Granta - 20 for 2020

I'm a little late on this but I thought I'd post a link to this project from Granta that was due to be put out at the same time as last year's planned Tokyo Olympics, but things have turned out very differently. Hope that you are well and find this of interest.

https://granta.com/20-for-2020/

Of Dogs and Walls by Yuko Tsushima

It's interesting to note that Penguin have some more Japan related titles forthcoming, there's the U.K edition of Kawabata's Dandelions, The Beauty of Everyday Things by Soetsu Yanagi and also there's the U.K edition of Star the newly translated novella by Yukio Mishima to look forward to. Continuing with their Penguin Modern series it was good to sit down at last with the two stories that make up Penguin Modern: 43 - Of Dogs and Walls which is translated by Geraldine Harcourt. Each story is a brief 20-30 pages, both of which are newly translated here into English, interestingly the narrative structures feel quite different to each story, maybe this displays in same way the 32 year gap between them. The first is The Watery Realm which first appeared in 1982, the narrative performs a loop of associations across the story as it opens with a child saving for an aquarium accessory, a sunken castle for his fish tank, through a number of associating links - the Dragon Palace in the fable of Urashimataro, a coal mining accident, father's death, a fear of underground water, the term jusui, the memory of her mother's umbrella, and the Shinto water deity Suijin, the narrative explores themes of cross generational memory, the transience between that of being a daughter and then of being a mother, it feels like that somewhere in her subconscious the narrator is sieving for correlations, the story leaves on an unpleasant episode from the past that causes recalculations for the main protagonist. The Watery Realm is an engaging short story that combines explorations of family history woven with historical myth and elements of nature, as with Territory of Light.  

The second story is the title story - Of Dogs and Walls from 2014, which feels more syncopated in nature perhaps by the sequencing of it's events. Similarly though it explores the nature of memory and the passing of time, and again features a father's premature death, which perhaps bears an autobiographical element. Through it's house move and memories of walled gardens and partitions, which feel to be symbolically loaded, the story opens with a shape seen on a wall which by turns symbolizes the fictional character the 'Walker through walls', it feels that Tsushima might be pointing that there is a way through memory, albeit fictional, to pass through certain barriers. Along with the names of the dogs and cats of the story, Perry, Jack, Kuro, Louis, we have the name of the older brother of the central character, Toru-chan, who has a developmental disability. After the move to the new house, the daughter becomes fascinated by a small doorway in the wall between her own and neighbour's houses, equally fascinating is the young master of the house and his mother who mysteriously appear through it after certain events and continue to occupy her dreams and thoughts as the daughter grows older. As the story is brief it's hard to describe it without disclosing the central event away, the second half of the story is ethereal in perspective, continuing on sharing what is seen in the neighbourhood in the here after, a visit to Toru-chan's school, a place that now seems to be surrounded by inescapable walls, juxtaposing unfolding perspectives with unmoving ones, it's hard not to be touched by.

Of Dogs and Walls at Penguin Modern

                

The Monastery by Kurahashi Yumiko

The Monastery is an earlier story from Kurahashi which first appeared in 1961, a year after she had made her debut as a writer, it's available to read in a translation by Carolyn Haynes in the Kodansha collection The Showa Anthology. In the introduction to the story this earlier work is described as demonstrating her somewhat indecisive experimentation which in a way is a fitting description to her continuing writing, it feels that there is a fine line to the direction she wanted to commit or designate her characters to in her narratives, leaving the reader uncertain to the unfolding path is something that can be felt in her sentencing structure and speculative fictions. In this early work there appears certain motifs that perhaps are hallmarks of her interests - the wandering from accepted narrative norms, it feels that she has a preoccupation with historical settings even though this might not be confined to any particular epoch, the current story feels like it could possibly exist in a contemporary setting but at the same time there are no immediate pointers, it could be arriving from the fringes of a medieval period, there's a number of references; ancient swords, gigaku masks, also there's a sense of time being traversed, an aspect perhaps redolent in some of Nakagami Kenji, The Monastery has at times the feeling of being related as if in the style of a somewhat personalised chronicle.

Essentially the story is one of a love triangle, the narrator addresses the narrative to her betrothed, no particular name of this character is given aside from the betrothed being named as 'you', is this we the reader?, Kurahashi liked to blur points of reference and demarcations perhaps. Set as you might imagine in a monastery the narrator is the daughter of the abbot and her betrothed is set to succeed him after his passing, the relationship with the betrothed has the feel of being the more formal and 'business' one, although not mentioned perhaps it has been arranged?. These things we begin to understand after the arrival of 'K', a scholar of art who comes with letters of introduction from a university, K initially stays at Temple H. The buildings are described as a vast complex, K and the narrator explore the area in a frolic that is headily and sensuously described, to the narrator it feels that she is rediscovering the place in his company anew, there is a deep spiritual connection between the two - the contact of our hands no more than the inevitable closing of a circuit. The relationship grows, in some scenarios it's uncertain who is committing the initiating, the betrothed arrives, K departs, the narrator contemplates a three way relationship, there's an infatuation between K and the narrator that grows in intensity as the story progresses.

The descriptive prose of the story as well as the growing in it's intensity has the feel of one arriving out of the archaic and it feels that the events are unfolding from a distant time location, perhaps this is emphasised also due to the remoteness of it's setting, maybe again this is a frequent aspect of Kurahashi's writing, here a monastery and in The Adventures of Sumiyakist Q the setting is a reformatory, the locations are ones that are set away so to speak and Kurahashi seemed to also extend this sense of displacement in order to additionally free up the sense of time period of their setting. Added to this there are thematic lines occurring in the background, debate of suicide, there's an underlying voyeuristic element as the dueling relationships and characters are measured against each other. The story has a number of moments to ponder further as with the mention of the gigaku masks, a mask used in a somewhat lewd play of the Asuka Period concerning a love rivalry, which to a degree mirrors events or motives of this story. K returns and makes a forced fumbled advance on the narrator, a novice monk arrives who is passed an ancient sword by the betrothed, along with the description there is loaded implied meanings to also pass on to K. At the end of the story, which is a bloody one, there's a renewed sense that things have unfolded in a grandiose epoch, pallbearers, shadows cast, although the narrator observes the ceremony was little more than a purging of the violent death of a sinful outsider - there remains the sense that we've witnessed the tragedy of a forsaken love, arcadia momentarily turning bloody.

