Sweet Bean Paste

This section features the shop’s success and failure, a subplot interrogating the relationship between labor, purpose, and psychological well-being. Sentaro’s mental health crisis in Chapter 9 is caused by labor performed without meaning—he is overworked without Finding Dignity and Connection Through Craftsmanship. While business booms, Sentaro remains disconnected from the spiritual dimension of the craft that Tokue has introduced. Instead, he is “glued to the grill from early morning until night” (45), performing a series of mechanical tasks under immense pressure. This relentless production, divorced from Tokue’s mindful philosophy, reduces cooking to a source of exhaustion rather than fulfillment. His subsequent suicidal ideation, where a voice whispers, “Wouldn’t it be better to die?” (49), reveals the emptiness of labor pursued solely for output and profit.

The arrival of the shop’s owner demonstrates The Destructive Power of Social Stigma and Prejudice. The owner’s fear is not based on scientific fact but on a deeply ingrained cultural memory of leprosy as a terrifying, defiling condition. Her reaction upon seeing Tokue’s address—“This is where they keep the lepers” (69)—demonstrates how stigma operates on an irrational, visceral level. Sentaro’s online research establishes a clear dichotomy between medical reality and social prejudice; he learns that the disease is curable and not easily transmitted, confirming that the threat is not biological but social. The owner’s ultimatum crystallizes this conflict, framing the issue as one of business and reputation versus human dignity. Her mandate that Sentaro must fire Tokue reduces a person to a public-relations problem. This social dynamic reflects the historical context of Japan’s Leprosy Prevention Law, which mandated the forced, lifelong segregation of patients.

These events force Sentaro into a moral crisis that exposes his profound sense of powerlessness. Trapped between his debt to the owner and his loyalty to Tokue, he becomes stuck by his indecision. His failure to defend Tokue is a symptom of his own internalized sense of stigma. The flashback to his debt and imprisonment portrays Sentaro as a member of another of Japan’s culturally marginalized communities: people who have served prison time. This history makes the owner’s final threat—“If you don’t fire that woman I have no choice but to ask you to leave” (82)—a direct assault on his precarious survival and explains more fully his inability to counter the woman’s biases. Sentaro’s silence during Tokue’s quiet resignation is a moment of profound moral failure in which he becomes complicit in the injustice against her. His violent act of smashing the owner’s bottle of disinfectant showcases his impotent rage: He can break an inanimate object representing the fear-based logic that has triumphed over Tokue’s humanity, but he can’t overcome the actual prejudice that torments her.

Several symbols and motifs acquire deeper resonance, reflecting the characters’ internal and external struggles. The cherry tree, which symbolizes seasonality and the passage of time, transitions from summer bloom to autumnal decay, mirroring the shop’s fortunes. Tokue’s dignified confirmation of her past diagnosis—“I’ve been shut up ever since” (86)— articulates the motif of imprisonment. Her confinement in the sanatorium was a life sentence, so running the shop in Sentaro’s absence offers a glimpse of freedom and novelty. Marvy the canary echoes this motif. Like Tokue, Marvy is a vulnerable being threatened by societal expectations: His singing is too loud and out of tune to allow Wakana to keep him in the apartment. Wakana’s determination to protect the canary, even at the cost of running away from home, represents the moral courage that Sentaro lacks, positioning her as a catalyst for his eventual journey toward redemption.

The narrative structure of these chapters illustrates the intersection of capitalist interests and prejudice. The juxtaposition of the shop’s success and communal harmony in the summer with its economic collapse in the autumn demonstrates that the prosperity of Doraharu was contingent on profiting from Tokue’s skill but ignoring her personhood. The author uses a slow causal chain of events—from Wakana’s innocent question, to her mother’s gossip, to the owner’s confrontation—to show how stigma spreads like an infection through a community’s social networks. This deliberate pacing creates an atmosphere of tragic inevitability, underscoring how powerless individuals can feel when facing systemic prejudice. Sentaro’s escalating psychological crisis and external pressure highlight the interconnectedness of personal and societal dysfunction.