The Desolate Self and Its Circular Search for The Absolute Other: Transgression and Dream in the Work of Takahashi Takako

In 1967 Takahashi Takako (1932-2013) left Japan and temporarily moved to Paris. From there she traveled across Europe, alone, on a journey that would last several months. It was during one of her trips to the European capitals that she visited Vatican City in Rome. In the Sistine Chapel, high up in the central section of the ceiling, her eyes caught sight of a famous fresco by Michelangelo illustrating the temptation and expulsion of Adam and Eve from the Garden of Eden. The painting portrays Adam and Eve naked, and the snake coiling around the forbidden tree with its upper body transfigured into that of a tempting woman. In the essay "Eve and Mary" Takahashi recalls her bafflement and fascination at the sight of the two women in the fresco, and submits that this "other woman," this "snake-woman," may indeed represent Eve's awakening to her inner self—here identified as her awakening to sexuality and a newly acquired self-awareness.¹ Takahashi goes on to suggest that Eve is the archetypal awakened woman, and that such female awakening always occurs in the form of the breaking of a taboo, a transgression of the Law. She contrasts this understanding of Eve with the countless representations of the Holy Mary: man-made fantasies that testify of a persistent masculine investment in images of mother and child, and which have come to nourish pernicious cultural prescriptions of a feminine nature tied to reproduction, childbirth, and motherhood. But Takahashi cautions us not to be deceived by those male fabrications: "There is no Mary inside woman, there is only Eve."²

In an often-quoted essay titled "Sexuality: The Demonic and the Maternal in Women,"³ Takahashi further elaborates upon woman's "double structure of consciousness" and associates the figure of the "demonic woman" to a vision of female awakening. Her conversion to Catholicism notwithstanding, Takahashi's use of the term "demonic" ought not to be understood in conventional religious terms and most certainly not to indicate a supposedly sinful female nature. The "demonic" acquires, in fact, positive connotations as a liberatory potential within woman from the shackles of cultural prescriptions of womanhood and femininity. The demonic woman signifies both the woman who has awakened to her inner self, and that "other woman" who exists in latent form in the depths of the female unconscious. The tormented female protagonists that populate Takahashi's early fiction are thus caught between a stifling façade of social conformity and bourgeois respectability and that inner "true" self who, unbeknownst even to themselves, is gasping for air, desperately trying to assert its own existence. From the depths of their female subconscious, the "demonic woman" manifests itself in the acting out of repressed energies and impulses whose disruptive violence and negative emotions are often vented against the oblivious representatives of the established order: devoted wives, pregnant women, and children become that which the protagonists have to negate, even destroy, in their pursuit of a more authentic subjectivity.⁴ Caught amidst such hallucinatory explosion of antisocial behaviors and transgressions, Takahashi's protagonists find themselves face to face with their true self, but that is often just a fleeting moment that leaves them exhausted and disoriented. Mizuta reads these "female narratives of awakening"⁵ as partaking of a larger trend in modern women's literature in Japan whereby women's discovery of their self and its desires paved the way for new forms of self-awareness and self-expression. In so doing, she joins renowned literary critic Nakayama Kazuko and many others in assessing ongoing transformations in the subject of women's literature and the transformation of its consciousness.⁶

The motif of the double or alter-ego (bunshin) in both its negative and positive undertones is a distinctive feature of much of Takahashi's literary oeuvre and one that bears the mark of her fascination with European surrealism and Gothic literature.⁷ As already noted, the protagonist's double may take the form of women who embody negative stereotypes of femininity and remind her of woman's "biological destiny," but it can also manifest itself in the figure of bizarre old women whose madness betrays an awareness of the subtle and secret facets of reality. The double also enters the sphere of heterosexual love where "women use men as conduits to heightened states of consciousness,"⁸ harnessing erotic desire to achieve a sense of oneness with their inner self, rather than build a relationship with the Other. These male figures are one more example of the protagonist's double where the sexual encounter reveals itself to be "a solitary inner drama," "a one-person sexual act." By setting her reading against a relational understanding of selfhood whereby the presence of the Other is the precondition for an individual's recognition of oneself, Mizuta appears to suggest that the loneliness and self-referentiality of these encounters may very well signal the failure of Takahashi's anti-heroines to discover themselves anew. Yet, Takahashi's deliberate depiction of introverted, self-absorbed characters who are at once protagonists and prisoners of their inner landscapes constitutes an essential feature of those characters' spiritual quest because "it is in the depths of each human being, the place that another person has no way of knowing, that God reveals Itself."⁹ As Mizuta acutely observes, a renunciation of sensual love and a growing emphasis on a character's spiritual search in isolation would become increasingly marked themes in Takahashi's later literary production.