                

Closet LLB by Kōji Uno

The next story of Three Japanese Stories translated by Jay Rubin is Closet LLB by Kōji Uno, 1891-1961, Three Japanese Stories is a sampler of the larger Penguin Book of Short Stories which is forthcoming from Penguin. Looking at this book I'm beginning to wonder at how the fuller book will be organised - if it'll be compiled chronologically or thematically. Closet LLB concerns the character Otsukotsu Sansaku who when the story opens has seen five years pass since obtaining his Bachelor of Law degree, he remains living in the same digs although the ownership of the building has changed many times within this time. The story relates the history of Sansaku's education, initially a prodigy whose initial inspiration stemmed from the writer/children's author Iwaya Sazanami, Sansaku had the desire to become a novelist, which we're reminded hasn't changed at the time of the narrative. There is some mystery over his degree as he initially passed his Law exams and acquired the letters LLB but his main passion is literature, although the story also develops into being one of passions thwarted after Sansaku's father's passing, family debt, Sansaku becomes dependant on a cousin of his father's, Oike and is pressurized by the family into studying Law. This is counter balanced with the fact that he has had some success as a writer of Fairy Tales and various short pieces and on the horizon glimmers the perennial hope of scoring success with a novel for adults.

So, perhaps there are a number of autobiographical connections reflected in the story to contemplate, the family debt, of the move to living with Grandparents, the struggling writer, but here it seems Sansaku's aspirations fizzle out, he continues to live the life of a student of literature whilst the world of literature and the arts appear to pass him by or so it seems, Sansaku has a certain bohemian lifestyle, spending time walking the city, his bed time two in the morning. It's been noted that Uno's writing falls into two camps, of being rather fragmented and experimental with that of later evolving into more conventional storytelling, Closet LLB feels more of the latter, although it does show signs of delving into interiorities and also of the Russian writers he read. The latter part of the story sees Sansaku delve further into his retreatist realm as rather than take out and daily make his futon from it's cupboard Sansaku decides to save the effort and begins to sleep in the closet, and due to this positioning and the level of his room he can observe the to and fro of passersby. The story ends on a meditative note on the nature of intellectual superiority and of it's worth and it's application to the happiness of life or perhaps the lack of it. As mentioned before it's interesting to contemplate the autobiographical elements of Closet LLB and of the themes it raises, the story has been translated previously as The Law Student in the Garret in the highly recommended anthology Three-Dimensional Reading edited by Angela Yiu, for my post.

Three Japanese Stories at Penguin Moderns

           

Record of a Night Too Brief by Hiromi Kawakami

After The Nakano Thrift Shop it seemed natural to continue on with the recently published Record of A Night Too Brief, by Pushkin Press as part of their interesting mini series of translated Japanese novellas, in a translation by Lucy North, the collection was awarded the Akutagawa Prize back in 1996.

The opening story - Record of a Night Too Brief is the story that consumes the most pages, just under seventy, and through those it perhaps represents a change in the way some English readers might perceive Kawakami, here Kawakami is in much more of an experimental mode, the story is broken down across nineteen chapters which in places induce within the reader the impression that they are reading a short story collection within the one. Feeling sequential, although they feel like they can be read individually, the story sprawls the subject, or concept of night, which in one chapter transforms from an itching sensation on a narrator's back, in another, from a swirling cup of coffee, the story in places breaks it's own supposed sequence, a dancing couple begin to notice mushrooms sprouting from themselves as they age, a girl who seems to be in various stages of disintegration remains the fragmentary clue, or narrative landmark linking the pieces together, the question arises perhaps - is the narrator the same one across the chapters?. The story incorporates surrealistic episodes and instances and an attempt at replay and repair for the broken girl. Record of a Night Too Brief is a mini sprawl of refreshingly imaginative chapters, full of minutiae of all sizes, recalling perhaps in places Landolfi, some incorporating concepts of theoretical physics, another a vivid scene from a strange formal dinner, but the surrealism and allegory don't let up even as dawn approaches, and the reader is given a moment to recollect themselves briefly before moving on to the next story.

The second story, Missing feels much in the same vein, although being more subdued with more space for the explorative, the central plot line is narrated by a sister of two brothers, who are named through the story as brother no. 1 and brother no. 2, brother no. 1 through an intermediary, named Ten, is set to marry Hiroko in what appears to be an arranged marriage, although the dilemma is that he has gone missing, the family, the narrator relates has a history of members going missing, a great - grandmother in the past. At random though, brother no. 1 it seems appears to the narrator at various points like a visitation, in his place in the marriage brother no. 2 steps in, as much of the marriage arrangements are conducted over the phone. Entwined to this main plot line a number of surrealistic episodes and diversions occur, the incident with the jar containing the spirit of Goshiki, (an older ancestor), there's also the balancing of the family numbers being equal, Hiroko moves in, but doesn't settle well with the family and begins to shrink, each family has it's own ways - as another member observes. Underneath the strangeness, there's some interesting observations and allegories occurring in Missing, the presence of it's characters fading in and out, diminishing literally in size, is telling, a cryptic critique, and it's occurrences of strange rituals make it fascinating reading.

As mentioned the last story A Snake Stepped On was awarded the Akutagawa Prize, as with The Nakano Thrift Shop there are not that many characters to the story, narrated by Hiwako who works at a small shop producing prayer beads and supplies for local temples, finds life irrevocably transformed after stepping on a snake, there's a mist, and Hiwako hears a voice saying 'It's all over' and sees a woman walk away in the direction of her apartment. An impression of the story, and Kawakami's writing as a whole, is her ability to mix the ambiguities and unkowns of modern life and blend them with the sense of older myth and folklore, in the three stories of the collection the frontiers of each erode away and intercede, creating fascinating narratives that bring the two worlds into forming exacting allegories. The woman reappears in Hiwako's apartment posing as her mother, although Hiwako's mother lives miles away, she calls to make certain she's there, who is the snake woman?, an imposter making absurd claims, a mother figure of a different sense?. As the story proceeds the revelation comes that Hiwako is not alone in having to live with a snake/human, as her boss's wife Nishiko reveals that she is in the same circumstance, with the snakes calling for them to submit and join them and make the transformation. In places the story shares the same claustrophobic fervor of Abe Kobo's 1949 short story Dendrocacalia and at moments visually it brings to mind Junji Ito's terrifying Uzumaki with spiralling snakes. Underneath this there remains the allegorical study of the transformative power of mankind's darker nature, a fascinating culmination to an engrossing collection.

