of-an-artist-in-transition, Kawakami deftly, deeply questions the assumptions of womanhood and family—the bonds and abuses, expectations and betrayals, choices and denials.”—Terry Hong, Booklist
“A feminist masterwork.”—Entertainment Weekly
“[Kawakami’s] voice is intimate, musical, at times wry and powerfully observant to the inner lives of women and girls.”—Kali Fajardo Anstine, ELLE Magazine
“Breasts and Eggs speaks to the stories of Lucia Berlin; there is the same sense of a dispassionate but honoring gaze cast on working-class women, dogged and unsentimental in their survival.”—Hermione Hoby, 4 Columns
2020-01-26
Newly translated fiction by one of Japan’s most celebrated contemporary authors.
Kawakami is almost certainly new to most Anglophone readers. Her novella Ms. Ice Sandwich—published in Japan in 2013 and released in English in 2017—earned some critical acclaim, and Haruki Murakami’s praise for her work has generated interest in this writer as well. Murakami is not alone in mentioning Kawakami's voice—her choice to incorporate Osaka's distinctive dialect is an unusual one—and critics have lauded the author for tackling subjects that are seldom explored in Japanese literature. But Kawakami's idiosyncratic use of language is lost on Anglophone readers, and her frank talk about class and sexism and reproductive choice is noteworthy primarily within the context of Japanese literary culture. An audience outside of Japan probably doesn’t know Kawakami from her career as a pop singer, nor will they have experienced her writing as a blogger—this novel began as blog posts written more than a decade ago. So, what will readers encounter in this newly published translation? A novel about women figuring out how they want to be women. The central figure here is Natsu, the narrator. She begins her story as her sister, Makiko, and her 12-year-old niece, Midoriko, are arriving in Tokyo from Osaka. Tokyo is the city where Natsu came as a young woman to build a new life as a writer. Osaka is the place she left, and it’s where her sister still works as a hostess—a woman whose job is keeping men company while they buy alcohol, food, and karaoke. Makiko’s goal during her brief stay in Tokyo is to choose a clinic for breast enhancement; this surgery has become her obsession. Her daughter, Midoriko, has stopped speaking to her mother—she communicates by writing notes—but Midoriko’s journal entries reveal a girl who is afraid of becoming a woman. In the second half of the novel, Natsu contemplates becoming a mother while dealing with the options open to a single woman in Japan and also listening to her colleagues talk about their experiences as mothers and wives. Kawakami’s style is sometimes funny, occasionally absurd, and mostly flat—at least in translation and in novel form.
It’s hard to know who the audience for this translation is supposed to be.
