“The reason I’m speaking so openly and honestly to you now is because I know they don’t read English. If this was for a Japanese magazine, there would be no way I would say this.” The author of Butter discusses the state of publishing in Japan today.
If you haven’t read Butter (2024), it’s likely you’ve seen someone holding a copy of the yellow tome in public. Asako Yuzuki, born in Tokyo in 1981, has been a household name in Japanese literature for the past decade, and Western readers are discovering her powerful storytelling, underpinned by her dedication to research (she actually went to culinary school to learn how to cook the dishes in the prose). Partly inspired by the true case of a conwoman known as the ‘Konkatsu Killer’ between 2007 and 2009, Butter tells the story of Rika, a journalist investigating the case of Manako Kajii, a woman accused of manipulating and murdering wealthy men. Manako’s crimes, however, revolve around food, indulgence, and the art of seduction through butter-laden dishes.
More readers are now discovering Yuzuki’s genius. She won the All Yomimono Award for her story, Forget Me, Not Blue (2008) which appeared in her debut, Shuuten No Anoko, published in 2010. She also achieved the Yamamoto Shūgorō Award in 2015 for Nile Perch No Joshikai, which is currently being translated into English, and has been nominated numerous times for the prestigious Naoki Prize. Accolades, adaptations, and global plaudits have followed.
On an evening in Shinjuku, in the neon-lit downtown quarters where Tokyo’s seedier spirit is alive, Yuzuki spoke with A Rabbit’s Foot. And when I got the go-ahead to speak with the author, I was excited to learn about her recent trip to the UK, and what she made of the book’s success. “I was pleased to see how Butter, and literature in general, was so respected,” she tells me. It formed a contrast to how she perceives the way authors are treated in Japan—especially female writers. As you will read in the following pages, she unexpectedly opened up about the controversial problems in the Japanese publishing industry, speaking out against cases of misogyny, threats, and sexual harassment. When I pressed her on why she was being so candid with me, she explained, “The people who would cause me problems cannot read English. If this was for a Japanese publication, I wouldn’t be telling you this information.” The result is a serious, and genuinely brave, exposure of an unspoken situation that is affecting the country’s female authors from enjoying success. As will become evident in the following conversation, this is Asako Yuzuki’s powerful declaration, complimented by some new insights into her writing craft.
A Rabbit’s Foot: Why do you think Butter resonates so much with readers outside of Japan?
Asako Yuzuki: I don’t know. I’m very surprised. It was written for the Japanese public. I had no idea it would go beyond that readership. At the moment, only a small number of Japanese authors are translated into English. It may seem like a boon on your side, but it isn’t.
ARF: There’s a broad range of work you’ve done that has yet to be translated.
AY: You have to talk to my agent about that. The next book, Nile Perch Girls’ Association (2021) will be translated into English. It will be published by Harper Collins. I was surprised that people warmed to Butter, and I worry about that with this next book, but I hope it will have the same reaction. Some of the themes are similar. It is about two women in their 30s who have trouble-making friends. They’re both looking for soulmates, and they come into a friendship in the short-term, but then fall out rather dramatically. I don’t want to spoil it too much. As with Butter, there was a metaphorical aspect. The Nile perch fish is related to the connection to the two women. When I was doing my research, I heard that Nile perch is now used for fish and chips in the UK. Maybe this might appeal to members of the British public.
This is very important: in Japan, women don’t have agents. We have been discouraged by male authors and publishers from sharing information between ourselves. It’s culturally frowned upon in Japan.
Asako Yuzuki
ARF: Talking of research, do you have a routine when you write?
AY: The most important thing is that I avoid using my phone. I’m somewhat addicted to my phone. It’s my greatest enemy when writing. So I lock it away or give it to someone, and so I can’t use it until nighttime.
ARF: How do you channel your personal experiences into this story?
AY: Because I am an author and writer, I’m close to people in all types of media. In Japan, it seems like there are many women who have succeeded in the media, but actually if you talk to them— and I know them—they are victims of sexual harassment, they are not promoted, they are disrespected. That environment is still prevalent in Japan. So many of these things not only come from my personal experiences, but those of people who are still around me. And these are people who work in the city, in professional industries—who are seen as successful. I can only imagine what it is like for women in the countryside. I think about them. There’s like a spinning ball in my head every day. Even when I’m enjoying food or movies, or other things, it’s still there. So the tension from the characters in the plot come from these grievances that are swirling in my head all day. Sometimes, it’s hard to enjoy certain activities.
ARF: Why was the true story of the Konkatsu Killer the correct conduit for those themes?
AY: When I saw this story, I didn’t immediately want to write about it. The story of the case isn’t strongly related to the plot. But the aspect of the case that made me want to write was how it was treated in the media at that time.