Record of a Night Too Brief at Pushkin Press

a cat, a man & two women by Tanizaki Junichiro

Reissued by New Directions, a cat, a man and two women was originally published by Kodansha International, translated by Paul McCarthy, this new edition also includes his original Preface, this translation received the Japan - U.S Friendship Commission Prize. New Directions have done a great job with this edition with a striking new jacket including art from Tsuguhara Foujita, and also of note is the mention on the reverse that two more novels yet to have been translated into English are on the way, which is news to look forward to. Recently they've also given attractive new covers to Mishima's Confessions of a Mask and also Death in Midsummer.

a cat, a man and two women collects three of Tanizaki's short fictions, the last Professor Rado is in two parts as it was originally published in two installments, as was the title story. The second story is The Little Kingdom/Chiisana okoku, which when you discover that it first appeared in 1918, the same year as Akutagawa's Hell Screen, makes you wonder agape again at the span of Tanizaki's writing career, which takes in three era's of modern Japanese history. The Little Kingdom follows the fortunes or misfortunes of a provincial teacher caught in a power game within the children of his class which he himself becomes entangled with. As Paul McCarthy mentions in his informative Preface themes of domination and submission appear in the story, themes that preoccupied Tanizaki throughout his writing.

It's been sometime since I've read Tanizaki, but reading a cat, a man and two women brought the realization of how Tanizaki incorporates the epistolary into his writing as all though I've not checked, a number of his pieces seem to either open or feature letters written by or between his central characters, it seems that this is a perfect vehicle to open scenarios and windows into his character's consciousness and psyches. In the title story this is done to great affect in Shinako whose letter at the opening of the story requesting the handing over of the cat that Shozo is so enamoured with sets the shifting of the story. Essentially the story is a menagerie a trois with the additional central character of Lily, the cat, who becomes the pivotal factor in the relationships between Shozo and the two women in his life, his divorced wife, Shinako and new wife, Fukuko. Tanizaki's usage of Lily in Shinako's care and the shifting of her empowerment within affairs is masterly conveyed. Another aspect of the story of note is that of it being set firmly in the Kansai area, rather than that of Tokyo, Tanizaki famously moved to the area. Envisioning the stories here, it's quite easy to picture them as early black and white films, it comes as little surprise to know that early in his career Tanizaki was a script writer for Taishō Katsuei, or literary consultant as it's Wikipedia page mentions. Although coming from a background of reasonable comfort, Shozo appears as a rather feckless character who eventual succumbs to the encroaching web of conflicting affections between the three.

The last story out of the three is Professor Rado which seems to display the hallmarks usually associated with Tanizaki - masochism and off beat sexualities, the story was originally published in two parts, the first in Kaizo in 1925 and the second in Shincho in 1928. In a way it could be said that it displays some early aspects of the Ero guro. The story is conveyed by a journalist assigned to interview the Professor who when they meet displays an affected appearance and strange mannerisms and conversational manner, question marks and rumours emerge over the Professor's household. In the second part the journalist catches up with the Professor again at a variety performance where the Professor begins to show an extra special interest in one particular performer who is rumoured to suffer from the symptoms of syphilis, the journalist agrees to gain more information about the performer who appears to always remain quizzically silent during performances and has a mysterious past. The story has a certain voyeuristic quality to it as the revealing scenarios of the plot are relayed by the journalist in a clandestine manner. a cat, a man and two women offers an interesting showcase of Tanizaki's styles and themes, and it's great that New Directions have rescued it from lapsing into being out of print, very much looking forward to the two forthcoming novels.

a cat, a man and two women at ndp  


 

The Fruit of My Woman by Han Kang

The January edition of Granta continues the momentum of translations of Han Kang into
English with the short story The Fruit of My Woman from 1997, in her translator's note at the end of the story, Deborah Smith notes that it can be seen as a precursor, with some of it's themes similar to those that can be seen in The Vegetarian.  

The Fruit of My Woman at Granta

Realm of the Dead by Uchida Hyakken

Realm of the Dead is a book I've been meaning to reach for a while now, published by Dalkey Archive Press in 2006 and translated by Rachel DiNitto, who has also written an in-depth study of Hyakken in Uchida Hyakken - A Critique of Modernity and Militarism in Pre-war Japan, (Harvard East Asian Monographs - 30). Realm of the Dead is made up of two books by Hyakken, the same titled Realm of the Dead/Meido from 1922 and also Triumphant March Into Port Arthur/Ryojun Nyujoshiku from 1934. Between the two volumes there is a one page preface from Hyakken for the collection Triumphant March Into Port Arthur, in which he goes some way in explaining the ten year gap between the publication of the two books, the main cause being the great Kanto Earthquake of 1923, reading this short preface from Hyakken comes the realization that Realm of the Dead is a book that would have perhaps been improved upon with the addition of at least a few pages by means of a further introduction or afterword to give a fuller con-textualisation to his writing and it's period. As well as writing an alternative version of I Am A Cat, Hyakken is also famous for being the subject of Kurosawa Akira's film Madadayo, in 1911 he was a pupil of Natsume Soseki, and after graduating from Tokyo University taught German at the Imperial Japanese Army Academy from 1916.

The two books consist mainly of short stories, 18 in Realm of the Dead and 29 in Triumphant March into Port Arthur, some of these in the later barely cover two pages, but reading Hyakken is to marvel at what he achieves in such a short space, his writing inhabits in lucid prose, realms of consciousness peeping out into vistas of the subconscious, or vice versa, at times surreal, reaching depths and heights that at times abruptly end as if their narrator is awakening from a dream or vision. Hyakken's compressed world is sometimes similar to that of Kafka, the inconsequential can be flipped over into being the consequential, plunging the narrator into philosophical explorations and interior ruminations which throw the narrator's world view into unexpected trajectories, the dilemma of a found wallet being one. Reading Realm of the Dead reminds me of the need to track out two other books, one being A Thousand One-Second Stories by Inagaki Taruho and the other is The Beautiful and the Grotesque by Akutagawa, in places it's interesting to remind yourself that Hyakken was for a time a contemporary of Akutagawa, perhaps he can be identified here appearing as Noguchi in the longer story The Bowler Hat, the narrator and Noguchi almost vie with each other as to who is the more affecting of the two writers, Noguchi departs the story eventually overdosing. Hyakken's stories do dip into some strange territories, one narrator finds himself being interrogated by melting police detectives, and although brief his stories impress with their unrelenting nature, in others the reader may pause and begin to question as to the motives behind Hyakken, or his narrator's reasoning in relating their narratives. In Whitecaps the narrator relates the story of how he and his Uncle find themselves rowing out to sea with the task of disposing of their pet dog that is guilty of biting a neighbour's child, reading Hyakken's stories sometimes feels that some could come closer to being described as narrative obstacles rather than ending with clear conclusion, although an overriding one could be that sometimes life is not good.

