Banana Yoshimoto

Alan Ayckbourn

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

Kitchen

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.

Sotaro had said that even though she'd been seeing him for a year, Yuichi's girlfriend didn't understand the slightest thing about him, and it made her angry. She said Yuichi was incapable of caring more for a girl than he did for a fountain pen.

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

As we decided where to meet, I looked up at the win- dow. The sky outside was a dull gray. Waves of clouds were being pushed around by the wind with amazing force. In this world there is no place for sadness. No place; not one.

The entire apartment was filled with light, like a sun- room. I looked out at the sweet, endless blue of the sky; it was glorious.

In the joy of being in a kitchen I liked so well, my head cleared, and suddenly I remembered she was a man. I turned to look at her. Deja vu overwhelmed me like a flash flood.

The house smelled of wood. I felt an immense nostalgia, in that downpour of morning light; watching her pull a cushion onto the floor in that dusty living room and curl up to watch TV,

It's so great, I thought, having tea in the afternoon with someone you really feel at home with. I knew how wildly he tosses in his sleep, how much milk and sugar he takes in his coffee. I knew his face in front of the mirror, insanely serious, as he tries to tame his mop of unruly hair with the hair dryer. Then I thought, if we were still together I would be worrying about how I've just chipped the nailpolish on my right hand scrubbing the refrigerator

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

Someday, without fail, everyone will disappear, scat- tered into the blackness of time. I've always lived with that knowledge rooted in my being: perhaps that's why Yui- chi's way of reacting to things seemed natural to me.

And that's why I rushed into living with them.

karina

I’ll never be able to be here again. …

Even as we exchange hellos, they seem to grow transparent. I must keep living with the flowing river before my eyes. 

I earnestly pray that a trace of my girl-child self will always be with you. 

But...I just wanted to sleep under the stars. 

I wanted to wake up in the morning light.

"I really needed you to make me laugh," he said, rubbing his eyes with his arm, "so much I couldn't stand it anymore." 

I reached out and took his face in both hands. Thank you for calling me,"I said softly.

Dream kitchens. I will have countless ones, in my heart or in real- ity. 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.

Still facing straight ahead, a heartbreaking sadness in her eyes, she asked me, "Did you see it?" 

"Was it everything you had hoped?" This time she turned to face me, smiling. Relief diffused through my heart. "It was," I said, smiling back at her. The two of us stood there in the sunshine for some time, as morning came.

I was staring so absentmindedly at the moon that Hiragi had to give me a push on the shoulder. The small white light it gave off was so pretty, so cold; it was like a pearl.

No matter what, I want to continue living with the awareness that I will die. Without that, I am not alive. That is what makes the life I have now possible.

And it's true that for the whole summer I went about it with a crazed enthusiasm: cooking, cooking, cooking. I poured all my earnings from my part-time job into it, and if something came out wrong I'd do it over till I got it right. Angry, fretful, or cheery, I cooked through it all.

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 soul be destroyed.

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

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.

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!

adriftzoey

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.

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. 

Sorin

Nabila Azahra

everything hits in the best possible way to me.

kayla 

banana yoshimoto… how do i even begin to talk about your work? treading through your book, i feel connected to a woman within me — much older, wiser, and crucially transparent about life’s precious moments & its critical junctures. she generously opens the door of my heart, and i receive a rainbow that breathes life into everything. suddenly the air around me is somehow charged. i discovered ichiko aoba’s music during the time i was reading kitchen, which surprisingly served as a fitting accompaniment, enlightening and deepening my experience of the book.

to me, kitchen is about the family we choose, and how this is a discovery of a love so vast. a love enriched and enshrined by a sharing-of-the-table, set aglow through recipes that include a little bit of one’s soul, laboriously made with love and incredibly devoured together. a summer of bliss in the kitchen that brings so much pleasure, but somehow, so much suffering (for mikage) afterwards. and how this loss – coupled with many others – hardened mikage.

i’m certain that moonlight shadow has a special place in my soul, forever ever ever. both kitchen and moonlight shadow made me reflect: when a beloved is no longer here with us, for them time stops for eternity. the pain we nurse afterwards ejects us from the real world, somehow – and so time stops for us, too. this ejection is a ritual we offer them (and ourselves), albeit unknowingly. 

you and me are the same, you see, but in different planes.

 i don’t know how else to talk about this but to borrow yoshimoto’s words: reeling through this story felt like a “ray of light piercing my heart.”

this is a theme i run away from so often, a real fear i always ignore: the impermanence of everything, of lives so beloved to me. but it always seems to find me, corner me, and remind me of the limitations of this self, life, world. and all the other precious selves, lives, worlds around me. i’m remembering now mary oliver’s poem, blackwater woods: “…and, when the time comes to let it go, to let it go.” again and again, about healthy detachment, etc. etc.

