Where the Wild Ladies Are

I almost gave up on this book, which is described on Amazon as a "witty and exuberant collection of feminist retellings of traditional Japanese folktales." Both the wit and the exuberance build as the folktales progress, gradually linking together. Which is to say that I didn't get it at all for probably the first one-third, and then enjoyed the remainder of it well enough, though it won't be making any "best of" lists that I compile this year. That said, Aoko Matsuda's work is certainly interesting in what it represents, and there were a number of instances where I found myself laughing despite myself. (I also learned that Japanese pillows are stuffed with azuki beans - at least some of them - which is obviously why they're so amazing. I may add pillowmaking to my 2021 goals.) 

Matsuda should be lauded for the insights, too, as to the role of role of women, particularly in Japan. Most poignantly, she writes "Male employees had to pretend to be capable of doing things they couldn't do, while female employees had to pretend to be incapable of doing things they actually could do. Over the years, how many women had seen their talents magically disappear in that way?" In that sense, Where the Wild Ladies Are offers a modern-day corollary to Stranger in the Shogun's City, in which Japanese women struggle to find their place and controls their lives in the Edo era. Or, as Matsuda so succinctly puts it: how restrictive life as a functional adult is!

I am a sucker for all things Japanese, and the icing on the cake, if you will, was the late appearance of Himeji Castle, the sight of which first awed me - like so many others - from the window for the Shinkansen on my first visit to Japan. The castle tales, as well as stories of other quiet rhythms of life in Japan, was worth the wait.

Three stars.