Mitsuyo Kakuta - The Eighth Day

It is rare, or at least it has been rare in my own reading experience, to come across a novel as devoted to motherhood as Mitsuyo Kakuta's The Eighth Day. Whatever the reason for this, Kakuta's novel is the first I have read which has, not just as its heart but also its whole, the difficult, loving, selfless, and often thankless task of being the mother to a small child.

The Eighth Day is oddly constructed, and oddly conceived, so bear with me a moment. The first half concerns Kiwako Nonomiya and her baby, Kaoru. Except the baby isn't hers – Kiwako has kidnapped the child – and for a long time we aren't really certain why. Kiwako is a confused young lady, but she loves Kaoru more than she initially expected. She has a lot of money in the bank, so finances aren't a concern, but the worry of being caught and having Kaoru taken from her, are. Kiwako moves from place to place, interacting with strange, equally damaged people in her quest to stay ahead of the law while she raises Kaoru.

The police don't seem to have any information about her, which means that, after an initial explosion of panic, Kiwako is pretty much able to do whatever she likes. There is no sense of urgency regarding being caught, though at times Kiwako panics when she sees what she thinks are pictures of her face on the covers of magazines or newspapers. But they never are, and as Kiwako lies and lies her way into people's homes and earns their trust, the chances of her ever being caught seem increasingly remote. Eventually, though, Kiwako joins a strange cult-like organisation which seek to, among other things, abolish the differences between men and women (though they only accept women), and demand complete obedience in exchange for health care, a roof, and no questions about Kiwako's past.

It is difficult to properly convey the confusion of this section, though perhaps the absurd nature of it has been shown. Kiwako is a very confused young woman, and her scattershot thoughts unbalance the reader. What we do know, and is shown quite well, is Kiwako's love for Kaoru. There is a strong sense of motherly protection in everything she does, and though her decisions are odd, they are certainly motivated by love. Less easy to understand is her constant lying, her dizzying array of background stories (both so close to, and so far from, her actual story (of which we learn only hints), that is is easy to forget how and why she actually came to be wandering about with Kaoru), and the bizarre entry and even more bizarre exit from the Angel Home cult.

What this section of the novel suffers from is a lack of information. We understand her love for Kaoru, but that is all. Her other motives remain shrouded, not in mystery, but simply absence. Kakuta doesn't take the time to allow Kiwako's character to relax and be herself – everything is tense, abstracted, hurried and poorly explained. Couple this with some seriously odd situations, and the chance of reader engagement plunges.

The novel picks up once Kiwako has left the cult. She travels to an island where, for the first time, she is able to settle down and actually make a home for herself and Kaoru. Both carry scars from their time spent wandering Tokyo, and in particular from their experiences within the Angel Home. They begin to make friends, and Kiwako is able to relax, at least a little. Time passes, Kaoru grows from a baby into a young girl (and thus gains a personality) and, at least for a little while, The Eighth Day is able to properly explore its main theme – motherhood.

These sections are among the sweetest, and saddest, of the novel. We are only halfway through the novel, which necessarily means that there are other, as yet unknown conflicts still on the horizon. If not, then we'd be at the end of the book. All of this is straight forward, yes, but it indicates to the reader that the simple love and affection mother and daughter feel for one another is at risk. This foresight adds a dash of bitterness to their love, which has the effect of deepening the sweetness of their time together. In terms of quality writing and strong characterisation, this part of the novel is absolutely the strongest, and certainly worth the weaknesses of the previous hundred-odd pages.

But tragedy strikes, the two are separated, and the second section begins. Here the now-adult Kaoru is back with her original family, is known as Eri, and she hasn't seen Kiwako in years. In fact, she barely remembers their time together, though she has never felt properly a part of her new/old family. Eri is contacted by Chigusa, a woman who was once a resident of the Angel Home cult. Chigusa is interested in writing a book about Eri's experiences, but she also wants to befriend someone who at least shared her bizarre experiences with the cult, even if Eri was too young to remember it.

A relationship forms, though it is one streaked through with self-interest. Chigusa needs Eri for her book research, but also to satisfy the craving within herself for true companionship (and this craving has a slight tinge of lesbianism about it). Eri needs Chigusa because the older woman seems to provide her with a wholeness in her life that wasn't present before. But the relationship isn't healthy, and unfortunately, again Kakuta can't quite live up to the promise of her ideas.

Too much of this section is told in the form of a lengthy article provided by Chigusa. The article is a basic, colourless report of Kiwako's life and times, up to her sentencing after she was apprehended for kidnapping Kaoru. This report fills in a lot of the blanks, but by now we have moved away from Kiwako, and wish to understand Eri's blankness and emotional coolness. This, unfortunately does not occur.

So, that is the plot. It is complicated, excessive, strange, and frequently quite bizarre. There are too many touches of absurdity that remove the anchors of the novel and its characters, leaving us with a story floating just above the realm of the plausible, but one that is unable to take a real risk and dabble in the surreal. Kiwako's initial plight, her experiences with the Angel House, her flight, Eri's new life, Chigusa's desires, and the way things all do (and, sometimes don't) connect together – it never really amounts to much. Everything about the novel is excessively normal, except for the bits which are not, and these are by and large far too absurd for the premise.

Where The Eighth Day works, however, are the passages of tenderness and love between mother and daughter. There is an exceptionally strong sense of Kiwako as a mother, and in this, Kakuta writes in a very believable manner. In these sections, Kakuta slows down and allows her characters to really breathe and interact with each other. She forgets about the oddities of the plot and simply has Kiwako and Kaoru be together. One wishes that these sections, all too brief, were in fact the bulk, or even the entirety of the novel. But it is not, and the strange, stumbling text that makes up the bulk of the novel is ultimately unsatisfying, occupying that unfortunate strange-but-not-strange-enough territory of the mediocre novel. A shame.

Author	Mitsuya Kakuta
Title	The Eighth Day (Original Title: Yokame no semi)
Translator	Margaret Mitsutani
Nationality	Japanese
Publisher	Kodansha International
Published	2010 (English) 2007 (Japanese)
Pages	248
Availability: ---Amazon (US) ---Fishpond (AU)

See Also

Other titles from Kodansha International under review.