Big thanks to Grove Atlantic and NetGalley for providing me
with an advanced copy of Vanishing World by Sayaka Murata (Translated by
Ginny Tapley Takemori). I was so excited to find this book. I’ve read Convenience Store Woman a few times, recommending it for a book club, and I’ve found
these subsequent readings and discussions about Keiko’s experience working part-time
in a convenience store to be both hilarious and enlightening about the
scrutinization of women’s choices and options for life and careers in Japan.
Although the book is thoroughly Japanese, I think there is much that is
relevant to American culture as well. A few years ago, I read Earthlings.
While not as funny as Convenience Store Woman, I found the book to be
both shocking and revelatory, as it serves also as a kind of commentary and
criticism of how women are viewed in Japan. Whereas Keiko is a character whose choices
and life challenges the more dominant social expectations for women, Natsuki’s
life and experiences challenge taboos about the treatment of women. I wasn’t
laughing as much, but I think the book also served as a kind of allegory to
challenge how women are viewed and treated in Japanese society. Vanishing World falls somewhere in between these two books; it was humorous and
somewhat absurd, as both a satire of Japanese concerns about the population
decreasing and an allegory of attempts to manage the population.
The book follows Amane, whose name means the sound of rain,
in Japanese. Her connection to water is mentioned a few times in relation to
other characters, as well as bodily functions. I wondered whether it was also
related to the necessity of water for life. In any event, Amane grows up in an
alternative version of Japan, where during World War II, advancements in
technology allow for artificial insemination and there is no longer a need for copulation.
Thus, sex serves no real purpose in this society where women, and eventually
men in a later Experiment City, are able to breed at the same time. Amane finds
out, though, that she was conceived through copulation and not artificial insemination
like most other children her age. Amane’s mother tries to instill the older
values of romantic love, marriage and sex into her, but Amane seeks to be “normal”,
or at least what is considered socially acceptable in this alternative Japan.
The first section of the book was pretty funny, as we find out that marriage
happens, but marriage is not about love, but more about growing a “family”, and
the definition of family is not as most people would define it. In one incident,
Amane, recently married, flees her husband’s sexual advances and claims that he
was assaulting her. She refers to his attempts to copulate as incest, since he
has become part of her family. In other conversations with her friends, they
frequently express the desire to marry people of the same sex, saying how great
it would be to share an apartment and bank account with someone like Amane. Conversely,
they express skepticism about living with a stranger and expecting strangers to
share in responsibilities and finances. In this society, marriages are more
like arranged partnerships, where spouses are expected to have extramarital
partners who satisfy their other needs. Amane eventually divorces her first
husband and finds a new husband with whom she can share interests and other
events in her life, along with sharing the details of her lovers. This was
another humorous and hyperbolic element of the story. Both Amane and her husband,
Saku, go out on dates and are often surprised to find one another at home. Both
ask about their lovers, wondering why they aren’t seeing them and how things
are going. Saku, in particular, struggles with falling in love with every woman
he dates, but seems to treat Amane as something like a pet. This was another
interesting element as many of the supposedly romantic interactions between
characters are described like petting an animal. Amane does meet a neighbor who
shares the love of reading with her, and they eventually become lovers. She
teaches him how to copulate (something she’s done with other men), but due to
the mandatory birth control implants, neither is capable of reproducing. Although
Amane derives pleasure from her relationship, the man also struggles with his
feelings. Ginny Tapley Takemori, the translator of the book, does an admirable
job rendering his explanation as both strange and endearing. However, it is
Amane’s other lovers, the anime characters she keeps in a purse, that provide
her with additional companionship and feelings of infatuation. We learn about
them in the early part of the book, but they always remain with her and seem to
emerge when she feels lonely and is not with her husband. I loved the
descriptions of these characters, who all seem like they were from different
children’s programs, but for Amane, they are real companions. It seemed like
this was a kind of criticism of the attachment that some adults may feel in fan
culture, where they believe these characters or even real people are for them
and that they have relationships with them. It seemed highly critical of that
kind of online belief and connection that people experience, willing to forgo
real human relationships for those that are safer but less fulfilling or
realistic. While Krom, a policeman from the future who travels through time, is
Amane’s go-to lover, here are some of the other descriptions that I found hilariously
absurd
“the seven-thousand-year-old
immortal boy warrior, the boy detective who received secret orders from the police, the UFO pilot, the newborn android
who couldn’t control his own
strength, the prince who rode a dragon into battle”
She keeps these 40 or so characters in her purse and
attaches them to a key chain when she wants to “go on a date” with them. I can
see how Murata is critical of this kind of fan culture, and it made me think of
other examples in America, like with incels and other groups who largely live
life online, but don’t really interact with others IRL. They take comfort in
these kind of safe and predictable relationships, but really don’t progress or
have opportunities to grow and develop. They live in a kind of fantasy world.
