January theme read - JAPAN discussion thread

As was advised to me, this thread will be for discussion of any books you have read for the Japan theme read while the other post will remain for recommendations only.

Can't wait! My TBR pile is going to go from a small heap to a mountain I fear. :)

January starts tomorrow (I really should go to bed) so I thought I would post a few questions (stolen from Irish and SqueakyChu in the Haiti thread) to prompt our discussions.

1) How did your book get its title?
2) Did you learn anything new about Japan from reading the book you chose?
3) What major themes did you observe?
4) Could this theme work in other places, or is it something that can only be told in Japan?
5) What was something that you really liked about the book that you read?
6) Something that you didn't like?
7) If applicable, do you think Japanese writers write differently about Japan then a non-Japanese writing about Japan?
8) What is the impression you get about Japan and its people as you read your book?

Due to the uniqueness of Japanese culture (every culture is unique but there is something inherent in Japanese culture and its mindset that just makes you think differently), I thought I might list a few common themes in its literature to possibly watch out for. Some require a bit more background knowledge into its history and some are the result of everyday modernization.

So some things to look for:
1) Ordinary people fighting against economic hardship
2) The conflict between duty and desire
3) Loyalty and group mentality versus freedom and individuality
4) Personal isolation and estrangement
5) The rapid industrialization of Japan and its social consequences
6) Shinto and Buddhism as a religion versus as a way of living
7) Rise and fall of different social classes
8) Influence of foreign civilizations and its consequences
9) Japanese nationalism and the fight to combat it
10) Respect of elders

Lurking until I choose a book......

A Pale View of the Hills by Kazuo Ishiguro:

My experience of reading this novel was like living through someone else's dream. What appears to be a story of reminiscence stimulated by terrible tragedy in the present, somehow turns out to be a blend of realities which is difficult to tease apart. Ishiguro has been a favorite of mine for a long time, however, this debut novel of his has bumped him up another notch in my view of the literary world. An amazing writer, and a phenomenal book.

Now for the discussion questions:
1) How did your book get its title?
I do not know for certain, but I believe it refers to the fading of memory over time. Ishiguro refers to memory as being impacted by events in the present, essentially creating a pallid form of what was. In the novel, the feader feels like a companion to a dream. The protagonis mentions having enjoyed the memory of the hills around Nagasaki.

2) Did you learn anything new about Japan from reading the book you chose?
I learned about gender roles in two generations, learned about the loss of national identity after the atom bomb dropped on Hiroshima and Nagasaki, and the clash between pre-atom bomb generation and post-generation.

3) What major themes did you observe?
The primary themes included: devastation after Nagasaki and its similarity to the devastation of losing a child, recovery, reconstuctive memory, gender roles in old and new Japan, abandonment

4) Could this theme work in other places, or is it something that can only be told in Japan?
I believe the theme of loss of identity and attempts to recover from tragedy are universal. The specific relationship between Japan and the United States is situation specific.

5) What was something that you really liked about the book that you read? I absolutely loved the subtlety of Ishiguro's plot development.

6) Something that you didn't like? Can't come up with anything in this novel that I did not appreciate.

7) If applicable, do you think Japanese writers write differently about Japan then a non-Japanese writing about Japan? I think it is probably only possible for a Japanese to capture the subtlety of the rules of communication between people in that country.

8) What is the impression you get about Japan and its people as you read your book? My primary impression is that their form of communication is beautifully and yet also frustratingly subtle. Much that is said is non-verbal. I also get the sense that they must have incredibly ambivalent feelings about the United States.

9) The conflict between duty and desire: This was a subject clearly evident in the relationship between Etsuko, the female protagonist, and her husband and father-in-law. As a personal struggle it was evident in the splitting of Etsuko's self into the obedient wife and the woman on the other side of devastation who longed for something different.

10) Loyalty and group mentality versus freedom and individuality: Clearly addressed by Ogata-San, Etsuko's father-in-law who is shocked by the behavior of a former student who has apparently lost sight of any sense of the primacy of these issues.

11) Personal isolation and estrangement: Clearly articulated in the post-devastation internal world of Etsuko's mind, as she tries to recover from the suicide of her daughter and recovery from the bombing of Nagasaki and the following occupation.

12) The rapid industrialization of Japan and its social consequences: Clearly addressed in the alienation between Ogata-San and his son, Jiro. The generation gap became so very painful.

13) Shinto and Buddhism as a religion versus as a way of living: Not addressed in any manner that I perceived, other than less overt references which I may have missed

14) Rise and fall of different social classes: Addressed in terms of the "fall" of families of prestige after the end of the WWII.

15) Influence of foreign civilizations and its consequences: This was a central social issue in the novel. I found it very interesting that first of all, the geography of the protagonist exactly replicates that of the author, who was born in 1954. He was born in Nagasaki, and now lives in England, as did Etsuko. Throughout the novel, references are made about the ambivalence of the generations regarding the influence of the United States post-WWII in Japan. This influence seemed to aggravate normal differences between generations in Japan. In some ways the bombing and occupation created an artificial void between two generations, rather than the somewhat gentler progression which might naturally have occurred.

16) Japanese nationalism and the fight to combat it: Clearly addressed as a side issue in this particular novel, in the conflict between Ogata-San and his former student. It seemed to be a secondary aspect of the generational battle which was in progress.

17) Respect of elders: A primary theme in each character in the book. The vast difference between the polite, formalized interactions of the older generation and the deliberate, overt, disrespect of Mariko for her mother, Sachiko provides a fairly dramatic representation of the issue. The protagonist, Etsuko, is torn, trying to play both sides of the the generation gap and please them both.

The Diving Pool by Yoko Ogawa.

The Diving Pool gets its title from the first of the three contemporary novellas in the book. The novellas are set in Japan but are not tied to it, so to speak. The novellas are character studies, I suppose, involving one main protagonist (all women) and usually another person they interact with. The tone of the novellas is quiet and in some places the prose is quite beautiful, but Ogawa has invested a certain creepiness in each of the stories. Perhaps this is why I enjoyed them so much - the mix of quietness, beauty, insight and creepiness.

The novellas could be set almost anywhere, there is little specific to Japanese culture, imo. The second novella, "The Pregnancy Diary" did mention the celebrations of the New Year from which I understood it to be a major holiday in Japan. They also made grapefruit jam which I hadn't heard of anyone doing over here. In the last novella, the 'dormitory' that the housewife once lived in as a college student and that her cousin rents a room in, is run independently from any college. I thought that interesting.

Most of the themes you mention, lilisin, don't seem to come into play here. I think the author is telling a strictly psychological stories. I'm inclined to think the what's Japanese about the novellas is mostly in the tone of the writing, but that may be speculation on my part. It seemed a tone I recognized from other Japanese novels.

If I have time, I will read Inside and Other Short Fiction: Japanese women by Japanese women.

Re: 6

You mention female protagonists and are pondering another book with "Japanese women by Japanese women". If you are pursuing that minority of woman's perspective in fiction I might suggest Hayashi Fumiko, a very prolific writer that remains well published some 50 years after her death but mostly untranslated.

I first encountered her in a few books of short stories where she really made me sit up and take notice. Then I noted that many of the films of the important Japanese director Naruse were based on her works. Recently one of her books, Floating Clouds (source for Naruse's film), has been translated into English by the brilliant Lane Dunlop. He has also provided a number of new translations of short stories in other editions. Also there is a book of criticism, which includes sizable portions of her seminal early work in translation: Be a Woman by Joan E. Ericson. I have a boatload more blabber on the topic in my serial monologue:

http://www.librarything.com/topic/26009#374739

-- Gerry

The Woman with the Flying Head by Yumiko Kurahashi

1) How did your book get its title?

The book got its title from a short piece with the same exact title that can be found in the middle of the collection. It is about a young woman who falls a sleep at night while her head detaches itself and flies to another man in her sleep. All awhile the rest of the body remains in the bed.

2) Did you learn anything new about Japan from reading the book you chose?

First off, taking a comparative literature course this last semester, I have learned that Japanese writers have this thing for the theme of eroticism. They tend to twist and play with different objects and situations and add sexual definitions and strange twists to their stories. I didn't learn anything about the country, in general, but I have learned more about the authors that come from this region.

3) What major themes did you observe?

Sexual disturbance, incestual relationships, beastiality in lust and relationships

4) Could this theme work in other places, or is it something that can only be told in Japan?

I have yet to encounter such themes in other works that I have read, but I am sure that these themes can be found in other regions of the world.

5) What was something that you really liked about the book that you read?

I believe that the fact that there was a different approach to fiction within this piece is what really interested me. I have never read anything so strange and twisted before!

6) Something that you didn't like?

I don't know if it was a dislike, but more so just the fact that it was something different that I had read that was disturbing to me.

7) If applicable, do you think Japanese writers write differently about Japan then a non-Japanese writing about Japan?

I think, in general, those who are native to the regions they write from tend to have a better grasp on how to incorporate the region within their writing.

8) What is the impression you get about Japan and its people as you read your book?

I have seen the consistency of Japanese writers using different elements and twist them into something weird. For instance, in this particular piece, there is an extraterrestrial that is used to succumb an incestual relationship between a brother and sister. In order to get away from the reality of it all being wrong, they use the alien as a portal to live on as an intimate couple.

Thanks for the recommendations, gscottmoore, but at this point I'd rather not chase down more new books and concentrate on reading what's in the copious TBR pile:-) I'll keep those suggestions in mind though.

I have just acquired two books for this month's read, but then I remembered I gave my wife a wonderful children's book, Wabi Sabi by Mark Reibstein, so I'll make a few comments, so as to get this thread into a "Your Posts" category.

1. Wabi Sabi is the name of the cat featured in this book. He sets out to find the true meaning of his name.

2. The book entrances one with a different sense of life and the world around. (Wabi sabi is a Japanese approach to living in a certain type of simplicity).

3. Themes are the journey, the return, the appreciation of haiku, and wabi sabi as a "way" or maybe "tao".

4. The journey is universal, haiku hasn't been. But everyone can now appreciate haiku.

5. Well, the illustrations are great; they are collages, actually, and have a textured feel to them.

6. I didn't find anything yet I didn't like in this book, but a children's book is not for everyone.

7. I am not sure that Reibstein's writing would be substantially different than a Japanese person writing the same book.

8. The book, Wabi Sabi probably describes an idealized Japan.

Later, I'll report on my other books.

avaland, I don't know if you have Kono Taeko's Toddler-hunting and other stories in your TBR pile, but if you do, I think this book would make a good follow up to Ogawa's. There are strong thematic and stylistic similarities between the two writers but most of Kono's tales were written about thirty years before Ogawa's, making for an interesting comparison.

If you have Nobuko Takagi's recently translated Translucent Tree, I'd also suggest giving that a try.

Each of these women has won the both the Akutagawa Prize and the Tanizaki Prize, the two most prestigious and important Japanese literary awards. They are very good writers and well worth reading, whether as a theme read or not.

>11 marietherese: good to know, I'll keep it in mind.

> 6 avaland -- regarding grapefruit and the Japanesese, there was just a big series in our newspaper about Florida citrus, one segment of which focused on the huge export of grapefruit from Florida to Japan -- the Japanese consume more grapefruit than all of America. Just a bit of trivia.

>13 janeajones: thanks for that little bit, although in the book they get them from California:-)

I have chosen Memoirs of a Geisha as well as The Oxford Book of Japanese Short Stories. I am only into the introduction of the short story collection and am feeling a little intimidated by my selection. It kind of worries me that their needs to be a primer of sorts before the collection begins. I do believe, however, that this will aid greatly in my reading of the stories. One of the themes touched on was the subtlety (is that spelled right? it really looks wrong to me) of the language especially regarding the concept of love. I think that I will most likely read this book a story or two at a time to give myself the opportunity to absorb what I have read. I will read Memoirs of a Geisha later in the month.

I began Kitchen by Banana Yoshimoto today. So far it is lovely.

avaland (6) -

Certainly the themes mentioned won't be in every Japanese novel. Many these days are indeed psychological character studies as you put it versus making a social commentary on a certain aspect of "Japaneseness".

I only meant the themes as a guide to those reading authors like Mishima, Oe, Tanizaki, etc since they do write about those topics. Sort of as clues to what one should watch for.

If you want another book about the role of the Japanese woman in a traditional family, read The Waiting Years by Fumiko Enchi. This book will give you great insight on the role of women. :)

ETA: Just noticed that avaland is not looking to add to the TBR pile but I still back up my suggestion for any others interested in reading about female protagonists.

Since vpfluke mentioned the concept of wabi sabi I wanted to introduced the related concept of mono no aware, an idea that might be insightful for people tackling The Tale of Genji.

Wiki article:
"Mono no aware (物の哀れ, mono no aware, lit. "the pathos of things"), also translated as "an empathy toward things," or "a sensitivity of ephemera," is a Japanese term used to describe the awareness of mujo or the transience of things and a bittersweet sadness at their passing. The term was coined in the eighteenth century by the Edo-period Japanese cultural scholar Motoori Norinaga, and was originally a concept used in his literary criticism of The Tale of Genji, and later applied to other seminal Japanese works including the Man'yōshū, becoming central to his philosophy of literature, and eventually to Japanese cultural tradition.

The word is derived from the Japanese word mono, which means "things" and aware, which was a Heian period expression of measured surprise (similar to "ah" or "oh"), translating roughly as "pathos," "poignancy," "deep feeling," or "sensitivity." Thus, mono no aware has frequently been translated as "the 'ahh-ness' of things." In his criticism of The Tale of Genji, Motoori noted that mono no aware is the crucial emotion that moves readers. Its scope was not limited to Japanese literature, and became associated with Japanese cultural tradition (see also sakura)."

I decided to start by killing two birds with one stone -- the January Japan theme read and the 1929 project read -- so I read Some Prefer Nettles by Jun'ichiro Tanizaki. Here are my reflections/review:

Some Prefer Nettles by Jun'ichiro Tanizaki, a novella about an empty marriage, is at once a depiction of modern attitudes toward marriage and divorce and a meditation on traditional Japanese values. The story is told from the narrative viewpoint of Kaname, the husband of Misako. Over the years of their marriage and after the birth of their son, Hiroshi, he has withdrawn from his relationship with Misako and has encouraged her to seek solace with a lover. As the story proceeds, they are trying to reach a decision about a divorce.

Kaname is intrigued by his father-in-law's life and arrangement with his geisha/mistress O-hisa. Their life seems to beckon back to a simpler, traditional life: "Kaname had no illusions about his ability to imitate the old man; but still when he thought of his own family affairs, of that perpetual knowing countenance and of the endless disagreements, the old man's life -- off to Awaji appointed like a doll on the stage, accompanied by a doll, in search of an old doll to buy -- seemed to suggest a profound spiritual peace reached without training and without effort. If only he could follow the old man's example, Kaname thought."

Tanizaki, the author of the essay, "In Praise of Shadows," a meditation on traditional Japanese crafts, especially as revealed in the Japanese bathroom, uses the same metaphor near the end of the book when Kaname is taking a bath in his father-in-law's home.

In comparison with Western novels, the narration is rather detached and unemotional, but many of the sentiments about male/female relationships reminded me strongly of contemporary novels by Fitzgerald, Maugham, Hesse, and even, strangely enough, D.H. Lawrence. The sense of alienation and existential angst seems to run internationally.

Just finished Fires on the Plain by Shohei Ooka. Below is my brief review and I hope to go more into depth on some of the books concepts in the morning. Overall though, truly an amazing novel.

Fires on the Plain
by Shohei Ooka, translated by Ivan Morris
Tuttle Classics, 246 pages

"People live only because they have no reason to die."

Fires on the Plain is a tremendous novel of a Japanese soldier's experiences during the 1944 Philippine campaign. In short it is about Private Tamura and his living simply because there is no purpose in dying and because life is simply a collection built off of chance. As a reader we witness an individual battling society which deteriorates into the individual versus his self which further becomes the individual versus man without humanity/purpose.

The novel builds up through an incredible sense of description, imagery (sense of smell, sight, sound), and a use of language that is beyond description. Ivan Morris is the master of this translation and certainly deserves all recognition for making this work available.

Japanese ideals such as the country before the individual are quickly broken down as soldiers try to latch onto anything that will guarantee their survival. In the presence of other soldiers they try and maintain their Japanese idealism, but when left to themselves they quickly degrade into the survival of the fittest with the fittest finding themselves feeding off the weak.

This novel will stay with me for quite a while. Certain scenes making me shudder, new philosophies on God and life made me ponder, and I will continue to question what makes up life.

Our world is the result of God's wrath and Tamura is the instrument of God's wrath. Truly truly spectacular.

RE:20 "Fire on the Plains"

Kon Ichikawa has a film of this book from 1959. It is available via NetFlix and appears on late night TCM from time to time. Also a painful experience but rewarding, as is the book. I remember both the book and movie quite differently, but can't say that they diverge greatly from one another in content. It's just such a different experience. I feel we live more inside the main character's mind in the book, and logically the movie is more external.

As I recall, both book and movie touch on the pivotal aspect of cannibalism in different ways. In both cases they try to keep it out of the headlights and away from grappling directly with the issue. At the same time this seems to magnifiy it, as it lurks in the peripheral vision.

-- Gerry

I have just finished Geisha in Rivalry by Kafu Nagai. I am not quite sure what I think. The book raised far more questions than provided insights for me at least. The plot is slight (little of the so-called rivalry is discussed directly in the text); rather, what make the text fascinating (for a westerner at least) are the detailed descriptions of the geisha world. While this kind of exoticizing may be interesting to outsiders (whether it is politically correct is another matter), I found myself wondering what the book’s attraction for a Japanese audience might be. How exotic is/was this world to the average Japanese reader? Is it exotic at all? Moreover, the details contradicted much of the little I have read about Japan and geisha culture. Before I go any further, let me announce, “I have not read Memoirs of a Geisha nor do I intend to do so. Neither have I seen the movie.

But back to my topic. Let me begin with the translators’ introduction. Here the translators, Kurt Meissener and Ralph Friedrich, define key terms: geisha, neisan, danna, and machiai as these terms were understood in the late Meiji period (c. 1918). They take great pains to explain that geisha are not prostitutes. So far, so good. This observation matches my limited knowledge. However, throughout the novel the translators use geisha and prostitute interchangeably. What gives here? Furthermore, I found myself puzzled by the seeming contradictions concerning the degree of agency a geisha exercised over her own life. On the one hand, geisha work to gain their freedom or to capture the attention of a wealthy danna (master), who will purchase the remainder of their contract with the particular house to which they belong. In this regard, they seem to lack agency, to function more or less as indentured servants. On the other hand, geisha decide whom they will and will not entertain. For example, the narrator comments at one point that a geisha can lose prestige if she entertains or publicly consorts with someone who is considered low class no matter how wealthy he may be. So in this sense, geisha seem to exercise quite a bit of control over their own destinies. Moreover, in the novel one sees them negotiating directly with teahouse and restaurant owners, who presumably steer patrons their way. Finally, while the author shows certain aspects of a highly stratified, hierarchal society with a complex etiquette, he does not really elaborate or explain the details. Does the author assume the audience is familiar with these details? If so, then the intended audience would hardly have read it for an inquisitive glimpse into a closed society. So why did the audience read the book? Moreover, exactly who was the intended audience? Finally, the author shows geisha and non-geisha women of good families mingling freely. At one point we are told that one of wives was often mistaken in public for a geisha (presumably because of her elaborate coiffure and perhaps colorful as opposed to conservative kimono). My other reading about Japan suggests that these two worlds are altogether separate, that no married woman would wish to be taken for a geisha although geisha enjoy (or did until recently) a certain amount of prestige. Moreover, the translators intimate this themselves. So what gives? What is lost in translation here? I do not know.

