From Body Image to Motherhood: Mieko Kawakami’s Breasts and Eggs Sheds Light on Women’s Struggles and Triumphs

I read Breasts and Eggs as part of Meredith’s Japanese Literature Reading Challenge. This was my first experience reading anything written by Mieko Kawakami, and I had no idea what to expect.

I always enjoy starting my year with the Japanese reading challenge. Most books I have read for this challenge have been esoteric, mind-expanding, and highly unusual. Breasts and Eggs lived up to the high standards set by the other Japanese books I have read.

Book Synopsis

This book tells the story of three women: the thirty-year-old Natsu, her older sister, Makiko, and Makiko’s daughter, Midoriko. Makiko has traveled to Tokyo in search of an affordable breast enhancement procedure. She is accompanied by Midoriko, who has recently grown silent, finding herself unable to voice the vague yet overwhelming pressures of growing up. Her silence catalyzes each woman to confront her fears and frustrations.

On another hot summer’s day ten years later, Natsu, on a journey back to her native city, struggles with her indeterminate identity as she confronts anxieties about growing old, alone, and childless.

~ Synopsis from GoodReads

My Review

This book was originally authored in Japanese in 2008 and translated into English in 2020. It’s fairly well known for its feminist slant but reading the book blurb; I had no clear idea of the story’s direction.

It turns out it is almost like two separate stories or themes loosely tied together by characters common to both stories.

Book 1 deals with breasts – delving into the pressure women face to conform to traditional beauty standards, such as the desire for breast augmentation surgery.

Book 2 deals with eggs – exploring the idea of motherhood as a choice and the impact of the decision to become a mother or not on women’s lives.

Both books (really, they are just parts of one book) are excellent. I would have liked a little more detail in book 1. I felt that a lot of things were left unsaid there. However, book two more than makes up for it. It was eye-opening to realize that Japanese women have so little bodily autonomy. Natsuko wants a baby of her own through a sperm donor, but it seems incredibly complicated. There are hilarious passages of her meeting a sperm donor to collect sperm and somehow trying to insert it into her body.

There are also some profound philosophical thoughts. Characters prompt debates: Is having children selfless or egotistical? Is it even fair to the children being born? After all, they didn’t ask to be born.

Imagine… you come to a small house. Slowly, you open the door. Inside, you find ten sleeping children… Now, in that moment, in that small house, there’s no joy, no pain, no happiness, no sadness… So what do you do? Wake them up or let them sleep?… If you wake them up, nine children will be happy that you did. They’ll smile and thank you. But one won’t. You know this, before you wake them up. You know that one child will feel nothing but pain from the moment they open their eyes until they finally die. Every second of that child’s life will be more horrible than death itself. You know this in advance. You don’t know which child it’s going to be, but you know that’s going to happen to one of them… If you bring a new life into the world, that’s exactly what you’re doing… You know what makes you think doing that’s okay?… Because whoever the child is, the one who lives and dies consumed with pain, could never be you.

It’s fair to say that I was in a very contemplative mood after reading this book. I think this is a book all women should be reading to make conscious choices regarding their bodies and their children and understand some of the push and pull between sexuality, hormonal needs, and societal expectations.

It’s a book I will be reading again to catch some of the nuances I missed.