Food, Power, Myth

Humanity’s most basic physiological needs consist of air, water, and food. Among these, food holds a special role as an architect of culture. From our hunter-gatherer past, to the industrial revolution, to even the growing movement of organic farming today, our ever-changing ideas and relationship to food has played a fundamental role in defining the epochs of our civilization. Japanese culture in particular has unique relationship to food. Up until the Meiji Restoration, Japan was predominantly a rice-based economy. In other words, capital was synonymous with sustenance. As one of the most well-known and celebrated folk tales in Japan, the story of Momotaro alludes to this deeply enmeshed ontological relationship between food and power distinct to the Japanese psyche. As a folk hero, his strong and upright character captured the minds of many. And with the radical changes that came with modernization, the image of Momotaro evolved with the spirit of times. As Japan joined the imperialist bandwagon at the turn of the 20th century, Momotaro was transformed from a simple folk hero into a national symbol of the empire. As seen in Mitsuyo Seo’s Momotaro’s Sea Eagles, the appropriation of the myth was used to establish and assert Japan’s new place in the global arena, and his militant image saw an increasing departure from the folk hero of the past. Yet with the dissolution of the empire after Japan lost the war, so too the militaristic Momotaro soon vanished. In the 1971 documentary, Minamata: The Victims and their World by Noriaki Tsuchimoto, the symbolic imagery of Momotaro reemerges in the national consciousness in the form of a grass-roots hero. The victims of the Minamata disease equated their pilgrimage throughout the country to Momotaro’s quest to conquer evil. In this sense, Momotaro is able to live a fluid existence, adapting to the psychic needs of the Japanese people through various contexts. In all its manifestations, the myth provides a framework to challenge and negotiate power, as well as deliver a catalyst for community-building through food. If we are to consider myths as public dreams, we can see Momotaro as the Japanese embodiment of the unconscious and universal drive for empowerment. And he carries with him the boon, the humble yet satisfying millet dumpling, which perhaps symbolizes “life force” itself.

As with most folktales, the origins of Momotaro are uncertain. In the standard version of today, the tale of Momotaro begins with an old lady’s encounter with a giant peach drifting down a river. She takes the peach home and presents it to her husband, and in their attempt to cut the peach–lo and behold–out comes a little baby boy. The rejoiced couple names the boy Momotaro, and raises him as their own. Years pass, and Momotaro grows up to be strong and righteous. One day, he resolves to embark on a journey to defeat a gang of ogres in a far away island. His parents, though reluctant at first, concede to his wish, and sends him off with some homemade millet dumplings. On his journey, Momotaro wins the loyalty of a dog, a monkey, and a pheasant; to each he gives a millet dumpling in exchange for their alliance. When they reach Onigashima, the island of ogres, they swiftly defeat the ogres, and the story ends on a triumphant note. Even in this most basic, stripped down synopsis, food plays an explicit role. Moreover, the offering of food appear to symbolize a significant transmission of power and spirit. The dumplings that the old couple prepare for Momotaro’s journey are an embodiment of all that they have to give. And when Momotaro gives each animal a millet dumpling, the transaction binds and unites them. Through the exchange of food, power is negotiable. The social contract between Momotaro and the animals could not happen without mutual agreement of the terms. The fact that the animals are willing to risk their lives in exchange for a millet dumpling suggests the value placed onto food in the story and perhaps even in a broader cultural sense. Survival necessitates sustenance, and thus food becomes the ultimate binder of people.

