Book Review : Butter, Blood, and the Burden of Being Seen

by Anushree Ghosh 

In a world obsessed with diets of different kinds — the dilemma between health and taste lingers in every cell of the body. Is life too short to care about looks, or too long to live without flavour? 

But this is not all! The decision on your body is not decided on just looks and taste but on what other people’s perception of you. 

“When I’m eating good butter I feel somehow as though I were falling.”

― Asako Yuzuki, Butter 

The ultimate pleasure of tantalizing your taste buds with that (butter) subtle umami note is often overlooked as we tend to acknowledge other senses; like how we acknowledge only the results and not the efforts that are required to achieve those. 

Butter by Asako Yuzuki is a reminder of that effort that women put everyday for living up to the standards society has put upon them, and if there is an anomaly then she is beaten and scrutinized with gestures and words that hurt more than any ‘butter knife’. 

Butter is a roller coaster that plays with the pace of storytelling – it sets the context, gives you backstories sporadically, dives into existential issues, feminist, and philosophical subtext.  

Inspired by the chilling true story of the “Konkatsu Killer,” Butter follows Rika, a reserved and overworked journalist, as she attempts to interview Manako Kaji — a woman accused of murdering several wealthy older men. But what’s most disturbing isn’t just the alleged crimes but the society’s response to them. 

Instead of probing into Kaji’s motives or the emotional and psychological layers behind the killings, the public (and even Rika’s editors) seem far more obsessed with a different question: How did an overweight woman manage to attract so many rich men?

And in that question lies the novel’s sharpest commentary.

Yuzuki doesn’t just craft a story about a crime — she exposes the deep-rooted prejudices about body image, desirability, class, and femininity. Through food, intimacy, and the grotesque pleasure of voyeurism, Butter explores how women are scrutinized not just for what they do, but for how they look doing it.

The brutally honest take doesn’t only seem true for Japan but India too ,where meeting a long-lost relative often comes with queries on looks – “Kitni Moti, kitni Patli”, The entitlement to comment on a woman’s body — often without invitation or awareness — is woven deep into our social fabric. Everyone feels qualified to offer opinions on your appearance.

The novel draws haunting parallels between food and life — portraying food as a form of power, intimacy, guilt, and resistance. Butter, in particular, becomes a metaphor for indulgence, transformation, and violence. As Kaji herself notes, butter doesn’t come from milk alone — it’s churned from blood, sweat, and the weight of societal expectations.

But what lingered with me most was this: Growing a thick skin is a mandate for survival. You cannot carry the burden of everyone’s happiness, nor can you solve the chaos of others’ lives. Sometimes, all you can do is take care of yourself. And in a world obsessed with judgement, that in itself is an act of quiet rebellion.