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Notes on Haruki Murakami’s “Honey Pie”

Yesterday I was invited to Prof. Miho Matsugu's class at DePaul University entitled "Queer Japan" to discuss with the class as well as Prof. Yuki Miyamoto "Honey Pie", a Haruki Murakami short story. The class was composed of students with various backgrounds and motivations for study of Japan, and the discussion turned out to be quite an opportunity for me (and for Yuki, as she later told me) to explore many other possible readings of the story than ours. Since the class session didn't last long enough for all of us to fully share our interpretations of the story, I'm sure some of the students had a lot more to say than we got to hear. I myself left out some of the points that I had in my notes. My expertise is queer theory and feminist critique (although that's got more to do with literature, not my official discipline sociology). Queer theory and feminist critique are, you know, things that some people like, some others loathe; some people need them to make sense of the gendered/heterosexualized world, some people don't need them because the world already makes sense to them. So here I am, trying to share my reading of "Honey Pie," so that some of the class who may find this example of queer reading interesting——or at least worth-thinking about——can get a glimpse of what is queer about queer-reading. (more…)

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‘Mother’ Is Not All She Is

When we queers feel loved and accepted by our families, we often see it as a beautiful thing, maybe even as one of the most desirable moments that can happen in a queer person's life. We usually feel happy for the queer kid when we hear stories like the book by Cheryl Kilodavis. And, yes, indeed, I'm happy for queers whose parents are understanding. And I am very grateful to my very own mother who is super cool with my queerness and is an organizer of the monthly drag pub event. But I hate the stories of understanding parents——especially mothers——, the typical narrative of them being shocked at first and then gradually becoming tolerant and understanding of their kids. (more…)

By Masaki C. Matsumoto, ago
Blog

Billy Elliot and Me

From September 8 to 12, I was in London. The flight connecting from Kuala Lumpur to Heathrow, London was delayed for a good 14 hours and me and another presenter, Sonja, were sent to a hotel by heavy loaded buses. But that was the only thing that I hated about my trip, and that hotel turned out to be a luxurious one anyway. On the night of the 11th, two of my co-presenters and I went to see Billy Elliot the Musical. The boys were cute, the dancers did a pretty good job, and I loved the ballet teacher and the particular accents the actors had (due to which, unfortunately, I probably understood as little as 50-60% of what they were saying, though). But towards the end of the story, I found myself having to wipe my tears off my cheeks because I was too sad. I was sad not because the story was touching. I was sad because I realized that I was that Billy boy, of course metaphorically. I'm not as cute or talented as Billy, but we have so much in common in terms of upward mobility. (more…)

By Masaki C. Matsumoto, ago