Banana Yoshimoto

Kitchen juxtaposes two tales about mothers, transsexuality, bereavement, kitchens, love and tragedy in contemporary Japan. It is a startlingly original first work by Japan's brightest young literary star and is now a cult film. When Kitchen was first published in Japan in 1987 it won two of Japan's most prestigious literary prizes, climbed its way to the top of the bestseller lists, then remained there for over a year and sold millions of copies. Banana Yoshimoto was hailed as a young writer of great talent and great passion whose work has quickly earned a place among the best of modern literature, and has been described as 'the voice of young Japan' by the Independent on Sunday.

Kitchen

Alan Ayckbourn

Relates the experiences of two free-spirited young women in contemporary Japan.

Emma Cragg

Although I was raised with love, I was always lonely.

Sashi

Was that what it means to be an adult, to live with ugly ambiguities? I didn’t like it, but it made it easier to go on.

Susana Gallegos

Me habían criado con amor, pero siempre me había sentido sola. 

…Alguna vez sin falta, todos iremos dispersándonos en la oscuridad del tiempo y desapareceremos. 

Voy andando con el aire de haber aprendido todo esto con mi propio cuerpo. 

One caravan has stopped, another starts up. There are people I have yet to meet, others I’ll never see again. 

People who are gone before you know it, people who are just passing through. Even as we exchange hellos, they seem to grow transparent. I must keep living with the flowing river before my eyes.

“Parting and death are both terribly painful. But to keep nursing the memory of a love so great you can’t believe you’ll ever love again is a useless drain on a woman’s energies.”

“....You could take the negative view and live in fear: Will it happen again? But it won’t hurt so much if you just accept it as a part of life.”

In places where a loved one has died, time stops for eternity.

“Things are just things, they can't bring back the dead. It just makes me feel better.”

“I see two lovers looking over the edge of the cauldron of hell. Are they contemplating a double suicide? This means their love will end in hell.”

I am beautiful! I am dazzlingl If people I don't care for are attracted to me, I accept it as the wages of beauty.

in this world there are all kinds of people. There are people who choose to live their lives in filth; this is hard for me to understand. People who purposely do abhorrent things, just for the attention it draws to them, until they themselves are trapped.

I wanted to give up; I wanted to give up on living. There was no denying that tomorrow would come, and the day after tomorrow, and so next week, too.

As I grow older, much older, I will experience many things, and I will hit rock bottom again and again. Again and again I will suffer; again and again I will get back on my feet. I will not be defeated. I won't let my spirit be destroyed

But if a person hasn’t ever experienced true despair, she grows old never knowing how to evaluate where she is in life; never understanding what joy really is.

Someday, without fail, everyone will disappear, scattered into the blackness of time. 

What she decided was, 'Become a woman.' She knew she'd never love anybody else.

kata

Truly happy memories always live on, shining. Over time, one by one, they come back to life

May the memory of this moment, here, the glowing impression of the two of us facing each other in this warm, bright place, drinking lovely hot tea, help save him, even a little bit.

Words, too explicit, always cast a shadow over that faint glow. 

Since I've been alone in this place, I haven't been eating very well. I'd often say to myself, hmm, should I cook something? But food, too, was giving off light, like the telephone. So I wondered if eating would put out the light, but it seemed like too much trouble, so I just drank.

I have loved my life. My years as a man, my years married to your mother, and after she died, becoming and living as a woman, watching you grow up, living together so happily, and—oh! taking Mikage in!! That was the most fun of all, wasn't it? I yearn to see her again. She, too, is a very precious child of mine.

As I grow older, much older, I will experience many things, and I will hit rock bottom again and again. Again and again I will suffer; again and again I will get back on my feet. I will not be defeated. I won't let my spirit be destroyed.

I will have countless ones, in my heart or in reality. Or in my travels. Alone, with a crowd of people, with one other person—in all the many places I will live. I know that there will be so many more.