The countless iterations of Momotaro greatly differ in emphasis, tone, and detail. For example, in the highly condensed 1951 Osaka Koyosha Shuppan version, the encounters between Momotaro and the animals are simple and straightforward. The narrator states, “Momotaro shared his millet dumplings with a monkey, a dog, and a pheasant. They went along with him to Momotaro to serve him and help him.” Similarly, the 1885 version by Hasegawa Takejiro maintains a relatively neutral tone in the encounters between Momotaro and the animals. In comparison, the 1894 version by Iwaya Sazanami exhibits a much more aggressive tone in both Momotaro and the animals. When Momotaro first encounters the dog, the prideful dog threatens to bite his head off. In response, Momotaro says, “You wild dog of the woods, what are you talking about! I am traveling for the sake of the country and am on my way to conquer “Ogres’ Island.” My name is Peach-Boy. If you try to hinder me in anyway, there will be no mercy for you; I, myself, will cut you in half from your head downwards!”. Immediately, the dog retracts his hostility and swears his loyalty to Momotaro. And when the dog politely asks for a millet dumpling, Momotaro gives him only half, reasoning that they are the best millet dumplings in Japan. The dog accepts the half-dumping earnestly, and they continue on their journey. Their encounters with the monkey and the pheasant thereafter continue to display aggression and hostility (particularly between the animals), until each one is tamed by Momotaro’s authoritative command, though they ultimately become friends. It is curious that the first two versions mentioned–written over half a century apart–maintain a similar neutrality in tone, while the Sazanami version is charged with an overtly militant one. It is also strange that Momotaro gives each of the animals only half of a dumpling, for this detail is unique to Sazanami’s version. Overall, the animals have less negotiating power in this version, which may be indicative of the increasingly oppressive power structures during the time it was written. In addition, in this version Momotaro is associated with the divine. Upon his birth, Momotaro tells his parents, “The truth is, I have been sent down to you by the command of the god of Heaven.” The reference to a heavenly mandate is highly reminiscent of the kind of apotheosis that the emperor achieved during the Meiji era. These factor suggest that Momotaro in this incarnation is an allegory for the growing Japanese empire. 1894 is a notable year for Imperial Japan, for it was the year the First Sino-Japanese War was waged, thus marking the Japan’s debut as a world class military power. Perhaps Sazanami, as an eminent figure in children’s literature at the time, felt it was fitting to calibrate the folktale with the national ‘zeitgeist’. And indeed he would not be the last one to do so.

In Momotaro’s Sea Eagles, a 1943 animated film directed by Mitsuyo Seo, we find a version of Momotaro that is far removed from the tale’s traditional depiction. Here the folk hero has been appropriated to fit the militaristic values of Imperial Japan. Released at the height of the Pacific War, it was used as propaganda to inspire patriotism in the Japanese youth. The traditional structure of the folktale is replaced by a narrative embedded in the realism of modern warfare. The film is set on a ship in the open ocean, with a Japanese fleet of animals (including dogs, monkeys, pheasants and rabbits) preparing for an attack of Demon Island: the allegorical Pearl Harbor. Although Momotaro is the commanding officer of the ship, his presence in the film is limited and somewhat detached. This might be surprising considering that the title of the film denotes that the adventure is his, but instead the plot focuses on the actions of the animals. The animals are depicted as comical, endearing, and their playfulness implies the sense of youth. In comparison, the American antagonists are collectively depicted as Bluto, a character from Popeye. The animals’ aerial attack of the Americans can be compared to Momotaro’s attack of Onigashima. Interestingly enough, the film does not depict the Americans as evil, as the Momotaro folktale depicts the ogres. Instead, the Americans are portrayed as lacking basic integrity. The many bottles of alcohol littered on their ship deck suggests a sloppiness. And the commanding officer is a disheveled, blundering drunk who exhibits very little honor or dignity in the face of calamity. In comparison, Momotaro’s dignified presence reinforces the superior character on the Japanese. The triumph of the Japanese cartoon animals over the American Blutos is certainly allegorical of a broader cultural victory of the Japanese empire over the West.

The youth of Japan

Thus, in this incarnation of the tale, the negotiation of power is happening on an international scale. Meanwhile, the unequal power relations between Momotaro and the animals seem to be taken for granted. For example, Momotaro is the only human on the ship. The distinction between man vs. animal is one that evokes the image of domesticated animals being dependent on their owners. And the fact that Momotaro is the only character with that speaks throughout the film suggests the lack of power the animals actually have. It would also be wise to mention the minimal role that food plays in this version of Momotaro. Unlike the other incarnations of the story, there is no exchange of the millet dumplings between Momotaro and the animals. While there are scenes that do feature millet dumplings, it doesn’t seem to have the same weight that the dumplings normally have in the plot development. In the various versions of the Momotaro tale, the exchange of food for service is crucial to the bond created between Momotaro and the animals. Without it, power relations between Momotaro and the animals become opaque and abstracted. But considering the intended audience of the film, it makes sense that the focus is on the camaraderie between the animals, for it fosters national pride, a fairly new concept at the time. Ultimately, this film delivers a truly modern take on Momotaro as being the symbol of the Japanese national character by re-contextualizing the hero altogether.

