A review by emsemsems
Mild Vertigo by Mieko Kanai

3.0

‘Every day it will start all over again, this Sisyphean maintenance labor, there is so seldom, as Kanai Mieko writes, a way to “punctuate the monotony of everyday living.” In her notes K. wrote that Annie Ernaux’s book on suburbs and consumerism is called Exteriors, in Mild Vertigo, the exteriors are swallowed up, become interiors, like the narrator having totally internalized the layout of the grocery store so much that in a trancelike state at the end she finds herself moving through all of the aisles, reciting all of the offerings at hand.’ – ‘Afterword’ by Kate Zambreno

As a ‘concept’, I think Kanai’s book is brilliant, but that is all. I did not ‘enjoy’ reading this book at all. More painfully so because I kept hoping it would ‘get better’ (for me) but eventually it just became too obvious that I just did not like the ‘style’ of writing at all. While it could be seen as well-written for someone who actually enjoys this ‘style’ of writing, I personally felt so disconnected to it to say the least. I ‘enjoy’ reading the fucked up bits from the work/writing by Bataille because something about it makes it worthwhile. We have our own personal preferences of ‘uncomfortable literature’ – and I suppose each of us ultimately decides which one is worth the discomfort. For me, I don’t think Kanai’s book was worth feeling any ‘discomfort’ for. Excuse the cheeky comparison, but perhaps ‘discomfort’ is only a worthwhile experience when balanced with the right kind of ‘pleasure’. In any case, the obvious fact here is that I’m just not the right reader for Kanai’s book.

‘It wasn’t like anything in particular had happened to prompt these feelings, but she remembered there’d been times when she’d found the prospect of getting in after her husband totally repugnant, it didn’t exactly seem dirty to her, she wouldn’t go that far, but it was an indisputable fact that when a person was in the bath the sweat that emerged from their body’s pores would mingle with the bathwater, and of course she didn’t mind that happening when it was her children’s sweat, but when she’d thought about the sweat from her husband’s body mixed in with the bathwater it had struck her as something distasteful, that was to be avoided if at all possible.’

‘I was a housewife that whole time, and you know how in Letters to the Editor in newspapers and women’s magazines and so on, you find these letters from housewives, mostly in their twenties or thirties, who say that they have a lot of respect for other women who have busy careers and also manage to have a husband and kids, sometimes even saying this with some envy, but ultimately for them, they say, happiness consists in being a housewife and making a comfortable home for their husband and children — when I read people writing that stuff, I can’t help but feel that it’s sour grapes. Or if not sour grapes, then they have to keep telling themselves this to believe it. Because that kind of happiness is monotonous, it’s boring. Although what’s wrong with being boring, that I don’t know. The thing about being boring, having a boring life, is that you should do it while you still can, if you don’t have time to be bored, you’ll be exhausted.’

Regardless of how I felt or have rated Kanai’s book, I am sure someone else can definitely appreciate this book more than I do (which goes without saying, but I just felt like pointing it out anyway). Not sure if I’ve read many books that are written with a narrator who is a ‘housewife’. This is definitely the kind of narrative I want to read more of, because ‘housewives’ are too often viewed as an ‘inferior’ role for women, and increasingly so. And this is ironic (or is it just awful?) considering that most women at least in East Asia are expected to fill a huge part of that role once they get into a conventionally ‘serious’/committed relationship with men. To clarify, I don’t think all ‘housewives’ find it painful being one, but I think the primary problem comes from the fact that most are hugely under-appreciated and are treated with so little respect (not just from their ‘partners’ but from society). I am pretty sure this is made much worse with the contemporary commodification of feminism. But I am at this point still far too ignorant to discuss, let alone ‘argue’ about this, so – I hope to read, and learn more about this. Anyway, I am glad that there are books written about these issues, because I think they would really help to encourage/open up discussions.

‘And yet, the staggering number of Kuwabara photographs that so vividly capture these lost scenes and memories of passing moments cannot but bring about a peculiar silence, a peculiar surprise in their viewer. The act of casting their eyes on the great bustle formed by the lives of all the various unknown bystanders in these photographs, all the adults, children, and women who here appear detached from the narratives of their own private lives and histories, which they of course all possess, and yet who seem, in spite of that detachment, as though their lives would not be so difficult to imagine, this all leaves the viewer with a sensation similar to a kind of vertigo.’

The ‘photocopies’ (from the semi-final chapter of the book) which are mostly ramblings of art and film (which I usually enjoy) were grating my brain like bloody parmesan (excuse the image – only realised how awful it was after typing it out, but somehow seemed appropriate to leave it there/here). I thought I couldn’t carry on after this point, I don’t know if I want to take a nap more or cry. I mean I don’t actually want to cry, but maybe sigh a thousand times until my lungs just shrivel up like a couple of dried plums. To continue reading feels a little masochistic at that point, but I wasn’t about to quit when I had only a chapter left. At least I can properly say that the writing doesn’t resonate with me having read every line in the book.

‘I guess you don’t do the dishes very often, but what if you’re brushing your teeth, say, do you not ever just find yourself staring at the water as it rushes down the drain? And it’s strangely pleasant, that feeling, of course it’s no big deal, but you kind of zone out, as if you’re dreaming, although it’s not any dream in particular that you’re having. And then you come back to yourself with a jolt as you realize that you’re wasting water, I guess you just wouldn’t understand it as a man, especially one who so rarely does any form of housework, Natsumi said to her husband, and her husband raised his eyebrows in a way that suggested both slight irritation and a modicum of concern, making a face that meant, what are you trying to say, exactly? And of course she was utterly used to that expression of his, but the thing was, she wasn’t saying it to convey a sense of dissatisfaction or anything, it was just a minor sensation — the feeling of comfort and hollowness that came from looking at the water flowing from the tap and thinking of nothing, letting oneself fall into a daze — that she was trying to explain, and she couldn’t help but feel faintly irritated by the way her husband met that explanation with a suspicious look.’

Kanai’s writing (even though better in every way; and has far more substance) in some way reminded me of Jessica Au’s [b:Cold Enough for Snow|58730649|Cold Enough for Snow|Jessica Au|https://i.gr-assets.com/images/S/compressed.photo.goodreads.com/books/1628539813l/58730649._SY75_.jpg|89225823] . I just found them sort of ‘lacking’ in terms of plot, structure, style, characterisation, – everything. While I am keen to read more books with a similar concept to Kanai’s, I really hope the next one I read is one that would actually fuck me up a bit, you know? In any case, I am still immensely thankful for the review copies from Fitzcarraldo Editions (if not my favourite, then definitely one of my top favourite publishers). If you need to refresh your literary palate after finding Kanai’s achingly disappointing, I would recommend Bora Chung’s (everything, but specifically) [b:Cursed Bunny|56648660|Cursed Bunny|Bora Chung|https://i.gr-assets.com/images/S/compressed.photo.goodreads.com/books/1670378739l/56648660._SY75_.jpg|88519822] to refresh one’s literary palate. ‘The Head’ in particular is such a memorable one in the collection. Not just a random rec, but I personally think that there are some overlapping themes in Chung’s and Kanai’s books.