While what had happened was utterly amazing, it didn't seem so out of the ordinary, really. It was at once a miracle and the most natural thing in the world.

I held the feeling in my heart; the urge to discuss it died out. There was all the time in the world. In the endless repetition of other nights, other mornings, this moment, too, might become a dream.

I was puzzled, smiling about how I had just gone from the darkest despair to feeling wonderful. I stood up, smoothed down my skirt, and started back for the Tanabes'.

I implored the gods: Please, let me live.

Because I wasn't in love with Yuichi, I understood that very well. The quality and importance of a fountain pen meant to him something completely different from what it meant to her. Perhaps there are people in this world who love their fountain pens with every fiber of their being— and that's very sad. If you're not in love with him, you can understand him.

I think I need to give this another read at a different time. Not sure if it didn’t live up to my expectation or whether I purposely held myself back from it.

kitchen feels so delicate, loneliness, grief, and the small comforts that keep us alive. idk it just hit me in a quiet way, like… yeah, this is what loss feels like.

Whenever I've been bereaved with sorrow in my life I've always turned to art to seek comfort, so I deeply resonated with Mikage when she took up cooking to wash away the bitter aftertaste of grief. It reminds me of that one scene from Fleabag when the protagonist lost her mother, "I don't know what to do with all the love I have for her". The profound quietude that settles in our hearts after losing a loved one leaves us paralysed and decomposes our senses. But we pick up the lingering residues of love and reinstate our aching selves in order, over a warm cup of tea and katsudons packed delicately. The love, companionship and life in itself that lulls the respiring corners of a kitchen was described with such a painfully tranquil charm in this book that it filled me with ecstacy. I really loved the second half of this book too. The story, despite being short was deeply impactful and poignant and so very surreal. Characters like Urara and Hiiragi will stay with me for a long time. Their presence felt so intriguing and they carry so much compassion despite facing the turbulence of despair, it leaves you a note of lasting hope that everything really does work out in the end. 

Srigata 

“Although I was raised with love, I was always lonely.”

I forgot how I stumbled upon this book but I am very happy that I did. For such a short read that it was, it felt like a good pause, like a momentary rest when you go out for a walk during the peak of autumn. The descriptions stayed with me with the way the author would meticulously explain the spaces (like the kitchen, the livingroom, the river) through the use of emotions and contemplation; it is the place that carries the story through correlation to Mikage and in turn, a form of symbolism. It is a story about loss and the quiet ruminations of everyday life that is both wholesome and uplifting. Yoshimoto crafts a tender narrative about how we rebuild ourselves after tragedy—often through the most ordinary acts, like cooking a meal or sharing a space with someone who understands and how grief lingers in empty apartments, half-cooked meals, and sleepless nights—making it relatable to anyone who’s ever felt loss.

Ms Shane

“Although I was raised with love, I was always lonely.”

I forgot how I stumbled upon this book but I am very happy that I did. For such a short read that it was, it felt like a good pause, like a momentary rest when you go out for a walk during the peak of autumn. The descriptions stayed with me with the way the author would meticulously explain the spaces (like the kitchen, the livingroom, the river) through the use of emotions and contemplation; it is the place that carries the story through correlation to Mikage and in turn, a form of symbolism. It is a story about loss and the quiet ruminations of everyday life that is both wholesome and uplifting. Yoshimoto crafts a tender narrative about how we rebuild ourselves after tragedy—often through the most ordinary acts, like cooking a meal or sharing a space with someone who understands and how grief lingers in empty apartments, half-cooked meals, and sleepless nights—making it relatable to anyone who’s ever felt loss.

death is the one thing that gives life its meaning.

