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A review by steveatwaywords
Earthlings by Sayaka Murata
challenging
dark
emotional
tense
fast-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? Character
- Strong character development? Yes
- Loveable characters? No
- Diverse cast of characters? It's complicated
- Flaws of characters a main focus? Yes
2.25
Okay, let's get the obvious stuff out of the way. This is absolutely not a book for sensitive readers. It is not a children's book; it is not cute or merely funny, despite its cover; and it is not anything like most readers would expect.
Frankly, this is one of the only books I have read in many years which has out and out flummoxed me. I don't know what to make of it. I was initially highly offended, even near the beginning, but I awaited with a strong acquaintance of that reader-author contract: the reader promises to read in earnest and the author promises to make it worth their time. My first gut-level response: this contract was heavily violated. I could only imagine that the cascading and escalating passages of human offense were intended merely for shock value, but to what end? So I waited some time before I wrote this, examined what I already understood of Japanese literature, and read more.
Okay. So let's try this from a different perspective, then. <i>I</i> am Earthling, a human living with a culturally-defined set of values and conceptions, of judgments and limits. These are not something I would expect an alien species to share. I don't pretend that my values are all sensible, that they cohere into a neat pattern, that they do not have contradictions, or that in some ways they don't enact cruelties upon other living creatures at times. How would a non-Earthling understand me?
Now don't misunderstand where I've gone so far. I don't think there are aliens in this book, no matter how often they are spoken about. Suppose, instead, some humans convinced themselves they were not Earthlings? To what principles would they be bound?
I don't want to go further down that line of thought, though, for fear of spoiling the reading. Instead, I want to switch to a quick take on the traditions of Japanese literature. A lot of art from Japan smacks up against Western mores and always has: sexuality, violence, abuse, suicide, incest, and the like. I can't pretend to know enough about the nuances of <i>why</i> but historically Japan's self-effacing discipline and propriety might certainly foment a strong counter-response.
We've seen such counter-responses in perhaps smaller ways from Osamu Dazai, Yukio Mishima, and even Haruki Murakami. In larger ways manga as subculture or contemporary Japanese horror reveal potent responses to this social suppression. Is this what we have in Murata? A potent--even comic--response, a social commentary that pushes against propriety?
If so, it's a comedy that is lost on me. The narrator, who begins as a child and ends the novel as an adult but still with a childlike tone, is both victim of multiple offenses and herself disturbing. Yes, the vapid and dense responses of adults seem cartoonishly extreme, but then, so is everything else.
It's been said that Murata is advocating, among other things, a better understanding of asexuality. And while this may be true in the aspect of a social critique on the expectation to marriage and child-rearing, it can't be true if our champion of queerness is busy practicing offenses which most all would claim are mentally disturbed. Aligning queerness with mental illness is a problematic move at its kindest.
So, I'm trying. I'm working to understand what the draw is here. At the smallest level, this is not a novel for me. At the kindest level, Murata clearly knows what she is doing, and I will likely try another of her books. At a literary level, I can't help believing that, no matter what her own conception was in producing this book, most reader fans are fawning upon something else entirely.
Frankly, this is one of the only books I have read in many years which has out and out flummoxed me. I don't know what to make of it. I was initially highly offended, even near the beginning, but I awaited with a strong acquaintance of that reader-author contract: the reader promises to read in earnest and the author promises to make it worth their time. My first gut-level response: this contract was heavily violated. I could only imagine that the cascading and escalating passages of human offense were intended merely for shock value, but to what end? So I waited some time before I wrote this, examined what I already understood of Japanese literature, and read more.
Okay. So let's try this from a different perspective, then. <i>I</i> am Earthling, a human living with a culturally-defined set of values and conceptions, of judgments and limits. These are not something I would expect an alien species to share. I don't pretend that my values are all sensible, that they cohere into a neat pattern, that they do not have contradictions, or that in some ways they don't enact cruelties upon other living creatures at times. How would a non-Earthling understand me?
Now don't misunderstand where I've gone so far. I don't think there are aliens in this book, no matter how often they are spoken about. Suppose, instead, some humans convinced themselves they were not Earthlings? To what principles would they be bound?
I don't want to go further down that line of thought, though, for fear of spoiling the reading. Instead, I want to switch to a quick take on the traditions of Japanese literature. A lot of art from Japan smacks up against Western mores and always has: sexuality, violence, abuse, suicide, incest, and the like. I can't pretend to know enough about the nuances of <i>why</i> but historically Japan's self-effacing discipline and propriety might certainly foment a strong counter-response.
We've seen such counter-responses in perhaps smaller ways from Osamu Dazai, Yukio Mishima, and even Haruki Murakami. In larger ways manga as subculture or contemporary Japanese horror reveal potent responses to this social suppression. Is this what we have in Murata? A potent--even comic--response, a social commentary that pushes against propriety?
If so, it's a comedy that is lost on me. The narrator, who begins as a child and ends the novel as an adult but still with a childlike tone, is both victim of multiple offenses and herself disturbing. Yes, the vapid and dense responses of adults seem cartoonishly extreme, but then, so is everything else.
It's been said that Murata is advocating, among other things, a better understanding of asexuality. And while this may be true in the aspect of a social critique on the expectation to marriage and child-rearing, it can't be true if our champion of queerness is busy practicing offenses which most all would claim are mentally disturbed. Aligning queerness with mental illness is a problematic move at its kindest.
So, I'm trying. I'm working to understand what the draw is here. At the smallest level, this is not a novel for me. At the kindest level, Murata clearly knows what she is doing, and I will likely try another of her books. At a literary level, I can't help believing that, no matter what her own conception was in producing this book, most reader fans are fawning upon something else entirely.
Content Warnings
Graphic: Body horror, Child abuse, Emotional abuse, Mental illness, Rape, Sexual assault, Violence, and Murder
This is an extraordinarily graphic and disturbing novel and is not for sensitive readers of any kind. It is difficult for many readers to understand the author's reason for these scenes, which dominate above the plot itself.