Across both of the books of stories there are number of different styles and narrative forms, some are dark explorative fictions, some feel that they maybe inspired from real life experiences and settings, there are a number here set in Hosei University, (including the title story of Triumphant March into Port Arthur), where Hyakken taught and perhaps if you are well grounded in Taisho/early Showa era history, some of the symbolism and portraits will begin to come into sharper focus, the story Triumphant March into Port Arthur is a far from being a celebratory narrative following the narrator watch a newsreel of the battle, which is centred around the meeting between General Nogi and General  Stessel, the narrator leaves the theatre with tears down his face, loosing all sense of his bearings he describes - 'The crowd kept clapping. My cheeks wet with crying, I fell into formation and was led out into the quiet of the city streets, out into nowhere'. Many of the stories feel that they have a metropolitan setting, but amongst these The Carp seems to pause for a moment to offer at what first appears as a landscape view, although with Hyakken it doesn't take too long before things begin to take on an alternative perspective, the narrator finds himself pursued into the landscape, the motives or identities of his pursuers uncertain, a mountain range comes into view, one pointing up resembling the dorsal fin of a carp, at points the delineation between land and sky becomes distorted, a spot of bright light appears and the narrator can hear an echoing sound that seems to grow in volume, the narrator finds himself on the other side of the light, staring back he notices that the side he was in is shaded in darkness, before him he observes a lake, in it a beautiful carp swims, the narrator becomes entranced by the fish, whose reflection he can see projected or reflected in the sky, the story ends with the narrator trying to restrain himself from diving in to swim with the beautiful fish. It's a beguiling story, reading it again on it's own and taken out of the stream of narratives from these stories, is to realise Hyakken's ornate  combination of allegory and modernist prose, to read The Carp is to perhaps picture a narrator witnessing an aspect of one of the stories from Ugetsu Monogatari - Muo no Rigyo/A Carp That Appeared in My Dream, and in another of one transcribing the journey from the mortal into the immortal, a fascinating collection that rewards after repeated reading.  


Realm of the Dead at Dalkey Archive Press                       

Ground Zero, Nagasaki Stories - Seirai Yuichi

Recently published by Columbia University Press, Ground Zero, Nagasaki - Stories by Yūichi Seirai, (pen name of Nakamura Akitoshi), is translated by Paul Warham, a title selected from the JLPP, the book was originally published as Bakushin back in 2006 and was awarded both the Ito Sei Prize as well as the Tanizaki Prize, the book also inspired a film in 2013 Under the Nagasaki Sky, (trailer). Seirai was born in Nagasaki in 1958 and throughout this collection of six stories two subjects appear as an intertwining backdrop in the lives of the characters he has written, that of the atomic bombing of the city and also of the city's religious history, these appear in the stories to varying degrees and in various perspectives. An aspect to Seirai's writing that becomes apparent is that whilst we read his character's cross examining themselves and their pasts, a subtle symbolism arises. Nails, the opening story is narrated by a father whose son becomes obsessed with the movements of his wife, to the degree that he pays a private detective to watch her even though he himself is with her, the obsession culminates in a tragic accident, which borders on it being premeditated . Throughout the story the son's father contrast's his son's behaviour with that of his distant relatives who were devout believers, and wonders at how the faith has become misaligned. An instance of imagery used in this story is that inside the son's house, the father discovers a room whose walls are filled with hammered in nails, which carries associations with religious imagery, but it also gives a picture into the son's inner psychiatry, which it also could be seen as having a relationship with the persecution of those with religious faith.

This aspect of contrasts is another common theme to Seirai's stories, his characters seem to witness and struggle to reconcile injustices and impasses that are unfolding in their lives and by parallel and degrees the contemporary world, their source, or perhaps their central point of reference is the atomic bombing and of religious persecution, or those who had to hide or disguise their faith. Seirai's narratives are richly imagined, in addition to this he has created a fascinating cast of characters, probably one of the most noticeable here is Shu-chan in the story Stone. An aspect to this story is the sense of uniqueness of it's setting, which takes place in a hotel reception area, Shu-chan is waiting for the appearance of a politician to emerge, who he was friends with from high school days, who Shu-chan refers to as Kyu-chan, the crux of the story however is that the politician is under investigation for corruption after assigning a job to his mistress. Whilst waiting Shu-chan strikes up a conversation with an awaiting reporter, Shirotani, who when realizing that Shu-chan has a history with Kyu-chan becomes interested in his story. Shu-chan is a strange character, he still lives at home with his mother, who is in declining health, and his main wish is to loose his virginity, which escalates as being the main sense of injustice in his life, Shu-chan is obsessed with numbers keeping count of all the women he has fallen in love with, (he falls in love with Shirotani), he also memorizes the plate numbers of cars parked outside a brothel he visited in his past. Shu-chan and Kyu-chan meet, and examine their pasts and presents, assumptions are overturned. In the story Seirai subtly examines the stone like nature in people, of how it's indifference to the world is used as both defence and defiance, later walking by the Urakami River in stones washed up by the river, Shu-chan hears the voices of those persecuted and victims of the bomb cry out.

All of these stories offer penetrating insights into the psychological worlds of their protagonists, in Honey a woman finds herself in a loveless marriage, and follows her as she seduces a young man from a cycle repair shop, the story traces her re-sifting her past and leads up to the point of his hand reaching out to touch her at precisely the same moment as the bomb dropped. In Insects Mitsuko looks back after surviving the bomb, and re-examines a love triangle she had kept hidden for decades at the same time uncovering the nuances of faith and human relationships.

Two stories that seem to stand out in the collection are Shells and the final story Birds, both, (as can be seen in all of the stories), are acutely and vividly imagined. Shells is narrated by Hiroyoshi, a man who displays signs of mental vulnerability, we get the impression that his wife and brother-in law think him delusional, as the story begins to unfold we learn of the passing of his daughter, Sayaka. Another aspect that occurs in the story is of him discovering sea shells in his apartment, which lead him, in a candy trail kind of fashion, out to the beach. We learn that he and Sayaka used to collect shells together, which lends the appearance of the shells a supernatural and spiritual tint, outside he befriends a trash collector, Nagai, out on the beach, as the two talk, Nagai learns of Sayaka's passing and Hiroyoshi learns that Nagai's sister, also passed away, both of them on the same date, August the 10th, the pair recall how Sayaka and Nagai's sister spent time together. Another motif that appears in the story is that of a tsunami that rises up the shoreline which Hiroyoshi initially envisages at the start of the story, is this the source of the shells being left behind after the receding wash?, the appearance of the shells subtly begin to represent evidence of his sanity, and by projection his faith, which he covets at first in front of Nagai waiting for the right moment to share their wider secret with him. The story explores themes of pasts which converge with the present, at the same time displaying powerful imagery, the advancing tsunami, which is jointly imagined in the story, is subtly and distantly juxtaposed with that of a sea of fire after the bomb.