With the advent of industrialization, we having become increasingly alienated from our food sources. Thus in our capitalist world, power has become vastly abstracted. The problems that come with such abstraction of power may not be so obvious on a daily basis, but becomes evident in certain circumstances such as when our food security become jeopardized due to entities more powerful than us. An example of this illustrated in Minamata: The Victims and their World, a documentary film made in 1971 by Noriaki Tsuchimoto. The film is about the rural communities in Minamata, Japan affected by a debilitating disease caused by acute mercury poisoning. The disease was caused by mercury being released into the ocean by a factory owned by Chisso Corporation, and gradually reached epidemic proportions. The coastal fishing communities were affected the most, for their main food source was directly being poisoned.

A fisherman’s life depends on the sea

The Minamata disease became an embodiment of a large corporate entity’s oppression of rural, marginalized communities. During their country-wide pilgrimage to publicize their plight and protest the corporation at fault, the members equated their journey to that of Momotaro. Even though victory would not be as clear-cut for the Minamata people as it was for Momotaro,  their quest was in the same grass-roots spirit. In a way, the function of food in the documentary is inverted from that of the folktale. In the folktale, the goodness of the food is the uniting force. But for the people of Minamata, it is the damaged state of their food source that brought the community together. Either way, it is food that ultimately brings the people together. In the Minamata documentary, we find an incarnation of Momotaro that reveals considerable tension between 20th century capitalism and the rural communities that struggle against the grain.

The potency of the Momotaro myth is twofold: first, that it uses food to bring people together, and second, that it uses food to negotiate power relations. The ways in which the myth of Momotaro is reinterpreted throughout Japanese history provides profound insights into a culture where food and power are very much entwined.

Tampopo: The Individual’s Search for Self-Identification

Juzo Itami’s comedy film, Tampopo, portrays the story of a modest noodle cook who aspires to master the perfect recipe for making ramen noodles. After her husband’s death, the relentless widow, Tampopo (Itami’s funny sensibility at work), strives to support her son and herself by keeping her noodle house running. Tampopo soon discovers that this task is anything but simple when Goro and Gun, noodle connoisseurs and truck drivers, wander into her shop and sit down to try a bowl of ramen. Goro, who loves noodles so much that he can discern whether a bowl of ramen is good or not by just the sight of it, converses with another customer by swapping opinions about Tampopo’s noodles like chef judges would.

Tampopo is met with disdain when the two describe her ramen as “sincere”, insinuating that her noodles aren’t great. Goro and Gun agree to teach her how to stir up the perfect recipe for a bowl of noodles, and the widow’s wild ride to learning the art of cooking and serving the best ramen begins. Itami perfectly arranges the film with a collection of indelible moments that all come together as one.

Itami’s camera floats to a scene in which Goro and Gun are sitting before their breakfast meal: a bowl of ramen prepared by Tampopo. Instead of quietly enjoying their meals, the two suddenly become food critics. The truckers reluctantly, but in all honesty, say that the noodles “lack profundity”, that “they’ve got sincerity- but they lack guts”. These philosophical sentiments delivered by the connoisseurs demand a special respect for the art of ramen. By astounding the widow with their frankness and eccentric sense of humor, Goro and Gun most effectively break through the wall to Tampopo and her quest to find the perfect recipe for making noodles. In a later sequence when Tampopo is on the verge of a noodle breakthrough, Goro critiques Tampopo’s noodles again, stating that “they’re beginning to have substance, but they still lack depth.” It is through this education of ramen, an identifiably Japanese dish, that Tammpopo begins her skillful training and strength building. The scene reveals the most engaging thing about Tampopo: the film portrays a vision of Japanese culture where the social position of the individual is subordinate to the ethical unity of a stable society. Tampopo’s search to find the perfect recipe for ramen may represent an individual’s social role in a consumerist era.

Philosophical sentiments delivered by the connoisseurs

The astonishing philosophical verdicts delivered as Tampopo’s noodles slowly improve continue to resonate with me. I love the cold yet candid immensity of the words, and how confounded Tampopo is when she hears those words come out of Goro’s mouth. It is a scene that repeats itself in my head whenever I pull up a stool at a ramen house, or even when I’m simply microwaving a Cup of Noodles or Top Ramen at home. Itami’s Japanese film comically tells the story of the Japanese culture’s tradition to contribute something that is valuable to the citizens of Japan as a whole.

