Breasts and Eggs

“Once he got going, he’d find some reason to slap around me and my sister, too. Deep down, we were all afraid of him.”

Abusive fathers are a recurring plot point throughout Breasts and Eggs. Home is rarely a safe and happy place for the women in the novel. Kawakami highlights how patriarchal power structures, which automatically place men in charge, normalize abuse toward wives and daughters.

“We had no relatives to call for help, and zero chances of marrying into money. Less than zero.”

As single women in their 30s and 40s, Natsu and Makiko are marginalized by modern Japanese society. They can’t rely on anyone but themselves for survival.

“Does blood coming out of your body make you a woman? A potential mother? What makes that so great anyway?”

The novel’s characters often meditate on the definition of womanhood. Here, Midoriko questions the assumption that the ability to birth a child is the most important part of a woman’s identity.

“My monolithic expectation of what a woman’s body was supposed to look like had no bearing on what actually happened to my body.”

Natsu has separated herself from conventional beauty standards, realizing that the construct has nothing to do with the reality of her body. Though she seems to have overcome the compulsion to be seen as desirable, she struggles with other, more deeply rooted patriarchal mindsets.

“Happiness is the base unit of consciousness, our single greatest motivator. Saying ‘I just want to be happy’ trumps any other explanation.”

This idea underlies much of the narrative. When Natsu is pressured to justify her desire for a child as a single and asexual woman, she returns to the idea that the wish to be happy is its own justification.

“But the rest of them cried out ‘THERE’S NO SUCH THING AS WOMEN’ and squirmed their little bodies.”

As Natsu struggles to find a definition of womanhood that she can fit into, the narrative suggests that womanhood can’t be defined because there is no one way to be a woman. Women are first and foremost individuals whose choices exist outside of a gender-based monolith.

“Perhaps these memories were obstacles I could never overcome.”

Natsu has a complicated relationship to her memories. They allow her to remain connected to her lost loved ones, but also keep her stuck in the past.

“Set up to give birth, before I was even born.”

Midoriko struggles with the idea that women’s roles are determined even before their birth by the societal expectations placed upon them. Comparatively, men have more freedom to determine the course of their own lives.

“I don’t know what to do, and you don’t tell me anything. I love you, but I never want to be like you.”

Kawakami examines the complex nature of mother-daughter relationships. Midoriko loves Makiko but, having witnessed her struggle to stay afloat for her entire life, she wants something more for herself.

“I know that if I give them my attention, I’ll come to the conclusion that those things will never happen, not to me.”

In this passage Kawakami questions how much social influences affect the choices of individuals. Natsu wonders if she truly wants common human experiences like partnership and motherhood, but dismisses these desires because she feels she is not a “normal” woman.

“As I listened to them talk about wanting to do it and wanting to be touched and wanting to have somebody inside of them—I realized that I lacked the appetite they took for granted.”

Natsu’s asexuality is a major source of turmoil for her. She worries that it conflicts with her desire to become a mother, as if this want is invalidated by her unwillingness to perform the act associated with it.

“Married couples could only register if they met certain criteria, and there was no room for unmarried women.”

In Japan, fertility clinics largely cater to married, heterosexual couples. Kawakami explores where that leaves single women who want to become mothers, showing the many obstacles Natsu faces in her solo fertility journey.

“Is this what it means to live and die alone? That you’ll always be in the same place, no matter where you are?”

Kawakami uses the passage of time to explore the effects of marginalization and loneliness. Time in the narrative present often passes in nondescript units, while Natsu’s memories are rendered in vivid detail. This contrast symbolizes how she copes with grief and loneliness by living in the past.

“Then I started to feel as though it was me, that my body had become the empty husk. The feeling was more desolate than anything I’d ever felt, like I was watching myself dying, helpless to fight back, at the hands of someone who was making some kind of a big mistake.”

The image of an empty husk invokes Natsu’s desire to have a child—a pregnancy would “fill” the husk of her body. In the context of the narrative, Natsu’s feeling of emptiness may also be informed by the societal belief that a woman’s purpose is to bear children.

“Way back when, although it didn’t feel so long ago, we used to visit the bathhouse all the time. But did we?”

As her dreams and memories overlap, Natsu sometimes questions what is real and what is imagined. This quote explores the disorienting effect that grief and the passage of time can have on memory.

“What exactly qualifies as a ‘real’ family? Or a ‘real’ home?”

This question looms large over the narrative during Natsu’s pursuit of motherhood. Japanese society defines a “real” family as a heterosexual two-parent household, but Natsu’s experiences with Single-Mother Households challenge this narrow definition.

“He was like, ‘What’s wrong with you? Having a child is a totally natural part of being a woman. How could it possibly take that much out of you? My mom did it. Every woman does it. Get over it.’”

Rie Konno’s husband voices the assumption that every woman is meant to become a mother. His dismissive attitude toward her postpartum depression reflects the way that misogyny leeches into personal relationships within a patriarchal society.

“Who has the right to have a child? Does not having a partner or not wanting to have sex nullify that?”

Breasts and Eggs scrutinizes this question in depth from both an anti-natalist and a feminist perspective. Though having a child can be seen as a selfish choice that no one has a “right” to, Natsu argues that the application of this right should be applied equally to all women regardless of sexuality or marital status.

“‘It doesn’t matter what I do. It never feels real,’ Aizawa said. ‘It just feels…like I’m only half there…I don’t really know how to put it.’”

Aizawa shares Natsu’s sense of being half-present, a feeling created by grief and isolation. Their shared sense of alienation bonds them.

“‘Sometimes I wonder if I’m really a woman,’ I said.”

Throughout the narrative, Natsu searches for an objective definition of womanhood. Ultimately, she must find a way to define womanhood for herself outside of what is prescribed by her society.

“‘I mean the pain,’ said Rika. ‘How much it hurts to be a woman.’”

Much of Breasts and Eggs deals with the pain of existing as a woman in a patriarchal society. This pain is shared by all of the women in the novel regardless of age, class, or marital status.

“Why do people see no harm in having children? They do it with smiles on their faces, as if it’s not an act of violence. You force this other being into the world, this being that never asked to be born.”

In traditional narratives, childbirth is often presented as a natural and positive act, something that happens almost by default. Yuriko challenges this assumption, calling it an act of selfish cruelty.

“And you—you’re lucky you’ve never been pushed over the edge. That part of you is still a child. Aren’t you the lucky one.”

Natsu re-frames her perspective on asexuality. By imagining herself through Yuriko Zen’s eyes, she can think of it as a privilege rather than a defect. This shift in perspective exemplifies how Natsu’s relationships with other women help her understand and accept herself.