Amane and her husband eventually move to Experiment City, formerly
known as Chiba. This city is a kind of community where women are inseminated at
the same time and the births are planned to happen around the same time as
well. Amane and her husband needed to divorce in order to move their together,
since married couples are not allowed. This last part of the book is both more science
fiction like- somewhat dystopian- and darker. The children, called Kodomo-chan,
all look alike, and it is unclear whether they are boys or girls. They all wear
the same clothes, have the same hairstyles, and even seem to grimace rather
than smile in the same manner. People also treat them like animals or pets,
feeding them in the park and playing with them in public spaces when they are
allowed out. Amane doesn’t seem as interested as her husband, who eventually
decides to try out an experiment with a male womb to eventually give birth. Amane’s
own questions about her womb are some of the more interesting parts of the
book. Like her conversations with her friends about the role of a spouse, whether
this person is a stranger who shares highly personal information and knowledge
or a family member, challenges readers’ conceptions of marriage and
partnerships, Amane also questions the intentions of Experiment City and what
allowing men to give birth will mean for her own purpose and role within her
marriage. She seems to question whether her womb belongs to her, her husband,
or even the society. In Experiment City, it’s clear that her body is no longer
her own, but rather is part of the community and its attempts to regrow the
population. Reading these questions and the kind of strange society that
Experiment City created made me think about the more recent pushes America to
promote natalism and encourage large families with lots of children. There’s been
much handwringing about America’s population decline, and although it is not as
steep as Japan’s, natalists are pushing forth the need to repopulate America.
Beyond the strange desire to regulate people’s choices for families and sex,
deeming it solely for reproduction, Amane’s experiences and questions about her
body resonated with me with all that is happening in America today. I hadn’t
thought too much about the consequences of this kind of thinking, but when we
look at Experiment City, all the children are taken from their families to be
raised in community centers. All adults are referred to as “mother”, and the
children, the Kodomo-chans, all look the same. Some die early in the nursery,
only to be have more brought out to replace them. Thus we see that families and
children become more like tools or accessories; Amane’s husband frequently
talks about his own child, and while they make a plan to steal their children
from Experiment City to raise it on their own, her never follows through. The
parts where Saku details his pregnancy and has Amane look at his baby moving in
his womb are also pretty funny. Since his womb is much different from a woman’s
(it’s like attached to his stomach and hangs over), he requires special large
clothing to wear. Again, these scenarios and descriptions are biting and satirical,
but also relevant to current issues in Japan and the US.
I won’t get into the ending in this review so as not to
spoil it for any readers, but I will say that it is somewhat of an absurdist
ending, more akin to Earthlings in that it is shocking and meant to
challenge taboos. However, I also think that Murata continues to push these
ideas and standards to their logical conclusions. In this new world, our old
ideas of love, companionship and family are Vanishing, only to be replaced by
technology, innovation, and efficiency. We no longer have to worry about messy
emotions or interactions. These can be taken care of outside the marriage or in
the “Clean Room”, a place for people to pleasure themselves outside of the
home. Even here, we see that pleasure and enjoyment is separate from personal
relationships, where family belongs more to the community or state, and
reproduction is done with the larger community in mind, not for anything
personal. In fact, clean rooms, which suggest that there is some kind of shame
or need to hide these pleasurable acts present the idea that pleasure is simply
selfish and not to be shared or enjoyed with others. As Amane mentions, she
appreciates the clean rooms as a way to not dirty the sanctity of her own
apartment. Yet by giving way to efficiency, convenience and ease, we also lose
our connections, our sense of love becomes distorted, and eventually, as Murata
writes, our sexuality adapts and changes to meet the times. While we often see changes
in patterns as a result of evolution, the changes that happen in Experiment
City are more socially prescribed. Those like Amane who begin to question these
new ways of connection, reproduction, and love are looked at differently and
ultimately left alone. It’s no wonder she also takes solace in her 40 anime lovers
she keeps in her Prada bag.
Vanishing World is a really important book to read. While
it is not as funny as Convenience Store Woman, I feel like the
criticisms and issues it raises are even more urgent and far-reaching than
Murata’s other books. I can see so much relevance in this book as more
pro-natalist forces look to impose their ideas about birthrates and incentivizing
children in America. While it seems like Murata’s story serves as a kind of
allegory and satire on the current concerns of declining birthrates in Japan, there
are important messages to take away, especially as Murata ingeniously follows
the implications of increasing births to their logical (or maybe illogical)
ends. We find that women and men no longer will hold sovereignty over their
bodies, that sex is divorced from any kind of love or companionship, and that
as technology and efficiency increase, there is no longer a need for intimacy.
Rather, entertainment will create diversions for us, substituting our personal
relationships with those that are safe and predictable. Furthermore, children
and families will now be state property, since increasing births and growing
families are not individual decisions made by couples, but are for the greater
good of society. There is no individuality, only clearly defined roles and
scripts. In this way, Murata’s book follows books like Brave New World,
where we see what we give up for efficiency and technological advances. While I
thoroughly enjoyed this book and will probably revisit it, the only criticism I
have is that there were some awkward transitions between action in the book.
During some sections, Amane would be at home with her husband, and suddenly,
she might show up at a café with her friends. There were a few points where the
action transitioned from one setting to another without any clear transitions
or breaks. I found that a little hard to follow, and I wish there were some
clearer indications of the changing scene or setting; however, this was only a
minor issue with an important and biting social criticism. Highly recommended.
