Out by Natsuo Kirino




It’s what our protagonists — four women working the nightshift at a boxed lunch factory — seek most. Not an escape from the extraordinary circumstances they eventually find themselves in, but the merciless daily grind. No money. Dependent relatives. Depression. Shit jobs. An oppressive and sexist society that prescribes its worse roles for women.

So when one of the women strangles her abusive husband, the other three casually agree to help almost without thinking. It either takes them out of the funk they’re mired in or provides the means they desperately need to get out.

This book is rough. Desperation is its most common tenor, enhanced greatly by the sticky August air and the constant black-circled exhaustion of the late night factory shift. Few of the characters are particularly likeable and while the protagonists generally don’t “deserve” the things that happen to them, they certainly did their share in putting themselves in bad positions. Not that there was much choice. Sexual violence is an undercurrent running throughout. Nearly all the men have some kind of vice or perversion that stalks them almost like a demon, always seeking to wrest control.

While ostensibly a crime novel, horror is the genre that fits best. A creeping horror that turns descriptions of grocery store aisles into nightmares.

Pink slices of ham. Red shoulder of beef shot through with whitish sinews. Pale pink pork. Fine-grained ground beef, red, pink, and white. Dark red chicken gizzards outlined in yellowish fat.

The novel’s great weakness is that the ending is miserable nonsense. It is balanced on attaining some sort of empathy with an absolutely monstrous antagonist. You know when you see a villain proclaim to hero “You’re exactly like me/we’re the same/whatever”, and about 95% of the time this is completey ridiculous and they’re either nothing alike or they’re superficially similar but the villain has done dramatically worse things? Yeah, that. Except worse given the way the sexual violence and acceptance of it undermines much of the main text beforehand.

The Goddess Chronicle by Natsuo Kirino

goddersschronicleI did not think I was going to like this book. Maybe it was winning it for free from a goodreads giveaway, past wins of which have not exactly been of stellar quality. Maybe it was because it’s one of those small-size hardcover books with gigantic margins and space between the words whose physical heft seems an attempt to disguise a lack of substance. Or maybe I just have not read many good myth/fable narratives. Archetypes bore me.

But other than one huge flaw I’ll get into later, I enjoyed this book a good deal. There is going to be some general story (including ending) spoilers in this review.

Our protagonist, Namima, lives on a tiny island south of Japan, where as a child she is suddenly chosen to be the island’s “priestess of darkness”. Well, she learns she was chosen suddenly anyway — actually this was determined to be her destiny before birth. Being the priestess of darkness entails living alone in a hut next to the cave where all the island’s dead are placed to decompose, having next to no human contact, and absolutely, unconditionally remaining a virgin. Why? It’s just one of many cruel and nonsensical rules observed by the island’s populace to please the gods. In-narrative, it’s the catalyst for Namima to flee the island and to get the reader supremely pissed off at the the whims of “fate” or “God” as created, interpreted, and enforced by the (patriarchal) island’s tribal government. It’s a subtle touch that once the actual gods enter the story, none of them give a shit about any of this.

After fleeing the island and experiencing near-cosmic betrayal, Namima ends up meeting Shinto creation-goddess-turned-underworld-goddess, Izanami. With the assistance of creation god, Izanaki, Izanami had previously birthed most of the world and Shinto pantheon. Until she died a lingering death after birthing the god of fire (who is literally made of fire!! She succumbed to the burns). Izanaki attempted to enter the underworld to bring her back, but ran for his cowardly life upon seeing her festering corpse. Izanami, who is now totally bitter about this shit — being dead due to childbirth that Izanaki took part in but suffered none of the physical consequences and which he has now ran from — decides to start killing off one thousand earthlings a day. Izanaki, in response, decides he is going to impregnate fifteen hundred women a day to counter this. Izanami decides to make one thousand of those mothers her victims.

So, thematically speaking here: women get a raw deal because they have to deal with all the physical dangers (and child rearing follow up) of birth while men get off scott free. Izanaki actually continues to birth things (such as the moon goddess) after he escapes the underworld. These births are stand ins for the richer life experiences men can often claim later on in life that women cannot. Or that men can keep making babies regardless of age. There’s a key line where Namima is lamenting her plight in life/death and wonders why Izanami is so cold. Izanami points out that gods don’t really suffer like humans do. Namima asks Izanami why she suffers if that’s so.

Izanami replies: Because I am a female god.

This is cool and all, but the story takes a jarring but fascinating turn at this point and stops Namima’s first person account in favor of following Izanaki, who is off adventuring and laying the most beautific ladies of the land as is his wont. He’s not so much a bad guy as selfish and oblivious. Through a convoluted series of events, Izanaki realizes he’s basically been a dick for millennia and accepts a mortal’s limited life and aging, admits his mistakes with Izanaki, gives up serial monogamy and decides to stay with the next woman he has children with.

He treks on down to the underworld to tell Izanami this, to apologize and ask that she stop killing all those people every day. And Izanami… forgives him? Stops the slaughter? Lets Izanami go live and die like the mortal man he now is?

No! She locks him in the underworld and kills his ass. Then continues to massacre one thousand a people a day for eternity. The end.

I find myself… perplexed. But in a good way. Usually myths/fables have a clear cut moral, point, whatever you want to call it. What’s the takeaway here? The nature of God is unknowable? Izanaki’s epiphany doesn’t excuse thousands of years of neglect? Women still have to carry all the babies? I honestly have no idea. None of it fits. And I like it.

The thing holding this book back, the thing that makes it merely good and not great is the writing. As someone who cannot read a word of Japanese, I do not know if this is writer or translator, but the prose is incredibly bland, simple, and redundant. Things are described often as “impossible to describe”, “beyond description”. Namima tells us at least once she cannot describe the emotions she is feeling. It’s essentially “You had to be there, man!” in novel form. I think you sort of expect a poetic touch to myth that is absent here too. Ah well.