Donald Richie wrote an interesting commentary for The Japan Times on this work Geisha in Rivalry, especially dealing with issues of translation and the possible reactions of Japanese readers at the time it was first published. (I hope this link works).

http://search.japantimes.co.jp/cgi-bin/fb20071014dr.html

If you are further interested in the life of geisha and their role in Japanese culture, I would strongly recommend Liza Dalby's Geisha as well as Arthur Golden's Memoirs of a Geisha. I am curious as to why you would reject the latter, because it is one of the best.

Re: 23/24 Geisha in Rivalry

I experienced little of the confusion of urania, but perhaps over the years I've accepted that some things always remain a little oblique. Exactly whether a giesha provides sex or sexual activity for fee is always debatable. They are entertaining men, providing them female companiionship and entertainment. Even if there is no sex whatever, there is always flirting and double-entre and risque dialogue. And sometimes love--with or without sex. So the entire terrain is ambiguous--as it was for them when they lived it! That's my take-away.

The things I like most of Rivalry have little to do with those infrequent moments where a geisha is actually entertaining. I love the scenes of the old writer at his home, the discussion of the house next door, the trips to the ryokan, the first chapter of the book with the old man and the writer and the little girl in preparation for O-bon festival (IIRC).

Though not lurid today by almost any perception, I believe much of it was lurid/scandalous at the time. And I'm really grateful to nobooksnolife for providing the Richie link on the book. I agree with what he says of Kafu the Scribbler; my copy remains the most dog-eared book I own. I really gotta dig up a good used hardbound edition.

Relative to geisha and the control they have of their own world: My understanding is that all such things are variable, from house to house, person to person and decade to decade.

-- Gerry

>23 nobooksnolife: Thanks for the review. It rather confirmed my opinion that the novel's appeal was probably sensational rather than literary. I have avoided Arthur Golden's Memoirs of a Geisha because I suspected it of sensationalizing a geisha's life. Liza Dalby's Geisha seems the more credible of the two.

>24 gscottmoore: The passages you mention were quite nicely done. One suspects Kafu was writing a version of himself into the novel.

RE: Kafu/Geisah/Memoirs:

Kafu always wrote a version of himself as most characters. A number of writers do that, but he does it with very little "cover" shall we say. Anyway I find him a fascinating, complex and contradictory character in all his guises. I like the various versions of himself (and the guises written for Rivalry) even better in the novellas During the Rains & Flowers in the Shade. You didn't mention it directly, but the book is discursive as hell. It bounces from character to character all across town, though it does tend to come back to the primary few some of whom interact very little. Dang, it's an episodic thing! After reading Richie's explanation of its endless re-writes and re-edits it makes somewhat more sense, but I don't think Kafu's mastery really lies in plotting or large constructs, instead in capturing a time and place.

As much as Seidensticker seems to love Kafu, as do I, he doesn't mince words regarding his ham-handed ineffectiveness with dialogue. Until I read him carping about it, it hadn't been so obvious to me. Then I started flipping through the books I have by him, and it's true he doesn't pursue it too much.

Regarding Golden/Dalby. I actually had Golden's source material (Dalby's book) for 15 years or something, and couldn't manage to address it. My wife bought and read Memoirs years ago when it first came out, but again I can't seem to summon what it takes to read the thing. Until I do I can hardly complain or critique. My problem is that I have so little interest in non-Japanese writers who use Japan and Japanese-ness as a setting or as color (or as sociolgical meditation) for their own novels. I guess I'd rather just read another book by an actual Japanese writer instead.

But as resident blowhard on all things Japanese among my crew, I really should read Memoirs so I can attack it with vigor! The same thing was true with the movie "Lost in Translation", I saw it as quickly as possible so that all the folks who know me as Japan-obsessed could have their snarly review!

-- Gerry

23 -
Memoirs of a Geisha. I am curious as to why you would reject the latter, because it is one of the best.

I wouldn't consider it one of the best in terms of describing the geisha lifestyle because at the end of the day, it is a fictionalized novel, but I do agree that it is well written and the story does suck you right in!

25 -
It rather confirmed my opinion that the novel's appeal was probably sensational rather than literary. I have avoided Arthur Golden's Memoirs of a Geisha because I suspected it of sensationalizing a geisha's life. Liza Dalby's Geisha seems the more credible of the two.

The novel was certainly more sensational than literary but as I just mentioned it is still a well written novel and does deserve to be read, I believe. Now, should it be the sole source of information about geisha/geiko? No, it shouldn't but I wouldn't disregard it entirely.

And in, saying that Liza Dalby's book seems the more credible is a stretch as well and many in the geisha/geiko world would disagree about her experiences 'cause in their eyes how can a foreigner experience and truly understand the lifestyle.

So personally, I think all the books should be read and compared to one another.

I recommend Mineko Iwasaki's Geisha, A Life (although I believe the title has been changed a bit since its first publication), who was the muse for Memoirs of a Geisha. She disagreed with his representation and thus wrote her own autobiography. It has been critiqued that she still glossed over the parts of the geisha world that people question but it still a good insight into the world. Gorgeous photographs as well.

Another book I just read was A Geisha's Journey: My life as a Kyoto Apprentice by Komomo (Little Peach is her geiko name) which is a book (more a photographic journey) following Komomo even before she became a geiko. (Geiko because that is what geisha are called in Kyoto.) The photographs are stunning and she's really good at explaining every single kimono in the novel which lets you know why they wear what they wear. Plus, since she is fairly new (just became a geiko in 2005) it shows you the lifestyle and how it has changed in a more modern age. The writing isn't super strong but it is still quite an interesting little book.

Plus, I'm partial to it because it turns out that I with one of the photos in the book ... well, I have the exact same photo! She danced at a festival in 2004 which was when I was studying abroad in Japan and lo and behold, I took a picture without knowing that 4 years later I'd see her in a book. Very serendipitous. :)

ETA:
PS. If you want something sensationalized and just flat out terrible and wrong you can always watch the Memoirs of a Geisha movie. .... or not and spare yourself the pain. ;)

>26 gscottmoore: and >27 lilisin:,

Thank you for sharing your wealth of information with me. I will certainly look at some of the material you have suggested.

I received The Housekeeper and the Professor from LT Early Reviewers and I absolutely loved it. The English translation of this book is due out in early February. It was a quick read and very emotionally satisfying. I guess Yoko Ogawa is very popular in Japan.

My review on LT is here.

Shirobamba: A Childhoood in Old Japan by Yasushi Inoue.

This book follows a child's life from about the 2nd to 3rd grade in elementary school. He has a complex family set-up; his mother has left him with an "adopted" grandmother, and moved with his father and younger sisters to a larger town far away. He lives next door to his biological grandmother, aunts and cousins in the country, but has a kind of lower status to this family.

At first I found the book rather light-weight as it's ups and downs are really those of a child and I can only maintain so much emotional connection to it all. As it continued to roll out, in its ambling episodic and style, I became more involved with the characters, but only insofar as I can see them through the eyes of a child: not much. The inspiring part, though, his how well Inoue, a man in his fifties when he wrote it, could summon such a true view of the world through a child's eyes.

Descriptions of Kosaku at play with his friends, his fears and excitements are all gleaned so close to the character. The description is not detached but all wrapped up with the character himself. It is quite an achievement.

In describing his confusing feelings toward an aunt, Sakiko, that he greatly admires, we are told most poetically his confusing happiness when she's around. Many of his difficult encounters with adults describe so clearly the sorting out of the details of the world of adults, and the evolution of emotional growth.

So that's one big bonus. The other is the way he provides full rich pictures of a time and place. I've read that Inoue began his career as a poet, and that doesn't surprise me at all. On the other hand he doesn't overburden his prose with sweeping impressionistic painting or anything. His description of being marched by his Uncle to stay overnight with relatives that seem to loath him. His organized activities to go with his mates to the local horse-racing spectacle. Yearned for and mythologized for weeks in advance, when the activity begins they are rapidly bored at the endless prattle of the adults and the gaping time between races.

My only substantive disappointment is something that can't be avoided, as it is an autobiographical book: There isn't even a cameo by a significant adult male in the book. We have his mother, his aunt and his grandmother. These are rich whole complete and complex characters. But for males we get bupkis.

In the end a charming read that makes me long for the second volume, which is, as yet, untranslated. Grrr!

-- Gerry

gscottmore -

Second volume? What is the title for this second volume, may I ask?

In any case, I'm glad you enjoyed this novel. It is indeed a very quiet book but that is what I enjoy in Inoue's work.

Lilisin:

"Quiet" is what always seems to be the payback in Japanese fiction.

In the introduction to the book Shirobamba (Pub. Weatherhill 1991), translator Jean Oda Moy says that this tale was published in serial installments in a Japanese magazine over three years. It then was published in two volumes of which her translation is of volume one. Sure makes me curious about volume two...

-- Gerry

"Quiet"---so appropriate, and a perfect segue for me to leave some comments here about The Housekeeper and the Professor, which was a good example of the "quietness" in Japanese fiction. (Sorry #29, I am ashamed to say I hate math, but I thoroughly enjoyed this novel in spite of my shortcomings).

This elegant translation of "Hakase no Aishita Sushiki" (Yoko Ogawa copyright 2003) brings to the English speaking world a wonderful novel which incorporates some weighty social issues into a thought-provoking story with an economy of prose and a light touch.

It is a quintessentially Japanese story, yet like all good novels, its problems are universal--social disenfranchisement, aging, failure of education system--to name a few. If you already know something of modern Japan, the story may feel more poignant, but even if you know nothing about Japan, the characters' dilemmas will ring true. If your tastes include math, baseball, and Japan, this novel may become a favorite. Personally, my eyes glaze over at the appearance of numerals and equations; I sleep through baseball; but the "Japan" part hooked me. The humanity of the story hooked me.

Perhaps more than other societies, it's tough to be a misfit in Japan. (As a foreigner living in Japan, I can relate). The characters in this work are all misfits, quietly and somewhat tragically unable to live up to society's expectations. The housekeeper, fatherless and then orphaned, is a single mother to her own young son. Though few details are sketched, there are hints that the son is not well liked at school. Intelligent but under-educated, the mother takes jobs cleaning houses and is hired by an old woman to clean her brother-in-law's (the professor's) house. The woman sets forth strict rules for the job, based on the odd facts that define the professor's reclusive life and unusual behavior. He is a world-renowned math genius whose long-term memory stops in 1975. His memory for current events and new information lasts only 80 minutes.

Almost without realizing it, these humble souls discover a uniquely human connectedness. The plot involves a gentle, almost sublime, teaching of math and the magical guile of a truly great teacher in the person of the professor, plus an adoring rendition of the sport of baseball. So important are math and baseball that they nearly become characters in themselves. There is enough suspense, intrigue, and a few surprises to make this a satisfying glimpse of life in modern Japan.

"Hakase no Aishita Sushiki" was made into a movie directed by Takashi Koizumi (assistant director to Akira Kurosawa on several films) in 2006, and reportedly played well to Japanese audiences. Now, thanks to Stephen Snyder's translation, the novel The Housekeeper and the Professor will be released in the United States in February 2009.

This novel shares some similarities with Daniel Tammet's autobiography, Born on a Blue Day, which also describes the beauty of numbers in extraordinary terms.

#33 - beautiful review of the book! You're so right in that the humanity of the story (rather than the math) is the heart of the novel, though I also agree with you that both math and baseball are characters of the book.

I will definitely want to see the movie whenever it is made available here.

Thanks so much for your insights!

gscottmore -

I read the book in French so I'm thinking that edition is the full version. If I had it near me I would ask you where your book leaves off but I can't do that and I read it many years ago so I can't remember. This mystery shall remain a mystery for a bit longer it would seem.

Lilisin:

This might help: My version concludes when his aunt dies and Kosaku and his friends march (eventually naked) in vague penance to a newly created tunnel in a nearby village.

My version was 200 pages in length and somwhat oversized type-face. The various versions at amazon.fr range between 234 and 264 pages. One version though, published in 1997 and now out of print, came in at a convincing 341 pages. I'm surprised they list no translators.

Anyway the covers might jog your memory: http://tinyurl.com/9jn3py

-- Gerry

#34 Thank you for your kind words! :)

The Ark Sakura by Kobo Abe.

I chose this book because The Woman in the Dunes is one of my favorites, but this was a completely different sort of novel. I found it rather boring and disorganized, and skimmed through the last third of it. Not really recommended.

1) How did your book get its title?
Apparently 'sakura', in addition to the cherry blossoms that we know and love, can also refer to a con artist. The ark in question is a bomb shelter built by a paranoid loner who fears imminent nuclear war-- or rather he hopes for it. Most of the town either hates him or is disgusted by him, so he dreams of a day when they might beg him to be let aboard his "ark." As it turns out, though, the only recruits that he can find are con men.

2) Did you learn anything new about Japan from reading the book you chose?
Not so much. I've studied Japanese language and literature, and nothing in here particularly contributed to what I already knew. Except I now know more ways to eat sweet potatoes.

3) What major themes did you observe?
The individual v. society is a fairly common theme in Japanese lit., so I was pleased to see that this book tackled the converse. What happens when instead it's society v. the individual? Mole, the protagonist, would probably secretly love to have the typical Japanese dilemma of differentiating himself from society, but instead he is forced out. I felt like the theme wasn't fully developed, however, an instead the novel devolved into slapstick.

4) Could this theme work in other places, or is it something that can only be told in Japan?
It could definitely work outside of Japan-- being an outcast translates well internationally. One of his problems is that he's overweight by Japanese standards, and while it's somewhat of a joke in the novel it's a real problem for many people, particularly in America. The fear-of-the-government, let's-go-underground-and-build-a-bomb-shelter attitude is also still prevalent in the US!

5) What was something that you really liked about the book that you read?
I liked the stories inside the story, which reminded me of the "parables" within Woman in the Dunes. Here they were less powerful, but I still enjoyed the effect of having the themes reflected by these stories that the characters tell one another.

6) Something that you didn't like?
One non sequitor after another does not a novel make.

................. The Master of Go by Yasunari Kawabata

How did the book get its title?
The book is called The Master of Go because that is the main character of Kawabata’s novel. Go is a game of strategy played by two players with black and white stones on a gameboard. The Master, in this case, is the Japanese champion player. This book is a fictional account of a real-life event, that of the Master’s last game before his death.

Did you learn anything new about Japan from reading the book you chose?
I learned about the game of Go. It was not something I learned from the book itself, but it was something I wanted to learn in order to understand this book better. The story contained gameboard diagrams and the movement of individual stones (or game pieces). Go is considered a martial art of sorts in Japan, and its players are greatly admired. Although this game is one of much strategy, the rules itself are simple. I learned them by looking them up on a website.

What major themes did you observe?
The most prominent theme was that of the older generation giving way to a younger generation along with the ceding of strict tradition to change.

Could this theme work in other places, or is it something that can only be told in Japan?
This theme could work in books about most cultures, but Japan is well known for its strict adherence to tradition, even in many simple facets of life.

What was something that you really liked about the book that you read?
As with most contemporary Japanese novels I've read, I loved the simple prose and lyrical nature of the writing.

Something that you didn't like?
I can't find anything I didn't like about this novel. I usually don't like character-driven plots, but this book was so beautifully written, even that aspect of this novel didn't bother me.

If applicable, do you think Japanese writers write differently about Japan then a non-Japanese writing about Japan?
I think that answer can vary with who is writing the book. For example, Arthur Golden, an American author, wrote a beautiful book of geisha life (even though their are inherent cruelties in that) in his novel Memoirs of a Geisha, but other American novelists who might about World War II might not portray Japan with much favor as that country was the "enemy" of the Allied forces during World War II. I usually see the beauty of Japan in my reading as I mostly read novels about Japan that are written by contemporary Japanese novelists.

What is the impression you get about Japan and its people as you read your book?
My impression is that Japan has a long and beautiful history of tradition that is about to undergo some fracturing due to the globalization of our modern world.

I rate this book as 5 stars. Highly recommended!

--> 26

Don't be so quick to attack Arthur Golden's Memoirs of a Geisha. Although the ending seemed contrived to some, I found it to be *the* book that awakened my interest in learning more about geisha life if only because the story had been so absorbing. I was later truly captivated by Liza Dalby's book Geisha. Liza Dalby was the only non-Japanese woman to ever be a geisha. Her story (non-fiction, of course) was fascinating.

#39

I must have read The Master of Go 30 years ago, and found it quite engrossing, as I still own it. It was one of the first Japanese novels I had ever read. I found that I was intrigued by a culture that does not have to make reference to Western European culture.

Just joined LT and am still in the process of listing my books. It has given me a chance to dust off (literally and figuratively) my books and I came across an old book that I must have bought at a book sale once. The Broader Way, a Woman's life in the New Japan by Sumie Seo Mishima.

Published in 1953, the flyleaf describes the book as "a Japanese housewife tells of the harried lives of herself, her family and her neighbors in the war and under the Occupation, and of the growing pains of a new democracy." This seems to be a non-fiction, first-person's account of the immediate post-war years as well as her experience as a budding feminist in a still traditional Japan.

Have only read the first chapter. So far she talks of her frustration with the bonds of tradition after having an education in the US. And she describes the war as ending "in the moral and economic bankruptcy of the japanese people" but has "most strangely and unexpectedly brought me that final deliverance for which I have struggled so patiently and so desperately since 1928."

The Sound of Waves by Yukio Mishima

1) How did your book get its title?
I'm not sure exactly, but most of the novel does take place in or near the water.

2) Did you learn anything new about Japan from reading the book you chose?
I learned a lot about traditional Japan and the changes it began to undergo after the Second World War, because the culture of Uta-Jima in 1947 definitely does not exist anymore. I learned all sorts of things, from how to fish for octopus to how the traditional hierarchical system affected everyday life.

3) What major themes did you observe?

1) Ordinary people fighting against economic hardship
Shinji's family does not have a lot of money because his father was killed by a bomb during the war. He works hard and dreams of saving enough money to go into shipping with his younger brother.

2) The conflict between duty and desire
Shinji and Hatsue want to get married, but they cannot without her father's permission and he would rather she marry Yasuo.

7) Rise and fall of different social classes
More like the breakdown of social classes in general. Shinji and Hatsue come from different classes, but their love manages to overcome this and most villagers support them.

8) Influence of foreign civilizations and its consequences
The two characters who cause the lovers the most trouble have been influenced by the foreign ideas inherent in the modern lifestyle found on the mainland. This is very much a pro-tradition novel.