in just 160 pages, Yoshimoto creates a poignant representation of what it’s like to lose a loved one and the impact it has on the human spirit. i found the story of Mikage, Eriko and Yuichi, three people bound by grief and love, to be a moving portrayal of human connection. also! i’m a big fan of metaphors about food as an image of love, so i enjoyed reading all the reflections Mikage had about kitchens. there 

something so precious about the act of making food with our own hands, especially when we intend to share that food with someone we love. (

grief is one of the themes i enjoy most when reading fiction, maybe because it’s both a reminder that we are alive and a testimony of the love we’ve given. even if death is a universal truth, how we mourn that loss is still so personal. when you are grieving, you are convinced no one will understand the kind of pain you are in; it’s an aloneness like no other. i think this exploration of grief is something this story does really well. 

we grieve because we have loved. and still, the death of a loved one always feels so unfair. to paraphrase one of my favorite songs: 

we didn’t choose to be here at all so why must we face the fear of losing it—of losing what we love? 

…maybe all we can do is hold tightly to the life that remains around us, to the people who still (or will) shed warm light into our hearts. we cry over death because we acknowledge that, at some point, we were unbelievably blessed by life. we will cry, and live again and again.

 wasn’t enough, i was surprised to find that the edition i read came with a short story called 

 and i can’t tell you how heartbreaking and beautiful that one was. if you have the chance to read it too, please do.

death is the one thing that gives life its meaning.

in just 160 pages, Yoshimoto creates a poignant representation of what it’s like to lose a loved one and the impact it has on the human spirit. i found the story of Mikage, Eriko and Yuichi, three people bound by grief and love, to be a moving portrayal of human connection. also! i’m a big fan of metaphors about food as an image of love, so i enjoyed reading all the reflections Mikage had about kitchens. there is something so precious about the act of making food with our own hands, especially when we intend to share that food with someone we love. (i love you. i want us both to eat well.)

grief is one of the themes i enjoy most when reading fiction, maybe because it’s both a reminder that we are alive and a testimony of the love we’ve given. even if death is a universal truth, how we mourn that loss is still so personal. when you are grieving, you are convinced no one will understand the kind of pain you are in; it’s an aloneness like no other. i think this exploration of grief is something this story does really well. 

we grieve because we have loved. and still, the death of a loved one always feels so unfair. to paraphrase one of my favorite songs: we didn’t choose to be here at all so why must we face the fear of losing it—of losing what we love? …maybe all we can do is hold tightly to the life that remains around us, to the people who still (or will) shed warm light into our hearts. we cry over death because we acknowledge that, at some point, we were unbelievably blessed by life. we will cry, and live again and again.

~

oh and if Kitchen wasn’t enough, i was surprised to find that the edition i read came with a short story called Moonlight Shadow and i can’t tell you how heartbreaking and beautiful that one was. if you have the chance to read it too, please do.

i want to km/s finishing this in just 2 hours. this is one-sitting book, filled with two heart breaking stories about people griefing after the loss of someone they loved. air mata gw berderai di cerita pertama (kitchen). sakit banget rasanya saat lu kehilangan sesuatu yang berharga buat lu that make you lost your direction of your life... 

the moonlight shadow stories was something else too... sakit bgt rasanya... kayak disayat gw baca ini, banana yoshimoto write it well... i love it so much... 💔

i want to km/s finishing this in just 2 hours. this is one-sitting book, filled with two heart breaking stories about people griefing after the loss of someone they loved. air mata gw berderai di cerita pertama (kitchen). sakit banget rasanya saat lu kehilangan sesuatu yang berharga buat lu that make you lost your direction of your life... 

the moonlight shadow stories was something else too... sakit bgt rasanya... kayak disayat gw baca ini, banana yoshimoto write it well... i love it so much... 💔