(Alessandro Castellini)

Takahashi Takako maintains that men are responsible for classifying women into two types—the demonic and the maternal woman, the prostitute and the mother—but that in fact there is only the woman who has awakened to her self and the woman who has not.¹ People have come to believe that the woman who has awakened to her self is the demonic woman, and that the maternal stands at the polar opposite of the demonic, but that is really not the case: it is just that the large majority of women are not awake, and those women have kept the demonic part of themselves buried alive. Motherhood upholds order and morality; the maternal curbs a woman's self, directs her energy toward the children she bears, and makes women dream a dream of familial harmony and the prosperity of her offspring. A woman who has awakened to her self dreams a different dream: a demonic dream of disorder that goes against morality and rejects the maternal.

Thus we have two women: the woman who has been put to sleep by the safe ideology of motherhood and the dangerous woman who has awakened to her self and strives to live in accordance with the demonic that constitutes her true inner nature. The distinction Takahashi makes between these two categories of women hits the nail on the head, accurately identifying the point of departure of modern women's literature, which placed the desire for the self at the heart of women's self-expression. This is because the female self, being discovered by women themselves and placed at the center of their self-expression, has in fact produced the dominant mode of modern women's literature. In the face of a traditional culture that took no notice of the fact that women are beings who do harbor a self and classified woman as the Other to the system, Takahashi depicted women's autonomous "discovery" of a female self, and in so doing she identified a new form of self-awareness for modern women as women's desire for self-expression.

Of course, one should not assume that women did not have a self before modernity. Quite to the contrary, the female self was indeed so strong that men came to fear it. That is the reason men defined it as something that should not exist, as something evil that was thought to be incompatible with woman's true nature, an abomination. And that is why the female self has been discursively constructed in male culture as something demonic that ought to be renounced. Moreover, while the female self embraces erotic desire, the female body and its sexual energy were feared as aberrations from a natural female sexuality identified with reproduction, childbirth, and motherhood: this female sexuality was regulated and held in check through institutional and discursive practices. The manifestation of the demonic in a woman who harbors a self points to a woman's distinct awareness and expression of her desire, and also reveals man's fear of the seductive powers of the female sex. The threat of the female self has been contained within the framework of male institutions and culture.

It is also not the case, of course, that women had no awareness of this self either. It is neither that women did not have a self nor that they repressed their self. Rather, they survived by hiding that self within. Men may well have known of the female self, but they were oblivious to woman's interiority and depth. As Freud once said, that has long remained a dark continent within male culture. Therefore, woman's true nature that Takahashi describes as "demonic" is this female self that lies dormant inside those women who live within the system, and which never shows on the outside.

Woman's autonomous discovery of the self in modern women's literature, the expression of its desire and woman's inner quest, have significantly changed the course of modern literature and shaped the direction of women's literature up to the present day. In order to survive, women have stowed a great deal of their self's desire in the vast storehouse of their subconscious. Therefore, women's own exploration of female interiority and the depths of female consciousness proved to be a lifeline for women who had been shunned by the system as wicked or demonic. At the same time, by unearthing the demonic that lay deep within, it offered relief to those who had concealed their true self in order to survive, women who seemingly and impeccably embodied the maternal. It gave vicarious expression to the silent interiority of those women who had hidden their self deep inside of themselves. Woman's search into the depths of female consciousness continuously attempted to unearth the psychic structure of both the women who strived to live true to their self as well as those who had buried their self within.