10) Respect of elders
In the end, Shinji wins Hatsue because he is hard-working and respectful towards his elders, unlike Yasuo who is lazy and insolent. Shinji's mother approves of Hatsue after she

4) Could this theme work in other places, or is it something that can only be told in Japan?
Poor boy meets rich girl who is hopelessly beyond his reach. Boy and girl fall in love, but her father favors another suitor. Boy and rival participate in contest to win girl. Through his inner goodness/superiority, boy wins and gets to marry girl. This plot is universal, although Mishima gives it a Japanese twist.

5) What was something that you really liked about the book that you read?
I loved the vivid poetics of Misima's descriptions. I have never been to Japan nor spent any great amount of time near an ocean, but the descriptions in The Sound of Waves are so well done that I feel like I have gone pearl diving and survived a typhoon on the open ocean. The scene with Shinji's mother and the butterfly was particularly beautiful.

6) Something that you didn't like?
I found certain characters unpleasant and somewhat revolting; also, the main characters clearly represent ideals and lack a certain human spark. Other than that I didn't really dislike anything; it was an enjoyable read.

7) If applicable, do you think Japanese writers write differently about Japan then a non-Japanese writing about Japan?
I'm not sure a non-Japanese would be able to achieve the same nuanced view of traditional Japanese life as it interacted with the modern era. Life on Uta-Jima is so isolated from the West that it would be hard for an outsider to capture it as fully as Mishima did.

8) What is the impression you get about Japan and its people as you read your book?
The book leaves the impression that Japan was a country of simple people who lived off the sea; however, even in the book you can see that this is changing: Shinji's younger brother goes on a school trip to Kobe and goes to a movie theater, one female character attends university in Tokyo.

In Short: Simple like the folk tale style it is written in, I enjoyed The Sound of Waves quite a bit. The general plot was familiar, so it was a bit like seeing an old friend in a new dress. I particularly liked the traditional-style artwork at the beginning of each chapter, which helped set the novel's mood. Overall, I'd recommend it, but can see why some might find it lacking.

>welcome, catarina1!

after the quake, Haruki Murakami

A volume of six short stories, published in English in 2006.

1) How did your book get its title?
Each story takes place in the month after the 1995 Kobe earthquake.

2) Did you learn anything new about Japan from reading the book you chose?
Hmmm. Not sure. Kind of a trivial thing, but I was surprised by how cold the weather was in each of the stories, which shouldn't have been a surprise since they were set in February. Japan has hosted two winter Olympics during my memory, so obviously they get winter, but I always think of Japan as having a warmer climate. Sorry, that wasn't very literary, was it!

3) What major themes did you observe?
In each of the stories, the main character was involved in an unusual relationship. And obviously there is an earthquake theme throughout.

4) Could this theme work in other places, or is it something that can only be told in Japan?
I found both the physical details in the stories and the cerebral details to be universal.

5) What was something that you really liked about the book that you read?
I liked the tone, and really liked the sort of off-kilter feeling. And the really bizarre story "Super-frog Saves Tokyo."

6) Something that you didn't like?
Several stories left me with the "what was that all about?" feeling upon completion, but that went away after I thought about them a bit. So I guess the answer is "no."

8) What is the impression you get about Japan and its people as you read your book?
Based on this one book, Japan doesn't seem very different. There were tons of references to western culture.

This was my first adventure in reading Japan, and I know it's just a small flavour and I must read more . . .

I finished Mishima's Sword: Travels in Search of a Samurai Legend by Christopher Ross, as an introduction to Yukio Mishima. Here is my review:

The British writer Christopher Ross, who lived in Japan for five years, decides to return to Japan to search for the sword that Yukio Mishima used to commit seppuku (ritual suicide) in 1970, as a protest against the emasculation of the Japanese military and the removal of the Emperor as the head of the country after World War II. Ross expertly weaves his study of Mishima's life, influences, and major works with samurai culture, the art of sword making, and his own experiences as a practitioner of the martial arts and living as a Westerner in Japan.

Mishima's life is a series of contrasts. He is a married man with children, but also has numerous male lovers. He is fascinated with death and seppuku from an early age, yet loves kabuki, Noh theater, and other beautiful elements of Japanese culture. He wishes to be viewed as a serious artist and author, yet writes numerous articles for women's magazines and poses fully and partially nude in widely viewed photographs. He is a frail, sickly child who spends much of his childhood playing with female cousins and their dolls, who then transforms himself into a virile and skilled practitioner of kendo. He develops great strength in his upper body as a result of rigorous training, yet his lower body retains its tiny, almost feminine appearance.

This is a fascinating introduction to Mishima, especially for someone like myself who has not read any of his works.

I also read the novella Patriotism by Mishima, and plan to read Spring Snow, the first book in Mishima's "The Sea of Fertility" tetralogy. After I finish I'll post a review with answers to the discussion questions listed above.

I have spent quite a long time reading The Wind-Up Bird Chronicle. It left me with lots to think about.

1) How did your book get its title?
The main character Toru Okada hears a strange bird with a call that sounds like winding up a spring. Each time he hears the call, something happens which has some supernatural agency. Toru likens it to a sound which winds up the springs of the universe, a metaphor which is made magically real in the novel, as the sound is the harbinger of some evil to occur. The Chronicle tells you it’s going to be a collection of stories from different time periods.

2) Did you learn anything new about Japan from reading the book you chose?
I learned more about the Japanese Occupation of Manchuria, the puppet state Manchukuo and the war with the Russians and Chinese which ejected them.

3) What major themes did you observe?
Agency, responsibility. Toru Okada is a character who appears to operate without much self-reflection or internal motivation. I really enjoyed the limpid description of activity without comment. There is a quietitude, which other reviewers consider passivity. (I find it difficult to be critical of first person narrators.) The theme of agency, is to do with what personal responsibility should Toru take for his marriage, his wife has left him, yet he has no idea why.

What responsibility should Japan take for the atrocities in Manchuria. Were the soldiers who carried out the atrocities, agents of their own destiny? It felt like Murakami was absolving them by making the sound of the Wind-Up Bird be part of their stories. He did make it clear that the soldiers were psychologically traumatised by what they were made to do in the Zoo attack, and in the execution of the deserters. That their own destinies were to have terrible endings as participants in war. No participant gets off scot free. The one soldier who returns alive is cursed to live a long life with no happiness and no relationships.

There are themes of relationships, identity – personal and national, death and self destruction. Yet all are described with an almost disengaged acceptance that is never once depressing. You are left with an impression of wryness.

4) Could this theme work in other places, or is it something that can only be told in Japan?
Wherever there are war crimes, there is the theme of the flow of events, sweeping individuals into collective evil. In the Wind-Up Bird Chronicle, this flow seems realised as the dark underworld Toru passes into, and is tied up with the metaphor of wells and water.

5) What was something that you really liked about the book that you read?
It was that sense of observation without comment. Unusually, I read every word of every paragraph (except for a couple of pages of brutalizing description) to get that feeling of being in the moment. It was easy to have the surreal aspects of the novel wash over you.

I was also impressed by how Murakami could write in different styles so effectively. His ventriloquism of a 16 year old troubled teenager May was remarkable. Her letters are so believable.

6) Something that you didn't like?
Descriptions of atrocities. Although these are intrinsic to the book and are very well written. So perhaps I’m not as outraged as I would be by depictions of violence.

7) If applicable, do you think Japanese writers write differently about Japan then a non-Japanese writing about Japan?
The magical realism in this book is quintessentially Japanese. The feeling that one of the antagonists in the book was effectively a demon in human form makes you realise that you are reading from a culture based on a different mythology. Western writers can immerse themselves in Japan I suppose, but living and breathing your own culture from birth must make writers different.

8) What is the impression you get about Japan and its people as you read your book?
The formal nature of interchange even at the most personal level. The sense of waiting for the best way to say something.

46 -

Fascinating little bio on Mishima's life. I find the life authors lead to be very interesting and insightful when it comes to understanding why they wrote the works they wrote. With Japanese authors it is quite often that we see troubled minds behind the works they write and many end their lives themselves.

I was hoping people would post bios of their authors so we could get a feel for the different authors themselves in Japan (not just their works) but perhaps I should start that.

47, merry10,

8) What is the impression you get about Japan and its people as you read your book?
The formal nature of interchange even at the most personal level. The sense of waiting for the best way to say something.

I am very happy to see that you noticed this! The (non-Westernized) Japanese can be/are very reserved and are very careful about revealing thoughts and feelings. So the fact that you write that they wait for the best way to say something is spot on. It's also why there are so many kimari monku (set expressions) that are used in every situation because it is known to be the best way to say something.

>49 lilisin: lilisin, thank you. Murakami seems to contrast teenager May's sprawling attempts to describe her inner world with Toru's almost minimal responses. So that is some kind of signal of generational change in communication.

(The fact that Ooka was born in Magome amuses me since I was living in Nishi(west)-Magome, the next subway stop over.)

This is all from the wikipedia article, where I paraphrased everything but that that is in quotation marks which is straight copy and paste.

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Shohei_Ooka

Shōhei Ōoka
6 March 1909 - 25 December 1988

Ooka was born in the Magome Ward of Tokyo, learned French in high school, and graduated from Kyoto Imperial University School of Literature. During this time he was mentored by many famed literary figures. After graduation he became a journalist for a pro-government newspaper but then quit to become a translator of French works into Japanese.

"In 1944, he was drafted into the Imperial Japanese Army, given only three months of rudimentary training and sent to the front line at Mindoro Island in the Philippines, where he served as his battalion's communications man until his battalion was routed and numerous men killed. In January 1945, he was captured by the American forces in the Philippine defeat and sent to a prisoner of war camp on Leyte Island. Survival was very traumatic for Ōoka, who was troubled that he, a middle-aged and unworthy soldier, had survived when so many others had not. He returned to Japan at the end of the year."

After the war, Ooka began his writing career publishing an autobiographical short-story of his experiences as a prisoner of war entitled Furyoki ("Taken Captive: A Japanese POW's Story", 1948) which won him the Yokomitsu Prize in 1949.

He then wrote Musashino Fujin, ("A Wife in Musashino", 1950), a psychological novel patterned after the works of Stendhal followed by "Fires on the Plain" in 1951 which won him the Yomiuri Prize.

"Considered one of the most important novels of the postwar period, and based loosely on his own wartime experiences in the Philippines, Nobi explores the meaning of human existence through the struggle for survival of men who are driven by starvation to cannibalism."

The following books followed until his death in 1988 at the age of 79.
(1958) Kaei ("The Shade of Blossoms"): 1961 Shichosha Prize
Nakahara Chuya: Noma Prize
Tominaga Taro.
Reite senki ("A Record of the Battle of Leyte").

I thought I would try short stories, thinking I might not have enough time or focus to devote to a novel. I selected A Late Chrysanthemum translated by Lane Dunlop. The authors included are Shiga Naoya, Ozaki Shiro, Yasunari Kawabata, Shimaki Kensaku, Hayashi Fumiko, Dazai Osamu, and Kobo Abe.

According to the translator's preface, the stories are mostly from the period from 1905 to the start of World War II, "the golden age of twentieth-century Japanese literature."

I'm afraid I found it very difficult going. I read the first three stories (all by Naoya) and can't say I got a great deal out of them. One difficulty was the extensive use of pronouns in referring to characters in the story. In Japan, as in other Asian countries, people are commonly referred to by titles rather than by their names once they reach a certain age. One story had four characters - one man and three women, none with names. It seemed like nearly every sentence used "she" or "her" but it was hard to know which woman was referred to, which made the story quite difficult to follow.

I will try one or two more stories by other authors, but I don't have high hopes.

I read One Man's Justice by Arika Yoshimura.

This is a novel set in the last few months of the war and the few years after the war. The main character, Takuya, whose voice we hear in the novel is on the run as a war criminal. To consider the novel with the headings given.

How did your book get its title?
The title describes the different perspectives on justice. Takuya killed an American service man because he was angry at the destruction of his country and thousands of civilians by the Americans. The Americans, as victors, searched for those responsible for such war crimes and punished them with the death penalty. These penalties became less severe after a few years, as the US saw the strategic importance of being friends with Japan.

2) Did you learn anything new about Japan from reading the book you chose?
We all know about Hiroshima and Nagasaki, but I was not aware that Japanese cities were fire-bombed to such a huge extent.

3) What major themes did you observe?
Justice was a major theme and the destructiveness of living in fear. In comparison to German novels about this period there was no guilt as a theme.

4) Could this theme work in other places, or is it something that can only be told in Japan?
These themes are to some extent universal, but the story is told in a unique and what I assume is Japanese way - but this is my first Japanese novel, so that is a sweeping statement that may not be true.

5) What was something that you really liked about the book that you read?
It was interesting and informative. Good sense of place, everywhere he went and stayed for some time, he was clear about the geography of the area.

6) Something that you didn't like?
Very little conversation and what there was appeared very stilted and brief.

7) If applicable, do you think Japanese writers write differently about Japan then a non-Japanese writing about Japan?
I would expect so.

8) What is the impression you get about Japan and its people as you read your book?
Too early to say from one novel. There was a clear sense of Takuya wanting to do what was right and not offend, despite his desperate circumstances. With a false name and one that associated him with a different part of Japan than his home village, he felt very disembodied and therefore isolated from his fellow workers. As the losers, the Japanese appeared resigned to whatever came about from the occupying forces. The Japanese were portrayed as quiet and hard working people.

ReP 52: Mudd21 - Late Chrysanthemum

Don't give up. I too was somewhat daunted by the stories of Shiga Naoya--and I bought the book specifically for the focus on his works! I read Dark Night's Passing, and in fact selected it, on the weight of Thomas J. Rimer's commendation, for my bricks-and-morter film group. That would be the kind with humans sitting in a room on coaches with tea or martini's. In my case a martini.

In any case I took a considerable ass-kicking for my selection, and though I liked a few moments in the book very much, I found this "giant" work about a 90% bummer.

Then I read that a demi-god of mine, the film maker Ozu, was entranced by Shiga Naoya and, though he rejected the title "Sensei" for use with his own name by his devotees and workers in film, he used it for Shiga Naoya only. He had a profound appreciation of him. Okay. So I went and got A Late Chrysanthemum on the weight this an Yikes! Igot screwed again!

Nevertheless there are some other very good stories in the collection. Forge on!

-- Gerry

I hope this will amuse at least a few, as it continues to amuse me. (I was hoping to read a Japanese novel this month, perhaps a return to Mishima, but I don't think I will get there after all.)

A few haiku by Kobayashi Issa, 1763-1827, described as a Whitman or Neruda in miniature, and described by his main English translator as comparable by Robert Burns, almost his exact contemporary.

The world of dew
is the world of dew.
And yet, and yet --

The moon tonight--
I even miss
her grumbling.

The holes in the wall
play the flute
this autumn evening.

Red morning sky,
snail;
are you glad of it?

In this world
we walk on the roof of hell,
gazing at flowers.

p, I love the last haiku.

Inside and Other Short Fiction : Japanese Women by Japanese Women, an anthology by contemporary Japanese women writers.

As noted in the introduction, these authors are all popular, award-winning writers in Japan but have been virtually unknown because their work has been previously unpublished in English. The collection seems to be arranged roughly according to age-progression ( The first two stories have teen protagonists, the last a woman approaching fifty) and is centered around "the exploration of female identity in a rapidly changing society." As with any anthology, I liked some of the stories more than others - I think the story I found most moving is a sexually explicit story called "Piss" by Yuzuki Muroi. I also liked "The Unfertilized Egg" by Junko Hasegawa.

I found the cover more interesting than I have most books. The cover is extract of ID400 by Tomoko Sawada, a bright young artist in Japan's contemporary art scene. In ID400, Sawada takes 400 photo booth shots of herself in a host of carefully crafted different guises. She forces the viewer to question the relationship between the inner woman and her outer appearance. To what extent are women consciously choosing to conform or differ in the costumes that they wear, and to what extent does society judge women by their looks?



This this I would add the following from the introduction by Ruth Ozeki:

The popular perception of Japanese women has certainly undergone a transformation in the past century. No longer the docile, submissive Madame Butterfly of the early 1900s, or the docile, submissive pan-pan or geesha-girl of the post-World War II occupation, or the docile, submissive office lady or salaryman's wife of the 1980s and 90s, the image of women in modern Japan now seems poised to evolve into something altogether new. In recent years, the popular imagination has begun to depict women with a new kind of agency and autonomy. The new Japanese woman is not only redefining her sexual prowess; she is even acquiring supernatural powers: the demure schoolgirl has morphed into a superheroine, or antiheroine, out to save or to destroy the world.*
But do these images (still so often derived from the male imagination and drawn by his hand) correspond with the reality of Japanese women today? Japanese society is undergoing radical change. The traditional family, whose ballast was the stay-at-home wfie and mothers, is breaking down. Marriage and birth rates are declining, while the divorce rate is excalating. Career opportunities for women, too, are on the rise, and many women opt to marry later, or not at all. As a result of these and other social factors, Japanese women today have more economic and sexual freedom than ever before.

*she is referring to anime here.

Who were the women authors included in this anthology? Did you recognize the names of any of the contributors to this anthology before you read the stories? If so, which ones?

It looks like a very interesting book!

>58 SqueakyChu: not a one! The contributors are: Tamaki Daido, Rio Shimamoto, Yuzuki Muroi, Shungiku Uchida, Chiya Fujino, Amy Yamada, Junko Hasegawa, and Nobuko Takagi.

Most have either won or been nominated for the Akutagawa Prize. Uchida is an actress and manga artist (besides a novelist). Amy Yamada has had three novels translated into English. Hasegawa only recently turned to fiction but is well-known in Japan for her "illustrated reports" in a variety of magazines (humorous, comic-strip style essays).

A few postings ago, I reported feeling some dissatisfaction with Kafu Nagai’s Geisha in Rivalry. The gentle readers here suggested various sources to which I might turn to clear up certain confusions that the book raised. I ordered said books, namely Geisha, A Life and A Geisha’s Journey: My Life as a Kyoto Apprentice.

Of the three books I have now read on geisha, I find Mineko Iwasaki’s memoir of her life as a geisha the most interesting. Adopted the atotori (heir) for the prominent Kyoto Iwasaki okiya, Mineko begins studying to be a geisha at age six. Her narrative maneuvers deftly between revelation and concealment. She goes into great detail about some aspects of the highly complex hierarchical structure in Gion Kobu. For example, when her iemoto (master teacher of dance) first tells her “Otome” (“Leave”), a command that quite literally means she cannot come back for lessons ever unless the iemoto gives her permission, elaborate negotiations involving the heads of several major geisha houses ensue for her readmission. At other times, Iwasaki is quite reticent. She carefully establishes the difference between geisha (women who are trained in the traditional Japanese fine arts and whose jobs are to act as harmonious hostesses at ochaya) and oiran (courtesans and prostitutes) who work in the Shimabara pleasure district. Iwasaki is quite clear: geisha are not prostitutes. Nevertheless, several times in her narrative ambiguity arises. For example, she reports numerous instances of being accosted on the streets in the Gion Kobu district where the geisha work by men who clearly mean to obtain sex willing or unwillingly from her. She also reports having her breasts fondled by a patron (an act supposedly taboo in the elaborate etiquette of the ochaya). Moreover, she clearly does not wish to discuss certain decisions made about her career, which she dismisses saying “I suspect it was for political reasons.” “What,” one wonders, “are these reasons?” Perhaps the most striking element of Iwasaki’s narrative concerns her comparative innocence about money, sex, how to operate a shower, or turn on a stove.

