So We Look to the Sky

By Kubo Misumi
Translated by Polly Barton

Arcade (2021)
ISBN-13: 978-1951627713

Review by Alex Russell

Kubo Misumi’s So We Look to the Sky is a compelling collection of interconnected short stories that delve into the complexities of human relationships, societal dislocation, and personal struggles within contemporary Japanese society. Originally published in Japan in 2010, as Fugainai boku wa soru wo mita, the collection won the Shugoro Yamamoto Prize, launching Kubo’s literary career. The English translation by Polly Barton, released in 2021, brings Kubo's narratives to a broader audience, and remains her only complete work available in English. The collection comprises five stories, each narrated from the perspective of a different character whose lives are revealed to be intricately intertwined. The central thread catalysing these narratives is the scandalous affair between Takumi, a high school student, and Anzu, a married woman many years his senior.

In the opening story, we are placed in media res into Takumi and Anzu's affair. Their relationship is unconventional, with Anzu having Takumi indulge her fantasies from her favourite anime, the two dressing in cosplay while having sex. Kubo portrays their encounters with an unromantic honesty, with explicit language emphasising the purely sexual nature of their relationship. This narrative sets the stage for the subsequent stories, each exploring the consequences of this illicit relationship.

The second story shifts focus to Anzu, who we find out is grappling with infertility and the overbearing pressure from her mother-in-law, Machiko, to conceive, despite her own hesitations about becoming a parent. Her internal turmoil is palpable as she navigates societal expectations of womanhood and motherhood. Her struggle highlights the oppressive potential of familial and cultural demands placed on women, an issue that has come to the fore amidst Japan’s fertility crisis. Machiko’s voice is deftly tuned by Kubo, superficially concerned and caring, but laced with her own selfish motivations to become a grandmother. Later in the story, as this façade of friendliness crumbles, her hostility is stinging and cruel, and we understand why Anzu sought solace in cosplay and her relationship with Takumi.

The third story is told from the perspective of Nana, a high school girl with a crush on Takumi. Her narrative delves into the troubles of adolescent love, self-esteem, the harsh realities of teenage relationships, and the difficulties of growing up. Nana's experiences illuminate the vulnerability of youth and the formative impact of early romantic encounters.

The fourth story takes us into the life of Ryota, Takumi's best friend, who resides in a public housing building and bears the responsibility beyond his age of caring for his senile grandmother. Ryota's life is marked by his disadvantaged background and the challenges of balancing his own aspirations with the familial duties he has had to take on. His interactions with Taoka, his manager at a convenience store, provide touching moments of levity, as well as a positive relationship and the importance of having someone to look up to, though this too is ultimately revealed to be too good to be true.

In the final story, we are shown the perspective of Takumi's mother, a dedicated midwife who operates a birthing clinic. Kubo uses her perspective to transform the microcosm of her work into a more profound exploration of questions of pregnancy and life. As she supports women bringing new life into the world, she confronts her own challenges as a single parent striving to guide her son through the aftermath of a public humiliation. As in the first story, this relationship is ably realised and brought to life, avoiding the veneer of fantasy that can often be difficult to dispel in fiction.

So We Look to the Sky shines brightest in how it weaves these individual stories into a cohesive tapestry that reflects the interconnectedness of human experiences. Each character's journey is rendered with depth and authenticity, allowing readers to empathise with their struggles. Characters who we had previously judged or made assumptions about in an earlier story are given voice with the same clarity, adding depth to the overall picture, and encouraging us to reconsider their actions earlier in the work. The author's unflinching depiction of topics such as sexuality, infertility, bullying, and societal pressure invites readers to confront uncomfortable realities and question ingrained cultural norms.

The explicit nature of some scenes serves not as gratuitous content but as a vehicle for exploring deeper themes related to human intimacy, desire, and the complexities of relationships. Kubo challenges the often conservative perceptions of female sexuality in Japanese society, presenting her female characters as multifaceted individuals with their own desires and agency. The almost pornographic language used provides an acidic contrast to the emotional core of the stories.

Polly Barton's translation expertly captures the nuances of Kubo's prose, preserving the emotional depth of the original text, as well as naturally rendering the challengingly explicit language. The stories flow together seamlessly, yet each narrator feels distinct, and we get a real sense of them as independent characters with their own voices. I would be interested to understand why the title was rendered into English as So We Look to the Sky, omitting the fugainai boku or “pathetic self” element of the original title, as this notion of self-loathing permeates the collection and unites the narratives beyond the story.

Overall, So We Look to the Sky is a thought-provoking collection that offers a window into the complexities of human relationships and societal expectations in modern Japan. Kubo Misumi's masterful storytelling, combined with Polly Barton's adept translation, makes this work one of surprising emotional significance, especially considering it makes for very easy reading.