Birds, the final story, is narrated by a writer, now in his sixties, similar to that of the narrator of Insects, who survived the bomb, although both of his parents died leaving blank spaces in his family register which remain for him the source of the enigma of his past and by degrees of his truer current identity, which at one point with memories with his adoptive father also calls into question the nature of his faith. The opening setting of the story is a domestic one which sees him settling down to write, but is disturbed by his wife who hears noises coming from upstairs, possible burglars?. The narrative sees the writer re-examine his past, as well as examining his relationship with his immediate family, his son, daughter and wife, there is a sense of estrangement to the narrative that he has from his past and present. Whilst sifting his past the writer recalls a story describing the returning of egrets carrying the souls of the victims of the bomb. The story ends on a deeply moving note with an emotional reunion of sorts, and as with the rest of the stories in this collection there is a plethora of associations and layers between the lines, the characters of Seirai's fictions find themselves conduiting the gaps between past and present, faith and faithlessness, a remarkably vivid collection.                   

   

Ground Zero, Nagasaki - Stories at Columbia University Press

Read the short story Nails at Issuu via CUP

Interview with Seirai Yuichi at the Hiroshima Media Peace Center

The Crimson Thread of Abandon - Stories by Terayama Shūji

For those familiar with Terayama and his poetry, films, (most famously perhaps, Emperor of Tomato Ketchup and Pastoral: Death in the Country), and his plays, this book will be a welcome addition, in some ways it could be said to be able to appreciate the book without considering it in light with the rest of Terayama's output and life could be a difficult thing to do, but whilst reading these stories it's hard not to hear echoes of the music of Julius Arnest Seaer playing somewhere in their backgrounds. To read these stories you'll maybe finding yourself putting the external world on hold for a while, entering Terayama's world is like finding yourself in a slightly phantasmic version of Lewis Carroll's, spread across them some characters reappear, Mizue, who could be described perhaps as Terayama's Alice, and also there's Smokey the cat, although references aside, in Terayama there's a feeling that eventually everything becomes subverted. Throughout these stories characters appear that feature in his films, sailors, boxers, travelling troupes, another repeating motif is the game of hide and seek, in one, Hide-and-Not-Go-Seek, the narrator plays the game and taking a dislike to one boy sees him hide down a drain, seeing a lorry reversing which is carrying a load of lumber he instructs the driver to dump it on top of the man hole cover, the game finishes without the boy in the drain re-appearing, unnervingly, much to the indifference to the narrator. Years later he returns to his hometown and passing the drain on a nostalgic stroll he peeks inside half expecting to find the boy's bones, entering it he struggles to see but looking up the boy, un-aged, appears and closes the cover down on him and the sound of heavy objects being placed on the cover is heard. Reading these stories you get the slight feeling that you're being assaulted by the breadth of Terayama's flights of inexhaustible imagination, and they are to be wondered at.

Another re-occurring element is that of the cut out, characters come into existence by having their names cut from other books, in another story words are brought to life by being cut out of the page, a conundrum arises with the word love, how will it manifest itself when it's cut out and appears in the physical world?, Terayama offers possible answers to the reader in the style of a number of multiple choice options, we decide, this switch in offering the reader a perspective on the creation process is offered in other stories, how would we write it, he offers us the pen?. But if you were to pick up this book without any prior knowledge of Terayama or the rest of his oeuvre you'd be hard pressed not to be caught in his world, the stories have a slightly quick fire-ness to them, characters can be introduced in the time it takes to finish the end of a sentence, their directions take turns into different trajectories in equal amounts of space. In Flame a town suffers the fate that all the fires go out, to the extent that a neighbouring volcano sinks into smoking dormancy, one of the characters ponders as to whether the town actually had a spark to begin with?, a plot develops that a flame will be kidnapped from a neighbouring town, but the plot is threatened by those committing a subterfuge, which includes a flock of dive bombing birds, but within the story lies another added layer, that of the theme of the purity of the flame of love.

Throughout these stories it feels that conventional storytelling is being dispensed with, although many of the stories retain preoccupations with the nature of fate, of course it's usually unfair and cruel, they retain though the feeling of being fables, albeit being distortedly viewed through a bell jar. Eraser, is another story where an everyday object becomes imbued with magical powers that provokes a double take at the commonplace, coming across an eraser that has the ability to erase physical objects, Johnny the Sailor jealously uses it to erase all the men in the life of the woman he falls in love with, but to the story Terayama adds a twist of fate that adds a further resonance to the tale. In The Elusive Milena, a camera is discovered to be able to take photographs 10 years into the future, and for all those who don't appear in their photograph it points in only one direction concerning their fates. A last note on another motif that appears in a number of these stories, that of characters multiplying, returning home to find themselves already there, being spotted out walking the streets when they haven't left their rooms, this gets it's deepest exploration in Remy's Quantum Realities, in which Remy multiples many times over, Terayama works in a reference to Euclid's axioms and leaves us the story with some homework to do at the end, how many Remys appeared in this story?. A beguiling collection, the book is published by Merwin Asia, an independent publisher, and is translated by Elizabeth L. Armstrong, who also provides an introduction.


The Crimson Thread of Abandon at Merwin Asia        
      

Ravine and Other Stories by Furui Yoshikichi

Couldn't help from noticing that Shinchosha celebrates 110 years of it's literary magazine Shinchō this year, from reading a review of their anniversary issue from May, the issue appears to include Kenzaburō Ōe and Furui Yoshikichi in conversation, which prompted me to turn to reading Furui again, as I've been meaning to since reading his short story Wedlock some time ago. As far as I've seen there are only three translations of Furui in English, Ravine and Other Stories, translated by Meredith McKinney, White Haired Melody, a novel, also translated by Meredith McKinney and also Child of Darkness: Yoko and Other Stories, translated by Donna George Storey, which contains Furui's Akutagawa Prize winning story, Yoko, aside from the Akutagawa Prize, Furui has also received the Tanizaki Prize, the Mainichi Cultural Prize, the Yomiuri Literary Prize and also the Kawabata Prize for his story, Nakayama-zaka/On Nakayama Hill, a translation of which is included here. Furui has been associated with the generation of writers often referred to as being from the naiko no sedai or the introverted generation -  内向の世代, spanning from the late sixties to the mid seventies, who would adopt more of an introverted style of writing, turning away from the overtly politically subjects of the times, the term was first used by the literary critic Odagiri Hideo.

