Cette femme-là by Takeo Arishima

Cette femme-là Reviews

• 
  Pascale

  Yet another intriguing but not altogether satisfying Japanese novel, which has the peculiarity of being set largely at sea during a crossing between Yokohama and Seattle. Yôko Satsuki was brought up with her younger sisters by a Christian mother who abruptly left her husband when she realized he slept with the maid. Instead of being frown upon for this decision, Mrs Satsuki became a leading figure of the Christian community. However, her reputation was later ruined by rumors of an affair with a young man called Kimura, who was also credited with pursuing Yôko, whose own reputation had been besmirched by a clandestine marriage with a war reporter. Having seduced Kibe largely for sport, Yôko left him without remorse in spite of the fact that the union had produced a daughter. The book really starts when Yôko leaves Japan to join and marry Kimura in the US. Because of Yôko's scandalous behavior, her remaining relatives are very eager to see the back of her, and think that she is only too lucky that Kimura still wants to marry her. However, Yôko herself is more than ambivalent about marrying a man she does not love just to save appearances and restore her footing in society. During the crossing, she flirts shamelessly with young Oka, while lusting after the most virile officer on board, Kurachi, who happens to be a married man. Neither of them makes any serious effort to hide their sexual passion from the passengers and the crew, which results in Yôko's reputation being further damaged. By the time she gets to Seattle, Yôko is so infatuated with Kurachi that she can't bear the thought of marrying Kimura. With the help of the ship's doctor, she fakes an illness such that the American authorities won't let her leave the ship. Kimura visits her many times onboard, but can't bring himself to take any decisive action to changer her mind. To some extent, he is even unconsciously relieved to let her go back because her financial situation is even worse than he thought. Yôko sails back to Japan as Kurachi's mistress, a most uncertain future ahead of her. None of the characters in this novel is remotely sympathetic, not even Yôko whose aspirations to freedom and equality with men are singularly unfocussed. In fact most of the time she behaves like an hysterical and selfish nymphomaniac rather than a proudly rebellious modern young woman. It might well be that fully imagining such a character was too big a leap for a Japanese male writer in the early decades of the twentieth century. To me it was also odd that so much was made of Yôko's Christian background without her religious scruples being at all mentioned as a factor in her turbulent emotional life. Maybe this makes perfect sense in Japanese but once again I felt unable to fully understand what this edition presents as a pioneering work of feminist fiction.
• 
  Gomar

  On me l'a offert : sur la quatrième de couverture, la description parle d'un roman féministe. Je ne fais pas trop attention, naïvement je présume qu'il a donc été écrit par une femme. Le livre terminé, je reviens à la biographie de l'auteur. Ah, donc c'est un homme, ceci explique cela.
  Le "cela" étant l'héroïne : une femme libre. Par libre, entendez belle, séductrice, sexuellement libérée, et jalousée par toutes les autres femmes.
  
  Reste que l'égoïsme du personnage est parfois intéressant. Et que l'écriture sauve le tout, certains passages sont assez beaux.