Japanese culture is known to be collectivist in nature, meaning that it tends to value the group over the individual. The group narration of The Buddha in the Attic reflects this in a powerful and nuanced manner, allowing the Japanese women—narrated as a collective “we”—to deliver their stories while also providing brief but impactful portraits of themselves as individuals in their community. While the reader might not always learn the names of specific Japanese women, the reader does gain an understanding of the Japanese women as a group of individuals with diverse personalities, desires, and experiences. This sense of the women develops through the narration’s stylistic use of repetition and incantatory flare, which often appears in the form of lists that provide vivid details about the women. For example, childbirth and childrearing prove to be particularly emotional experiences. Through the collective “we,” the women share that they give birth “in 113-degree heat,” “on the coldest nights of the year,” “in towns where no doctor would see [them],” and “alone, in an apple orchard.” While the reader understands that the women don’t literally experience each of these situations, the narration’s collective “we” emphasizes how the entire community of women can relate to the experience of giving birth in an unfamiliar country and without proper medical care. By underscoring this collective challenge, the novel invites readers to conceive of the women as complex people whose lives are fuller and richer than they might seem to the husbands and white bosses who diminish them.
The Power of Collectivism ThemeTracker
The Power of Collectivism Quotes in The Buddha in the Attic
They took us by the elbows and said quietly, ‘It’s time.’ They took us before we were ready and the bleeding did not stop for three days. They took us with our white silk kimonos twisted up high over our heads and we were sure we were about to die.
They took us while thinking of some other woman […] and then cursed us afterward when they could find no blood on the sheets. They took us clumsily, and we did not let them touch us again for three years. They took us with more skill than we had ever been taken before and we knew we would always want them […] They took us swiftly, repeatedly, and all throughout the night, and in the morning when we woke we were theirs.
We gave birth but our milk never came in and after one week the baby was dead. We gave birth but the baby had already died in the womb and we buried her, naked, in the fields, beside a stream, but have moved so many times since we can no longer remember where she is.
There was a girl who left knowing she would have been valedictorian at Calexico High. They were children who left still baffled by decimals and fractions […] There was a boy from Hollister who left carrying a white feather in his pocket and a book of North American birds given to him by his classmates on his last day of school […] There was a girl from Caruthers who left dragging a jump rope behind her of which she refused to let go.