Takahashi abhorred the maternal, but that was because motherhood was a discourse fabricated by the system; she thought that there were no women who embodied the maternal but only women who hid the demonic underneath the mask of motherhood. With their awareness of and search for the self's desire, Takahashi's early works are passionately devoted to tearing off this mask of motherhood rather than displaying mere hatred of the maternal.

"Congruent Figures" (Sōjikei, 1971) is perhaps representative in this respect.² The mother in the story experiences irritation and fear of her daughter who is growing up identical to her and whom she feels encroaching upon her own existence as an individual. She dislikes her even more as the girl matures into a "woman" whose body odor is identical to hers. Such emotions, which seem to deviate from the maternal, might very well express physiological sensations that lie dormant deep within all women. Irritation and dislike of her daughter lead this mother to realize the reason why she will never be an "I" with an autonomous and individual existence: because from the womb in their bodies, women are destined to give birth to other women as their own alter egos in an endless cycle. The protagonist blames this on the woman's body, on the blood that lies stagnant within woman's womb. At the same time, she strives for a notion of female sexuality that may replace the discourse of maternal love and its validation of reproduction—chasing the vision of an absolute "I" that won't create an alter ego from its very own body.

However, the demonic in the works of Takahashi is not simply a metaphor for the woman who has awoken to her self, but signifies malicious behavior—those specific transgressions and fantasies indulged in to satisfy the self's desire. For women, motherhood is nothing but a cover-up for the self and a means for self-preservation. The absolute, individual "I" who rejects copies and alter egos is first and foremost the woman who denies reproduction.

In "Wasteland" (Arano, 1980) Sawako is a self-confessed "happy porter,"³ that is, a woman who brings happiness to others. By never opposing the self of other people, by taking it upon herself to fulfill their self's desire, in short, by aiming to embody the maternal, Sawako believes she will be able to carry out the role of the happy porter. She is an unhappy woman, and precisely because she is unhappy she strives for salvation in her self-sacrifice for the happiness of others. Motherhood is not meant to bring oneself happiness; it is, rather, the prerequisite for becoming a happy porter and serving others. Motherhood is a form of masochism.

Opposite to Sawako is Michiko, another major character in "Wasteland," a woman who denies motherhood and rejects reproduction in order to live as someone who is not dominated by the self of others. Because she does not believe in salvation through the maternal, she does not even try to don the mask of motherhood and yet, she is just as unhappy as Sawako. Michiko is the demonic woman who strives to live true to her self. But her evilness is destructive: it tears off the mask of motherhood donned by the Other, cutting off her road to salvation and sapping her will to live. While Michiko grasps for a way out of her own unhappiness, she is also the "temptress,"⁴ who tears off the salvific mask donned by the Other and who drives her to the same existential nihilism and desperation that already haunt Michiko. This is a transgression, albeit one she believes is necessary in order to open the path to salvation. The self's desire enters consciousness and manifests itself in the form of negative emotions of dislike, hatred, anger, and animosity directed toward the Other and the circumstances that deny and pose an obstacle to its fulfillment.

This "existential angst" is a central theme in Takahashi's early works. These stories consistently depict "unhappy" women who just cannot seem to get a firm grasp on their desires, desires that remain inexhaustible and marked by an inability to strike a balance between the world and the self, as well as by a rift between being and consciousness. A self who is unable to find a way out of these circumstances will live in a state of suspension, enduring a condition of existential unhappiness saturated with resentment, loathing, and hatred. This unhappiness can become the basis for self-awareness only through hostility and destruction of the self of the Other.

Moved by their aversion to the creation of specular images of themselves,⁵ Takahashi's protagonists destroy other people's selves, but in the end their transgression lies in drawing out the demonic in other women, turning them all into the protagonists' own identical copies. The more the protagonists pursue a dream of unique selfhood by destroying the selves of others, the more they corner themselves in the confined space of their interiority: a single, empty room plastered over with mirrors; a locked, secret room that reflects only the self over and over again, and where copies of one's self propagate ad infinitum.

Amidst the self's desires the only one the protagonists are distinctly aware of is erotic desire and the pursuit of pleasure through it.