The acclaimed debut of Japan’s “master storyteller” (Chicago Tribune). With the publication of Kitchen, the dazzling English-language debut that is still her best-loved book, the literary world realized that Banana Yoshimoto was a young writer of enduring talent whose work has quickly earned a place among the best of contemporary Japanese literature. Kitchen is an enchantingly original book that juxtaposes two tales about mothers, love, tragedy, and the power of the kitchen and home in the lives of a pair of free-spirited young women in contemporary Japan. Mikage, the heroine, is an orphan raised by her grandmother, who has passed away. Grieving, Mikage is taken in by her friend Yoichi and his mother (who is really his cross-dressing father) Eriko. As the three of them form an improvised family that soon weathers its own tragic losses, Yoshimoto spins a lovely, evocative tale with the kitchen and the comforts of home at its heart. In a whimsical style that recalls the early Marguerite Duras, Kitchen and its companion story, Moonlight Shadow, are elegant tales whose seeming simplicity is the ruse of a very special writer whose voice echoes in the mind and the soul. “Lucid, earnest and disarming . . . [It] seizes hold of the reader’s sympathy and refuses to let go.” —Michiko Kakutani, The New York Times

I.. I. I shed big tears reading this, in the midst of a fight with my lover. The writing—the pain—is so achingly beautiful that I don’t mind crying over the words again and again. It feels as if the emotions of the characters have spilled into my own life. Like everyone else, I’ve experienced loss. Not necessarily deaths, but parting ways with many things: friends, boyfriends, fragments of my old life that have blurred into memories I can barely recall. Yet, how incredible it is to feel such profound love as we move through this world, even if only for a fleeting moment in the vast expanse of the universe.

🏹

This book was just so good. The story being described in such a beautiful way that it looked like the author was literally painting a scene for us readers.

The fact that there are so many harsh points of the story like the deaths of so many characters, is in perfect contrast with the surroundings, often described as ethereal or in general just very bright and green and beautiful.

The addition of the second story in the same book was a bit disorienting at the beginning, but I honestly loved that story as well so I don’t feel like condemning the choice.

Teresa Cervone

This book was just so good. The story being described in such a beautiful way that it looked like the author was literally painting a scene for us readers.

The fact that there are so many harsh points of the story like the deaths of so many characters, is in perfect contrast with the surroundings, often described as ethereal or in general just very bright and green and beautiful.

The addition of the second story in the same book was a bit disorienting at the beginning, but I honestly loved that story as well so I don’t feel like condemning the choice.

Corn Dawg

Beautiful tale(s) on grief and how people navigate the ugly aftermath of losing a loved one. Was moved by the characters Eriko and Urara as well as the significance of kitchens/food. Tears were shed!

Kento

Eva Ströberg

Kitchen - Banana Yoshimoto
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⭐️⭐️⭐️
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Disclaimer: I like Japanese literatures. I found that a lot of them have strange tales, almost ethereal, dream-like quality to it. This book, is somehow trapped between the two worlds. 
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The first story is about Mikage, an orphaned young woman who was “adopted” into a family of a trans woman and her son. Mikage’s fave room in the house is the kitchen. I feel the story could have been so much more
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The other short story is Moonlight Shadow, which is far more interesting imho than the first, but sadly shorter, about a young girl who has lost her boyfriend in an accident. 
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Overall, I enjoyed the reading but it didn’t give me wow experience
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#bananayoshimoto #japaneseauthor #currentlyreading #2023reads #bookstagram

Ryan Mateyk

These stories were so charming. There's plenty of death and sorrow but ultimately these read as joyful and exuberant. Full of life!

Kitchen is a wonderful book that tackles grief, one of the heaviest hurdles of life, in a careful and lighthearted way. Her ability to write extremely heavy topics in short stories is very admirable. The characters in Kitchen are endearing, despite being broken and burdened with so much grief. This book, all in all, made me feel less alone. I loved it, and Kitchen is just what I needed to read in assurance to the ugly and disturbing journey of losing a loved one.

Banana Yoshimoto is possibly my current favorite author and the only reason that I still can't confirm it is due to the fact that I've only read two books by her so far.

adriftzoey

mayfly

Hmmm, I have nothing much to say about this book. It was simple and melancholic, it tackles death and how the characters deal with grief and moving on. The writing style was okay, I liked the little details of sceneries that I only usually see in Japanese literature. But overall, it was nothing exceptional.

lala

stopped reading the second part of Kitchen because it brought too much bad memories. Isn’t very interesting to begin with.

