Maturity in What Did You Eat Yesterday

On Votaries, my latest A-Z list tackles characters who transform, often carefully and slowly over time. 

One of my favorite slice-of-life examples of this type of change comes from What Did You Eat Yesterday?, namely Shiro's relationship with his parents.

At the beginning of the series, Shiro and Kenji have been together for about 3 years. Shiro has a normal age-40ish fond-but-exasperated relationship with his parents, specifically with his mom. He loves them but...

Consequently, he complains to Kenji about going home for New Year's (which in the U.S. is rather like complaining about going home for Thanksgiving PLUS Christmas).

To Shiro's surprise, Kenji is miffed (see panel). Startled (since Kenji is normally a happy-go-lucky kind-of guy), Shiro agrees to "go be good to his folks." This one-time agreement turns into several years of Shiro spending New Year's at his parents' rebuilding their semi-aloof relationship (they were never estranged, simply not close).

When a later New Year's visit to his parents with Kenji doesn't go well (Shiro's parents request Shiro not to bring Kenji the next year), Shiro decides that he needs to commit more to Kenji--he should be spending his New Year's with his long-term partner. He should invest (see post on Ross and Rachel) in the relationship that will probably see him into old age.

He informs his parents in a calm manner of his decision. He is blunt but not angry or blaming, and he assures them that he will still visit to help them with cleaning, hospital stays, and such.

Here's where Fumi Yoshinaga truly excels: although Shiro apologizes to Kenji for leaving him alone for so many New Year's, Shiro was not in fact ready at the beginning of the series to make the decision that he ends up making. His "I don't want to spend New Year's with my parents" at that time was childish (as Kenji recognized). His decision several years later is thought-out and mature.

The outcome might be the same but the thought process, the growth, is completely different. It is a remarkable instance of character building and proves, moreover, that non-melodramatic character growth can be as profound and interesting in its own way as a million soap operatic moments.

The Sad and Lovely Ache: Sweet Moments in Romance

I recently posted on Votaries about mono no aware, a concept in Japan that often shows up in slice-of-life. Below is a repost about that concept in romance.

* * *  

I am a fan of romance from manga to paperbacks, from classical literature to movies. Generally speaking, I prefer my romances to end on a positive note, which by my definition means "conclusively." So, are they married or what?!

Every now and again, I will encounter a captivating film that ends somewhat inconclusively. Such films leave behind a gentle, sweet sadness or acceptance--mono no aware in Japanese. And that's okay. It isn't the equivalent of some dreadful French drama where I'm asked to acquiescence in the futility of life. Rather, instead, I'm being asked to accept the fleeting beauty and kindness of life.

The two films that come to mind are both the product of Japanese artists (slight spoilers):

Only Yesterday: From Studio Ghibli, Only Yesterday ends romantically (if not entirely conclusively). The romance is either the entire point or it is entirely incidental: I'm not quite sure. What brings an ache to the heart is not necessarily Taeko and Toshio meeting on the road but Taeko's decision to leave the train. And what turns that ache into a shout of joy are the children from Taeko's past. They crowd about her, encouraging her, egging her on while they engage in high energy, hilarious romps.

The entire sequence is accompanied by a gorgeous rendition of Amanda McBroom's "The Rose" sung by a Japanese singer. It sounds sappy. It surprisingly isn't. Rather, the song evokes a nostalgia that transcends mealy-mouth nostalgia. Taeko is not remembering her childhood fondly or wishfully, the way people think back to their "glory" days in high school. She is recapturing her youth in order to move forward.

Voices of a Distant Star: One of my all-time favorites, Voices of a Distant Star ends, possibly, with the lovers separated. There are Blade Runner-type hints--especially in the manga--that time and space may collapse, but as with Only Yesterday, that is hardly the point. They have already transcended time and space through the  email messages that eek through what Star Trek fans would call the space-time continuum and what Cat from Red Dwarf would call magic.

In this case, Cat is the closest because the result is magical.