Overall, I found the book quite engaging. For the most part, Rande Brown her co-writer does a good job of translating difficult concepts into English. Occasionally, the narrative lapses into torrid prose: “Meanwhile I was slowly and surely falling under his spell.” But these are minor flaws, in an otherwise well-written and informative (to a degree) memoir.

A Geisha’s Journey: My Life As a Kyoto Apprentice is slight in comparison, at least regarding narrative; however, the photographs are gorgeous. One gets to see all the details of dress that Iwasaki merely describes. I now have my eye on several books concerning kimono.

I also chose a book of short stories - The Oxford Book of Japanese Short Stories - and I am also finding it slow going. I have read three or four stories so far and, quite frankly, they kind of leave me wanting to slit my wrists! I believe that these stories are presented in chronological order in which they were written so I have not entered into more modern Japanese fiction as of yet. The stories are just so incredibly sad and depressing that I can only read one or two at a time and then need to move on to something else. I am hoping that as I enter a more modern time period, the stories will have a different tone.

I also have Memoirs of a Geisha which I hope to read as well this month, even though it seems the reviews of this are quite mixed in this group.

--> 59

I'm glad I asked. I found that I have an Amy Yamada book (Trash) here at home in my own TBR stack! Guess I'll have to read it sometime soon. :)

--> 61
(Advice with a smile from a 30-years 'reader of Japan') Please hurry to your nearest library and borrow Dave Barry Does Japan and/or, go rent the movie "Tampopo" and watch it before you dive into Memoirs of a Geisha, etc. Come to think of it, a little dose of humor (please add more and better quality examples, everyone) would help balance the serious nature of this thread.

Cheers, Everyone.

60, urania1 -

I am very pleased with your review of the two geisha books. It was exactly the reaction I was hoping for! I knew with the Kyoto Apprentice book that there wasn't much narrative but it's the first book I've seen that actually takes the time to describe things like kimono which is so gorgeous. It's amazing how often she says things like "I do not remember this picture being taken but just by looking at the bottom of my kimono I can tell it was taken on ...."! I had not realized to what extent the kimono are chosen for certain events.

So, yes, I am very pleased. :)

64, nobooksnolife -

You are certainly right in reflecting on the serious nature of our Japan thread. It is very easy, I believe, to focus on the serious works in Japanese literature since there are such serious themes to be tackled.

If anyone wants some humorous exposures to Japan I suggest the following:
Fear and Trembling by Amelie Nothomb
The Character of Rain by Amelie Nothomb
The Roads to Sata: A 2000-Mile Walk Through Japan by Alan Booth

Note that these are both foreign authors but they give a perspective on Japan that we have not yet explored.

Many thanks, lilisin! I have recently added Nothomb's books to my wish list, thanks to your mentioning them. Although I own Alan Booth's Roads to Sata, I haven't read it yet, so it also moves up the stack of TBR.

re 60 urania1, I greatly appreciate your very cogent and useful comparison of works on and about Geisha.

While geisha are an interesting feature of Japan, I have always felt that outsiders tend to pay a disproportionate amount of attention to the "life of geisha" which (in my opinion) has very little to do with the life of ordinary Japanese. My Japanese husband has termed this western preoccupation as the "Geisha/Fuji Syndrome" which dominates the western (especially U.S.A.) view of Japan. This "Geisha/Fuji Syndrome" represents a collection of stubborn stereotypes which I hope are on their way out, largely thanks to some of these great books and the people who take time to read them.

--> 66

Actually, Amélie Nothomb (a favorite author of mine), was born in Kobe, Japan, so her books are fair game for the Japan theme. She is a Belgian national who writes in French. I'm not sure in which country she lives at the moment.

67, nobooksnolife -

It is certainly true that there is a strong inherent focus on geisha life but I think it is understandable to want to try and understand how such a traditional culture still survives (won't say thrives) in modern Japan. Plus, there is a such beauty in the lifestyle that we want to study it and read about it. People could do the same with our Native Americans who do not wish to lose their "nationality". Unfortunately, many of our Native Americans are not being allowed to thrive without having to use outside influences. As long as people who read/study about the geisha lifestyle realize that modern Japanese are not really involved in that lifestyle, and that, in fact, many don't even understand it themselves(!), then I think we should study it.

The main issue is just not having it become a stereotype of Japan as you mention. As a Japanese major in undergrad, it was very frustrating for me to see other majors who were disappointed when they came just because they realized that not everybody reads manga and watches anime and that they didn't try and dress and speak like the characters!

68, squeakychu -

Amelie Nothomb is a favorite of mine as well. I have all 17 of her books with only 3 unread. I love reading one of her books in between the bigger ones. She never fails to entertain even if some of her books are a bit unfinished, I feel.

As for her nationality, yes, she was born in Japan but I do feel, personally, as if she is more of a foreign author. We never said that the thread had to be limited to Japanese nationals in terms of writing. In fact I think it's interesting that we see outside views of Japan (or inside views from "outsiders"). But yes, what to consider her nationality is very difficult indeed. Last time I checked I think she was residing in France but I am not certain on that.

--> 69

I thought that Nothomb currently lives in France* as well.

*I looked it up online and, according to MacMillan publishers, she does currently live in Paris, France.

--> 69, re "anime"

Some of my young Japanese friends have gone from Japan to the US for homestays and were surprised that their host family's kids wanted to take them to 'cos-play' (costume play) anime parties. The US kids were surprised that the Japanese kids didn't know (and weren't particularly interested in) many of the Japanese anime characters popular in the US. The Japanese kids were, however, keen to visit Disneyland.

>71 nobooksnolife: a bit of a digression. We hosted a young teen from Hong Kong for a couple of weeks one summer in the late 90s. She was interested in 1. Anything Disney 2. Nike (yes, even though Nike was made in China). So, I'm not surprised.

I wondered about the translation of some of the stories in the anthology I read. Do Japanese teens use American slang or is that the translator? "No way!" "Totally" "Crap" "I'm like..." "Go for it!" (my daughter's best friend her junior year of high school was a Japanese exchange student and I saw none of these proclivities in her - at least when she was speaking English. . .)

>72 avaland: Teen slang is so changeable and fluid. I would say that Japanese teens don't use American slang, and the expressions you listed are the best renditions from the translator. However, who knows what new slang may pop out today?! Some trendy words used by Japanese are contractions of English, such as "cos-play" from "costume play," but I'd better not venture any further on the subject as I'm quite a dinosaur when it comes to modern trends.

72, avaland -

It's not that Japanese teens use American slang, but more that they have their own slang and those were the best words the translator could find to express the same sentiment. Some of the Japanese slang can be translated literally to American slang and some cannot and vice versa.

For the words you use, I'm guessing the original Japanese was:

Uso! = "No way!"
Kuso = "Crap" (although kuso can be a bit vulgar and isn't really used so there might have been another word)
Ganbaru! / Ganbatte! = "Go for it!" (translated to "good luck")

I have quite a few Japanese friends who use "like" as American teenagers use the term but that might be them picking it up from tv shows or just trying to think of their next word.

lilisin: in post 27 above you made the following comment on Liza Dalby's Geisha: And in, saying that Liza Dalby's book seems the more credible is a stretch as well and many in the geisha/geiko world would disagree about her experiences 'cause in their eyes how can a foreigner experience and truly understand the lifestyle.

I'm in the midst of reading Dalby's book at the moment in an effort to understand the culture better, so I'm curious. What specific critique would geisha make of Dalby? While I would agree that an insider's understanding differs from that of an outsider, I do not think the outside view is always "incorrect." Sometimes, outsiders can see connections that have become so "naturalized" to the insiders that they no longer even notice. Further, while Dalby did not have the full-blown experience, she did live in the geisha/geiko world. I am finding that she offers historical background that provides a more specific cultural context for Geisha in Rivalry. Finally, although I really enjoyed Mineko Iwasaki's memoir, she so clearly positioned herself as heroine and upholder of true geisha values that at times I was inclined to wonder a bit about authorial slant. I'm waiting for two books on kimono to arrive. I hope they provide some insight into the elaborate lexicon of the clothing itself, how it speaks a language decodable by those on the inside. Of course, they simply be picture books.

Re: 75

You quote Lilisin:

"And in, saying that Liza Dalby's book seems the more credible is a stretch as well and many in the geisha/geiko world would disagree about her experiences 'cause in their eyes how can a foreigner experience and truly understand the lifestyle."

Then ask:

"What specific critique would geisha make of Dalby? While I would agree that an insider's understanding differs from that of an outsider, I do not think the outside view is always 'incorrect.'"

An outsider's view is incorrect even when it is the same as the insider! I've read and participated in discussion regarding these "Japanese-ness" things. Dalby is not Japanese and so no matter what the heck it is, the Japanese don't see her activity as whole, complete, real, authentic. And that's pretty much that.

In a favorite book, "Road to Sata", British ex-pat Alan Booth has a number of humorous anecdotes about people refusing him at inn's because he isn't Japanese. One inn-keeper argues with Booth in Japanese that they don't have forks, don't sleep in beds, don't have Western food, and to each Booth responds that he doesn't need a fork, sleeps at home in Tokyo every night on a futon and after living in Japan for fifteen years has no desire for Western food. Finally in exasperation the innkeeper says that in this inn no one can speak English!

There are those who were born to Japanese parents in America or Brazil and who moved back at age 10 or 12, and will apparently never be regarded as "really" Japanese. If one has the slightest tell-tale accent you'll be considered a gaijin by-and-large.

Once, a Japanese person tried to explain it by saying if you were Dutch and painted perfect Dutch-style paintings all your life and were highly regarded, selling them for tens of thousands of dollars, you could still never be considered a "Dutch master".

So it doesn't surprise me that a western woman, regardless of her perfection of the art and science of the geisha, would still be dismissed. Set aside since January 5th, just yesterday I finally got around to reading a NY Times article about the millennial anniversary of The Tale of Genji ( http://tinyurl.com/b72pdu ).

Even at a gathering of "Heian re-enacters", if you will, with the author donning period-accurate clothing and make-up, even discarding her period-inaccurate glasses, "The sight of a foreigner with a pale-moon face, cherry-blossom lips and a raven wig prompts shouts of laughter. “Beautiful!” exclaims a tweedy man, stepping into my path with his camera."

I think it's part of the rigid adherence to the larger group that has Japanese folk endlessly judging and identifying the degree to which others in the group adhere. If people are so intent on every microscopic detail that might separate themself, it makes sense that they are doing this for--and to--others.

A man moves 50 kilometers from Kanazawa to Toyama at age 8. Sixty years later he dies. The newspaper article reads "Man from Kanazawa Passes".

-- Gerry

Murakami Haruki was just named recipient of the Jerusalem Prize in Literature.

I've read two books from Japan so far this month. First:

Nip the Buds, Shoot the Kids by Kenzaburo Oe

This is the first book by Nobel Prize winner Oe, written when he was only 23. During World War II, a group of reform school boys is evacuated to a remote village, where they are treated as sub-humans by the villagers. When a plague breaks out the villagers abandon the boys. Rather than deteriorating into savagery, the boys unite to work together to survive (perhaps even thrive). Unlike the villagers, they accept outsiders, a Korean boy who had been ostracized by the villagers, an army deserter, and a village girl deserted when her mother died of the plague. Tragedy ensues only when the villagers return to impose "civilization" on the boys.
Oe himself has indicated that he wrote the book solely for Japanese readers, and, in fact, specifically for Japanese readers who came of age during World War II. While I think that the book is an extremely valuable work for readers around the world, I do believe that even if the names of the characters and locations were disguised, one would know that this is a Japanese novel.
One of the major themes is an examination of the nation's blind allegiance to the emperor as a diety. The boys are treated as absolute outsiders upon whom the will of society must be imposed. Some are in reform school for the most minor of infractions. The elders are depicted as sheeplike, obeying all rules without question; their role is to "nip the buds," before they can develop as independent thinkers.
The book is written in simple, spare prose, a style that I have found with other Japanes writers. I liked this book very much and highly recommend it. There is nothing I did not like about the book.

Life in the Cul-de-Sac by Senji Kuroi

Senji Kuroi is one of the "Introspective Generation" of writers, whose works often depict the interior lives of ordinary Japanese people. Life in the Cul-de-Sac follows the lives of the members of 5 families in a Tokyo cul-de-sac. Members of one household speculate as to what may be going on in another household--i.e. neglected children, front doors left open in the middle of the night--yet are afraid to intrude in any way. Within a particular household family members are isolated from one another, and not always aware of each other's cares and concerns. Only we the readers have a more complete picture of what is going on in the lives and minds of these characters.
The novel is structured as a series of interrelated stories, each usually focusing on a particular household or family member. We sometimes see an incident from more than one point of view; sometimes there are gaps left between the stories.
Nevertheless, Life in the Cul-de-sac reads like a novel and the characters, who are likeable and whose lifes are interesting, are well-developed.
The themes in the novel are universal--isolation and lack of community, care of the elderly, rising unemployment, loss of parental authority, changing roles of women--but I believe the characters are uniquely Japanese.
This is another book I highly recommend. I liked it very much, and there is nothing I did not like about it.

Great review of Nip the Buds, Shoot the Kids, Arubabookwoman. I have this out from the library and really hope that I can squeeze it in. (Maybe if I get off of LT and go read . . . )

Sorry Gerry,

I just don't buy the argument that "an outsider's view is always incorrect" even when it is the same as an insiders. Why? 1) Consider the ethical ramifications. If no one can truly understand another, then why bother? Reading Japanese either in the original or in translation becomes a pointless and useless exercise. I refuse to accept that. 2) Adhering to such a thesis dooms humankind to eternal tribalism and war. I believe we can transcend those difficulties.

I like anthropologist Clifford Geertz's theory about deep culture. I find it a much more helpful way of viewing the way we develop layers of understanding about other cultures.

urania1,

I don't think it's that "an outsider's view is always incorrect", but just that in insider might feel like the outsider's view is incorrect simply because, well, how can they truly understand what it is to be an insider?

In Liza Dalby's case, I've heard Japanese say that her case isn't really a portrayal of geisha society simply because, since she is not a real Japanese geisha, she will not be treated as one and thus she cannot know what it is to be one. No matter how well she knows the arts and mannerisms, the Japanese will not open up entirely or expect her to know much simply because she is foreign. I may know more about Japanese literature and music than most of my Japanese friends but that doesn't make me more Japanese than them and that doesn't mean I understand what it means to be Japanese more so than they do.

But of course, just because they are Japanese and I am not doesn't mean that they know more about being Japanese than I do.

So, it is not that the outsider's view is incorrect (and that's not what I was saying in my original post) but that the insider might feel that the outsider's view is incorrect simply because they are indeed, an outsider.

My initial comment on Liza Dalby's book wasn't meant to be as a deterrent from reading the book, nearly a note that we need to keep in mind what perspective is being portrayed in the books about geisha. Even with Mineko Iwasaki's novel, yes, she is Japanese and one of the most famous Japanese geisha of her time, but we have to take into consideration that she is trying to back up a certain claim so obviously we also need to take what SHE says with a grain of salt.

This is certainly bringing up an interesting conversation of how cultures are perceived and if anyone really is in the right.

Arubabookwoman -

Those were excellent reviews indeed. I've already read Nip the Buds but I might need to check out the second book you mentioned. Although an avid fan of Japanese literature this is the first time I hear of Senji Kuroi.

A Late Chrysanthemum – 21 short stories by seven writers from the first half of the twentieth century, translated by Lane Dunlop. I'm not much of a fiction reader and I hoped the short story format would make for easier reading (#52 above). Sadly, I was wrong.

I read the first four stories by Shiga Naoya and was singularly unimpressed. With guarded encouragement from gscottmoore (#54) I continued on to try other authors. I read two stories by Yasunari Kawabata, which were minimally better, and the tale by Hayashi Fumiko from which the collection took its title.

This last story relates the musings of a middle-aged Geisha-type as she mulls over love affairs from earlier days while preparing for a visit from one of the former lovers. I enjoyed this story more than the others, but not enough to finish the book, I'm afraid.

I'm feeling mired in the mud. I echo the sentiments of an earlier poster in feeling that Japanese works are perhaps "too subtle" for me. I tend to read literally, not always picking up on the hidden symbolism. The understatement and the focus on interior thoughts just moves too slowly to keep my attention. Perhaps this is a result of my mostly having read nonfiction for many years, or perhaps my liking for nonfiction is a result of this inclination – hard to tell which came first!

this is a very interesting thread. I just wanted to contribute to the argument about insiders/outsiders, as my own circumstances reflect this, although in a Chinese culture, not a Japanese culture.

I certainly think it is true that an outsider can see things about a culture that have become naturalised and therefore invisible to the insiders, as Urania says, but there is no 'correct' view: both the inside and the outside view are different versions of the truth, different perspectives and can both feed each other.

What lillisin says in #81 is also correct in my experience. Both the insiders and the outsiders feel that the other is incapable of really understanding the culture, because they are are outsider, or because they are naturalised. THe only way out of this is acceptance. I have to accept that there are aspects of the culture in which I live that I can never understand, and I have to accept that the insiders in my adopted culture cannot understand certain things about it because they cannot see the things I see in it.

A reading of Althusser might help here.

Asian cultures in general are extremely resistant to the assimilation of outsiders. It's because we LOOK so different.

I have not the Dalby book, but it seems to me that this is the kind of anthropological experiment that risks becoming either an obscenity, or merely an exercise in kitsch.

Murr,

You make some excellent points. About your final sentence - I have not read the Dalby book, but it seems to me that this is the kind of anthropological experiment that risks becoming either an obscenity, or merely an exercise in kitsch - I do not think the book is either an obscenity or an exercise in kitsch. Dalby approaches her topic with a great of respect and seriousness, freely admits the limitations of her method of studying geiko life. I would add that the geiko themselves tell her that the only way to understand what geiko are to become one. Hence the suggestion comes from them.

I'm glad to hear that Dalby avoids both the risks I mention.

I wanted to clarify what I meant by the risk of obscenity or kitsch.

By obscenity I was thinking of Colin Turnbull The Mountain People, in which the 'study' is seriously flawed by the 'observer effect', even to the extent in which the study itself destroys the object under study. It seems to me that this is a kind of cultural obscenity.

And Memoires of a Geisha (A Western Male writing a fictional autobiography of an Asian woman) is a good example of what I mean by kitsch.

