Cravings and Complexities: Asako Yuzuki's Butter

From a mundane perspective, butter is a simple thing – a creamy, whitish-yellow stick of fat. And initially, I'm sure our protagonist, Rika Machida, would agree, seeing as she doesn't even have any in her bare-bones refrigerator, only margarine. It is a point she gets clearly reprimanded for in her very first meeting with notorious (alleged) serial killer Manako Kajii. "I learned from my late father that women should show generosity towards everyone. But there are two things I simply cannot tolerate: feminists and margarine," Manako says in response to Rika's revelation.
From Manako's perspective – and perhaps this is an opinion shared among gastronomists – butter is incredibly complex. It comes down to the type and region it came from, the temperature of the butter, whether it was solid and refrigerated or room temperature and ready to spread. Or maybe it was melted in a warm pan, made into a transparent molten liquid gold?
"When I'm eating good butter I feel somehow as though I were falling. […] the body plummets, starting from the very tip of the tongue," says Manako before she suggests mixing it cold with hot rice and soy sauce. She goes on in later meetings to suggest getting salt butter ramen with "plenty of butter", sitting down to indulge in a multi-course meal at a fine dining restaurant, and even baking a homemade quatre quarts cake, commonly known as a pound cake. And Rika, ever the hungry journalist, does everything, offering Kajii to "use" her to keep experiencing the world through her taste buds while the older woman sits behind bars, awaiting a retrial for the murder of three men she supposedly seduced with her elegant cooking.
The plot melts just like good butter, slow and beautiful, as the faces glisten golden and drip into a growing pool of curiosity and revelation. It reads smoothly, invoking that same feeling of falling – the plummet starting from the mind instead. Asako Yuzuki has created well-rounded characters, aptly capturing the essence of human nature, twisting perspectives and drawing parallels where few would see them naturally. As I read the book, I found myself increasingly drawn to reaching the end, not unlike the way Rika seemed to be reeled in by Kajii's soft words and warming recipes.
While reading, it's clear to see the characters develop, both negatively and positively, in a very human way. Rika's nature allows her to be self-aware of her own emotions when she understands them, and her emotional scars are revealed artfully as the author weaves them into her journey of discovering the real Kajii and growing into a recognised journalist within her male-dominated department. The lens through which the story is told is warped and sometimes blinded by human nature, but that only adds to the subjective interpretation of the characters' emotions and mental states. I often found myself actively reacting to Rika's thoughts, which were occasionally influenced by several factors, namely Kajii's manipulation of the truth, the people around Rika, and her desperation to be seen as an individual – an equal – in her field.
Butter tells the story of women. Of Rika, a daughter, and her mother, who raised her alone. Of Manako Kajii, a daughter and a sister, a woman who longed for a daughter herself; of her mother and sister who saw both her and each other in very different lights. It tells the story of womanhood, of the challenges that come with parenting, working, and even doing both together. It is the story of every woman, not just in Japan, who has ever lived and known of the feminist movement, of the "traditional" jobs a wife is expected to do, even when she is a breadwinner, even in a dual-income household. Butter takes the preconceived notions of men and society in 2000s Japan and transforms it into a journey – of plummeting mind first into the realisation and self-assuredness that comes when you shed societal expectations and realise you get to decide how much is "good enough" for you and what you are capable of doing.
It is a dark book, undoubtedly. It is a heavy read, and it's not for everyone. But somehow, Asako Yuzuki has transformed an inspiration from a real-life Manako Kajii into a story that captivates the reader and connects with her female-identifying audience by talking about what it means to be a woman and challenging the notion that to be thin is to be pretty. She highlights Rika's weight gain as she cooks and eats more food recommended by Kajii, expressly showing Rika's journey to finding "good enough" for her and growing past the negative comments she gets from the other characters regarding it. This approach to fatphobia is evident throughout, starting with Manako, who was deemed "ugly and fat" by men and the media after her arrest. They couldn't seem to grasp the appeal, even though they had condemned her for seducing lonely old men and killing them off.
Asako Yuzuki is a genius, tying together a harsh reality and juxtaposing Rika and Manako, keeping the readers guessing whether it's really a juxtaposition for a good portion of the book. It is fascinating to see the back and forth of Rika as she grapples with her views and Manako Kajii's, trying to get a grip on reality and not get swept into Kajii's elaborate lies. Asako Yuzuki has crafted a storyline that is so fluid and consistent that it flows just like melted butter. Who are we but beings starved of such a gilded substance, drinking away and consuming the novel?

But just remember to read the sign in the dairy section. The shelves may be fully stocked now, but supplies of butter are still limited to one piece per person. Choose wisely, and don't drown in it. There may be no coming back from it.