This week author and translator John Stevens joins us from Hawaii. Stevens has penned many books over his long exalted career, mainly books dealing with Japanese martial arts, poetry and biography.
“A book should be enlightening for the writer, and for the people reading it.” —John Stevens
Ep. 21 Show Notes:
Today we have with us Abby Denson, award-winning author of Cool Japan Guide: Fun in the Land of Manga, Lucky Cats and Ramen, Cool Tokyo Guide: Adventures in the City of Kawaii Fashion, Train Sushi and Godzilla the Kitty Sweet Tooth series (with Utomaru) and her upcoming book which we’re going to talk about today, Uniquely Japan: A Comic Book Artist Shares Her Personal Faves – Discover What Makes Japan The Coolest Place on Earth! (April 5, 2022).
Abby has scripted comics for Amazing Spider-Man Family, Powerpuff Girls comics, Simpsons comics, Sabrina The Teenage Witch, Josie and the Pussycats, Disney Adventures and many others.
Ep. 20 Show Notes:
In this episode of the Books on Asia Podcast, sponsored by Stone Bridge Press, podcast host Amy Chavez talks with novelist David Joiner about his new novel that takes place in Kanazawa, a city in Japan’s Ishikawa Prefecture.
The novel introduces the city of Kanazawa, its connection to the famous Japanese literary master Izumi Kyōka, and provides the setting for a story that revolves around an American married to a Japanese, and the Japanese family’s dynamics. Highlighted are some of the differences between traditional and modern Japan and the foreigner’s place in it.
At the end of the podcast, Amy asks Joiner what his 3 favorite books on Japan are and he elaborates on his choices:
Sound of the Mountain and Snow Country, both by Yasunari Kawabata.
Dawn to the West by Donald Keene
The Roads to Sata, by Alan Booth
Read a review of David Joiner’s novel Kanazawa by Tina DeBellegarde on the Books on Asia site.
The Books on Asia Podcast is sponsored by Stone Bridge Press. Check out their books on Japan at the publisher’s website. Amy Chavez, podcast host, is author of Amy’s Guide to Best Behavior in Japan and the upcoming The Widow, the Priest, and the Octopus Hunter: Discovering a Lost Way of Life on a Secluded Japanese Island (May, 2022). Don’t miss out on upcoming episodes with authors and translators on Asia by subscribing to the Books on Asia podcast.
In this episode of the Books on Asia Podcast, sponsored by Stone Bridge Press, host Amy Chavez talks with anthropologist, shamisen player, author and translator Liza Dalby about her books and her new translation of the recently deceased novelist cum Buddhist nun Setouchi Jakuchō’s memoir Places. Liza is author of the Geisha, Kimono: Fashioning Culture, East Wind Melts the Ice: A Guide to Serenity Through the Seasons, and Hidden Buddhas: A Novel of Karma and Chaos. Her previous translations are: Little Songs of Geisha: Traditional Japanese Ko-Uta.
Amy and Liza talk about Liza’s long career writing about Japan, starting with Geisha and how that world of women changed along with the modernization of Japanese society, why the geisha survive today, and the meaning of the word kimono. They also discuss different kinds of kimono, the difference between the yukata (often called a “summer kimono”) and a robe. Liza let’s us in on the controversy behind the original cover of Tale of Murasaki and how and why she convinced the publisher to change it to the current one:
They also talk about the controversies behind Setouchi Jakuchō, how Liza came to translate her autobiography Places (read our review) and how she missed a chance to talk to Jakuchō during a visit to Kyōto.
Lastly, Liza reveals her 3 favorite books on Japan:
The Tale of Genji, by Murasaki Shikibu
Robin Gill’s translations of haiku
the woodblock prints of Yoshi Toshi and the late John Stevenson’s books
Visit Liza Dalby’s website
The Books on Asia Podcast is sponsored by Stone Bridge Press. Check out their books on Japan at the publisher’s website. Amy Chavez, podcast host, is author of Amy’s Guide to Best Behavior in Japan and the upcoming The Widow, the Priest, and the Octopus Hunter: Discovering a Lost Way of Life on a Secluded Japanese Island (April, 2022) Subscribe to the Books on Asia podcast.
In Kanazawa, David Joiner delivers a slow-burning family drama reminiscent of a film by Yasujirō Ozu or Hirokazu Koreeda.