Michiko's rejection of reproduction in "Wasteland" does not mean that she denies woman's erotic energy or the female body. Rather, reproduction and pleasure are like two sides of the same coin; only, since they are on opposite sides, pleasure comes into view when reproduction is rejected, while reproduction appears when pleasure is denied. The woman who rejects reproduction is restlessly compelled to pursue erotic pleasure. And a male Other is necessary for that purpose.

The demonic of Takahashi's protagonists manifests itself as an insatiable desire toward pleasure that is achieved through a conflagration of erotic energy. But that desire is a means for self-fulfillment and not a goal in itself. Pleasure brings about a momentary unity of self and makes it possible to dissolve the rift between being and consciousness. But that sense of unity fades away in an instant, leaving behind only thirst: an unrelenting over-preoccupation—obsession, even—with sex. Takahashi's protagonist turns into a sexual wanderer who needs men in order to validate her sense of self as a woman. Yet, she soon realizes that it is not man as a specific Other who sets ablaze her erotic yearning for life, nor is he the real object of sexual pleasure on her path to self-fulfillment; it is none other than her own alter ego. The men who bring pleasure to the protagonist are just shadows of her self. Through the demonic in her, she turns not only women, but even men into her own alter egos.

In "Wasteland," Michiko finds in Takuzō a lonely individual who, like her, is aware of his thirst and transgressions, and because of this she is able to attain sexual pleasure. And yet, even while having sex with Takuzō, she has no desire to build a relationship with the Other. Pleasure does not aim at building relationships, but is rather an individual's attempt to be oneself, a tentative quest for self-discovery, a foray into the depths of one's darkness to meet one's unknown self—the inner woman that dwells in that darkness—and become one with that self. It is a solitary inner drama.

Starting with Michiko, the more Takahashi's women are involved with the Other, the lonelier they become. This is because, in the end, they end up drawing out from the Other what is identical to themselves. Even when the women Takahashi portrays lead clearly contrasting lives—like the maternal and the demonic woman—they eventually bring to the surface each other's inner loneliness, thirst, and unhappiness, making it apparent that they are in fact each other's alter egos. This is a one-person sexual act that turns even Others of the opposite sex into doubles.

When the Other is confirmed to be one's alter ego, then the Other is no longer an Other. At that moment, sexual pleasure ends. What Michiko sought in Takuzō was the possibility of consuming herself through the flames of sexual pleasure, but when Takuzō ceases being the Other, that can no longer quench Michiko's thirst.

"Wasteland" constitutes the heart of Takahashi's literary oeuvre. Insofar as its protagonist's sexual object turns into an alter ego and ceases to be the Other, this work paved the way for "Prepare Thyself, My Soul" (Yosooi seyo, waga tamashii yo, 1982),⁶ which portrays the protagonist's search for God as she struggles to find a way out from the dead end of her ego. The Michiko of "Wasteland" is a sexual wanderer, who has yet to awaken from a dream where knowledge of the self is achieved through malevolence and the perpetration of evil deeds. In contrast, Namiko of "Prepare Thyself, My Soul"—a work that marks the latter stage of Takahashi's literary production—is a truth-seeker who avoids sex with individual men in favor of finding herself by confronting man as her absolute Other.

Determined to be just themselves, Takahashi's women place their self at the center of the world, interpret that world according to their self's desire, and attempt to create a universe unto themselves through criminal action. If a woman were to try to fulfill what has traditionally been man's desire—to become God—it would have to be through the duplicitous path of sinning against God and transgressing the laws of man. But where there is no God as absolute Other to condemn that evil, women end up populating the world only with their own alter egos. This is a world filled to the brim with copies of the self, an autistic space with no way out.

A world where there is no sign of the Other. A world that is nothing but a virtual reality where everything is illusion. In her attempt to live according to the desire of the self to be herself, the protagonist is confronted with the eerie simplicity of such an accomplishment, and she finds herself standing in the middle of her inner world: a nightmarish landscape where there is no Other. A world where aversion, hatred, anger, and malice are turned inwards. A world that lacks the gaze of the Other that would put the self in perspective; where there is no Other to pass judgment on her malevolence. Where she loses sight of her very self. And right when it seems that she has finally succeeded in being herself, the protagonist learns that her self is something more uncertain, more elusive than she had ever thought before.