Spaghetti Eating and False Perceptions of Western Culture

Taken in three-shot style, The Spaghetti Instructor begins her lesson on how

to properly eat Spaghetti

Jūzō Itami’s 1985 comedy film, Tampopo, contains a volley of scenes which display the clash of culture between the society of the “West” and the society of a modernizing Japan. Within such masterpiece of cinematography, a scene arises in which the classic “how-to” scenario is portrayed with the topic of eating spaghetti. This scene, taken primarily in master shot, exhibits middle-aged Japanese women who seek to be a part of a high society culture, one of which involves knowledge of Western cuisine and etiquette. In beginning her lesson, the course instructor repeatedly emphasizes the need for one to quietly consume their spaghetti.  

 In long-shot method, a European Westerner is both seen and heard to be

loudly slurping on his Spaghetti

Shortly following the instructor’s warning/advice, a loud slurping noise interjects, leading to a camera shift to a single long-shot of a Westerner eating his spaghetti. In doing so, Itami effectively destroys all prior notions of proper Western etiquette. The underlying significance of the scene is revealed to be the disparity of perceptions and reality of the Japanese people. In a larger sense, Itami may be alluding to just how lost and misinformed Japan is; as Japan, as a country, has yet to assimilate to the strength and greatness of Western Society.

In the following scenes, the students follow after the Westerner rather than the instructor as they carelessly slurp their noodles. Itami causes the instructor to seem even further misled and ridiculous as the proceeding shots display several students, one after another, loudly enjoying the spaghetti. The scene, while very comedic, can be seen to possibly criticize Japan’s lack of action and immediacy with regards to the following of the more sophisticated and powerful countries of the time such as France, Great Britain, and Russia. By emphasizing the noise and seemingly barbaric style of eating noodles, Itami can be interpreted to turn his back on much of Japan’s older customs which do not involve such Western styles of dining.

In relating back to Tampopo as a whole, there exists a parallelism between eating Ramen (Japanese Noodles) and eating Spaghetti (Western Noodles). The two cultures hold a similar ground or basis as they both consume noodles, yet at the same time are very different as they have different preparations and etiquette in relativity to their noodles. In interpreting such basis, Itami may be inferring that Japan as a country is actually not that far from the greatness and power of the West. Simple changes in custom and culture could thus allow Japan to rise as a nation to the esteemed superpowers of the time.  

In Wide-angle view, the entire room of Japanese women (including the 

instructor) are loudly slurping their Spaghetti

With the conclusion of the scene, the instructor, herself, follows after the Western Businessman showing a shift in ideals and customs for all the Japanese people in the room (for Japan as a whole). Food, being a cultural capital in such consumerist era, is able to properly display the transgression between Japanese Culture and Western Culture. The final moments of the scene display that the willingness of Japan to assimilate and change shall allow Japan to ascend beyond many of the Asian Countries that were being occupied at the time, as Japan does not preside solely on old customs and culture.  

 

Spirited Away: Food As a Lens to the Spirit Within and Critique on Modernity

Japan 70, Natalie Jongjaroenlarp

Chihiro’s father sloppily digging into some food he found at the amusement park.

No-Face gives Chihiro bath tokens and watches her reaction to his gift.

In Miyazaki’s Spirited Away, Chihiro and her family undertake an unexpected journey when they stop at a run-down, former amusement park. Chihiro’s parents turn into pigs as they eat the food in front of them at one of the stalls in the food market at the amusement park. Once this happens, Chihiro is forced to live in the spirit world and work until she can find a way to save her parents and get back to the human world.

Food relates to the spirit of each human being in Spirited Away. Magic berries that Haku, apprentice to the authority in charge of the bath house, gives Chihiro literally stops her from vanishing in the spirit world. She must eat something in order to survive and not disappear into thin air. Also, No-Face, a spirit who befriends Chihiro, goes crazy within the bath house and eats people and food as a result of his loneliness and sorrow. The spirit lives to observe others’ emotions to the gifts given to them.

Food also acts as a critique on modernity in this film. Chihiro’s parents represent typical modern parents. In this story, they are depicted as people who do not enjoy the authenticity of the food itself or even appreciate the taste of it. Once they see food, they inhale and dig in. They do not care to stop and savor the flavor or texture, as shown in the screen shot above. In addition, it emphasizes the modern notion that a culture can either be bought or sold. For instance, the parents eat the food in front of them, not knowing where it came from or who it belongs to. They assume that the person or people will be fine with them eating it as long as they have money to compensate for it. Another modern notion that is carried forward in this film is the idea that people’s will can overcome anything, including nature. For example, in the beginning, when Chihiro’s flowers die, her mother tells her that they will be fine once they put water on them when they get to the new house that they are moving to. This is before they find themselves at the ancient amusement park. Also, when Chihiro’s father decides to go on a whim after the family is lost, he accelerates the car a little too quickly. When his wife gets worried, he brushes off her careful words by stating that they will be fine because they have four-wheel drive.