Review by Tina deBellegarde
In Kanazawa, David Joiner delivers a slow-burning family drama reminiscent of a film by Yasujirō Ozu or Hirokazu Koreeda. This is a modern tale that, like its protagonist, keeps one foot in the past. It tells the story of Emmitt, an ex-pat, who is seeking a connection with Japan’s history and tradition. He loves the city of Kanazawa with its history and traditions intact, and he dreams of settling into a machiya, a traditional home that represents Japan’s past as well as Emmitt’s idea of his future.
While Emmitt looks to the past, his wife Mirai is more inclined toward Tokyo, where her sister is accomplishing her dreams and where Mirai hopes to recapture her own missed opportunities. For Emmitt, Tokyo represents the opposite of what he seeks. The disparity in their needs and how they seek to resolve it is at the heart of the story.
When we first meet Emmitt and Mirai, they are living an uneventful existence with the protagonist’s in-laws in a not-so-new but modern home. While Emmitt and Mirai are navigating their plans for their future, his in-laws are having a similar marital tug of war over their past. Slowly the older couples’ history bubbles to the surface and needs to be addressed. Climbing Mount Hakusan becomes an imperative for the father-in-law and we come to learn it is connected to his secret. The mountain journey is where the narrative unravels and is the catalyst for the characters to start untangling their problems.
This is a domestic drama about family units, about homes (especially modern versus traditional), and about the cities that house these homes, particularly Kanazawa, Tokyo and Shiramine. Each family member is tackling at least one issue, but each is handling it in their own quiet way. This does not mean there isn’t conflict, but the conflict is muted since all four characters care deeply for one another and are navigating their issues while carefully avoiding hurting others.
At the heart of the story is Emmitt’s search for purpose. He leaves his teaching job without lining up another position so he can find his way. When asked how he feels about the risk he has taken, he responds, “I want to branch out into something new, where I can test myself in a way I never have before. I don’t mean just a new livelihood, which is part of it, but a new way of living. … Everyone needs a sense of purpose. I had none until I quit. Risking that was no risk at all.” (pp161-162)
He finds his way via Izumi Kyōka’s literature and Kyōka’s city of Kanazawa, both of which have the power to stir within him a longing for the past. Kyōka (1873-1939) had an aversion to contemporary society of his time and Emmitt also looks to the past for meaning and purpose.
Joiner adds a layer of reading pleasure by intertwining key aspects of Kyōka’s works into his own narrative. Even I, who was only able to access a couple of Kyōka’s stories, could enjoy the homage.
Emmitt commits to the challenging project of translating Kyōka and discovers an unexpected sense of fulfillment. “The idea that writing could be sacred made Emmitt approach translating with a deeper sense of purpose. More importantly, working with Kyōka’s writing helped Emmitt feel he was evoking the past, even keeping it alive. And in doing this he realized he was finding a place for himself.” (p184) I see this reflected in Joiner’s writing as well, where he treats language as sacred and uses it with delicacy and respect.
Emmitt is trying to absorb the culture, history and literary legacy of Kanazawa. He has the benefit of the eyes of an outsider. The Japanese culture is fascinating, beautiful and long, and for a non-native, the possibilities of investigation are endless. For a life-long learner such as Emmitt, this is ideal. In the end, Emmitt concludes that he finally discovered where he stands in relation to the past. This is what he had been seeking.
Kanazawa is a gentle tale. It is not chaotic and swelling with noise or action. Each scene is quietly painted and, even in distress, holds some comfort. There is no big conflict upon which the story turns, rather, there are a series of important decisions with consequences and after each one, the characters reshuffle and readjust to the new normal. The Japanese narrative structure of Kishōtenketsu is easily recognized here by the subtle shifts and the slow evolution rather than a destructive conflict.
This book is a reminder that there is meaning in our day to day existence. Literature of this sort encourages us to see the beauty of our mundane lives and to embrace our daily routines. Alex Kerr refers to Kanazawa as a “graceful novel of a graceful city” and indeed, it is just that.
Joiner has expressed his hopes that Kyōka’s readership spreads, that his work will not disappear. I for one, have had my interest piqued. I intend to visit Kanazawa and Shiramine. I want to read more Kyōka. And isn’t that what any author wants? To have readers think, and learn and investigate as a result of their art?
