When I picked up Mieko Kawakami’s early novel Heaven from a library shelf in 2021, I could not have expected that what I was about to read would change my life. As dramatic as that sounds, it was not because of the book’s exploration of shared suffering and differing life philosophies—although this was both intriguing and devastating. Rather, it left me with a hunger for stories that shared the same quiet intensity, tackled big questions with subtlety, and prioritised internal change over the external. Reading Kawakami’s book became my gateway to the world of translated Japanese fiction, something that has forever changed my taste in books and storytelling.

With this in mind, it was a privilege to be able to hear Kawakami speak at the Melbourne Writers Festival on her most recent publication, Sisters in Yellow. As I settled myself in my seat near the front of the Atheneum Theatre, notebook in hand, I was immediately aware of the size of the crowd seated around me, and the sounds of murmured conversations in both English and Japanese that filled the air. The audience was varied in age and background, and as the event commenced, seamlessly live-translated by an interpreter, I came to understand the whole event as representing the diversity of human experience, hinging on the idea of interpretation in all its forms.

While her words were effortlessly relayed, Kawakami acknowledged straight away that some of the fundamental elements of her most recent book don’t have easy parallels in the Western world. Sisters in Yellow follows Hana, living in COVID-era Japan, reflecting on her teenage years where she was taken in by the older Kimiko. Together, they establish”‘Lemon”, a bar catering to the fringes of Tokyo society. This concept of Japanese “nightlife” is one that was explained as an industry that involves women engaging in conversation with men, drinking and singing karaoke, where intimacy is commodified without the work being overtly sexual in nature. It is through this lens that Kawakami’s book explores poverty and the vulnerability of women in society, as well as the dynamics of female solidarity. 

Moderator Jessie Kindig asked questions related to these aspects of the story—sisterhood, motherhood and poverty, allowing Kawakami to connect her discussion to the novel’s political and personal implications. In many ways, Kawakami expressed her surprise at some of the ways in which readers have interpreted Sisters in Yellow. While she suggested that some readers might feel pity for Hana and her situation, as the author she disagrees, citing Hana’s physical health and zest for life as something to be admired, in the way she makes the most of the “cards she is dealt.” Kawakami further explained the reasons one might pursue this kind of well-paid work, and the power in writing about it, even if individuals like Hana never see this representation of themselves.

Kawakami was also surprised by the book’s designation in Australia and the rest of the world as a “noir-tinged novel.” The book itself notably opens with Hana’s reaction to a crime in a newspaper, before we are sent back twenty years to the events of Hana’s youth. This opening is ironic when considering the fact that Sisters in Yellow was originally serialised in a Japanese newspaper, which Kawakami acknowledged changed her approach to writing, as she aimed to capture an air of mystery from the outset. Kawakami humorously noted, however, that this opening was intended to be a direct criticism of the media, and the way that news articles reduce the nuance of the full story.

As I continued to listen to Kawakami speak, a theme began to emerge in her staunch resistance to modes of categorisation and the importance that she places on the openness of interpretation. While her criticism of restrictive labelling extended from newspapers to social media, her statement that “There are as many stories as there are readers” reinforced her intention as author, which she expressed as a process of looking at a category and separating out the individual story.

When asked about her resistance to the label of “feminist” being applied to her books, Kawakami did not reject feminism itself, but questioned the restrictiveness of such categorisation over her work, saying that it is impossible to write books about humans without writing about women, and it is impossible to write about women without touching on feminism. To Kawakami, to label a book under the category of “women’s writing” is to present it as an alternative to the mainstream and demonstrates a lack of effort to understand its complexities.

After sharing a room with Mieko Kawakami, I have a newfound understanding of my privilege as a reader. As an author and reader, Kawakami acknowledges the way that it is easy to exist in a bubble of privilege, and while there are ways that readers can connect to the struggles of her characters, she is aware that the label of “feminism” and the act of reading is not something necessarily accessible to all the individuals that she depicts. In her words, “no quote will save you” and “cliches won’t help” in times of hardship.

To hear Mieko Kawakami speak on Mother’s Day, I feel that this event was a unique journey into the complexities, desires and challenges of women and their relationships. Despite the barrier of translation, Kawakami’s thoughtfulness and wit were immediately apparent, and her responses reflected her deep intentional effort to capture the nuances of human existence. More than before, it is clear that Sisters in Yellow is a book open to many interpretations, with many questions left unanswered at the novel’s conclusion. In a room mediated by translation, however, Kawakami makes interpretation itself feel infinitely expansive.