In it's opening passages I couldn't help being nudged into recalling another story when starting to read Ravine, of it's remote mountain scape with the sound of a voice being heard, and of the narrative recalling a story of skeletal remains being found with all flesh rotted away save for a living tongue remaining within it's skull, this opening is reminiscent of one I'm sure by Nakagami Kenji. Ravine though turns from this to describing two climbers on a memorial climb for their fellow climber, Koike, resting in a cabin for the night they hear footsteps advancing outside and a man staggering in, falls down before them, dead. The story is overlaid with flashbacks of a climb all three had taken and of meeting a woman in the mountains who appears to take a suicidal leap into the sea, although she is rescued by a passing fishing boat, in places ambiguities arise as to the possibility of which figure that appears may represent which character more fully described within the story, who is the dying man?, perhaps this event appears to act as a spur to the subsequent recollections, some events are maybe presented as disconnected in Furui's stories, but they act to contribute to a thematic whole. Another element of this story is of Koike's marriage, the story has many enigmatic turns, and as with the other stories in this collection, the reader also gets the impression that although Furui's writing is full of acute and close-up observations it's not until finishing them that you can obtain the wider focus of their intent, whilst reading them despite their fine eye for intricateness they retain a sense of being impressionistic.

The next story, Grief Field/Aihara, also appears in Child of Darkness, translated by Donna George Storey as The Plain of Sorrows, the narrator relates the deteriorating state of a friend who has an incurable illness who disappears from his family to a woman whom he has been having an affair, although when with her he wanders to a plot of land allocated for re-development. The theme that the story seems to explore is that of the space between physical places and locations with that of the protagonist's psychological sense of their own grief, as well as the dying friend at the centre of this story, who, it could also be described as being in a state of grieving for himself, there are figures from each of the character's past whose passings are also subjects of grief, a sister who died in a love suicide, a mother dying prematurely, as well as feeling grief over these loses the protagonist's have acute perhaps subdued repressed feelings of guilt, as Furui's stories progress developments are revealed and hinted at but the fuller picture is often left for the after read.

The Bellwether stands out here as the narrative sees no real or direct character interaction with each other, being a fictional observational piece in which the narrator shares their thoughts on the nature of crowds on busy commuter stations and trains by making comparisons to the stampede of wild horses. Through these observations the narrator examines the nature of the individual in the crowd, of how interpretations of each other are made and envisages the crowd amidst and provoked into panic. Examining the crowd, the narrator's vision fixates on a single man whom he seems to encounter by chance at various points as he wanders in this narrative, observations of more individuals he sees turn to recollecting a man from the narrator's workplace, thoroughly competent in his work but 'initiates nothing by himself'. At a point in the narrative there appears a concluding observation that in order to preserve our own sense of equilibrium in a crowd we search out for the faces of 'docile sensible types' to reassure ourselves, the narrator later relates becoming involved in a skirmish between protesting students and the police, and of an unsuspecting visitor who visits him after being hospitalized to reiterate the point made earlier in the story. The Bellwether seems to display another characteristic in Furui's writing in that of his interest in exploring differing points of perspective, and of examining how different people view different people.

The collection concludes with On Nakayama Hill, which was awarded the Kawabata Prize, the story in a way has two main characters, one an old man, who is approaching death from an incurable disease, and also a young woman oversleeping on a train and finding herself a few stops away from where she wanted to be. The scene where the two first encounter each other has an interestingly described moment, where the old man grabs her to stop himself from falling over, and of her finding she can hear human voices emanating from him, these though are from the radio he listens to through his headphone, (s?). The old man walks up the hill to place bets at the horse races and due to his frail state asks her to go on ahead to make the bet for him after stopping at a tea shop. Furui's prose is glacial in slowly revealing the back drops of the pair's lives, of her uncertain affair and of the old man's intuitiveness, Furui's prose leaves the impression that nothing of the author is between the characters, the slowly observed unfolding of the stories events and the reader. As with this story there is the appearance of common themes to Furui's writing, the occurrence of aging and of ill health with the over arching and explorative theme being the nature of human mortality.  

Ravine and Other Stories at Stone Bridge Press


                                

The Isle of South Kamui and Other Stories - by Nishimura Kyotaro

Amongst the latest of titles published by Thames River Press is The Isle of South Kamui and Other Stories by Nishimura Kyotaro translated by Ginny Tapley Takemori, the collection is selected from the lists of the JLPP, which has now seen nearly all of it's titles listed in English translation published, there remains Alfred Birnbaum's translation of Abe Kazushige's Sinsemillas, and Christopher Belton's translation of Mori Eto's Colorful, Stephen Snyder's translation of Maijo Otaro's Asura Girl is due in December and Paul Warham's translation of Ground Zero, Nagasaki: Stories by Seirai Yuichi, whose title story was awarded the Tanizaki Prize in 2007, is due in January 2015, all of which makes the demise of the JLPP more lamentable.  

Nishimura was awarded the Edogawa Prize in 1965 for Tenshi no Kizuato/A Scar of an Angel and also the Mystery Writers of Japan Award in 1981 for Shuchakueki satsujin jiken/The Terminal Murder Case, and is also famous for the character Inspector Totsugawa. The Isle of South Kamui and Other Stories contains five stories, the first being the title story, The Isle of South Kamui, which sees a doctor, who after having problems with a woman connected to the yakuza takes a post on a remote island south of the island of Kamui. On the ferry crossing to the island the doctor becomes acquainted with a salesman who appears at various moments throughout the story, in some ways he is the only character that the doctor has to be able to rationalize his observations of the island with, on his arrival the doctor observes the 'harvesting' of one of the local species of birds, the Streaked Shearwater, a protected bird which the islanders are permitted to hunt on one day of the year only, the doctor observes the sweating bodies of the women during the bloodletting and the entrails of the birds whose meat is later served for him at his welcome party, the salesman informs him of the licentiousness of the women of the island which the salesman participates in and which the doctor also falls prey to. In it's remoteness the island's customs appear to be rooted in the past, and out of sync with contemporary society they refer to the mainland with its ancient name of Yamato and the electricity on the island is switched off at eight, for guidance in matters of importance they consult an oracle of a mountain temple, but the crux of the story comes to a head with the outbreak of a contagious disease which can be fatal within twenty four hours after contracting it, knowing that the disease was brought on to the island the islanders suspicions focus on the salesman and doctor. With not enough serum for all the doctor is forced into choosing between saving himself or saving his patient, but his actions result in consequences unforeseen and defies the logical pattern of his sense of morality.

Summer Reverie dips into the infatuated psychology of a 17 year old youth, Shinichi, who finds himself drawn to his step mother, set on the coast of Izu, it has the feeling of the taiyo zoku although being brought more up to date and taken up a notch or two by degree. Shinichi looks up to Yukibe, a girl from his school who dropped out and is living on the streets and was involved in the student protests, he observes that, 'she is fighting against something. But I...', at night he fires his rifle, a gift from his father before he died, into the darkness of the sea. Between Shinichi and his step mother is her potential suitor, Takeda, a novelist who is staying in the house, his presence exacerbates Shinichi's temperament, whilst out swimming Shinichi gets caught in an undercurrent, before loosing consciousness he remembers seeing Takeda walking away leaving him to drown. In an erotic dream Shinichi dreams of his step mother naked and of him shooting her, a spot of red appearing on her chest where the bullet strikes which proves to be portentous. Although Nishimura's narratives feel in places quite plaintive, his stories explore the undersides of his character's psychologies and from them appear well crafted stories of the unexpected with turnabouts unforeseen.  