I'd like to voice my objection (though kindly) to what is being expressed here. It was *exactly* the writing of Arthur Golden which introduced my husband and myself to the world of geisha and led us to want to read more about it. I followed Arthur Golden's book by reading Liza Dalby's book Geisha and relished learning much more about this special culture. I do know that, in the eyes of the Japanese, Dalby's study is not considered "authentic", but it is at least a door into understanding the tradition and beauty of the geisha world.

Re: 90

I'm a jazz musician, and meet people who started out listening to real shlock and eventually migrated to the best that music has to offer. And others who come to film or to fiction by way of the most run-of-the-mill works, but then become avid readers or begin some kind of literary pursuit. Who cares how they get there?

If you had a transcendent experience with the Golden or Dalby works, well then, it was transcendent, wasn't it? No one can deny you that. It doesn't matter whether it was true or manipulative or lurid or predictable or anything else. The experience happens in YOUR brain and heart and nowhere else.

I like to think that a film or book or song as only hat. It lays, in hibernation, on a shelf, with no inherent value, always read to do it's task. It's only when someone picks it up and tries it on that it has the potential to be great or unimportant at that moment. But it may never fit you, and it may not feel right today--but feel perfect tomorrow.

And so forth.

-- Gerry

I like to introduce a non sequitur here. Having been trapped in Japan for almost a month now although I was merely intending to make a swift visit and head back to Russian, I have a question. Before I ask it, please don't up with your hackles get. I would like recommendations for Japanese histories, written by both insiders and outsiders. I realize history is a broad term here, so feel free to limit your suggestions although at least one good survey would be nice. One more note, I prefer cultural and intellectual histories to histories whose plot runs as follows: First X came into power. His grandson was deposed by Family Y during a war. Then followed Kings A, B, and C, after which there was more war and so on and so on. I realize that one cannot completely excise war from history books. But surveys of this sort reduce me to the serious contemplation of wrist slitting :-)

#91 So are you saying that there is no difference at all, then, in 'bad' art and 'good' art? Do I understand you correctly?

#93

"So are you saying that there is no difference at all, then, in 'bad' art and 'good' art?"

Of course not. In the big academic/historic picture, good and bad art have been crowned, will be dethroned and periodically re-evaluated. The concepts we apply in evaluating art will remain with they are; balance and symmetry, economy v. ornamentation and all the rest.

But a personal experience with a work of art is not subject to big questions like "what is good and bad art". If someone is given to inconsolable weeping at the end of the movie Titanic, it doesn't confer any value on it as a work of good or bad, art but it may make for a transcendent personal experience.

Whether art is good or bad doesn't necessarily speak to our personal experience with the work. I avoid making definitive evaluations of the fiction I read as "good art" or "bad art". For the most part, it's an abstract score in an imaginary game; "Popeye versus Superman".

I always think of the films of Cassavettes or Mike Leigh and freely admit that they can be failures in any number of ways, but I'd rather watch their flawed work than the precision work of many soul-less filmmakers. Even if they only move me for part of the film, I'm moved. For me, that's important.

I love the work of Hayashi Fumiko, particularly "Floating Clouds". But the last quarter of the book is dead weight. I still love the book; the mindset it puts me in, the veracity of the characters and their world. So is it good or bad art? Hell, I don't know and it doesn't make much difference to me.

Enjoying a corn-dog on a summer day doesn't make it "good food", of course. They say that beauty is in the eye of the beholder. Do you disagree?

-- Gerry

Re: 92

The history of Japan seems to be the history of war-lords, shoguns and emperors. Sadly I imagine most "history" is comprised of that.

The arts were considered small and secondary in general terms. Nevertheless people have written a lot of histories of writing; poetry and fiction and such. Then are a number of big fat anthologies that intersperse examples of styles and approaches with illustrations of how they were birthed, matured and died.

I'm gonna snoop through my boatload of materials and see if I can find something that address the "cultural and intellectual history" of Japan, but I don't think I'm going to find anything that really satisfies your needs. War and conquest were the things they considered most important for a few thousand years...

-- Gerry

Urania -- I did a reading grant a number of years ago on Japanese drama (focusing mostly on No and Kabuki) and have a bibliography floating around somewhere I can dig up if you're interested in that angle of Japanese "cultural and intellectual" history.

>96 janeajones: Thanks Jane. I would love to see your bibliography.

I've been faffing rather as I actually read both of these towards the start of the month but it's interesting reading the discussion about outsiders/insiders and whether the outsider can be "correct". I read after the quake by Haruki Murakami, but also Fear and Trembling by Amélie Nothomb. How many worlds apart they are!

after the quake consists of stories in which each character experiences a "quake" of some description, although the title ostensibly arises because all the stories are set in the aftermath of the Kobe earthquake. I'm not sure I learned anything new in particular about Japan - the stories were, for the most part, more atmospheric than anything else. The major themes seemed to be a search for identity, particularly in the context of family (although I haven't quite fathomed how Super-frog fits into this. Perhaps he functions as a pseudo-family?!). I enjoyed Murakami's writing, which in many ways is almost hyper-realistic. Until the outsized frog turns up (who was another star feature). Especially initially, I found it frustrating that the stories ended quite abruptly, but I think this contributed to the sense of hyper-reality: all his characters have lives which continue beyond these snippets.

I don't know whether a non-Japanese person would have written in quite the same way. The writing had a quieter, more meditative feel than most Western writing does, but I'm wary of generalising (although others have noted something similar). I think perhaps the need for a family-based identity might be stronger for Japanese people (perhaps from a sense of the need for non-individuality and belonging?). Equally, Murakami's writing is accessible because the characters reflected the need for identity that everyone feels, especially around times of tumultuous change.

Fear and Trembling was totally different in tone, probably in part because the whole premise rested on the fact that she was an outsider, immersed in Japanese culture. Amélie is trying to fit in, but she is a vivacious Westerner and, even having spent the first few years of her life in Japan, commits faux pas after faux pas. The “fear and trembling” is the attitude with which the petitioners should have approached the emperor in times past, and the attitude with which Amélie eventually has to come to her immediate boss with. Her difficulties in negotiating the finer points of the office culture and hierarchy are what provide the comic fodder for the book. I can perhaps see why Mary’s bookgroup colleague didn’t like it: the picture it paints of emphasises the alienness (and absurdity) of the culture in a manner that seems rather unsympathetic. I don’t think that her experience as a foreigner was "incorrect", but I think as an outsider, what she represents as Japanese culture is more of a caricature (certainly in this instance) than Murakami’s subtle explorations.

re #92

Mary,

my expertise in matters Japanese is nil. However, I just came across a description of a book which SOUNDS like it could be interesting to you. It may or may not be "correct".

Travelers of a Hundred Ages by Donald Keene, published by Columbia Univ Press

In Japan, the diary has acquired the status of a literary genre comparable in importance to the novel and the literary essay. Donald Keene, hailed in the New York Times Book Review as "the century's leading expert on Japanese literature, " presents a collection of pre-modern Japanese diaries that is both a literary history of this seminal genre and a source of insight into Japanese life of the last thousand years. Ranging from objective to confessional, selections such as "The Poetic Memoirs of Lady Daibu" and "Diaries of Seventeenth-Century Courtiers" are much more than mere narratives of events, and offer unparalleled glimpses into the lives of diverse writers from the Kamakura dynastic period to the Tokugawa period. "Travelers of a Hundred Ages" illuminates the hidden and largely unknown worlds of imperial courts, Buddhist monasteries, country inns, and merchants' houses. It is at once an intimate account of the diarists' lives and a testimony to the greater struggles and advances of Japanese culture.

I can easily get a copy to you if it might interest you.

Andrushka,

I would love a copy.

#94, no, I don't disagree at all. for one moment back there I had the sinking feeling that you were going to go in for that 'anti-elitist' all-art-is-equal crap and declare that Richard Clyderman was on the same level as Keith Jarrett, for example. I'm relieved that you did not. you make a good point of separating the quality of a work of art from the response it arouses in the reader/listener/viewer, which two points are often conflated by the anti-elitist school.

Hello all. Rather late in the month, I've read a Japanese book so thought I would share my impressions of it here:

The book was Real World by Natsuo Kirino, which was described as Japanese feminist noir. It is about a teenage boy who kills his mother and a group of girls who become involved with him as he tries to avoid capture by the police. The book changes perspective as that we see different parts of the story from the five teenage characters perspectives, although much of each chapter is that person describing themselves and their feelings of alientation.

1) How did your book get its title?
It is recurring theme in the book about different worlds, the inner world of someone's mind, the world inhabited by adults or the new world that the murderer believes he has reached through his crime.

2) Did you learn anything new about Japan from reading the book you chose?
Rather than learning anything new, I think this book just confirmed the ideas I already had from the portrayal of Japanese teenagers in film and other thing's I've read, as well as things I've heard from people who've lived in Japan. The pressure to succeed and the expectations on women to behave a certain way were things I'd come across before.

3) What major themes did you observe?
This book was all about personal isolation, as it was something expressed by each character, although it was caused by something different in each person.

4) Could this theme work in other places, or is it something that can only be told in Japan?
Alienated teenagers is a pretty universal theme and younger generations rebelling against their elders is found everywhere, but here it wasn't just a generational problems - the young people were alienated from each other, even from the people who were their friends, there were secrets and alot said about the limits of those relationships. The response to those feelings from the teenage murderer are something that is depicted frequently in fiction and film and that didn't seem uniquely Japanese and could easily, for example, be transposed to the USA. However, (trying to avoid spoilers), the actions of one of the girls in particular does seem to be a very Japanese response - not based on what I know in real life, but certainly something that I've seen recurring in other books about Japanese teenagers.

5) What was something that you really liked about the book that you read?
I enjoyed the way it was written from different perspectives.

6) Something that you didn't like?
The sections written from the male point of view I thought were weaker, although that is probably understand given that it has a female author.

Not so much that I didn't like, but I found I wasn't emotionally engaged by this book. I'm not going to say that it was a bad thing, because I think it may have been intentional as the characters are all feel alientated, don't show much empathy and could be said to be ammoral, so I don't think the reader is supposed to connect to them (or perhaps I would if I was a teenager myself?). Last year I read Norwegian Wood which had some similar themes to this, but that book I was moved by.

7) If applicable, do you think Japanese writers write differently about Japan then a non-Japanese writing about Japan?
N/A

8) What is the impression you get about Japan and its people as you read your book?
This book portrays a country in danger of being torn apart by the conflict between the individual and society, a huge pressure to be a certain way and live a certain life, with feelings being repressed until they erupt in violence. However, this is a crime novel and any crime novel is always going to show the darkest side of whatever setting it is in.

I've been enjoying this thread immensely as I truly enjoy reading Japanese fiction (I like contemporary) and love reading how others view this genre.

One thing I've been thinking about is that many people have noticed how lyrical and poetic much of Japanese writing tends to be. Does anyone have any idea why that is? Is that innate to Japanese ficton? Might it have something to do with how Japanese vocabulary is translated? I have no idea, but I love how simple but deeply felt the narratives usually are.

--> 102

I read and enjoyed Out by Natsuo Kirino. I thought it unusual to be reading a murder mystery (which I don't usually read) by a female author (which I tend to read less than male authors) who is Japanese. The bottom line was that I enjoyed it very much. I also did not feel engaged by the characters in Out but thought the book was interesting to read. I'd be very eager to read Real World to see how that compares. (I'm wishlisting it!) The author has another book, Grotesque which I'm also looking for.

Addendum: Isn't the cover art for Kirino's books startling and good?! That is what attracted me to pick up the book Out in the frst place.

For those who have read Amélie Nothomb's Fear and Trembling, I thought that I'd point out that she has a newer book, Tokyo Fiancée (Ni d'Ève Ni d'Adam) that covers her personal life during the same time period. I haven't read it yet, but I'm going to as soon as I can find it. Fear and Trembling is a wierd novel because you don't get a real sense of how she feels about Japan; despite her trauma at work she could be having an amazing time outside of it. I hope that her new work presents a more balanced view. (Review at the Literary Saloon)

Message 103: SqueakyChu
I have wanted to read Out for a while but I just happened to get hold of a copy of Real World first. Although I wasn't blown away by it, it was interesting enough for me to still want to read her other novels. I agree about the cover art - very dramatic.

I've read Out and Grotesque, but not Real World. I thought Out was a much better book than Grotesque. I do intend to read Real World when I get a chance.

I don't view Kirino's work as being Japanese literature so much as being mystery/crime fiction with Japanese characters and settings. In other words, while the facts, circumstances, motivations, etc. in her books may sometimes be peculiar to the Japanese, her books fit snugly in the universal genre of mystery/crime fiction.

104> Sarasamsara, that's interesting to know! Is it a fictionalised account like Fear and Trembling? Incidentally, she does mention in passing during Fear and Trembling that she had a perfectly happy and functional life outside the office - it was only once she stepped through the doors that her life reverted to the surreal state of being an employee of the Yumimoto corporation...

>102 sanddancer: sanddancer, I'm interested in why your book was called a feminist noir. Can you elaborate on that at all?

>103 SqueakyChu: I'm not sure I would describe the Japanese literature I have read, generally, as lyrical and poetic. I cannot say whether much of it is so in the original Japanese prose, but I think it would be very difficult to render such lyricism through translation.* That said, in many of the books I've read there is a quietness of tone, a certain note of reflection and an appreciation of beauty that has similar effect. But also, much contemporary literature seems to want to either play off this or purposely oppose it.

Avaland, you don't find Kawabata lyrical and poetic? or Oe? or Thirst for Love by Mishima?

I find most of what I've read in Japanese literature lyrical and poetic, but admit that my readings generally stop before the 1950's. I'm unsure why lyricism would be difficult through translation. I think it is ideas that are translated, not words, and the expression of ideas through metaphor and description retain much if not all of their original elements and functional utility for the reader.

Certainly some words are more beautiful to the ear, regardless of meaning, than others, and certain arrangements of phrase have more or less sonority. But that might then make all German or Russian poetry more "lyrical" when translated to French or Portuguese. I guess it then depends on the reader's preferences of sounds.

I think the poetry of a writer, assuming a good translator, comes through. There is that eternal dilemma: the artist's intent. Did the translator keep the artist's intent uppermost in his/her mind? Can they ever replicate their intent in another language--or even in the same language? Likely not. But then, I don't think the reader, in the original or in translation, keeps the artist's intent uppermost either, but instead their own personal intent.

-- Gerry

LizT -- It's probably as fictionalized as Fear and Trembling. It's about her failing relationship with a Japanese man. The premise doesn't sound as amusing as F & T, but it does sound like it adds the emotion that is missing from the prior book.

This theme read has been fun. To follow Murakami's The Wind-Up Bird Chronicle I picked up Kenzaburo Oe's A Quiet Life. It's a clever novel that purports to be the diary of Ma-chen where she notes the daily happenings and her thoughts and memories while her parents are away. Her father is K-chan, a writer of novels who has periods of depression nicknamed "pinches". He leaves his family for periods disguised as academic postings to foreign universities and immerses himself in research.

This time, her mother is very concerned and accompanies K-chan to the US. They leave behind Ma-chen, 20 years of age to care for her older brother, Eeyore, who works in a sheltered workshop but has musical savant qualities and her younger brother O-chan, who is studying a second year in order to enter University.

Each page is both a coming-of-age experience for Ma-chan, but also a musing of the purpose of life, a philosophizing of K-chan/Kenzaburo Oe. There is a lot about Eeyore's disability/ability and the weakness and strength in all of us.

I liked A Quiet Life a lot, but at times it's quite dense. I wondered whether I needed to be a scholar of Western philosophy, French and Russian literature and Blake. You can't help but be intrigued by the structure of the novel and its seeming recursiveness. Ma-chen, Eeyore and O-chan are very sympathetic characters, as are Mr Shigeto, Eeyore's composition teacher and his wife.

This novel gave me a greater insight into the workings of a Japanese family, their relatives and friends and their role in society. I liked it.

# 112

I am almost finished with Oe's Rouse up O Young Men of the New Age!, which has a lot of Blake references. In fact the title, and all the chapter headings are from Blake. I think it is a nice interweaving of William Blake's poetry and Oe's semi-autobiographical description of raising his disabled child, Eeyore.

>113 vpfluke: vpfluke, this is my first Oe novel and I really enjoyed it. I realised that much of the novel is personal reflection disguised as fiction, but I had no idea quite just how much memoir and fiction are entwined in Oe's novels.

Very interesting. Thanks!

What a great thread! I am interested in the intersection of travelers and authentic culture and read a lot in this genre. I recently finished two books dealing with Japan (neither of which focused at all on either geishas or samurai) and found both worthwhile. 36 Views of Mount Fuji deals more with an American woman's experiences of Japanese friendship while Lost Japan explores an outsider's appreciation of Japan's traditional arts.

Cathy Davidson's essays may be of interest to anyone hoping to understand how Japanese cope with the pressures for conformity in both the educational system and the business world and the unexpected freedoms the Japanese grant themselves as an escape valve. Her role as an educator and a woman seeking out Japanese friendships give her some poignant insights into loneliness and estrangement in Japanese society and the cultural conventions that both cause feelings of isolation and buffer its effects.

Alex Kerr is a polymath interested in all aspects of Japanese art and culture. He gives a firsthand account of the economic difficulties of a traditional rural Japanese lifestyle, lamenting Japan's unbridled development and destruction of its natural resources. His background in Chinese studies allowed him to present a clear explanation of how calligraphy, tea ceremony and other aspects of Japanese culture originated in China and evolved to reflect the unique Japanese psyche. His descriptions of shepherding friends through various Shinto and Buddhist shrines also helped me better understand the relationship between the two, the way one influenced the other and the role of both in modern Japan.

In tandem with these books, I read Kitchen by Banana Yoshimoto and started (and am still reading) Black Rain by Masuji Ibuse. Kitchen took me by surprise. It is a thin book pairing two novellas, Kitchen and Moonlight Shadow, that both deal with loss and its aftermath. At first the author's light, easygoing style tricked me into underestimating my emotional involvement with the story. Kitchen begins when Mikage loses her beloved grandmother and is taken in by the Tanabe family she barely knows. From there, Mikage's relationship with the Tanabes--a transvestite nightclub owner and his son--deepens based on shared late-night meals and three lives brushing up against each other in a small Japanese apartment. I was unprepared for the turns this 100-page novella took and how anxiously I rushed to the end, hoping to see Mikage find respite from her overwhelming sense of being alone in the world.

The second novella, Moonlight Shadow, contrasted the reactions of Satsuki and Hiirage who both lost loved ones in a tragic accident. Satsuki deals with the loss of her beloved Hitoshi by eating less and less and jogging more and more. Hiirage copes with his double loss--his brother Hitoshi and his girlfriend Yumiko--by wearing Yumiko's old school uniform. Their attempts to console each other are awkward yet touching. As the novella built toward a promised surprise ending, I ached for them to find happiness as well.

In my estimation, reading Westerner's takes on Japan heightens my appreciation of unique aspects of Japanese fiction because I am on the lookout for ways Japanese characters might interpret things just a little differently than I do. I read, and loved, Memoirs of a Geisha but can't weigh in on how it stacks up against other geisha lit. Although Arthur Golden is a western male, I did find it unsettling how often I forgot that while reading the book. I guess if everyone had this gift for cross-cultural and cross-gender sensitivity, we'd all live in a much more peaceful world.

