All the Lovers in the Night
By Kawakami Mieko
Translated by Sam Bett and David Boyd
Picador (2022)
ISBN-13: 978-1509898268
Review by Cameron Bassindale
There was a great deal to like in Kawakami Mieko’s debut English translation, Breasts and Eggs. Chiefly, her razor-sharp precision in dissecting what it means to be a woman in modern Japan, and the multitudes of differences within the female experience. There is a reason why literary great Murukami Haruki names her as Japan’s most important contemporary novelist. That being said, Breasts and Eggs was not without its flaws. For one, at times the tempo of the narrative was too slow, and you got the sense that Kawakami was getting wrapped up in her own (admittedly intoxicating) prose. In All the Lovers in the Night, English speakers can enjoy a novel which is tighter, more focussed with the same indelible Kawakami style of surgical introspection.
As is often the case with Kawakami novels, the protagonist Irie Fuyuko is a reclusive, fundamentally unhappy woman approaching her forties. Her only pastime, if it can be called that, is taking a walk around the city at night on her birthday every year. Working as a proof-reader, initially in a typically Japanese workplace, Fuyuko wastes no time in telling the reader about how inept she is at dealing with social situations, a temperament she has had since school. She describes how she was ostracized from her office, bullied for what she perceives as being too diligent and hard-working. This she cannot understand. Throughout the novel, Fuyuko is basically unable to understand others; what motivates them, what their intentions are. This misunderstanding applies to herself, ten-fold. Her internal monologue is often so bereft of what I think to be natural, well-adjusted emotional logic, it genuinely made me laugh out loud at points. This is a testament to Kawakami’s character-building prowess. The same is not true when (tries) to speak to the limited cast of characters around her, however. At times I got the very real urge to reach through the pages, grab her by the shoulders and ask her firmly to spit it out. Truly it is totally frustrating to witness Fuyuko fumble, mumble and nod her way through conversations which seem so easily navigable. However, this is clearly by design. Fuyuko’s inability to talk meaningfully with those around her is indicative of a major motif in Kawakami’s work; atomized characters leading atomized lives, yearning for connection and being wholly unable to do so.
Inspired by her only friend, Hijiri, a glamorous, self-obsessed manager who keeps Fuyuko around to make herself seem better in comparison, she turns to alcohol. This comes as a real surprise. Normally, when one thinks of alcoholics in literature, characters like Marmeladov of Crime and Punishment come to mind; vicious, unrefined and loudly suffering. Timid, meek and unloathsome, Fuyuko doesn’t quite seem like the type. This is what gives this novel, in my view, its greatest selling point. Her descent into alcoholism is rapid, and total. In the space of a chapter, she begins to work beer and sake into her routine with unnerving ease, having had only one drink before this chapter in her life she seems to be making up for lost time.
The first major warning sign is when she visits a community centre in hopes of signing up for some adult education classes. Armed with her flask of sake, she waits to be called and gradually gets drunk to the point of vomiting all over the ladies bathroom. She then promptly falls asleep for 3 hours. Amongst this pitiful scene is where, fittingly, she meets her love interest. Mitsutsuka is an unassuming, polite physics teacher in his late fifties. Although he doesn’t let on and she doesn’t seem to notice, you get the sense that Fuyuko’s drunkenness is immediately apparent to him. From this point onwards Fuyuko’s life, to this point solely revolving around her work as a proofreader, adopts a new preoccupation; meeting Mitsutsuka every week for coffee.
It could almost be labelled “charming”, if she didn’t feel the need to get totally intoxicated every time they meet up. It is through this drinking that she hopes to be able to verbalise what she feels inside. The only problem is, of course, she doesn’t know what she feels inside. She spends most evenings, drunk, pining for a man whose first name she doesn’t even know. When she tries to speak truthfully to him, between hiccups, nothing comes out. And so a cruel cycle of meet-ups, empty sake bottles and endless proofreading of manuscripts plays out, with Fuyuko achievinging nothing from any of these. Clearly, this novel is not a frothy, light read.
It reaches a nadir in tone when Kawakami produces a chapter detailing sexual violence which is so visceral and believable it will leave those weak of temperament wondering why they ever picked up this book. That is to say Kawakami has truly outdone herself, surpassing even her own lofty expectations of creating a narrative which is immediate and realistic; this English translation is a gift to anyone wishing to understand life for the modern Japanese woman, and the perils and hardships many women face. Of course, no two human experiences are the same, and that point is apparent in the contrast between the female characters in the novel; however, the space between men and women in the book tells the state of gender relations in Japan. It is up to the reader to draw their own conclusions.
On the whole, All the Lovers in the Night is a novel which will draw you in with its poetry and prose, and make you dissect it line by line in much the same way as its protagonist does in her work. English translations of contemporary Japanese authors are thankfully becoming more and more common, and they bring with them a heightened understanding of the Japanese literary zeitgeist. With this of course it comes the danger that readers will grow over familiar with them, spotting cliche a mile off. Thankfully, this is not the case with All the Lovers in the Night. Kawakami offers a novel which is fresh and unique, albeit imperfect. This is not a great Japanese novel about womanhood, nor is it just a great Japanese novel. It is simply a great novel.