"It's like a miracle to hear from her after all this time."

"Maybe thoughts can overcome time and distance."

"One thought. What would it be?"

"It would be--"

I am here.

Being 40 in Manga (and Sit-Coms)

Hutzpah: Shiro and Kenji

go out to dine.

Excluding high school-based manga, shojo/yaoi manga characters usually fall in the age range of mid-20s to mid-30's. In the afterward to Ka Shin Fu, the mangaka Makoto Tateno remarks, "There was a first time challenge here for me: a sex scene involving a couple of 40-year-olds!" before adding in a sly aside, "Though, it's not like anything changes . . ."

The same good humor attends What Did You Eat Yesterday by Fumi Yoshinaga, a slice-of-life series that focuses on the day-to-day activities of 40ish lawyer/cooking enthusiast Shiro and his 40ish hairdresser boyfriend Kenji. One of the series I collect, What Did You Eat gives me the same appreciation as watching Golden Girls. This is how to age with hutzpah and dignity.

What Did You Eat Yesterday takes place in real time, so Shiro and Kenji age as I do (I am closer in age to Kenji; Shiro recently hit 50, much to his dismay). With Golden Girls, I can relate to Dorothy's worries about her aging mother. With Shiro and Kenji, I can relate to the sudden need for different glasses, the resistance to changing one's lifestyle (why shouldn't I take the same vacation every year?), reflections on the role of work in one's life, worries about social appropriateness . . .

As Erickson and Levinson and Gail Sheehy have argued, adults go through stages in life just like children and adolescents. The particular problem in Shiro's life from Volume 6 may be exclusive to his life, but the narrator's wry comment--"Yup, that time of life"--is utterly accurate. Even in their 40s, people feel tension between their individual/personal experiences and social functionality. 

Unlike young adults, the tension focuses less on "who am I?" and more on "what am I doing?" Young adults focus on establishing their selves, taking on more responsibilities, and making decisions about the future. The 40s are also about the future but in terms of re-evaluation: Do I really want to keep doing this? Am I fitting in? Why or why not? Hey, maybe it doesn't matter if I don't!
 
Young adults can imagine living on an island because people, ya know, stink. People in their 40s know that they can't move to an island completely, no matter how much they wish they could. But they also know that they are not at the mercy of the peer group nearly as much as they believed at 25. Life keeps going because that is what life does.

Shiro and Kenji's lives don't hugely alter from year to year because, honestly, most people's lives don't: get up, go to work, go home, read/watch something fun. On the other hand, Shiro and Kenji's life is constantly changing because they are each subtly, softly changing. Shiro gets glasses, stops caring so much about what the neighbors think, and recognizes his own lack of ambition. Kenji accepts that he is slowly thinning on top and becomes more assured about his place in Shiro's life. They both worry about saving money (Shiro more than Kenji) and their parents' increasing ages. 

Sitcoms and slice-of-life narratives are the best ways to tackle middle adulthood.  

Tempura in What Did You Eat Yesterday?

One of the funniest slice-of-life vignettes from What Did You Eat Yesterday? regards tempura.

In volume 4, Shiro--who, like me, loves tempura--decides to make it even though he knows the process drives him crazy. He calls his mom for advice: "Is there a knack to making good tempura?"

"Derring-do!" she responds.

The narrator informs us, "Derring-do. Was there anything that [Shiro's] life lacked more of? And was there anything his mother had in greater abundance?"

Still, he decides to forge ahead. He gets the ingredients (including tempura flour--I didn't know this existed! I did find a store that sells it). When Kenji gets home, Shiro warns him that he isn't skilled at tempura so the meal that evening might not be very good (Shiro is ignoring Julie Child's advice to never apologize for a meal, no matter how crappy).

He then proceeds to dip and fry the vegetables, which come out okay. I can attest that vegetable tempura is less problematic than meat or fish tempura.

He then moves on to the shrimp (see panel).

