It’s a question I asked myself after reading Asako Yuzuki’s much lauded novel, Butter. Most of the men featured are quite pathetic, barely able to look after themselves domestically. Once upon a time that would be a given. Now though?
The author was born in 1981 so, in theory, belongs to a more enlightened generation. Yet I struggled to relate to the behaviour and attitudes of some characters. Men are useless slobs; women are considered fat when they’re nine stone (57kg). There’s a self-obsessed superficiality displayed by some within the novel that I just didn’t get on with. It is translated from Japanese, meaning there are obvious cultural differences. That’s not the reason I didn’t relate. I’ve read a few Japanese novels recently and cultural differences have enriched the reading experience rather than detract from it.
This lack of relatability is a problem I’ve had with a handful of other critically acclaimed and popular novels in recent years. Maybe relatability isn’t le mot juste. I simply don’t like the protagonists. To be fair, I didn’t dislike Rika Machida in Butter, I just kept thinking, ‘Get a grip.’ In Babel, I really struggled with the morals of a self-righteous main character who was as racist as the people they opposed; as privileged as those they despised for their privilege; and would have been classist if people from the working class ever entered their thoughts. They were also sociopathic, which seemed to be justifiable in the author’s eyes. Neither did I get on with Nora Seed in Matt Haig’s The Midnight Library – too self-obsessed and far too much navel-gazing going on. I despised just about everyone in Lucey Foley’s The Hunting Party – again because of self-obsessed narcissism, and also because I couldn’t believe some had basically written themselves off as old fogeys in their early thirties. I was still waiting to feel like an adult when I was that age; still am in some ways. Throughout my life, I’ve found small talk among certain groups of ‘adult’ men baffling.
Which brings me back to men being useless. Umbrella statements are nonsensical and offensive. And yet, who is it I regularly grumble at for getting in my way in supermarket aisles because some dodder around anarchically, looking like confused puppies waiting for their next command? Who do I huff and puff at whenever I find I can’t get at a hotel breakfast buffet because someone is standing statue-like over the trays, hypnotised by what’s on offer, as though they haven’t a clue what to do next? The most recent case was in Berlin the other week where a Spanish man’s daughter had to sort out his entire breakfast for him. I could list a few more examples from recent months where I’ve looked at fellow males around me who appeared lost and helpless in a variety of situations. The more I thought about it, the more I wondered if Asako Yuzuki might not be completely wrong.
Mind you, the main female character in Butter was pretty useless at looking after herself as well, so maybe it’s not a gender thing.
