Navigating Duality in Yoko Tawada's 'The Bath'

Written by Saskia Marret

In the dream-like world of Yoko Tawada's The Bath, reality and fantasy swirl together like soap and water, creating a narrative that both captivates and disorients. This short story, part of Tawada's collection Where Europe Begins, invites us into a world where the boundaries between self and other, native and foreign, blur and dissolve. Through its dreamlike sequences and metaphorical imagery, The Bath explores the complex, often disorienting experience of existing between cultures in an increasingly globalised world.

Born in Japan in 1960, Tawada has lived in Germany since she was 22 and writes in both countries' native languages. Her unique perspective, shaped by her experiences as an immigrant in the 1980s and 1990s, informs her exploration of cultural duality and linguistic alienation. The Bath, published in 1989, reflects the complex metamorphosis of immigrant identities under the strain of cultural expectations.

The story opens with an unnamed young interpreter preparing for her day. ‘Eighty percent of the human body is made of water’, Tawada writes, ‘so it isn't surprising that one sees a different face in the mirror each morning’. Taawada here slips into her surreal metaphorical terrain as the protagonist conducts a daily ritual of adjusting her ‘different face’, using a photograph to correct ‘discrepancies’ with makeup. The disparity between her reflection and photograph indicates an inability to reconcile the expectations of her as a foreigner or native, and as the carrier of multiple faces she is suspended in a void of authenticity.

As the narrative unfolds, we follow the protagonist to a business meeting where she is the interpreter. Suddenly, she falls ill in the hotel bathroom. Here, the story takes a surreal turn: a ghostly female attendant – later revealed to be a disfigured suicide victim – comes to her aid. In a bizarre twist, this spectral figure steals the protagonist's tongue, robbing her of her ability to speak.

The ghost then spirits our protagonist away to an abandoned, rat-infested apartment. This dreamlike sequence blurs the lines between reality and fantasy, setting the stage for a profound exploration of duality: life and death, belonging and alienation, self and other.

Returning home, the protagonist struggles to communicate with her German lover, Xander, who is also her language teacher. Their relationship becomes a microcosm of the power dynamics inherent in language acquisition for immigrants. She repeats his words until memorised, her tongue metaphorically belonging to him. Xander becomes ‘the Creator’, dictating the linguistic landscape and symbolising the coercive language expectations of the host country.

Tawada's prose dances on the edge of reality, blurring lines between the tangible and the imagined. As the story progresses, the protagonist's sense of self becomes increasingly fractured, she experiences surreal episodes, and her skin develops scales that she must painfully remove. The recurring motif of bathing and her shedding skin serve as a visceral metaphor for the layers of identity shed and regrown in a new cultural context. Yet these moments of cleansing are tinged with violence and loss, reflecting the often painful process of cultural adaptation.

The basement apartment, alternately described as a burnt-out crime scene and a candlelit sanctuary, becomes a liminal space where the boundaries between life and death, past and present, dissolve. This spectral quality underscores the duality inherent in the immigrant experience: being physically present in one place while mentally and emotionally tethered to another.

This multiplicity of self demonstrates how immigrant identities often transcend the rigid boundaries of nation-states, existing simultaneously within and beyond geographical borders. By presenting a protagonist who exists in a constant state of flux, Tawada exposes the artificiality of national borders and the limitations of fixed cultural categories.

The Bath offers no easy answers to the questions of identity and belonging it raises. Instead, it invites readers to immerse themselves in the ambiguity, to float in the uncertain waters of a world where dualities coexist and collide. Tawada's prose shifts between the transparent and the opaque, agitating the mind like half-remembered songs.

The story concludes with the protagonist declaring, ‘I am a transparent coffin’, encapsulating her sense of being visible yet voiceless, trapped between identities. This powerful image serves as a fitting culmination of the story's exploration of immigrant identity.

In crafting this dreamlike narrative, Tawada challenges traditional notions of nationhood and language as vessels for identity. She subverts these anchors of geographical belonging, suggesting that in our increasingly interconnected world, we are all, to some extent, navigating the complex currents of identity.

The Bath is an immersion in the fluid, often disorienting experience of existing between cultures. Like water itself, it seeps into the cracks of our understanding, challenging our notions of self and other, real and imagined, belonging and alienation. In doing so, it invites us to embrace the multiplicity within ourselves and recognize the beauty and complexity of identities that refuse to be confined by borders or bound by a single reflection in the mirror.