Longer reviews of the two travel books are available on my
999 challenge thread and in my library:

36 Views of Mount Fuji
Lost Japan

I have now finished five books about Japan: four by Japanese authors and one by American author Liza Dalby. I have commented on the first three books already, so here are my final comments on Geisha and The Gossamer Years. First Dalby:

Background
In 1975, Dalby (an American anthropology student) traveled to Japan to conduct research on geisha. At the suggestion of an okasan (a “mother” and manager of a teahouse), she became a geisha for a year. She worked in the Pontocho hanamachi (geisha community) in Kyoto. Kyoto has five hanamachi, each with its own distinct style. In comparison, Tokyo has 20 such communities; Tokyo geisha are also quite distinct in style from Kyoto geisha, who are the most “traditional” of all geisha. In Kyoto, women usually spend four or five years as maiko before graduating to full geisha status. Consequently, they tend to start at a much younger age than Tokyo geisha, whose apprenticeship lasts a couple of weeks. Tokyo does not have maiko. Because Dalby was older, she did not go through the traditional apprenticeship, but made her debut as full-fledged geisha. Nevertheless, the fact that she studied in Kyoto at the Pontocho hanamachi made a distinct impact on her experience. As she notes in her preface regarding the question, “What does it mean to be a geisha?”: “There are undoubtedly many possible answers. I have given my own.” She admits that the book delicately balances between ethnography and subjective experience.

Comments
Those seeking a conventional scholarly text will find this book disappointing because it is a hybrid – part first-hand account and part scholarly analysis. It would be interesting to compare this work, released by the University of California Press, with the dissertation from which it was derived. The absence of the usual inundation of footnotes (there are but few) and the inclusion of the first-person account make this a reader-friendly book. However, I did find myself occasionally wanting more specificity, particularly regarding dates for reasons I will explain below. Dalby devotes a chapter to discussing geisha in an historical context: when geisha first appeared in Japanese culture, how governance of geisha has changed over the centuries, and how the profession has changed. One of the major changes in the profession was the “emancipation” of geisha and its subsequent positive effects on geisha autonomy. In the early part of the 20th century, poor parents still sold unwanted daughters as young as five to okiya. At the end of their apprenticeship (minara), geisha underwent mizu-age (sexual initiation ceremony). Such practices no longer exist. While geisha sometimes do have a danna (or patron) with whom they may or may not have sex, no geisha is subject to mizu-age. Dalby does not say when the practice stopped, although she recounts the story of teahouse guest, who in his younger days had been much in demand as a mizu-age patron (the man who initiated the young woman or girl). Exact dates would have been useful by providing context for other geisha accounts, particularly that of Mineko Iwasaki.

As I noted in an earlier post, Iwasaki clearly has several motives in writing her memoirs. One, of course, was in response to Arthur Golden who drew on interviews with her for his book Memoirs of a Geisha. Iwasaki went to great lengths to disabuse the readers of stereotypes about geisha and also to cast herself as the heroine of this memoir. In particular, she talks about her own sexual innocence. (She did not take a lover until rather late in the day.) Moreover, Iwasaki entered her okiya as the atotori (heir) by choice. Her father, however, sold her two older sisters to the same okiya during a period of financial difficulty. And herein lies the rub. Iwasaki takes great pains to present the elder of these two sisters, Yaeko, as an unworthy geisha and undutiful daughter. Yaeko first makes an appearance in chapter two as “a horrible woman” who shows up at the house with two “brats” and berates her parents for not loving her. One wonders again, what are the dates here? Did Yaeko go through mizu-age? Might this be a reason for her anger? Greater specificity in dating particular laws might shed a different light on Iwasaki’s memoir. Then, again perhaps it would not.

Some have criticized Dalby’s Geisha on the grounds that she could not on the basis of one year possibly comprehend geisha culture. Dalby would not disagree. As she points out, to be a geisha is to devote one’s life to one’s gei (art). One’s “art becomes one life and one’s life becomes one’s art. And this immersion in one’s gei is total and ideally a life-commitment, although the life-commitment part has changed rapidly in the latter quarter of the 20th century. That said, total devotion to one’s gei is not for the faint-hearted. Given the rigorous demands of gei, one can legitimately say that Dalby cannot give a complete account of geisha culture. However, as Dalby points out, there is no one geisha experience; and as the profession changes, many geisha practice for only a few years before quitting. So in this sense, Dalby’s is one perspective among many. What Dalby does well is demystify the profession. As one geisha says to her: “Why are you studying geisha? Geisha are no different from anybody else.” Dalby’s answer is “yes and no.”

Sensing from some of the comment here that focusing on geisha in some way reflected a Western fetish, I decided to go back to the mists of antiquity, the Heian Empire with The Gossamer Years: The Diary of a Noblewoman of Heian Japan. This was not my first trip to Heian times, but it was my most frustrating to date. I attribute this frustration to the translator, one Edward Seidensticker. This translation was not Seidensticker's first go at The Gossamer Years. And based on his introduction, he is somewhat bitter about having to do another. Clearly some behind the scenes drama involving UNESCO and the mysterious, elusive, illusive, and allusive Iwanami. (Wow, how many times does one get to be elusive, illusive, and allusive all within an introduction?)

So what didn’t I like? I did like the story – the tempestuous tale of wife and a husband of roving eye and body. In fact I found it heartbreaking in places. I also liked the glimpses the text offered into life among Heian aristocracy, which from all accounts, was highly stylized, elegantly understated, and carried off with something like Italian sprezzatura (the cloest Western analogy I could make). However, given some unsympathetic introductory statements by Seidensticker about the central character, I found myself wondering if a translation done by a woman might differ significantly from this one. Furthermore, if Dalby’s text lacked sufficient footnotes, Seidensticker had about a dozen per page (okay I exaggerate, but there were a lot); unfortunately, they took the form of endnotes. So I had to read the text with one finger stuck on the current page and another glued to the endnotes page. Dreadfully awkward and distracting. Moreover, the endnotes lacked the luster I have come to expect of endnotes – that spot being the place in which the author says what she/he really thinks and makes catty asides about lesser critics. Seidensticker endnotes were boring I agree this comment is snippy and not to the point; moreover, he did not footnote the items about which I really wanted information. For example, the characters constantly exchange poems delivered tied to various objects – a hollyhock or a moss-covered tree branch. Did each item have some particular significance? I don’t know, but I wanted to know. I highly recommend this book to all readers. Dalby’s book I recommend only to those who will not feel they have sullied themselves in reading a book about geisha from a non-Japanese perspective.

Message edited by author to reflect feedback from a tactful and kind LT member.

I received this private message on my profile page regarding my last post on The Gossamer Years. I appreciate the author’s allowing me the opportunity to make my corrections privately and without much ado. That stance is considerate and respectful. Therefore, I wish to print the message and then respond because at least some of the accusations raised are legitimate and I believe in taking responsibility for one’s words. So without further ado, the comment:

“Unfortunately, although the first half of your presentation on Dalby's Geisha is insightful, in your presentation of the Gossamer Years you have not only mistakenly named the translator as "Eric" when it should be Edward Seidensticker, but you compound your error with very flippant and snippy comments about the translator, which, for his lifetime work (some 65 years) and pioneering translations (for which he was self-deprecating as all truly good translators are), and original publications, I believe you pay him a disservice.

Edward Seidensticker, who died in 2007 at the age of 86 after a lifetime dedicated to Japan, is one of the heroes of students of Japanese literature, and in my opinion, should only be referred to by a nickname by his own contemporaries, and even then with a sense of respect.

I realize you may dislike the translator's comments or his skill, but I believe you must at least use the correct name.

My Response
1. To my gentle interlocutor, you are correct. I did err in writing Eric as opposed to Edward. In the world of scholarship or in the larger world that is a serious gaffe.

2. I agree that I am flippant. It is my nature. I think the LT forums at least allow for flippancy. I think we must guard against taking our disciplines and ourselves too seriously. If I am flippant about Edward Seidensticker, I am equally flippant about my own sacred cows and myself. In the end, the quality of Edward Seidensticker’s translation, if good and faithfully done, will stand up against the insignificant comments of one who knows little about Japanese culture and has been trying dutifully over the past month to reach greater insight than she currently possesses.

3. I was attempting humor. It is my last defense in what I consider a sad world. If I have done Edward Seidensticker a disservice, I apologize. I also thank you for filling me in on the details of his life and his service to Japanese scholarship.

Cheers,
Mary

Re: Edward Seidensticker:

Mary/Urania1 tells us:

"If I am flippant about Edward Seidensticker, I am equally flippant about my own sacred cows and myself."

I encourage all to write as they like. That's one of the bonuses and liabilities of the virtual world. I have made myself look like a jackass on myriad occasions, and I think I've learned something about how "being myself", can ensure that others will conclude I am pompous, irrelevant, a grand-standing know-nothing or, on occasion, funny.

I appreciate you relating your long and detailed experience with Japanese culture and fiction in this thread more than I can say. You seem quite passionate in your pursuit and quite incisive in your analysis.

Edward Seidensticker has been a great and powerful guide to me through a certain strata of Japanese fiction and culture. I champion him as one of the great translators whose mark will long be felt in making Japanese fiction and culture available to a much wider world. I personally love Geisha in Rivalry, consider Kafu the Scribbler a minor revelation in my exploration of Japan, and there other works I also consider truly important.

Elsewhere you say: "In the end, the quality of Edward Seidensticker’s translation, if good and faithfully done, will stand up against the insignificant comments of one who knows little about Japanese culture and has been trying dutifully over the past month to reach greater insight than she currently possesses."

After a relatively short period of time in this thread I can assure you that your opinions are regarded quite highly, whether you are flippant or not, and so general disrespect for "The Stick" may mean nothing to the future of Japanese lit. in translation, but it can certainly temper the prospects for those eavesdropping regarding their future exploration. I encourage others heartily to look for names of Seidensticker, Keene (Dennis or Donald), Lane Dunlop, Howard Hibbit and Thomas J. Rimer. These names continuously come up in relation to some of the finest work of translation and criticism.

-- Gerry

Re: 92

Mary/Urania1 tells us:

"I would like recommendations for Japanese histories, written by both insiders and outsiders. I realize history is a broad term here, so feel free to limit your suggestions although at least one good survey would be nice. One more note, I prefer cultural and intellectual histories..."

I have looked for books of Japanese history that pursue matters cultural more than those of the endless shift of land-ownership and martial pomp. Those I've found the most useful and which provided a better look at the world of real people most directly are some of the following:

Donald Keene - Appreciation of Japanese Culture
Edward Seidensticker - Low City, High City
Edward Seidensticker - Tokyo Rising

Both of the latter two are histories of Tokyo, but in the process there is much to be learned about the continuing legacy of Edo as the Japanese have worked their way through their modernization. The first volume covers 1897-1923, the latter from 1923 to the present.

I've come to believe that the best way to pursue a cultural history is through these books of literary history. Certainly I have a few books on their classical graphic and textile arts, but these things are so dry compared to actually seeing it in a museum. So here are my candidates n the literary approach:

Donald Keene - Dawn to the West In two volumes, one covering fiction the other poetry, drama and criticism
Shuichi Kato - A History of Japanese Literature In three volumes covering 7th century to present.

In pursuing all of this, I've found reason to make lateral pursuits of Bunraku (puppet) and Kabuki theatre. Of couse this is not "history", but of course one gains a new awareness of a culture by reviewing (whatever they believed to be) their most important art works. Sadly reading Kabuki (or Shakespeare or O'Neill), isn't the same thing as watching it.

Finally, though the title is unnecessarily lurid and misleading, it actually addresses a lot of the historical details of common life in the modern era (that means Meiji, 1868, and beyond):

Mikiso Hane - Peasants, Rebels & Outcasts, the Underside of Modern Japan

Regarding the insider v. outsider, male translator v. female translator and the implications of stratifying validity among those; I can't really wrap my brain around that. I read and if it's unsatisfactory I don't analyze the source for an inherent national or biological failing.

-- Gerry

Gerry,

Thanks for the reading list. Vis à vis gender and translation, I don't have the relevant texts in front of me, so what follows comes from wikipedia. By way of background for many years, the terms mentioned below were translated as "wretch" or "monster." Of course, depending on the time period in which the translator worked, a woman warrior may well have been a monstrosity, particularly to a male translator of that time.

"In 1979, Beowulf scholars Kuhn and Stanley argued against Klaeber's reading of Grendel's mother. Sherman Kuhn (Emeritus Professor of English and former editor of the Middle English Dictionary, University of Michigan 15) questioned Klaeber's translations of both "aglæc-wif" and of "aglæca/æglæca" when referring to Grendel and Grendel's mother, stating that there are,
“ five disputed instances of áglæca three of which are in Beowulf 649, 1269, 1512...In the first...the referent can be either Beowulf or Grendel. If the poet and his audience felt the word to have two meanings, 'monster,' and 'hero,' the ambiguity would be troublesome; but if by áglæca they understood a 'fighter,' the ambiguity would be of little consequence, for battle was destined for both Beowulf and Grendel and both were fierce fighters. 16 ”

He continued the argument by stating that, "I suggest, therefore, that we define aglæca as 'a fighter, valiant warrior, dangerous opponent, one who struggles fiercely.'").17 In a footnote to this sentence, Kuhn added, "if there were one clear instance of áglæca referring to an unwarlike monster, a peaceful demon, or the like, this definition would fall apart."18 Kuhn further suggested that, "Grendel's mother was an 'aglæc-wif', 'a female warrior' ... There is no more reason to introduce the idea of monstrosity or of misery here than there is in line 1519 where she is called merewif, defined simply as 'water-woman', 'woman of the mere.'" 17

E.G. Stanley (Emeritus Professor of Anglo-Saxon, Oxford University 19) added to the debate by critiquing both Klaeber and Gillam:
“ Grendel is described as an æglæca, a word which we do not understand. One scholar Gillam has, in fact, made investigation of this word a model for the methodology of establishing meaning. The attempt is of interest, but in the end we always come back to the fact that, as Klaeber's glossary shows, the word is used by the poet not only to describe Grendel as here, and later in the poem to describe the dragon, and the monsters of the mere as they attack Beowulf, but also Beowulf himself; and at one point the two enemies, Beowulf and the dragon, are described together using the plural æglæcean. As we assemble the many uses including compounds ... it becomes clear that it is not pejorative in force. We must not follow Klaeber's distinction of 'wretch, monster, demon, fiend' for Beowulf's enemies, and 'warrior, hero' for Beowulf himself; and we must not abuse Grendel's mother when she is called aglæcwif by translating the word as Klaeber does, 'wretch,' or 'monster, of a woman.' We must never forget that she is called there ides aglæcwif (1259) and ides, 'lady,' is not a term of abuse ... the poet does not speak of his monsters abusively. 20 ”

These arguments were supported by Christine Alfano (Lecturer in English, Stanford University), who questioned standard translations related to Grendel's mother in her 1992 article, "The Issue of Feminine Monstrosity: A Reevaluation of Grendel's Mother." She argues that: "I find a noticeable disparity between the Grendel's mother originally created by the Beowulf poet and the one that occupies contemporary Beowulf translations. Instead of being what Sherman Kuhn calls a 'female warrior,' the modern Grendel's mother is a monster. This assumption informs almost all areas of Beowulf scholarship, although there is little evidence for this characterization in the original Anglo - Saxon work." 21

Seamus Heaney, in his translation of Beowulf, compared Grendel's mother to an "amazon warrior" in l.1283 (swá bið mægþa cræft)."

Mary,

your scholarship is astounding and awe-inspiring. I, for one, am thankful.

Please also continue being yourself, including being flippant.

Northrop Frye, under whom I studied, and who inspired awe in his students, liked to tell us that he ate Wheaties in the morning, to suggest his humanity, and by extension an openness to ridicule and flippancy. I would very much doubt that Edward Seidensticker would have been offended by anything you said, serious or flippant.

Please continue to educate us and to entertain us with your great wit.

I'm going to jump in here and defend (stick up for?) the Stick a bit (I'm sure you didn't need to edit that bit out, Mary. I thought it was a wonderful pet name for him). I'm currently thoroughly enjoying his rendering of The Tale of Genji and increasingly of the opinion that everyone should read it. And the footnotes are on the page! Happy day.

LizT,

Footnotes on the page! Oh happy day indeed. And I should add having worked as an editor, the choice of footnotes or endnotes seldom rest with the author. Rather they are editorial decisions.

Re: 121

Mary says:

"Vis à vis gender and translation, I don't have the relevant texts in front of me, so what follows comes from wikipedia. By way of background for many years, the terms mentioned below were translated as "wretch" or "monster." Of course, depending on the time period in which the translator worked, a woman warrior may well have been a monstrosity, particularly to a male translator of that time." ( Big snip. )

It's very true that the older the time, the more poetic the text (logically more difficult to replicate in another language) and myriad other aspects, more things can certainly go astray. I think converting "warrior" to "monster" is a notable distinction. But we're talking about a word, not an entire text. I have my doubts that Seidensticker re-invented the character in Gossamer years: I believe his inclination has always been scrupulous attempts to replicate rather that to convert to conform to his own world-view.

But can anyone do this accurately to the lowest atomic level? Most certainly not. Is it possible to strip all semiotic distinction? No way. As women-as-underclass takes on greater emphasis with growing education regarding "Islamist" philosophy, (by "Christianist" journalists), one could undoubtedly find much more egregious translations in modern times and with very direct texts.

So the question remains, could a female translator have done a different job the Seidensticker? Sure. Could any good or bad translator of any gender category have done a different job? Certainly. Would a marginal female translator--who grew up in Japan, do a better job than a good male translator--who is himself a gifted writer? Hmm. Maybe, depending on which ones were selected.

So how about Popeye: Couldn't he really kick Superman's ass what with all that spinach and everything?

And this, is the reason I can't really wrap my brain around parsing good/bad based on what I do/don't know about the national/sexual/political/cultural context of the translator. Maybe I'm limited.

-- Gerry

Gerry,

I don't know if there would be a significant difference if a female translator did the text. But I am curious. In any case, not knowing Japanese myself, I would hardly be in a position to evaluate the quality of the two. I would only be a position to evaluate the arguments put forth by those who could evaluate the texts. I will say this: sometimes the cultural/political/sexual contexts do make a difference. For Old English, Middle English, and French, I've seen this firsthand. So it is always a question I raise when I read. Regarding Popeye, I would put Grendel's Mom up against either of them any day. To my way of thinking, she was merely following the heroic code of the time: "mess with my family and I'll mess with yours." I do not agree with that form of tribalism, but . . . That is probably why my sympathies lie with Medea and Clytemestra and many of the other "bad" women in Greek mythology :-)

Mary:

"I will say this: sometimes the cultural/political/sexual contexts do make a difference."

I assume they almost always do at some microscopic level. It is just that I will never know when and to what extent. So I avoid ruminating on it altogether.

"Regarding Popeye, I would put Grendel's Mom up against either of them any day. To my way of thinking, she was merely following the heroic code of the time: 'mess with my family and I'll mess with yours.'"

