Some Girls Walk into The Country They Are From by Sawako Nakayasu

Some Girls Walk Into the Country They Are From by Sawako Nakayasu is one of the most unusual books I’ve ever read, and I really enjoyed it. The book shares vignettes about ten girls, named the letters A through J. What happens with A through J is often impossible, and absurd, but in total, gives a picture of life as a modern woman. The girls are objectified, discounted, but often powerful. The poems themselves are experimental—they are in English, Japanese, and French, translated by various women poets. Some poems are in multiple languages in various parts of the book, but I suspect they aren’t literal translations. The world of this book is shifting. In total, the poems give an interesting, and surprisingly accurate, view of womanhood. Buy here.

“Girl Soup”

I get tired of being the one to make all the decisions so when they ask me where I want to eat, I say that I don’t care, I’d eat anything 
at this point. Next thing I know, I am face to face with a bowl of Girl Soup and I just can’t bring myself. Some of us at the table are in a hurry to eat the soup, they are specifically trying to eat the
 girls quickly because they seem to know that if you wait too long they turn into cyborgs or robots, and those are harder to chew. I can see that some of the girls are still alive and perhaps would like to be extracted from the soup, but when I squint I see that there are girls all over the floor with varying amounts of soup clinging to their clothes (you didn’t think they were naked, did you?) and so there goes that idea. Just at the moment I think I am running out of options, something comes over me and I take a deep breath and I do it, I jump right in there, that bowl of Girl Soup, no one is checking IDs or questioning my size or gender or race or voter affiliation, and I quick round up all the girls in the bowl into a large huddle. We have now obliterated two major problems: huddled together we are too large to eat, and also we’ve taken care of the problem of the eater.

From “Girl H Finally Says Fuck That Shit and Jumps Into My Pocket”

The little pocket on the left side of my chest, she settles in all cozy like a cartoon mouse. She says she is done with humans. Rather than take further action, she now sends little kicks through my shirt so that I can behave accordingly on both her and my behalf . . .

From “Horns, Delivery Of”

Don’t look directly at the horns of the girls . . . .The horns of Girl G, however, are relatively innocuous. She gets them delivered weekly to her home. You can look, even stare, at them with no direct consequence. Sometimes she covers them with a homemade felt cozy, but that’s just for effect and there is no physical harm in having retinal contact with the horns of Girl G. This offer, however, is not valid in the spiritual, ethical, micro- and macro-emotional realms of your well-being and that of the world, so I would still caution you against removing the felt cozy from the horns of Girl G, even if she invites you. Especially if she invites you.