Two of the stories have narratives from detectives trying to solve their case, although at the same time Nishimura delves into the psychologies of both the criminals and detectives alike, especially in the final story entitled The Detective, where a six year old boy is reported as having committed suicide after swallowing rat poison, the child's mother is an aspiring actress and the case has ramifications for the detective's own history and echoes of the accidental death of his own son on the day that he and his wife separated. House of Cards follows a detective on the case of a murdered bar girl and a dissolute poet. The narrative in The Monkey That Clapped It's Hands comes from a journalist, Sawaki, investigating the suicide of a young man, Shinkichi, who had travelled from Hokkaido to Hokuriku for work, discovering that before his suicide Shinkichi had written three letters to three different people, Sawaki tracks out the three to find out if the contents of the letters will offer any clue for the motive of Shinkichi's suicide. The story has a soulful quality to it, reading like a distant portrait of a young man's dislocation from nature, from the rural to the city and subtle connections could be made between the wind up toy monkey at it's centre and the loneliness of the mannequin like life Shinkichi finds himself in. During his investigations Sawaki is accompanied by Shinkichi's mother, Toku whose grieving is subdued until the end of the story, the story turns over some subtle themes , the recruitment and assimilation of rural workers into the loneliness of city life, which also surfaces in another story, and also of the media's searching manipulation of the unfolding story to get a saleable angle on events, which again is a theme apparent that features in a number of the stories in this interesting collection.

The Isle of South Kamui and Other Stories at Thames River Press

          

Three-Dimensional Reading

Stories of Time and Space in Japanese Modernist Fiction, 1911-1932

 

 

Simply put this anthology contains some essential reading, aside from one story, Yokomitsu Riichi's The Underside of Town, the stories here are firsts seen in English translation, Three Dimensional Reading comes with the subtitle: Stories of Time and Space in Japanese Modernist Fiction, 1911 - 1932, so the time line is set primarily across the Taisho era along with a small overlap with late Meiji and early Showa, the anthology is also accompanied by some remarkably detailed and imaginative artwork by Sakaguchi Kyohei. The spaces concerned vary in nature over the stories, external, internal, and with one situated in colonised Korea, many of them it could be said are Tokyo-centric, the anthology brings pieces together by well known names of the age such as Soseki, Kawabata, Akutagawa, Tanizaki, as well as some who are lesser known in English, in particular a story that I was looking forward to reading being Hori Tatsuo's Aquarium, from 1930, translated by Stephen Snyder, a story of an obsessive lesbian love, after recently reading Hori's later short story Les Joues En Feu, (1932), which is also a nuanced psychological study of a same sex love triangle set in a boy's high school dormitory, Aquarium has a more subjective feel, and of being a tale related rather than being from an internal psychological viewpoint.

Edited by Angela Yiu, who also translates a number of the stories the book is divided into three segments each highlighting a particular theme - Scenes of the Mind, Time and Urban Space and the third part being Utopia and Dystopia, each of the stories are accompanied by fully comprehensive introductions by Yiu. All coming under the umbrella of being examples of modernism the stories do vary stylistically, Yiu's translation of Yokomitsu's Machi no Soko does reflect the story's more abstract elements to slightly further degree than perhaps the previous one by Dennis Keene, abstraction is something that can also be seen in Ryutanji Yu's Pavement Snapshots, translated by Alisa Freedman and Angela Yiu, a story which in a way resembles Yokomitsu's Machi no Soko as it offers a city view, although where Yokomitsu's is at times more panoramic, Yu's is more quick fire in it's representations although remaining multifarious in it's scope. An interesting aspect throughout some of these stories is the points of overlap between them, authors referencing each other or each others works, another aspect which is curious to note is the absence of any female voices within the collection.

The temptation is there to give a synopsis of each of these stories, each of which carry their own unique perspectives, Tanizaki's A Golden Death, translated by James Lipson and Kyoko Kurita, is a story that first appeared in 1914, which reads as being an inspiration for Ranpo's Strange Tale of Panorama Island, (1926), which sees the narrator in a protracted disagreement with his school friend, the son of a wealthy family on the aesthetics of beauty, as in Ranpo's Strange Tale, the story features the building of a fantastical theme park complete with living statues and interpretations of famous, (predominately Western), artworks, Mishima criticised the story. Sato Haruo's A Record of Nonchalant, translated by Yiu is a fantastical dystopian vision which astonishes when pausing to consider it was written in 1929, set in the twenty ninth century the story conveys the injustices and prejudices of a tiered society, between the haves and the have nots, daylight and the air that you breath are commodities under strictest control in this subterranean world turned on it's side, in some ways it could be seen that the story in some ways could have served as an inspiration for Abe Kobo's 1949 story Dendrocacalia. Inagaki Taruho's Astromania, translated by Jeffrey Angles is another story that bears witness to a subtle convergence between East and West which sees two young friends construct a diorama. A fascinating and informative collection offering highly valued perspectives on modernist literature of the period. 

Three-Dimensional Reading at University of Hawai'i Press

online gallery of art by Sakaguchi Kyohei        

The Phoenix Tree and Other Stories

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Phoenix Tree and Other Stories collects four stories by Akutagawa Prize winning author Kizaki Satoko - 木崎 さと子, who received the prize in 1985 for her story Ao giri, which is included here translated by Carol A. Flath as The Phoenix Tree. Kizaki had also previously been shortlisted for the prize with her debut story Rasoku - Barefoot, which won the Bungakukai Prize in 1980. Born in 1939 in Changchun, (then under the occupied name of Shinkyō), Kizaki started writing in 1979 at the age of 40 and had previously lived in France and also in the U.S.A for a number of years, nations which feature in the lives of some of the characters in theses stories as well as being the locations of some of their settings. The first story Barefoot sees the narrator, Seiko, returning to Tokyo to live in a house of her Uncle's after having lived in France for some years. As she prepares a meal she hears the names and shouts of politicians canvassing for votes through the window as they drive pass the house, one in particular Narashima Yumiko the communist candidate stands out to her. As Seiko's observations progress she realizes the extent of how she has slipped out of being Japanese, comparing udon with spaghetti, and later when her Uncle visits she forgets that its her place to dote on him, in routine things like preparing a washcloth for him to wipe his hands, on her return, still in a stage of transience she observes that all Japanese faces appear the same to her. The story also sees Seiko recall her relationship with Henri a man she had met in Paris, a hypersensitive man who had come from a rural area who had an inert fear of the city, Henri as well as being an albino was an alcoholic who suffered from epilepsy. A common theme in these stories is that the narrator has been orphaned and has been taken care of or adopted by relatives, the title story has it's main narrator, Mitsue raised by her Aunt, the narratives are often explorations into unknown family histories, in Barefoot Seiko relates how her Uncle's son, Kuniaki, had used her to vent his lusts for a number of years before being married, another of the stories themes is that of the shallowness of appearances, from the smiles on the politicians posters, she imagines them running through the town barefoot or without make up Narashima she visualises as an Esmeralda running barefoot and dishevelled begging for votes with fabricated urgency. Through Seiko's musings she returns to her relationship with Henri and his eventual spiral into suicide and cross examines her feelings of guilt at her involvement with him.