Anjorin Molayo 

this is the first work by yoshimoto that i've read and consider me impressed! it was just a really lovely read. the themes of loneliness in both kitchen stories and in moonlight shadow resonated with me and i really liked both main characters - mikage and satsuki (in their respective stories)

the main themes of kitchen (and moonlight shadow) are loneliness and grief, that is easy to see. both mikage and satsuki lost someone and have to deal with the pain of this loss, and honestly i was surprised seeing how positive both of them can be despite of the despair and pain and loss that surrounds them. of course, they were also very sad and hurt - but their attitude on life didn't deteriorate. in fact, they both found the will to live and be happy again, finding a way to live with this pain, and absence of their loved ones.

at least, that's what i got from it and it's how i saw it. maybe i'm wrong.

but, i know for a fact that this novel will stick with me, for a very long time. 

this is the first work by yoshimoto that i've read and consider me impressed! it was just a really lovely read. the themes of loneliness in both kitchen stories and in moonlight shadow resonated with me and i really liked both main characters - mikage and satsuki (in their respective stories)

the main themes of kitchen (and moonlight shadow) are loneliness and grief, that is easy to see. both mikage and satsuki lost someone and have to deal with the pain of this loss, and honestly i was surprised seeing how positive both of them can be despite of the despair and pain and loss that surrounds them. of course, they were also very sad and hurt - but their attitude on life didn't deteriorate. in fact, they both found the will to live and be happy again, finding a way to live with this pain, and absence of their loved ones.

at least, that's what i got from it and it's how i saw it. maybe i'm wrong.

but, i know for a fact that this novel will stick with me, for a very long time. 

4.5/5

i love how this was written. i, too, consider the kitchen and food as my coping mechanism. an art form that not many people understand. i felt like i was seen by yoshimoto's stories. the way her characters fangirl about recipes and warm tea make me feel closer to myself as well as to the author. this memoir style of writing is something i am still exploring but i fell in love with the pace and words as if we were having a sleepover and it was the time of the night where we have a heartfelt conversation about grief, love, and the things that make life worth living. i felt how a woman loves and wants to be loved, how a woman copes with loss, how a woman describes one of the best things in the world: food

bri (´｡• ᵕ •｡`) ♡

This was such a beautiful read. What stuck with me was Mikage saying, “when was it I realized that, on this truly dark and solitary path we all walk, the only way we can light is our own?” It’s always like that when processing grief, having to deal with the unbearable consequences of being left. Grief can truly be an isolating experience. I love how the characters for both stories were able to encounter people they can share the loss of their beloveds with. Because in the solitary path wherein we can only light our own, there is a portion of that light that lands on & touches the spaces of others- still, anchored by the same grief, people we can share and slowly navigate the hopefulness that awaits us with. There is life, there are people, and places we have yet to embark on.

Ren 

death, a universal concept : meant to be acknowledged and understood, but mankind will always have a hard time embracing it. this book offers a poignant exploration of grief and its convalescence, reminding us the brevity of life. amidst recuperating, come the coping mechanism and the need to withdraw from the world, hoping to fill the void by avoiding life. as someone who is still grieving, this hits too close to home.

Sarah Sammis

Read the book in about half an hour. It's a bitter sweet tale of loss and friendship. I enjoyed this book much more than Amrita. Banana Yoshmoto is best at creating short scenes that flit from thought to thought which Kitchen does so well.

Lindy

I have been informed that I read an exceptionally bad translation, but at the same time there wasn't enough that grabbed me to inspire me to find a different version.

The warmth of the kitchen light and the tenderness of young love. Perfectly describes grief in the most heart warming and relatable way. 

Kitchen

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