In Kanazawa, David Joiner delivers a slow-burning family drama reminiscent of a film by Yasujirō Ozu or Hirokazu Koreeda. This is a modern tale that, like its protagonist, keeps one foot in the past. It tells the story of Emmitt, an ex-pat, who is seeking a connection with Japan’s history and tradition. He loves the city of Kanazawa with its history and traditions intact, and he dreams of settling into a machiya, a traditional home that represents Japan’s past as well as Emmitt’s idea of his future. Read more…
Few authors have led as storied a life as Setouchi Jakuchō. Writer, translator, feminist, peace activist, and Buddhist nun…
Review by Chad Kohalyk
Setouchi Jakuchō—energetic nun, outspoken activist, and prolific author—passed away last month at the age of 99. Spending nearly half her life as a Buddhist nun of the Tendai sect, Jakuchō charmed the Japanese public with her television and public speaking appearances. Prior to 1973, the year she went forth into monastic life and took the Dharma name Jakuchō, she was Setouchi Harumi, a prize-winning author as well as a biographer of Japanese feminist pioneers such as novelist Tamura Toshiko. How did Harumi become Jakuchō? That is the question she sets out to answer in Places (University of Hawaii Press, Oct 2021), translated by author Liza Dalby, who counts herself as one of Setouchi’s many fans.
Places could be said to be just the beginning of an autobiography. Setouchi originally published the book in Japanese in 2001, at the age of 79. Yet she is only interested in showing us vignettes from the first 51 years of her life, entirely skipping the twenty-eight years of her experience as a nun. This tale is about the journey, rather than the destination. And though it is autobiographical, decades-old memories are enhanced by Setouchi’s venerated literary skill. Setouchi herself writes, “plausible-sounding lies are the stock-in-trade of a novelist.” Not wanting to doubt the veracity of our narrator, I favour Dalby’s assessment: “All autobiographies are fiction; all fiction is autobiographical.”
Places weaves a story with two entangled strands: the personal relationships of Setouchi Harumi, and her development into a successful novelist. The former had much influence on the latter, as Setouchi is known for her “I novels” involving intimate details and straight forward descriptions of sex that some critics at the time branded “pornography.”
I have to admit that the number of my love affairs is nothing like what has been rumored and whispered, but it isn’t limited either to what I have written about in my novels. —Setouchi
As the title of the book indicates, the twin threads of Setouchi’s early life are framed by revisiting places that represent significant milestones of her career or life. Liza Dalby explains Setouchi’s intention “to summon memories from the physical traces of that former time.” This delightful premise turns the book into more than a mere autobiography. We are treated to slices of daily life in rural Japan, as well as Kyoto and Tokyo, during the immediate post-war and high growth period of the 1960s. In her Endnotes, Dalby provides additional context on each location for non-Japanese readers.
Readers familiar with twentieth century Japanese literary history will be delighted by a string of celebrity cameos woven throughout the book: Shinsho Fumiko, Niwa Fumio, Mishima Yukio just to name a few. Dazai Osamu’s suicide casts a shadow over a middle section of the book, just as Setouchi is entering the elite community of Japan’s literati. One place featured is an apartment building Setouchi lived in. The tall building overlooks the New Edogawa Park in Tokyo, with a clear view of Mount Fuji, suggesting her career is reaching new heights. Other resident authors included Hirabayashi Taiko, Enchi Fumiko, and Setouchi’s hero Tanizaki Junichiro himself. She dotes:
If there was nobody in the hallway, I would sometimes touch his door with my forehead, or rub my palm on it, whispering, “May I share your good fortune.”
Each chapter follows a basic pattern. First a location from Setouchi Harumi’s past is introduced with rich, historical detail:
My recollection of the tactile sensation of my mother’s breast, velvety soft in its smoothness, is always accompanied by sound-the echo of the steamship whistle as the boats departed the wharf at Nakazu Harbor, not far from our house. That heart rending sound, ripping the night, came rushing up from the wharf straight to our bedside.
With the scene set, Setouchi spins a tale of dramatic events. She had much drama in her early years—divorcing young, leaving her child, living in poverty, having multiple affairs (sometimes simultaneously)—as she built up her independence. Such experiences are why so many people, especially women, sought out Jakuchō’s counsel. Unlike relationship advice from other monastics unable to speak from direct experience due to their vows, it is well known that Setouchi went through the highest highs and lowest lows. She speaks from both wisdom and experience.
After relating an illustrative vignette of her life and musing on the significance, each chapter draws down with a visit to the location in the present day. Setouchi, by now a Buddhist nun in her late seventies, regards the location and its elicited memories from a new perspective of experience and wisdom. The chapter then takes on a new dimension becoming a parable of impermanence.
I have experienced the height of pleasure in sexual love, but in the end it never fulfilled a spiritual need.
