Cross-cultural romance is not a new topic in literature. Throughout history, characters have crossed boundaries for love and made sacrifices to be with the objects of their affection. Amélie Nothomb’s new book, “Tokyo Fiancée” (2008, translated by Alison Anderson), repeats this historic theme. The story of her characters, however, is less like “Gone with the Wind” (1936) and more like “Twilight” (2005). Put simply, her style of writing is satisfactory for today’s generation, but lacks the grace and precision of classic romances.
Nothomb’s autobiographical novel takes place in the Japanese metropolis of Tokyo in the late ’80s. Amélie is a 22-year-old Belgian woman who spent her early childhood in Japan and has returned to master the language and join the Japanese workforce. To earn some spare cash, she gives French lessons to a young Japanese man named Rinri, and the couple ends up embarking on an affair that takes them on a physical journey through the countryside of Japan and a mental journey that sends Amélie through emotional turmoil.
Throughout the novel, Amélie struggles deeply with her conflicting attitudes toward romance. She wrestles with her desire to be swept off her feet by a suave foreign stranger and her determination to maintain her extremely high sense of self-importance and her independance. Rinri is a persistent character who constantly displays his affection toward her in many ways. He takes Amélie on many trips and dotes upon her endlessly. However, she never seems to completely return his feelings and remains somewhat aloof.
This relationship status in the Japanese language is called “koi.” Amélie describes Rinri as her “koibito,” a significant other to whom one is not married and pretty much uncommitted. She maintains this attitude during her entire relationship with Rinri.
Since Amélie declines to openly display affection while such attention is lavished on her, this novel is not what its title might suggest: Attraction between lovers and page-turning romance are not to be found here. Nothomb tends to focus mainly on Amélie’s anguish in the relationship and omits the so-called juicy details.
The most sexually charged scene is almost laughable as an introduction to the couple’s first romantic encounter. After the two share a dinner of fondue, Amélie sticks her hands in the fondue pot, encasing them in a layer of cheese, and when it hardens she attempts to slice the cheese off with a knife. Instead of the cheese, she cuts herself, and Rinri attempts to heal the wound with his mouth. This moment serves as a foreshadow of the relationship to come: comically un-sexy.
A language barrier issue serves as an amusing undertone to Amélie and Rinri’s romance. Rinri says in the very beginning that his favorite activity in life is “playing.” “Asobu” in Japanese simply means “leisure,” and later Amélie takes this word to describe her relationship with Rinri: merely a leisure activity.
The novel serves as a whirlwind tour of some of Japan’s landmarks. Amélie and Rinri make a pilgrimage to Mount Fuji, an act that makes someone a “real” Japanese citizen. They also visit Hiroshima and Sado, a small island in the Sea of Japan.
Climbing Mount Fuji proves to be a cathartic experience for Amélie, and she imagines herself to be Zarathustra, an ancient Iranian prophet who believes that the universe is solely made up of truths and lies. Such a prolonged metaphor leads the reader to believe that this dichotomy will surface again in the context of Amélie’s relationship, but Nothomb lets this opportunity pass her by and never brings it back.
The most jarring and most offensive aspect of Nothomb’s novel is its incredible sense of anti-Americanism. Amélie meets two Americans on her odyssey, a young woman and a young man; during both encounters the Western presence seems to grate on her, even though she hails from the West herself.
Amélie regards the American woman as shallow, and laments that her presence requires the rest of the company to speak English, indicating a lack of culture. She also meets a young American GI during the trek up Mount Fuji. He appears arrogant and unintelligent, and he lacks the class to let Amélie have her peace while making her personal journey.
Nothomb’s anti-American attitude is merely the icing on top of this insipid cake. A minor detail, it only serves to further devalue this novel. “Tokyo Fiancée” was a quick read, but lacked the ingredients necessary to turn it into a must-read. Nothomb’s attitude transfers quite well onto her pages, which turn her steamy romance into a lackluster experience.
