Characters

The narrator’s outer characterization in “Monster in a Ryokan” by Mary Roach does not focus on the woman’s appearance but on her origins. The only thing we find out about her is that she is an American traveling in Japan. Note that we do not know whether the woman is married or single, whether she has children or not, her age, or the reasons why she came to Japan.

Inner characterization

When it comes to the woman’s inner characterization, things are clearer. Everything we find out about her is told directly by the narrator herself. At first, we get to know that the narrator regards herself as a monster in Japan:

In my own country, I am not thought of as brutish and rude – or anyway, no more so than the next slob. But in Japan, I am suddenly huge and clueless. I sprout extra limbs and make loud, unintelligible noises. In Japan, I am a monster. (p. 145, ll. 4-7)

When she first arrives, she is taken to the wrong place in Tokyo during a rainy night. At this point, the narrator seems desperate, as she stops “every few blocks to perform the quaint flailing pantomime of the lost foreigner” (p. 145, ll. 10-11). When she arrives at the Japanese inn, she looks “drenched and disheveled” (p. 145, l. 12) and she is clumsy, “crashing into bicycles and trampling tiny ornamental trees” (p. 145, ll. 13-14).

When the receptionist points out her dirty shoes, the narrator regretfully apologizes for it, unaware of the fact that she should have left them at the door:

As an American, I was raised to believe that the simple act of passing one’s soles across a nubbly plastic mat sporting a cute saying will somehow magically dislodge an accumulated eight hours of filth, muck, and germs. The Japanese do not share our faith in doormats. The Japanese remove their shoes at the door. (p. 146, ll. 7-10)

As she talks about being schooled regarding the custom of wearing different Japanese slippers in different parts of the house, the narrator’s humor emerges. She talks about the humiliation of having “threadbare patches at the heels” (p. 146, ll. 14-15) in her socks. The fact that the narrator has threadbare socks suggests that she doesn’t look after herself very carefully, especially if she thinks no one will see.

The narrator’s humor is also noticeable when she compares the dainty Japanese sleeping room with massive American hotel rooms:

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