Setouchi Harumi’s path to Buddhism was not straightforward. From an early age a relation from Kobe dubbed “Amen Aunty” would “read the Bible to my sister and me, and enthusiastically teach us hymns.” She attended Sunday School. Late in the book, describing her nervous breakdown, a desperate Setouchi telephones her friend Endo Shūsaku, asking his advice on how to be baptized. Yet during Bible study she comes to the realization that having been raised Buddhist, “Intellectually and culturally, it was hard to extricate myself from that.”
Most readers picking up Places will be familiar with the smiling visage of Jakuchō, the “unlikely nun”, dressed in her robes. Such a radiant image indicates the book is not merely a story of Setouchi the writer achieving fame despite the odds. It is also about Setouchi the nun showing us the workings of the “monkey mind” and how she was finally able to tame it. Places is a braid of success stories: female independence, authorial achievement, and a mind taken to the brink of suicide, and back. Setouchi Jakuchō ends the book expressing her desire to wander, to leave the material world behind, which she achieved as a nun for the last 46 years of her life—until a very impressive age of 99. May she rest in peace.
Review by Tina DeBellegarde
Heaven by Mieko Kawakami (translated by Sam Bett and David Boyd) is a heartbreaking, yet uplifting story of two outcasts who find and protect each other through a horrible year of school bullying.
The narrator is targeted because he has a lazy eye. His classmates call him “Eyes,” and the reader knows no other name for him. Kojima is bullied for her lack of hygiene. They bond over their common experience and learn to understand each other and themselves better through the process. They find comfort in exchanging notes and in the handful of times they meet in person.
The story is told from the boy’s perspective but is propelled by the girl. Kojima initiates the notes, arranges the meetings and she plays life coach to them both. This story demonstrates how social interaction is a necessary component for self-understanding. Neither has had sufficient positive social interaction, so that their new relationship is revelatory for them. Their missives become long and meandering. They evolve into a means for them to delve into their own feelings. The few meetings they can safely maneuver develop into the same kind of emotional exploration.
The boy gives in to his role as a victim. Kojima, on the other hand, does not see the two of them as victims. She pities the bullies who are stuck in their ways, not knowing what they are doing, not having any real motivation, and blindly following others. Kojima sees her pain and sadness as having a purpose.
“But it isn’t meaningless. When it’s all over, we’ll reach a place, somewhere or something we could never reach without having gone through everything we’ve gone through. Know what I mean?”
Kawakami manages to place us squarely in the heads of these adolescents. Reader beware, your empathy will be stretched to its limits by the scenes of bullying, but the poignancy of the relationship between the two main characters is too beautiful to miss.
The translation is rendered masterfully by Sam Bett and David Boyd. They were able to achieve the difficult task of capturing the language of young teenagers for a readership in different cultures and make it believable.
In an era when we may be dropping our defenses around bullying, having implemented so many programs to address this scourge, do we believe, perhaps, that we have done all that we can do? Have we become complacent? Heaven is a harsh reminder that the suffering has not stopped. Although the subject may seem worn out, Kawakami manages to make it new. These children have unique attitudes towards their plight, and the author manages to include enough humor and heart to make the reader believe in some hope, without resolving the story in a neat bow. With Heaven, Mieko Kawakami has proven once again that she can produce a social critique while remaining entertaining.
The narrator is targeted because he has a lazy eye. His classmates call him “Eyes,” and the reader knows no other name for him. Kojima is bullied for her lack of hygiene. They bond over their common experience and learn to understand each other and themselves better through the process. They find comfort in exchanging notes and in the handful of times they meet in person.
The story is told from the boy’s perspective but is propelled by the girl. Kojima initiates the notes, arranges the meetings and she plays life coach to them both. This story demonstrates how social interaction is a necessary component for self-understanding. Neither has had sufficient positive social interaction, so that their new relationship is revelatory for them. Their missives become long and meandering. They evolve into a means for them to delve into their own feelings. The few meetings they can safely maneuver develop into the same kind of emotional exploration. More….
A rich and exquisite anthology that illuminates Japanese travel over a thousand yearsDiscover a realm of travel writing undreamed of in the West–a richly literary tradition extending through a thousand years and more, whose individual works together weave a dense and beautiful brocade of repeated patterns and motifs, tones, and textures. Here are asobi, the wandering performers who prefigured geisha; traveling monks who sleep on pillows of grass and listen to the autumnal insects; and a young girl who passionately longs to travel to the capital and read more stories. Taking in songs, dramas, tales, diaries and above all, poetry, this wonderful anthology roams over mountains and along perilous shores to show how profoundly travel inspired the Japanese imagination.
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