Chihiro must learn to grow up quite a bit in the short amount of time she has. She takes a leadership role when she decides to stand up for her beliefs and not explore the old amusement park with her parents. Although, because she is still a child and in need of security and love, she winds up taking a journey she did not bargain for with her parents. A similar situation occurs when she leaves her family to eat when they are scarfing food. Her parents encourage her to eat the food sitting out with them. She refuses. This act of defiance and choice to stand by her opinions allows her to learn about the world in which spirits and humans coexist and the traditions of the past and innovations of the present collide. She learns through observation and is very mature for her age as a result. It’s easy to forget she is only ten years old when it seems like her parents need to take a lesson from her on the importance of safety and security.

Haku feeds Chihiro magic berries to help her survive in the spirit world and stop her from disappearing.

Dynamic Advertising: Astro Boy and the Candy Industry

In post-war 1960’s Japan children were used to receiving omake, give-aways, with their candy. “Dogs people, fish, and hippopotamuses made out of clay”(51) a child could win almost anything with the purchase of a chocolate. However all these goods were extrinsically or arbitratily related to the candy. Once the prize was won there was no link forged in the child’s mind relating the two, it was merely a bonus. Kabaya chocolates started a collection and reward campaign with books (52). This was a step in the right direction: creating a covetable item that was unique to the candy, but the association of Astro Boy with Meiji Marble Chocolates took candy marketing to a whole new level. The gravitatonal pull of Astro Boy’s character and his distribution through multiple media forms transformed the candy marketing media system from merely a system of arbitrary prizes to an entire product culture.

The first reason the pairing of Astro Boy and Meiji Marble Chocolates resulted in the creation of its own culture is the gravitational pull of Astro Boy’s character. Not only is Astro Boy very appealing visually and audibly, his personality is lively and very wholesome. In the pilot episode “The Birth of Astro Boy” Astro Boy is sold to the circus by his father and made to fight to the death by the ring master. He is used and abused by all the humans he encounters and yet he shows them compassion and caring. He even goes so far as to risk his own life to save the ring master during the collapse of the circus tent. Astro Boy is more than just a chocolate icon, he is a role model for the Japanese youth: teaching them morals with every episode. Astro Boy’s combination of robot abilities, such as flying, and his optimistic outlook make him a very attractive and marketable character.

Astro Boy flying through the opening credits

Another reason Astro Boy led to a product culture was his ability to move gracefully through all types of media. Astro Boy’s power stance seen as he flies through the opening credits is easily translatable to still picture forms without losing life. His fists clenched, his face determined and his legs fueled by flames: the potential energy of Astro Boy can be felt even though it is a still frame. This iconic shot of Astro Boy was distributed on stickers, posters, chocolate boxes, and more. Astro Boy was propelled out of the television into the hands of any candy-consuming child and onto any stickable surface: a constant reminder of the weekly episodes. The chocolates were no longer bought for the omake, the chocolate took on the character of Astro Boy himself, literally by being molded in his image, and figuratively by adopting him as an icon. Buying an Astro Boy chocolate was now synonymous with buying into the whole culture surrounding the product. Astro Boy led to the merging of manufacturing and entertainment industries, creating a more dynamic advertising environment.

 

Meat is the Message, is the Message you heard, it’s got Additives, it’s got Meaning

“Meat is the message.” A simple line, a play on Marshall McLuhan’s “the medium is the message,” yet it embodies exactly what Ruth Ozeki’s message in My Year of Meats. Within this novel, meat is used as a metaphor in the context of a diary that represents the lives of the various characters introduced. As the meat is molded and tampered so is the life of the main character, Akiko, whose diary section, along with Jane’s, gives us a deeper understanding of Akiko’s character and her marriage.