ARF: Can you expand on that?
AY: What interested me most was that the media focused on how the suspect went to this very famous French cookery school—rather than the crime itself, they were obsessed with that. They were focusing on the lifestyle she led, her private life. They portrayed women who attended that school as being only there to learn how to tempt men through cooking. To the media, it was about how she was perceived by men, rather than her and her story.
ARF: How did the media react to the book, considering there are pointed attacks on them?
AY: They really ignored those themes. A lot of the reviews certainly didn’t focus on the feminist aspect. They focused on: “Women are scary; it’s a scary book deliciously written about food. Isn’t that tasty?” The people in Japan who read it as a feminist tract—often feminist themselves—were a very small part of the readership. It sold very well. And I’m glad for that. But for example, when I went to the UK, it was read very easily as a feminist tract. The Japanese didn’t actually notice that.
ARF: Is there a drive within you to really change perceptions of these things in Japan?
AY: Yes, of course. I would love for it to change. But I don’t know whether it can.
ARF: What motivates you if you feel it cannot change?
AY: The way has been paved by those who came before me, and I do not want to betray them. In Japan, even though the changes are slow, I don’t want to betray their efforts and their legacy—both female authors who are already known abroad, and those who remain and work in Japan. It’s a motivation and duty.
ARF: Is there a prominent literary circle in Tokyo?
AY: Yes. I have a circle of Japanese author friends, some I have only just met, like Morata Saika. We’re both translated. This is very important: in Japan, women don’t have agents. We have been discouraged by male authors and publishers from sharing information between ourselves. It’s culturally frowned upon in Japan. I get the feeling that they don’t want female authors to get together as it’s dangerous; they know we speak about things. So because they won’t help us, we actually have a secret self-protection society where we talk about tax, royalty rates, and the different editors we work with. And above that, we’re motivated by change. Trans discrimination is very bad here, for example. But we authors issue statements in support of these issues, so there is an element of wanting to move in the right direction. There’s a camaraderie among us.
ARF: Are there a lot of gatekeepers in the Japanese publishing industry? How is that affecting a new generation?
AY: There are many in Japanese publishing. One of their characteristics is that they’re very culturally knowledgeable—very intelligent and well-read—but also cold and guilty of things like power harassment and sexual harassment. This has been taken up as a problem recently in Japan. But there aren’t agents here like in the UK, so we’re not protected. The relationship with the editor is very close. They have to do everything for us—including what an agent might do. But there’s no third party looking in on these relationships, so this can be distorted and an area where harassment occurs. Also because we’re told there’s no money in the industry, authors can develop a hostage mentality. My group of authors brought out a statement over the summer against sexual harassment.
Butter by Asako Yuzuki
ARF: What’s the reaction from the industry to the global success of Butter?
AY: You’d be surprised to the extent that they just don’t know. They have no idea how successful it’s been abroad. The reason I’m speaking so openly and honestly to you now is because I know they don’t read English. If this was for a Japanese magazine, there would be no way I would say this.
ARF: Does the media ignore these situations?
AY: There are people who want to make changes. But a lot of people in Japan do not want to speak up in a public sphere for fear of consequences. I am committed to making these statements, but we have to try and change things through our stories. They can alter the way people think, and characters can illustrate themes that cannot be put across by speaking with the media.
ARF: What do you mean by consequences?
AY: They find out where your house is. Your family and children can get harassed. It can be through the media especially. Put it this way: if you’re someone who is freelance, you’ll suddenly notice the jobs drying up…
ARF: Are you hopeful for the next generation, considering they don’t solely rely on mainstream media?
AY: I believe that’s the case. These younger people have a strength that my generation in Japan does not have. They were praised when they were young. And they have a level of competition that keeps them motivated, but also a compassion for human rights. I’m bringing up my own child, and when I compare the media content my child sees compared to my own youth, there’s a greater variety and [it’s] much better than when I was younger. I’m hopeful that with more exposure to these ideas, they won’t make the same mistakes and our society will be less closed.
ARF: Where did the sumptuous descriptions of food come from?
AY: This goes back to the preparation I do. I like food and I like eating, and that’s part of it. In order to research this book, I studied the cuisine in the book at the same school. Much of the description of the food in the book came from my own personal experiences. It comes across in a way I thought of deliberately to entice readers. It’s a genuine reaction from a genuine experience I had with food itself. This is one of the things; I do very, very detailed research.
ARF: Is there a guiding principle that you follow?
One of the things I’ve noticed in myself is the energy I’ve found within. It isn’t necessarily spiritual. It comes when I’m enjoying or creating something, when I’m in the flow. I get this great level of energy. My child even says, “Mum, you’re very energetic!” and I’ve noticed that this is a motivator. That feeds into the extra creativity.
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