That is the nature of the thirst Takahashi's women still experience after having sex with men. The reason why no man can satisfy that thirst is because man's place in the protagonist's inner landscape is not that of an absolute Other, but as her own double. In that moment, men are just copies of her, fabricated ad infinitum. Her longing for a much larger existence into which she can set herself ablaze and disappear is a thirst that will never be sated by individual men, but only by an absolute Other.

The way in which the thoughts and imagination of Takahashi's characters are constantly directed inwards is already apparent in her early works. Her protagonists blur the line between reality and dream, and search for their love and sexual objects amidst the fabrications of their own fantasy. The "I" of "Doll Love" (Ningyō ai, 1976)⁷ erases the distinction between a body of flesh and a wax doll, and the pleasure she achieves through the wax doll is indeed the most authentic. Like Edgar Allan Poe, who claimed that it is only in dreams that truth can be found, Takahashi erases reality and pursues self-realization in dreams. Her characters can only ever see external landscapes through the projection of their own interiority. The scenery is always a déjà vu. As with the firstperson narrator in "The Invitation" (Maneki, 1979),⁸ the inner depths of the protagonist continually call out to her, beckoning her to the bottom of their dark abyss. But in that subterranean scenery where the inner landscape should relate to an original world that lies outside of oneself and self-awareness should come with an awareness of the world, these women only see replicas of their barren inner world. This is a nightmare of the ego. And all that is left to those characters who have dreamt that solitary nightmare is madness, suicide, or the search for an absolute Other that will negate the self.

The disgust and hatred triggered by the existence of the Other, the malevolence and criminality that only make sense because of the existence of the Other—these lose all meaning in a world where there is no Other. The self-awareness of Takahashi's characters is built upon the premise that the Other is an obstruction to the self; the desire of that self is then entirely directed toward the destruction of the self of the Other, the elimination of the existence of the Other. However, evil aimed at the eradication of the Other does not actually eliminate the Other, but merely drives the protagonists deep into a landscape of fantasy where the Other is absent, toward their own inner world where the Other has been wiped out. The protagonists' animosity can never be assuaged. It lingers on forever instead as a thirst that can never be sated, because there is no Other that will condemn it as a transgression.

In their desire to be themselves, Takahashi's characters are giving voice to modern women's desire. However, this desire can only be expressed by hostility toward the Other and eradication of the Other's self; it can only be perceived as a kind of thirst and dissatisfaction toward this vague existence. The desire to ascertain one's own being through the conflagration of erotic energy is the only route to self-understanding these women can clearly grasp. But the characters manage to turn even an act that depends upon and indeed deeply implicates the Other into a desolate inner drama in which the Other has been expelled.

For women who had long been forced into a double psychic structure that concealed the self and its desire, the modern expression of self was uncharted territory. It may well have been that the only way they could express it was paradoxically through malice and transgression, as the negative awareness of an absence rather than positive aspiration. In pursuing sexual gratification, shaking off their interest in men, and eventually searching for an absolute Other to replace the male Other, Takahashi's characters are the product of a modern era rife with contradictions. In "Wasteland," the characters' transgressions and dreams paint modern women's inner world in the vibrant colors of a paradoxical self-realization that destroys the self of the Other. In "Prepare Thyself, My Soul" this landscape of the self is rendered in a monochrome, black and white form where the self pursues its own annihilation through an absolute Other.

Until "Wasteland," Takahashi's characters had sought self-satisfaction through the destruction of the Other, tinged with a self-destructive malice. In the transition, however, to her "Prepare Thyself, My Soul," we encounter a quest for salvation through self-condemnation and self-annihilation by means of an absolute Other. After many twists and turns, the inner drama that began with an irreconcilable opposition between self and Other comes full circle to arrive at a self who searches once again for a greater Other. We cannot describe these landscapes of Takahashi's as heavenly images painted in the colors of women's diverse selves. Yet, even if they present desolate images of an inner hell, there is still no doubt that they are portraits of a search for self that modern women had to undertake.