But NOBODY can whip Popeye! He's, he's--well he's Popeye! Of course, Grendel's mom on spinach might even up the odds a bit. D'oh--you snared me again!

Back to topic, though I know this is not your new hobby or anything, somewhere buried on your list you should add A Certain Woman by Arishima Takeo--if you can find a copy--it took me almost three years. Now that is one WICKED lady. I don't think a translator could soften her one whit. Actually it is a surprising character study, but the character is amazingly complex. One of the most complex I've encountered, actually.

It's difficult to read an entire book where the main character detestable, but at some point I just found myself amazed by selfishness that knows no bounds.

-- Gerry

Thanks Gerry. I will definitely start searching for the Takeo book. We have a rather large Japanese community where I live because Denso, a Japanese corporation, is located nearby. Perhaps someone there can help me.

#118 Wow. See what happens when I'm asleep? What a nasty bitchy comment from nobooksnolife there. So only contemporaries can give each other nicknames? But Eric Schliefenhammerstein ubergotteshimmelarschunddonnerswetter is dead. So only dead people can give him nicknames?

I SEE DEAD PEOPLE!!!! Aiyo!

Only one thing worse than people with no sense of humour, and that is..... mmm.... no, cant think of anything, actually.

One of the great things about librarything, is that no matter how much you think you know about something, there's always someone who knows more than you. This is great, imo, because I love learning, passionately. And someone who knows more than you helps to lift and enliven the conversation. But I hate it when people parade their knowledge as a sacred cow through the clogged streets, blocking traffic and leaving mess all over the pavement. I hate it when people forget that all knowledge is provisional, and may even be spurious.

Nobooksnolife, you have made a catastrophic misjudgement of Urania's tone. The fact that Urania shows reverence and respect for what she is reading is everywhere in evidence in her detailed and thoughtful review. A simple error of nomenclature is unfortunate indeed ( I once wrote a whole paper on Dickens in which I called him Dickins throughout. My tutor elegantly and tactfully corrected the first one, and let all the others stand. I blush to think of it even now.) but, you know what? I hear ghostly laughter from the hills. Could it be Eric?

Get a life.

As the month wore on I began to feel a bit like an interloper. I don’t read much fiction and hadn’t realized when I first joined that the group was so firmly oriented in that direction. I did try fiction, but didn’t get far with my choice. Then I found Japanese Lessons : A year in a Japanese school through the eyes of an American anthropologist and her children by Gail R. Benjamin. This book was very interesting, but not fiction. Hmmmm, what to do? Is it OK for me to be posting about my nonfiction reads? Or should I steal away quietly into the night?

I didn't disclose the name of the person who posted, so I don't think we ought to make assumptions about the poster. nobooksforlife and I have corresponded, and I am impressed by her kindness.

Fair enough. I saw nobooksnolife's post before it was taken down late last night.

my post was a delayed response. No offence intended to anyone.

Re: 132

"No offence intended to anyone."

Just so you can calibrate a bit, your intent isn't quite making it through. Bad news, Mr. Booth; you might have accidentally hit the president.

Urania1 is free to carp about Seidensticker. Seidensticker loyalists are free to defend him. Still others are free to discuss the participants, and their perceived "attitudes". In my experience the latter invariably incurs offense and disruption whether intended or not.

-- Gerry

re 132 Well, Tom, "fair enough" is kind of lame, especially after your parting shot: "Get a life."

How do you feel if someone you don't know says that to you? It is not a comment on the subject matter; it's a personal attack.

I think I was able to repair my, to use your words, "catastrophic misjudgment of Urania's tone" by exchanging messages with her privately. I didn't think our private conversation was pertinent to the Japan discussion, so I put it on the Profile. I feel like a made a new LT friend with Urania.

Also, it was Urania's choice to re-post my comment in the public arena and she knew I was taking issue with her words and not with her personally. I had yanked my original public post because I realized it could hurt some feelings, and for any of that, I am truly sorry.

Finally, I spent a couple of hours last night reading more about Seidensticker, and while I admire his life work, I discovered he was quite a difficult person, as mentioned in Japan Journals 1947-2004 by Donald Richie. Seidensticker seemed to have a hate/love attitude toward Japan. I think he loved Japan but didn't like the people very much. He may very well deserve the nickname "Stick", so thanks, Urania, for making me re-read and think some more. :)

Happy reading, Everybody.

*sigh, and this wasn't even my scrap!*

#133 Stay out of it.

#134 Get a life was referring to your name: I see from your libaray that you have plenty of books, I was just trying to be a bit witty, can't advise you to get more books.... but never mind. I was certainly not trying to attack you personally: I have never met you.

Your original post which I saw last night did offend me by its tone, which was why I rushed to my friend's defence. I'm glad you took it down. I was thoughtless to quote it without your permission and to refer to you by name. I apologise.

I know how easy it is to misunderstand tone when paralinguistic features of communication such as a twinkle in the eye, intonation etc are absent, and when we none of us have met each other in the flesh.
I am delighted that you feel you have made a friend with Urania.

Groveling and sincere apologies to everyone.

Your remarks about ES's love/hate relationship with Japan strikes a chrod with me in my situation here in Taiwan. Perhaps this ambivalence towards the host culture is a common factor in the experience of long term expats.

I shall now go and give myself a tongue bath and listen respectfully.

#133 Thanks, Gerry.
#135 Thanks, Tom. (wow, "tom and gerry", neat---I'm thinking of the cat and mouse comic, ok, that was Jerry....now, how about the famous ice cream...free association, anybody?)

OK, everybody hum a few bars of "don't worry...be happy" and let's be friends in the sandbox. (hmmm, Japan as a big sandbox, maybe Haiku material here somewhere).

Tomcat, at some other time and place, let's chat about expat experiences. As an expat in Tokyo I have love/hate ambivalence on an hourly basis. I lived in Taiwan in 1976-77 and loved it, but I haven't been back since 1979, following a summer in Beijing. I see Taiwan on TV and the Web...I wonder what it's like today up close and personal. I loved it 'way back when, but I was a different person then, too!

Urania--as follow up to your question a long time ago about books on Japanese history, I still want to have a thread about books on Japanese history, but I honestly don't have time to deal with it this week, so I won't be the one to start it up.

#135 P.S.(I can't get the edit thing to work)
I laughed at myself for missing your humor regarding my LT moniker! You are clever, but I totally missed it. ouch.
my real name is on my profile: Julia
Nice-ta-meet-cha.

its nice of you to say so, Julia, but I don't think it's so clever if no-one else gets it.
Nice to met you too.
:)

Oh gosh everybody. I am sorry. I will go ahead and be brave. Murr asked me if I would mind merging part of a conversation we've be having about my Japanese tour with this one, so here goes:

Murr: It seems like your stay in Japan has been very fruitful. I have read your post with huge interest, and have a couple of points to add.

1. It seems to me that the geisha, in expressing her dedication to her art, is in fact turning herself into a work of art. The geisha becomes a work of art, to be enjoyed by the 'viewer/consumer' as any other work of art. This is very unique to Japanese culture, and completely unlike anything found in the West.

2. Art in general in Japan, and the art of the geisha specifically, is linked to the erotic, in a way that is quite unproblematic and unabashed. Western art either usually denies the erotic, by focussing on the moral, the religious, the social, the aesthetic or the political in art, or masks it by focussing on the representation of the 'nude' or giving it mythological perspectives.

One question i have, Urania: in your reading of geisha lore, did you get the sense that this is in decline now in Japan, or is it as strong as it always was?

Message edited by its author, Jan 28, 2009, 11:06pm.

Mary: Murrushka,

Regarding point 2, I found it interesting, that with the exception of Nafu's book, all of the authors I read, very deliberately downplayed the erotic side of geisha. While that eroticism certainly exists, even in a gesture as small as the way one holds one fan - I was surprised to find out there is a correct and incorrect way to do this; moreover, I've been doing it incorrectly and without the least sensuality my whole life - I think the authors (who, with exception of Nafu, were all women) went to great pains to make sure their readers understood that geisha are not prostitutes, they are not for hire in that way, and that the eroticism of the gesture, the dance, the dress, the way one walks is all part of gei. I was truly impressed.

Your question "did you get the sense that this is in decline now in Japan, or is it as strong as it always was," is actually quite complex. The short answer is yes and no. A thorough answer would take me at least twenty pages . . . so I've been putting off answering your question. I think one has to view geisha as a process. Reification is a real danger here. The art has always been in process. Certainly, the three women writers all expressed fear that geisha who thoroughly understand and practice gei could become extinct. Yet given their commitment to gei, I think geisha culture has a chance. Even the narrator of the somewhat fluffy A Geisha’s Journey: My Life As a Kyoto Apprentice did not initially intend to move beyond the maiko stage. In the end, however, she came to see her work as a calling and decided to become a full-fledged geisha. She felt the profession was a worthy one for which she could continue to carry the flag. Since I am not exactly sure what Japanese culture in 2008 is like, I may be going out on a limb here. I think the respect and commitment to art as a way of being (here I'm thinking of Japanese gardens, traditional Japanese carpentry, calligraphy, etc.) is ingrained in the culture (of course the ingrained can be exterminated or lost). At any rate, from what I have read, I would be sorry to see it vanish. My closest contact will "authentic" Japanese art was in the Japanese gardens in Portland, Oregon. I was amazed at their "seemingly" effortless beauty. In fact, creating an authentic Japanese garden requires a great deal of effort. I came home full of enthusiasm to create a Japanese garden, only to conclude that I could work for the rest of my life without being able to achieve that kind of beauty. So I'm sticking with the English cottage garden (effortless tangle style), which requires quite enough work to achieve especially in a climate subject to broad temperature changes. One more note, the day I went to the Portland gardens, I was feeling quite stressed. The instant I crossed the threshold into the gardens, I could feel my body relax and my blood pressure come down. I have not experienced a sensation quite like that either before or since that visit.

Message edited by its author, Today, 10:00pm.

P.S. I really would appreciate input on this one.

Thanks for posting this here Urania.
I have learnt a lot from your comments on your reading. I have long wondered about this in connection with geisha, and would like to hear more from others. I am very interested to hear what the Japanese experts on this thread have to say about my points/questions above before I give my own ideas in more detail.

Re: 135

tomcatMurr:

#133 Stay out of it.

I guess I'd better. It was an interesting thread there for awhile.

-- Gerry

Gerry,

I don't think Murr meant for you to stay off the thread. It is an interesting thread. I think discussions of other cultures can get heated. That doesn't mean we should stop the conversation.

Please Gerry,

stay.

Your comments about Japan were informed and fascinating.

Daring to speak for Murr, I am sure he did not mean to upset you and most certainly did not mean for you to stop contributing here. You are needed.

Apologies were being extended all around. Murr has made up with Julia. Mary and Julia have made up. Murr was hoping to smooth waters, and has upset you, but please, let's all accept each other and return to a fascinating discussion of the culture.

One issue that I don't think anyone has addressed is the connection between geisha and Kabuki. When I was reading and studying Japanese theatre a number of years ago, it struck me that there was a strong connection between the performance arts of the geisha and the Kabuki actors, particularly in the Edo period when the two inhabited the same district in "the Floating World." Although Kabuki was invented by a woman, Okuni, the shogun prohibited women from appearing on the stage -- so their performances moved to the teahouses. Actors and geisha borrowed from each other's performance traditions: geisha performed all-female renditions from Kabuki plays for their clients and onnagata exaggerated and refined the style of the geisha. Both were favorite subjects of the ukiyo-e artists. I think the role of the woman performer in Japanese culture from the priestess dancers in Shinto temples during the Heian period through the geisha to contemporary performance artists could be a fascinating line of study.

* urania gingerly enters room and says in small apologetic voice * "I have another question. I've been grazing through Kimono, Liza Dalby's cultural history of kimono. Early on, Dalby notes,

"Even now, 'antique kimono' are cheap for foreigners because there is little market for other people's cast off clothing among Japanese. Something of the original wearer's soul has irrevocably imbued the garment. Once worn, a kimono defines itself as part of the discourse of Japanese life, unquotable out of context."

My question is this, I do know that "pre-owned" kimono are relatively inexpensive. I also know from reading a bit about Chinese idea of feng shui that this attitude extends to the furniture of strangers. One feng shui expert advises her readers not to have used furniture in one's house because one doesn't know what one is bringing into one's house with the furniture. However, geisha wear each others kimonos. In fact, their okiya often have collections of them for the associated okiya geisha to wear. Is it okay for geisha to share kimono because one's okiya becomes one's family? And how does this idea of avoiding used clothing fit in with Japanese concepts about spirits and ghosts? I know in Gossamer Years, the narrator hears about a place to which one can go to see and speak with ghosts. Her mother has just died and she wants to visit this place even though that means she will be "defiled" and will be forced to undergo "purification." Is there a connection? Thoughts? Comments?

Jane,

Our posts crossed. Your comment is an interesting one. Both Dalby and Iwasaki note the close relationship of all the artists male and female in the "flower and willow world." I do not know anything about Shinto priestess dancers. I did notice in Gossamer Years the men seemed to do the dancing. The narrator never mentions women dancing.

Mary -- I just googled "shinto priestess," and there are a number of youtube videos with priestesses dancing. Here's one:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yCw8J_Z8hQc

According to Wikipedia:
"Miko (巫女?, lit. "Shrine Maiden") is a Japanese term that anciently meant "female shaman, shamaness; medium; prophet, priestess" who conveyed divine oracles, and currently means "shrine maiden; virgin consecrated to a deity" who serves at Shinto shrines." -- part of the duties of a miko include performing in ceremonial dances.

In an 1890 letter by Lafcadio Hearn that I found on Google books, he says,
"But I shall speak of the Japanese dances only. To make any general statement about anything Japanese is always risky; for customs here (differing in every province and every period) exhibit a most bewildering variety. It is not correct to say that the dancing is performed by "outcast women" mostly; for there are many respectable forms of dancing. The maiko is not perhaps a very respectable person; — but the miko, or Shinto priestesses (daughters of priests), certainly are worthy of all respect. Well, there are the temple-dances, before the old gods, — the dances of children at the temples upon holidays, — the dances of the peasants, etc. None of these could be called gross,—however amorous their origin. Men dance as well as women: all children dance; and in some conservative provinces dancing is a part of female education. To come back to the maiko or geisha, however, let me assure you that although some of their dances may be passionally mimetic, even the passionate acting could not be termed "gross" with justice: on the contrary it is a very delicate bit of refined acting, — acting of eyes and lips and hands, — which requires a sharp eye to follow. "

I'm sure the court dances were done by men only, but it seems Okuni was a miko, and it was from such Shinto dances that Kabuki arose -- as a popular counter-movement to the aristocratic No which arose from the court dances of gagaku and bugaku.

As to Kimono -- our local Ringling museum has an exhibit of 19th-20th kimono -- there's a brief glimpse online if you're interested: http://www.ringling.org/Exhibitions_Kimono.aspx?id=274

Wow Jane,

I just checked the Ringling Museum site. I am so envious. The Kimono exhibition looks to die for, and the upcoming exhibitions look awesome as well. I let my fingers do the walking and ordered the book written to go with this exhibition. Now, I'm off to look at youtube.

#139 I was very interested in your comments about the Japanese gardens and the perceived simplicity vs. required investment of effort.

I just finished reading Japanese Lessons : a year in a Japanese school through the eyes of an American anthropologist and her children by Gail Benjamin, which was an enlightening discussion of the Japanese education system (my review is here).

Benjamin observes that the Japanese national education policy is clearly articulated and serves as a topic for continual reflection and discussion by teachers as well as by school administrators. The entire community is informed about the reasoning and planning with the result of support for the school’s efforts outside the classroom as well.

The intention is for children to learn and grow in a seemingly “natural” and carefree way that is in fact guided by considerable careful effort, just as the simple “natural” Japanese garden is actually the result of so much planning and physical labor. Many Americans find it difficult to understand why the education their children receive is often lacking in comparison with that of children in Japan. The two systems appear to have many similarities, but the crux seems to be in these unseen but integral differences.

#142 Gerry, I didn't mean for you to leave the thread, I just meant for you to stay out of the scrap between between me and nobooksnolife. I am only a small cat, I cannot deal with two huge angry women at the same time!

Please do not leave the thread. We need you. I specifically asked Urania to merge the discussion into this thread so that we can get your input.

*gagging on a huge huge huge slice of humble pie here*

>151 muddy21: muddy21,

That connection is an interesting one. The college at which I used to teach leased out space to a Japanese school on Saturdays for the younger children of Denso Corporation employees from Japan. On Saturdays, I often worked in my office, which was in the same building as the Japanese school. In fact two of the classrooms were just around the corner from my office. One of the things I noticed (the classes were conducted in Japanese so all I could do was observe) was how "unstructured" the classes "appeared" to be in contrast to the rigid structure in American elementary school classrooms. However, at the same time, I had the feeling that everything was carefully choreographed. Clearly lots of learning was taking place but it "appeared" to happen "naturally." The level of engagement, enthusiasm, and energy was truly remarkable. Clearly, however, the parents were very much a part of the whole endeavor. They sat in the halls to monitor (but unobtrusively) and handed out cleaning utensils to children at the close of every class. The children cleaned the classrooms themselves. Watching the children on the playground was interesting as well. As best I could tell, all of the games appeared to be cooperative as opposed to competitive-very different from my experience in elementary school. I didn't see children picking on one another. In fact, all seemed eager to help one another. I must check out the book you mention. It sounds as if it could shed a great deal of light on what I observed.

It appears to me that the aesthetic/philosophy of "seemingly effortless simplicity" informs much of the cultural, social, and ideological activity in Japan. Again, I don't really know. I'm not an expert.

Thanks for your reply, Urania. Your description of the classes you observed really reinforces what I read. The teachers in Japan are present in the classroom to facilitate the children's learning experiences and natural development with unobtrusive but firm guidance when needed, while at most American schools the teacher's function is to be an instructor, dispensing wisdom and making judgments. The two specific classes the author described (the ones her children were in) seemed to be working according to the plan, but I did wonder how realistic a picture it was overall.

I live in a small rural New England town. Our elementary school is grades K-5 with two classes of about 17 kids in each grade. The school is well-funded and many of the teachers spend their entire careers there. These are all things that are considered important in the American view of education. But both of my sons were incredibly unhappy there. They are not mainstream kids, having little interest in competitive sports or other topics that were of such interest to many of the other kids.

My boys started out bright, curious and eager to learn; they came out six years later discouraged and feeling inadequate both socially and intellectually. They (and other "different" kids) never did "fit in" despite all the discussions and activities devoted to diversity and tolerance swirling through education these days. Once they moved on to the regional middle school things improved somewhat. The school is much larger and it was easier to find others with common interests. I went to school in many different parts of the country and my experiences in school were similar.