…living with the awareness that i will die. without that, i am not alive. this is what makes the life i have now possible.”

Alyanna

banana yoshimoto… how do i even begin to talk about your work? treading through your book, i feel connected to a woman within me — much older, wiser, and crucially transparent about life’s precious moments & its critical junctures. she generously opens the door of my heart, and i receive a rainbow that breathes life into everything. suddenly the air around me is somehow charged. i discovered ichiko aoba’s music during the time i was reading kitchen, which surprisingly served as a fitting accompaniment, enlightening and deepening my experience of the book.

to me, kitchen is about the family we choose, and how this is a discovery of a love so vast. a love enriched and enshrined by a sharing-of-the-table, set aglow through recipes that include a little bit of one’s soul, laboriously made with love and incredibly devoured together. a summer of bliss in the kitchen that brings so much pleasure, but somehow, so much suffering (for mikage) afterwards. and how this loss – coupled with many others – hardened mikage.

i’m certain that moonlight shadow has a special place in my soul, forever ever ever. both kitchen and moonlight shadow made me reflect: when a beloved is no longer here with us, for them time stops for eternity. the pain we nurse afterwards ejects us from the real world, somehow – and so time stops for us, too. this ejection is a ritual we offer them (and ourselves), albeit unknowingly. you and me are the same, you see, but in different planes. i don’t know how else to talk about this but to borrow yoshimoto’s words: reeling through this story felt like a “ray of light piercing my heart.”

this is a theme i run away from so often, a real fear i always ignore: the impermanence of everything, of lives so beloved to me. but it always seems to find me, corner me, and remind me of the limitations of this self, life, world. and all the other precious selves, lives, worlds around me. i’m remembering now mary oliver’s poem, blackwater woods: “…and, when the time comes to let it go, to let it go.” again and again, about healthy detachment, etc. etc.

…living with the awareness that i will die. without that, i am not alive. this is what makes the life i have now possible.”

ok out of all the banana yoshimotos i have read this year i think kitchen is the one that speaks to my heart the most. maybe because i’m someone who finds romance in the mundane and right now am experiencing many things regarding life n revelations n thinking about what makes a life — the sentiments somehow managed to echo exactly how i’m feeling right now. i’m a big believer in fate and how the universe gets the media you need to consume to you as you need it :’) it’s strange but also lovely? thank you, this is what i wanted to hear right now.  

gabby

:( the author writes about losing someone close to you so well and the pain you go through. i liked the first story better than the second one. when i first started reading it, i didn’t see the appeal, but i kept reading and it was so bittersweet

kareem choucair 

first story: lowkey transphobic 😍.

second story: somewhat cute.

thea

buku ini menceritakan kisah tentang orang" yang telah ditinggalkan oleh orang terkasih; orangtua, kakek, nenek, kekasih, saudara.aku seperti ikut masuk kedalam cerita & merasakan apa yg mereka rasakan. bagaimana mereka meghadapi perasaan sakit setelah ditinggalkan, merelakan & menerima kenyataan, dan tetap harus melanjutkan hidup. rasanya ingin memeluk semua para tokoh yang ada dibuku ini :(
banyak kalimat yang mewakili perasaanku juga. aku cukup merasa sedih & hampa saat membaca buku ini. aku tersadar kalau sebenarnya rasa sakit itu terkadang akan muncul lagi, hilang sesaat, muncul lagi. tapi kita harus tetap bertahan & melihat kedepan, karna suatu saat ini semua akan membaik. tentunya juga orang yg telah meninggalkan kita tidak ingin kita bersedih terus. biarlah kita hidup dengan mengingat kenangan indah dari mereka & jalani hidup kita dengan baik.

buku ini menceritakan kisah tentang orang" yang telah ditinggalkan oleh orang terkasih; orangtua, kakek, nenek, kekasih, saudara.
aku seperti ikut masuk kedalam cerita & merasakan apa yg mereka rasakan. bagaimana mereka meghadapi perasaan sakit setelah ditinggalkan, merelakan & menerima kenyataan, dan tetap harus melanjutkan hidup. rasanya ingin memeluk semua para tokoh yang ada dibuku ini :(

banyak kalimat yang mewakili perasaanku juga. aku cukup merasa sedih & hampa saat membaca buku ini. aku tersadar kalau sebenarnya rasa sakit itu terkadang akan muncul lagi, hilang sesaat, muncul lagi. tapi kita harus tetap bertahan & melihat kedepan, karna suatu saat ini semua akan membaik. tentunya juga orang yg telah meninggalkan kita tidak ingin kita bersedih terus. biarlah kita hidup dengan mengingat kenangan indah dari mereka & jalani hidup kita dengan baik.

Kitchen

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