At the end, he is highly annoyed at himself for not making perfect tempura pieces that hold together inside unsquashed fried batter. Kenji remarks that the look of the tempura isn't important--it all still tastes good! So Shiro feels better.

Still, as far as I can remember, he hasn't made tempura in any volume since--at least, not as the main meal.

Tempura is one of those things that I will pay a restaurant for--I've made it; it was okay; unfortunately, I don't think I have any more derring-do than Shiro.

Maybe I'll try it again with Shiro's tips. If I can't find tempura flour, here's a batter recipe I found that seems to work pretty good:

1/3 cup flour
1/3 cup cornstarch
2/3 cup cold seltzer
1 whisked egg (I have mixed feelings about the egg--it makes the result a little too thick and heavy BUT it increases the chance of the batter staying on the meat/veggie piece)
pinch salt

Fumi Yoshinaga: The Jane Austen of Manga

What Did You Eat Yesterday? also deals

amusingly and pragmatically with getting older.

If  Jane  Austen was alive today, I'm sure she would write manga. And she would likely write manga like Fumi Yoshinaga's.

I'm a huge fan of the delightful What Did You Eat Yesterday? which is tender, ironic (though not as much as some of Yoshinaga's other material) as well as engagingly informative about Japanese culture and cooking habits. I have a similar reaction to the wonderful movie Bread & Tulips, although in that case, I learn more about Venice.

I commented on What Did You Eat Yesterday? on Eugene's blog:

My favorite slice-of-life manga is What Did You Eat Yesterday? in which the "problem" of the local supermarket going out of business comprises an entire vignette. A vacation to Kyoto becomes a longer vignette but is so comparatively unusual that romantic Bingley-like Kenji is convinced that practical Darcy-like Shiro is only taking him on vacation because Shiro is dying.

There is precious little angst (thankfully), not because Shiro and Kenji's lives are ideal but because they are relatively ordinary. And that's okay! Getting up and going to work and buying food and visiting a friend and complaining about one's health is what most of us go through most of the time. And because What Did You Eat Yesterday? focuses on food, whenever something a little upsetting does occur, well, that's what cooking and eating a good meal is for: to reset a person and that person's companion for the next day.

I love the reference to Anne of Green Gables!

Yoshinaga is comparable to Austen because she focuses on everyday life; she is also comparable to Austen because she adjusts her characters, content, and style to a series' particular tone. Austen has been accused--then and now--of not including sex in her novels due to spinsterish-social-repression. The truth is that Austen chose to write as she did (other novels of the time period plumbed the depths of intimacy). In addition, while Austen's family were not more melodramatic than any other family of the time period, they certainly weren't less. If Austen had wanted to write emotionally overwrought stories filled with steaminess and sin, she could have. She deliberately confined her view and her tone to a specific milieu and purpose.

Yoshinaga--who writes everything from steamy romance to sci-fi--is similar to Austen in the sense that whatever she is writing/illustrating stays within the bounds of what it is supposed to be for that genre/series/audience. So Antique Bakery (scene below) remains the surprising psychological drama/comedy that it is; What Did You Eat Yesterday? remains the utterly clean and sweet-tempered slice-of-life that it is. Flower of Life remains the high school teenage drama (utterly natural teenage drama) that it is meant to be.

Oddly enough, the one type of manga I don't much care for from Yoshinaga is steamy romance. Her yaoi is well-plotted and amusing but almost too much so. "Oh, Lord, what fools these mortals be!" pretty much sums up the narrator's perspective. I like a little more affection in my romance mix.

Appropriately, however, Yoshinaga is the only mangaka I've encountered where the intimate scenes in her steamy romances are in and of themselves funny. I don't mean that characters (only) make jokes. Or even that the characters (just) behave in slapstick ways. Other manga do this. Rather, in Yoshinaga's work, the characters' interactions highlight that, in the end, we are all kinds of odd and funny creatures, no matter what we are doing.

Just as Jane Austen believed!