As I read the book I recognized many things that "seemed" to be just the sort of things they do in the classes at our school, but somehow it's the presentation and follow-through that's lacking. The Japanese philosophy recognizes the issues of individual differences and actually addresses them, though in a very indirect way. The goal isn't to make everyone alike (which is frequently the American perception of Japanese schools) but for the children to learn to value and include everyone in their groups, knowing that this is a critical skill for later success in the workplace. I think the difference is that in American schools the students are told to value and include everyone but they’re never actually taught how to achieve it (facilitator vs. instructor again).

I'm very puzzled by this dichotomy and why the intentions fall so short in one system but not the other. I'll be looking for some more information on the subject.

Thanks to all for their private and public encouragement, and their opinions regarding what tomcatMurr's "real" intent may have been. And of course to him for adding his guess: Receipt of message acknowledged.

Comparing direct text and interpretation, I'm reminded again that given a sunny afternoon and a martini, I don't care so much. I suppose that's a result of visiting my own conflicted "intent" on others through years of pointless skirmishes. I can rarely remember what compelled me to go after someone with a machete. But it must have been important, right? Or I must be a petty little thug. Or both. Or something else. Damn; the sun is warm and the drink so chilly.

A discussion of participants, their purported attitudes and projected intent, whether malevolent or obsequious, or in this case both, remains the easiest way to lose traction in a thread, as well as the respect of others. I'll follow my own advice by concluding this discussion of myself.

-- Gerry

>154 muddy21: muddy,

Your comment touches on so many sources of frustration for me as a professor. Even in higher education, I always felt that the institutional structure forced me to adopt counter-intuitive methods of teaching. I subverted the structure for 20-some years, but I finally couldn't take the daily heartbreak. Battling with a system for that long does a number on one's insides. I desperately miss the classroom experience, but I simply could not continue as I was. And of course, once one quits and steps off the professorial track, one's professional teaching life in higher education is over. And I am not temperamentally suited to teach K-12. So I garden, read, and write.

Mary -- have you ever considered adjunct teaching? I know it doesn't pay well and is at base exploitive of its employees, but in my experience, adjunct professors have a lot of freedom and leeway in their classrooms -- mostly because there is so little oversight. If you really miss the classroom, this might be a possibility if there is a university or college or community college near you. Go in, teach a course or two, leave campus, communicate with your students online -- no politics, no hassle, and a little extra change to jingle. I wish I could afford to do it -- the idea of teaching one or two classes per semester rather than 5 is alluring.

Jane,

Unfortunately, around here, the exclusive diet of the adjunct is freshman composition. That is one course on which I have truly burned out. I simply cannot teach it anymore. I don't think it can be successfully taught within the current institutional settings. I did try for literature classes, but the schools reserve those for full-time faculty and "full-time" adjuncts. And teaching five courses, four of which are composition courses for the privilege of teaching one world lit survey is not for me. There are easier ways to kill oneself. I know having been an adjunct for several years before landing a tenure-track position.

Mary -- I totally sympathize. I've "seniored" out of teaching Freshman Comp, thank goodness. Also, I've branched out into Humanities surveys (and Distance Learning courses) which are required by a number of majors and are in high demand. I don't mind the teaching of the Comp courses, it's the grading that's so frustrating and time-consuming. We do have a few adjuncts who get to teach the LIT courses without a heavy load of comp (and we actually have quite a variety), but that's partly because we are so dependent on adjuncts -- our percentages in the English department are really lopsided right now. I do think adjuncts in other areas than English can be fairly privileged.

Well, I don't check the group for a day or two and look what happens:-) It seems, thankfully, that everything previously has sorted itself out and with the exception of some of that and a bit of digression in the last few messages, I'd say we had a spectacular thread this month. I've enjoyed it.

I want to encourage members who are still reading books by Japanese authors or about Japan to continue to post if you like, even though it's now February.

(just a matter of note, if you're wondering why I sound like the teacher just arriving on the playground, as creator of this group, I do take an active part in facilitating what needs to be facilitated and also policing the threads if necessary. Generally, it's a pretty easy job.:-)

146 -

"However, geisha wear each others kimonos. In fact, their okiya often have collections of them for the associated okiya geisha to wear. Is it okay for geisha to share kimono because one's okiya becomes one's family?"

Back in the day geisha all had their own individual kimono and accessories provided by the okiya to which they were in debt and had to repay once they got a patron. (They then kept the kimono. Debts also included the various lessons and outings, etc...) I think nowadays an okiya will have a collection of kimono for their geisha to reduce the costs of kimono. With the decline of cultural traditions, kimono makers of the quality that geisha need will also decline. With that decline, these kimono makers become highly specialized and thus more expensive.

If you remember, in the Kyoto Apprentice book, once Komomo decides to become a geiko she ends up living by herself and has to pay for her own kimono.

Last month I read Kafka on the Shore by Haruki Murakami. This group inspired me to pick it out, along with its nod on the 1001 Books You Must Read Before You Die list.

As an aside, I joined this group last month because I'm a teacher at low-income school so most of my students are immigrants and refugees. I thought this could be another way to learn about their cultures, or maybe I could just recommend good books to them when they get older. I have never had a student from Japan, but my dad was stationed there during the Vietnam War.

I can't say that I learned too much about Japan from this book. I was surprised at how much the characters in the story liked to eat eel. I definitely noticed a "freedom" theme as the story centered about a 15 year old boy running away. Another part of the story seemed to have a "respect for elders" theme as one guy helps out an old man because he regrets never being kinder to his grandfather before he died. There was definitely an Oedipus theme as well!

I really liked that it had this magical element to it. There were things that wouldn't happen in real life (or do they?!) which really made this book unique and fun to read.

Some of it was like a riddle which I expected to all be answered at the end and wrapped up neatly with a bow. What I didn't like is that there weren't any answers and I was left to my own devices.

So thank you Reading Globally for getting me to try a new author. I will definitely read more books by Haruki Murakami. I am looking forward to my February book as I DO have many African students in my class.

I finally finished The Gossamer Years, a memoir/diary by the minor wife or concubine of Fujiwara Kaneie, known as the Prince throughout the book. As there has been a fairly extensive conversation above, my remarks will be somewhat limited.

The diary is actually divided into three sections, two of which are really more memoir than diary as they were written well after the events recorded. As I was reading the book, I could not help but think that this account is the flip side of The Tale of Genji. Here we have a noblewoman who, according to translator Seidensticker's research, was a notable beauty of her time and ardently wooed by the Prince. Although her marriage to the Prince would have been considered a fortuitous alliance and he looked after her welfare, she was made miserable by his philandering. Throughout the first two books the writer is consumed by jealousy -- or at least her jealousy and the Prince's slights are all that make it into this account of her life. She does recount how she turns to pilgrimage and Buddhist prayer, but neither seems to give her much solace or comfort -- nor does her son or other companions.

In the diary of the third section, however, her ardor seems to have cooled considerably, and she becomes interested in her son's courtships and actually adopts one of the Prince's daughters from a discarded lover. I found this book interesting as a counterpoint to other Heian diaries I have read and especially to The Tale of Genji, but I did find commiserating with the author a bit tedious.

I did read Amelie Nothomb's "Tokyo Fiancée". This autobiographical novel was a delightful read. I'll try to answer the questions.

1) How did your book get its title?

The title comes from the desire of the student of Amélie to marry Amélie. Rinri feels that she is his fiancee.

2) Did you learn anything new about Japan from reading the book you chose?

I never really knew that some Japanese were as bowled over by technological gadgets as Rinri was. I got a better appreciation of the college gap years that many Japanese have. Also, the greater freedom to be nutty when you retire (like Rinri's grandparents).

3) What major themes did you observe?

The basic theme are the often humorous foibles that people from different cultures feel for each other when they feel in love.

4) Could this theme work in other places, or is it something that can only be told in Japan?

This theme could work all around the globe.

5) What was something that you really liked about the book that you read?

It was fun to read. Nothomb tried to remain true to herself throughout.

6) Something that you didn't like?

I wish Amelie cou;ld cook herself, to counter Rinri's tasteless concoctions cooked in one of his unique gadgets.

7) If applicable, do you think Japanese writers write differently about Japan then a non-Japanese writing about Japan?

This book was written by a Belgian. I think we all write a little differently and either reflect or counter our own culture.

8) What is the impression you get about Japan and its people as you read your book?

I would like to visit Japan and meet its people.

Here is a link to Amélie Nothomb's, "Tokyo Fiancée": http://www.librarything.com/work/7901408
I had wonky Touchstones with this owrk.

I see that I never went through and discussed Rouse up O young men of the new age by Kenzaburo Oe with the suggested question and answer format.

1) How did your book get its title?

The title is a quote from William Blake. Each chapter heading is another quote from Blake. Blake is referred to through out the novel.

2) Did you learn anything new about Japan from reading the book you chose?

I didn't realize there were still passionate feelings about Yukio Mishima in Japan. Oe always refers to him as M.

3) What major themes did you observe?

The biggest theme in this autobiographical novel is the raising of a child with a major disability. Oe's own son is disabled, and I found it touching the deep deep fatherly feeling he has for his son.

4) Could this theme work in other places, or is it something that can only be told in Japan?

That you can bring up a child with a disability is a universal theme.

5) What was something that you really liked about the book that you read?

I liked the sense of honesty of Oe, the revelation of his feelings, and his great attempt to understand the feelings of others.

6) Something that you didn't like?

I was bothered by the nickname, Eeyore, given to the son. My feeling did get resolved.

7) If applicable, do you think Japanese writers write differently about Japan then a non-Japanese writing about Japan?

In many ways, it was good to read a novel like this from the inside out. An outsider might have sounded patronizing. The various ways that teachers try to handle disabled aren't dissimlar to those here in the U.S.

8) What is the impression you get about Japan and its people as you read your book?

I see that universal themes touch Japanese in ways that are similar to others. There is a moral order and one can follow it. A well-lived life is rich.

Haruki Murakami : Underground: The Tokyo Gas Attack and the Japanese Psyche

On March 20, 1995, the religious cult Aum Shinrikyo released the poisonous gas, sarin, into a series of subway trains. Murakami conducts a series of interviews with the victims (both direct and indirect) of these attacks. While he explores their stories, more importantly he explores the psyche of those involved and their reactions to the attack and others around them.

The victims' stories, although they begin to become a bit repetitive, provide incredible insight into the Japanese mindset. Why was the victim treatment delayed? What prevented information about the attack from being spread efficiently and quickly? How does the Japanese way of doing things affect their everyday lives? And with major disasters such as this?

As one victim says "Keeping quiet is a bad Japanese habit."

At the end a few interviews are included with Aum Shinrikyo members (some still involved, others not) that also shows an amazing inside view to the cult's inner workings. Some actions you can't even believe both in terms of members actually living such cruelty or performing such cruelty and you're also stuck in disbelief that the police were none the wiser as to what was going on.

At the end, Murakami succeeds in his attempt in understanding the Japanese psyche and how it may have aided the cult in going through with the attacks and making it more successful and how it may have impaired the Japanese from truly comprehending the situation.

As an accompanying read I highly suggest Ian Reader's Religious Violence in Contemporary Japan, an in depth following of the Aum Shinrikyo from their meek beginnings to their rebirth as Aleph. ( )

A few quotes from Murakami's book that I felt really reflected the Japanese psyche and that I found interesting:

pg. 61 -
"The teachings tell us that human feelings are the result of seeing things in the wrong way. We must overcome our human feelings."

pg. 65 -
"Since the war ended, Japan's economy has grown rapidly to the point where we've lost any sense of crisis and material things are all that matters. The idea that it's wrong to harm others has gradually disappeared."

"From now on I think the individual in Japanese society has to become a lot stronger. Even Aum, after bringing together such brilliant mind, what do they do but plunge straight into mass terrorism? That's just how weak the individual is."

pg 71 -
"Pain is invisible and known only to the sufferer."

pg 103 -
"People the world over turn to religion for salvation. But when religion hurts and maims, where are they to go for salvation?"

pg 106 -
I'm making a point of noticing that the trains weren't stopped. The Japanese train system is known for its punctuality. But is it so important as to risk the lives of many? When is duty important and when is it important to drop your duty?

pg 169 -
"Keeping quiet is a bad Japanese habit."

pg. 223 -
"To be perfectly honest, the way things are with us doctors in Japan, it's almost unthinkable that any doctor would go out of his way to send unsolicited information to a hospital. The first thought is never to say too much, never to overstep one's position."

pg 226 -
It's all too easy to say, "Aum was evil." Nor does saying, "This had nothing to do with 'evil' or 'insanity'" prove anything either. Yet the spell cast by these phrases is almost impossible to break, the whole emotionally charged "Us" versus "Them" vocabulary has been done to death.

Hi all,

Is anyone familiar with an 11th-century Japanese text entitled The Changelings: A Classical Japanese Court Tale? I ran across a reference to it in Wendy Doniger's book The Bedtrick: Tales of Sex and Masquerade. From the little I've been able to glean, the book sounds quite interesting - a brother and sister decide to assume the sex of the other.

Another note on this nonfiction work (can you tell I really enjoyed reading this?).

Another thing I enjoyed reading about was how everyone had their train routines. Each chapter (so each new victim's story) started this way.
pg 55 - "I always take the first car at the front of the train. That puts me nearest the exit, which brings me out by the Hanae Mori boutique building at Omote-sando."
pg 67 - "I always went for the third car from the front on the Marunouchi Line."
pg 75 - "I changed at Shinjuku to the Marunouchi Line, and again I managed to get a seat. I always travel in the third car from the front."

Living in Tokyo you really do get used to your train schedule and how you can minimize the time lost in between transfers by knowing which train car to get in, etc... At Nishimagome I always stood near the post at the far end of the subway near the far end staircase. At Gotanda I would take the stairs going up towards the left after switching from the subway and take the first car at that staircase. At Yoyogi I would go three benches past the transfer staircase and wait for my bus. At Ichigaya that put me right at the staircase to leave the station and go to school. To think, if I were older I could have been one of the victims that day.

One of the most memorable parts of the book for me was the three victims back to back discussing transferring a victim to a hospital via a media truck. One viewpoint was a woman helping, the other media car driver and then one other witness. All their stories revolved around this one "red handkerchief" and it really makes you realize how wonderful it is that we can all observe the same scene and remember something entirely different. The general story may be the same but the details are how we perceive them and no matter what, no one will witness the same thing as you. Truly extraordinary.

>lilisin #168,170, etc. re Underground: The Tokyo Gas Attack and the Japanese Psyche
Thank you for your great comments (thumbs up for your review)--I will get my copy off the TBR shelf, dust it off, and read it, finally, after all these years!

You are absolutely correct about getting around efficiently on the train system in Tokyo. Years ago I commuted about 1 hour by trains to take my kids to kindergarten, and we definitely had strategies for getting the most expedient spots in the crowded cars, herding small children on and off, trying not to impede the travel of busy commuters.

On the day of the attacks, on his usual route to work, my husband missed the Chiyoda incident by one or two trains, or he could have been a victim.

You probably know this, but now there are warning signs all over, mostly bilingual Japanese/English in Tokyo, also sometimes in Korean and Chinese as well, asking people to keep careful watch out for items that are left behind, etc., to report such items, and to report suspicious people to the staff. I frankly wonder if anyone ever reports such things, and over time, train riders have gotten more relaxed into old habits. For a few years, all waste containers were removed from stations, but those are back now, with modifications such as transparent panels. Coin locker storage was removed or reduced, but in some places it is back, perhaps relocated and more strictly policed for items left behind.

Getting back to the core examination of the 'Japanese psyche', there have been more frequent indiscriminate knife attacks in crowded places such as Akihabara (open intersection) and Shinagawa Station passageway, apparently committed by lone individuals. Tragic as it is, at least they can only easily obtain knives and not assault weapons.

I was struck that your comment in #170, "The general story may be the same but the details are how we perceive them and no matter what, no one will witness the same thing as you," is similar to the theme of Rashomon.

urania1 -
Sorry but I have not heard of that title. But you are right, it does sound interesting!

nobooksnolife -
Thanks for the compliments. I was very excited about this read and how much I got out of it and how it confirmed many of my viewpoints and own experiences about/with the Japanese.

How interesting. That does indeed reflect Rashomon's theme.

Your husband missed the incident by two trains! How fortunate! What are his views on the incident? There is a witness account from a foreigner in Murakami's work that was pretty interesting.

I hoped that the same thing would happen vis a vis increased airport security right after a major incident. Alas my toiletries must still be small and compact!

RE: Urania1, The Changelings: A Classical Japanese Court Tale sounds interesting from many angles, including the praise some have mentioned (on Amazon) for its translator. I'd never heard of this book, so I'm really glad you mentioned it here. The Japanese title is cited as "Torikaebaya."

RE: lilisin, As for the entire "Aum/sarin Incident" (among others) of course we feel lucky for my husband to have escaped the attack, but there are many layers of possible psychological study, including the victims of the "testing" release of sarin prior to the accident. It is baffling to observe people blindly and uncritically follow a leader, despite harm to themselves and others, and so many examples in history and literature--maybe a theme read for the future, and of course not exclusively an "Asian" theme :)

>173 nobooksnolife: nobooksforlife, I could not find a cheap copy The Changelings: A Classical Japanese Court Tale, so I bit the bullet and ordered an expensive one. I hope the investment pays off.

In respect to non-Japanese writing about Japanese -- I was often told "you know more about us than we do" and my standard reply was, "Not really. Nihonjinron (books about Japaneseness which I deconstructed) define Japanese as antitheses of the "Oriental" and I know more about myself."

Re. Liza. Her Geisha book was translated into Japanese, too. SqueakyChu, did you check the reviews? And I should add that the fact 1) she took shamisen lessons when in Japan for highschool and 2) is a natural wit were no small advantages for what she did.

While I have been absent at LT for over a half year as researching and writing "MAD IN TRANSLATION – a thousand years of kyôka, comic japanese poetry in the classic waka mode" took all my time. It will be out soon -- hopefully, by the longest day as it is a long book -- but i have one more book to put to bed and one to edit. By August or September, I hope to afford to spend some time shooting the breeze, so if any of you would like to directly discuss things with an author I will be up for it -- but only if i am read (most is free at Google -- and i will see if i can make it all searchable and viewable for money should not be an obstacle to interest), for hell if i am going to start at zero and explain what I have already explained.

Several people have wondered about the extent to which poetry can be translated, that is explored in all of my books of translated poetry in more depth than anywhere else I know. I write for people who want to think about such things. And, yes, more is indeed lost in translation, both because Japanese and English are relatively exotic and because Japan's short poetry is often as full of allusion, borrowing and puns as the densest work of Joyce (who has been translated into Japanese).

If you are interested in considering translatability, besides my books -- any of them -- I recommend you start with Ueda's "Basho and his Interpretors" because you get an idea of how Japanese read their own poems as you read some of the best, Hoffman's "Japanese Death Poems" because, in my opinion, they will show you one of the best things about Japanese, largely Edo period, culture, and Seishonagon's Pillow Book -- esp., the passages which are mono wa tsukushi, or tasteful listings (not to mention her occasionally outrageous comments). And someone mentioned Hearn. He is always worth reading and not only re. Japan. His Creole sketches show he was what he was before he went to Japan. He lived in and shared with us an enchanted world.