The novel splits itself into two parts, one being a behind the scene showing of what’s going on and the other being the diary of Akiko. From the background it is seen that the meat that is put on the shows use glycerin in order to make it glisten (42), likewise the meat used for the Coca-Cola roast has actually been doused by Pepsi, which is, “Not the real thing at all…” (30) On the actual show the food looks amazing, but even Akiko has a sense of distrust as she notes that, “…it felt like they were hiding something.” (40) This ties into Akiko throwing up the beef that she eats every night, almost in mutiny of the change in lifestyle that her husband “John” has pushed onto her. (37-38) Jane’s diary also gives us a glimpse of “John” and his relation to Akiko. Jane make’s a list, in the style of Shonagan, of “John” in response to his behaviors noting that he is, “Hateful/Unsuitable/Depressing/Annoying/Presumptuous”. (44)

The story, although having sequences that could are “behind the scene,” is driven by the pseudo-diaries of Jane and Akiko. Taking these three parts into consideration, they make the layers of perception for the story. There is Akiko’s point of view, the view of the audience who witnesses the show about meat.  Then there is the “behind the scene” point of view that depicts what happens to the meat in preparation for the show. Finally there is Jane’s perspective that goes deeper behind the scenes and shows the character of “John” tying all three perspectives together. “John” is seen as hateful and unsuitable along with a myriad of other negative labels in Jane’s diary, symbolizing how “John” by trying to modernize himself has ultimately been perverted. Akiko’s diary shows us the effects of this culture clashing, and essentially her innate struggle to fight off such forces as seen by her throwing up. This creates a contrast between the two characters despite the fact that they are joined by marriage. In a sense the marriage between the two reflects the condition of the meat. On a surface level the marriage between Akiko and “John” works and looks good, but underneath all of the additives lays something unnatural, a something that Akiko innately tries to push out of her life. The diaries thus help to create a cohesive view between the characters and the background view of the show.

My Year of Meats: Diary Narrative

J70: Paper 1

Natalie Jongjaroenlarp

The older genre that is consistently used in My Year of Meats, by Ruth Ozeki, is the diary narrative. The diary narrative provides a form of confession in which Ozeki can journal her memories and personal experiences in an attempt to reveal her ideas about women’s restrictions and how these notions have bled into her own life. She also includes certain pieces from other writers to help ground her argument in a more effective way. In order to allow the personal side of her narrative to shine through, Ozeki starts every chapter with a poem that foreshadows similar themes or ideas that will come up later in the chapter. This technique opens the chapter with an emotional draw, almost as if the reader is living these months of her life with her. For instance, in the second chapter of her book, Ozeki uses Shonagon’s poem to tell her story as follows: “When I make myself imagine what it is like to be one of those women who live at home, faithfully serving their husbands-women who have not a single exciting prospect in life yet who believe they are perfectly happy-I am filled with scorn” (Ozeki, 17). The poem refers to the idea that Shonagon wishes she could be happy or, at least, make herself believe that she is content and satisfied with the way her life turned out. In Shonagon’s mind, she thinks that the fabricated version of her life is better than having to deal with reality because it enables her to live the idealized life just enough to come to terms with her own circumstances. This parallels with what happens to Suzie, the woman who plays the American housewife on a cooking show that Ozeki works on. In order to confess the truth about the tv industry, Ozeki uses Suzie’s personal experience. In Suzie’s life on the tv show, she has a loving husband and children and cooks for them every episode. This contrasts with what happens when Suzie finds out that her husband has been having an affair. During her grieving period, Suzie finds solace in an old family quilt, crying in it to escape from the cruel world that she now finds herself in.

Also, Ozeki brings in her own personal experience to describe the cultural clashes and differences that she has faced as a Japanese-American. For example, she relates the story of her mother arguing with her father over the family name. Her father’s last name is Little and her mother’s maiden name includes the “Chinese character for “tall” and the character for “tree.” Ma thought the stature and eminence of her lofty ancestors would help equalize Dad’s Little… “It doesn’t mean anything,” Dad would say. “It’s just a name!” which would cause Ma to recoil in horror. “How you can say ‘justa name’? Name is very first thing. Name is face to all the world.” “Jane” represents their despair at ever reaching an interesting compromise” (Ozeki, 9). Ozeki’s use of dialogue emphasizes how open America’s multicultural society is to new ideas. This contrasts with Japan and its superstitions and traditions that have been embedded into the culture over centuries. My Year of Meats is about women learning about the world in her own unique way. Ozeki’s use of diary narrative, dialogue and poems makes for an artistically well-developed story that is centered around a tv show that is supposed to give Japanese viewers a sense of what America is really like.

Ozeki, Ruth L. My Year of Meats. New York: Viking, 1998. Print.