Skip to main content

Murder: Asian Women Do It Better

The story begins with four friends-- Masako the seemingly level-headed 'leader' of the group , Yoshie the long-suffering and self-sacrificing mother of two, Kuniko the vain who spends more money than she can ever afford in a lifetime (and the least sharpest of the group), and Yayoi the timid--- working the graveyard shift for a Bento-making factory.

Each of the women in the book has a story to tell. Their lives are trapped in hard circumstances and dreary daily routine alternating between work and home. Each one of them has a hopeless, dysfunctional relationship with either their husbands, their family, or themselves.

43-year-old Masako's cool demeanor and hardened heart hides her depressing relationship with her son who hasn't opened his mouth to speak since three years ago. Masako's husband, driven with his own work has simply ignored all other inhabitants in the household and sleeps apart from his estranged wife.

At 50, Yoshie is the pillar that holds her family together as she cares for her invaild yet manipulative mother-in-law and her teenage daughter who has recently developed some strange habits like dyeing her hair and aquiring items that she nor her mother could not afford. Yoshie is hard pressed to find money to make ends meet, and yet she could not afford to take on and shoulder another debt.

Kuniko is 29 years old and has long been drowning in debt with her excessive sprees, buying the latest replicas of designer bags, shoes, suits and other things. She lived with a good-for-nothing partner in her apartment, but after a while he leaves her taking all the savings that they made and since then has never been found. Kuniko is at a loss, sinking with all her mountain of bills and debts, with creditors at her heels. But that doesn't stop Kuniko as she lives from paycheck to paycheck to buy her a fashion item or two, and then budget her remaining money to buy food and pay her rent.

The lovely 34-year-old Yayoi completes the group. When she's done with graveyard work she becomes a full-time mother and homemaker often cutting her sleeping hours to a few measly hours to spend time her two sons. The situation with her husband, Kenji, worsens over the course of their marriage. He becomes a philanderer who gambles away money at an underground club, obsessed with a stunning hostess who has no interest in him except to take his money. The plot thickens as Yayoi breaks down and snaps when she finds out that he has emptied their life savings. That night, she murders Kenji with her own two hands.

The friends come together gradually as Yayoi asks for help on how to dispose the body and plan to cover up the entire thing to get the full amount of Kenji's insurance, costing up to millions. Lured by Yayoi's promise to split the money, Yoshie and Kuniko agree immediately while Masako has a strange reason only she understands. The story continues in a grisly, bloody manner as the women become deeply involved not only in one murdered body, but in several...

This book is just utterly, OUT THERE. It's dark, deep, and distressing. Not to mention that the book is not told by a cop or a detective trying to solve the mystery, but told by the murders themselves. I'm not one to like murder and mystery genre much but wow, this is the reason why the author, Natsuo Kirino holds the Naoki Prize in Japan's Top Mystery Award.

Comments

  1. aitswa! lingaw lagi ni imo page dghan unod! puro inglis! hahah!
    ganahan ko sa possible love story ni Masako X the Brazilian guy! <33 noh? noh? ikaw sad??

    ReplyDelete
  2. Hahahaha lolz Maluuy ko sa Brazilian guy :(
    Ambot lang kung bagay sya kay Masako... Pero cute ang Brazilian heheh. Weird lang man gud si Masako kay murag naay gina tago na hadlok deep inside.

    ReplyDelete

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

It's Called A Break Up Because It's Broken

There are those times that we beg, pray, wish with all our might that there's a guide that will tell us what to do or what decisions to make during life's most crushing, crucial parts. Well, guess what, one book on how to get over one is now available in your nearest bookstore. I consider myself one of the very lucky few, I've never experienced a real break-up. Yet. But once, I nearly did and I felt all the mass of the entire universe was sitting on my chest. I can't imagine what it must feel like for the real thing. I think I will combust entirely :( I read this book, It's Called A Break Up Because It's Broken by Greg Behrendt and Amira Ruotola-Behrendt , hoping to get some sense of what to do when time calls for it. I'd like to get equipped for that when the situation comes, so this one book is seriously one of my best arsenals. The book teaches women/ladies/girls how to keep their dignity during and even after a break-up. Most of the time we have no idea

Schoolgirl by Osamu Dazai: Melancholic Contemplation

Arriving all the way from USA, I had a tiny traveler plop down right in front of my desk. The moment I held the book, I immediately focused long and hard on the book cover. I've had my small share of contemporary Japanese novels and each had very interesting designs, but not one is as gently arresting as this Schoolgirl by Osamu Dazai published by One Peace Books . Soft yet stark. I'm not one to judge a book by its cover, but it certainly is a good way to hold the interest of the readers. A closer look at the cover would remind one of things that are "beautiful in its simplicity". Everybody knows the Japanese aesthetics, a "set of ancient ideals that include wabi (transient and stark beauty), sabi (the beauty of natural patina and aging), and yûgen (profound grace and subtlety). * " Reflecting at these values, it's wonderful to observe how the cover follows the flow of wabi and yugen, isn't it? But a book should offer more than

The Dark Wind from My Future: A Review of The Stranger by Albert Camus

Ever get that blurred vision during a hazy, warm summer's day, when the air is thick with humidity then all you can see is the clear sky with no trace of clouds, and the road is a strip of hot air forming a translucent mirage, and for some strange reason, the sun keeps on getting in your eye and you just can't think straight? That's what I felt when I read The Stranger by Albert Camus . Even during at night when fluorescent lights are lit up for everything they're worth, my eyes still squint from overexposure from a scorching sun and mirage from the asphalt roads; the same way when the bright noonday sun slashes from between the rustling leaves of tall trees. I've heard of Albert Camus before, as he is big in the Philosopher's circles and his works have so far branched out into the Literary pools that one can't help but at least hear of his name. The one thing that I am always curious about is Philosophy, but I can never keep up with this or that schoo