The second story, Flame Trees, is remarkable for the slightness and originality of it's setting, the Hata's - Makiko and her husband, Motoo, have travelled from France to Pasadena, Motoo is a Professor of Plant Physiology, before setting up in their own apartment they stay at the Ide's, a family of second generation Japanese Americans who Motoo had previously stayed with. The story opens with an international meeting of other Professors, two wives of which feature prominently in Makiko's perceptions of the small non American community, Lyudmilla, and Helga, whom like Makiko is pregnant. Flame Trees also sees narratives delving into the past lives of it's protagonists, the Ide's history of being interned during the war and their managing to build a living through building up their farming business is depicted, whilst watching the coverage of the assassination of Kennedy the time period of the story's setting begins to take shape. Through Makiko's observations life in America is slightly disorientating her, slowly the story of her past becomes revealed provoked by observations of the Flame Trees growing in the area, memories of the evacuation of Manchuria at the end of the war, watching her mother die, earlier there is a discussion on the definition of life, of 'it' - 'something like a crimson flame blazing up', this image is subtly juxtaposed in the narrative with the flames and smoke of her mother's cremation rising up. Another aspect to Kizaki's narratives sees her characters trying to fill in the missing portraits of family members from their pasts, these are scenes provoked from everyday observations, her father's disappearance in broad daylight, taken away by the Russian troops, here one minute gone the next, Makiko visualizes the possibility of him being still alive somewhere in a Serbian prison camp, another as the time draws nearer to her giving birth provokes the memory of seeing a foetus as a child in a neighbours home in Manchuria, which leads to her evacuation with her nanny Neiya, and the fear of eligibility of returning to Japan under the one adult one child policy.

Although the shortest story in the collection, being a little close to amounting to twenty pages the third story Mei Hua Lei displays Kizaki's brilliant subtleness at being able to synthesize imagery and metaphor in depicting the predicament of her characters  caught between past, present and potential futures. Ueda is another character whose past is linked to the evacuation of Manchuria at the end of the war, but in Mei Hua Lei sees him returning to the country some years later and has a guide in Mr Feng and translator Xiao - hong. During his trip he picks out souvenirs for his wife and daughter, among these, a scarf, a dried deer's heart, that is valued for it's medicinal properties and also some silverware which Kizaki imbues with metaphor that resonates across the story, along with the deer's heart which later on is visualized by Ueda's daughter as still beating with life. Purchasing the silverware unlocks Ueda's own memories of the evacuation and of his mother, and the seller tells him that it was taken from the Japanese by advancing Russian troops, the seller adds, 'They come and go don't they?. Who knows, maybe this coaster will return to China sometime', with the inclusion of this silverware comes the awareness that it's presence is relating to something much larger, perhaps the nature of the relationship between the two nations and of each of their prosperity. Ueda keeps the silverware hidden in a draw away from Mari and Yasuko, his wife and daughter, the narrative observing of him that - 'he didn't want to expose these things to the eyes of people who didn't know the land of Manchuria'.

The Phoenix Tree is a novella in size, the narrative comes from Mitsue who receives a call from her cousin Shiro announcing that Oba-san is unwell and that she is returning home to the dilapidated wing of the family estate where Mistue lives with her brother Kohei and his wife, Kazumi. Another story that features an extended family which is split between Mitsue and Kohei who were adopted by Oba-san when they were young and Oba-san's natural siblings, Shiro and his sister Haruko, who remains largely absent in the story until nearing the end, who is living in America raising a family. Shiro explains that Oba-san wants the fact of her return to the ancestral home and her illness to be kept secret from the local villagers and that a doctor shouldn't be consulted, Mitsue is awed by Oba-san's courage in facing death unassisted, and slightly fortuitously for Shiro offers to help to nurse her, he returns to Tokyo sooner than expected. Mitsue is described as a bit of a recluse not having ever lived outside of the village, remaining unmarried, she also carries an unsightly scar across her face from a childhood accident. Although she refuses to see a doctor and hasn't had an official diagnosis Oba-san's illness is breast cancer which is in an advanced state. As she struggles to look after Oba-san Mitsue recalls the days of her childhood, of Oba-san struggling with the burden of raising additional children, and also imagining her relationship with her Uncle who had died prematurely through TB, Mitsue envisions rather romantically that her aunt's return is her wanting to die in the same place as that of her husband. In these stories which are informed by the autobiographical, Kizaki has a great ability in creating complex family scenarios where her characters are left to fill in the blanks of the histories of characters now passed, another incident that remains unclear is the circumstance of Mitsue getting her scar, Kohei tells Mitsue that he witnessed Oba-san amidst an accident of spilling hot oil push Haruko clear leaving the oil to spill and scald Mitsue instead, the revelation of the episode leads Mitsue to readdress her feelings towards Oba-san after it was believed that a maid had been to blame. The situation is compounded when it becomes known that it's Oba-san's desire for Mitsue to have plastic surgery to remove the scar, she wants to see Mitsue as she was before the accident, but is it to assuage her guilt?, it remains unclear. The story is full of incidences offering insights into the complex family relationships to one another, there's constant reappraisal of the relationship between Shiro and Haruko vs.  Mitsue and Kohei who have stayed behind remaining in the village as opposed to Shiro and Haruko having successful lives away. Another facet to this is that Mitsue is secretly attracted to Shiro, but these feelings through the events of the story undergo a transformation. The Phoenix Tree of the story's title refers to a sapling planted by Oba-san in ground opposite the house's veranda years before, as the estate is falling further into dilapidation it's possibly the only thing that'll remain, at the end of the story the family wonder what to do with it, a suggestion made is to transplant the tree or perhaps that Kohei will move in and look after it. Perhaps the kanji in the title of the story is different, the reader can't ignore the possibility that Kizaki is using the title with a slight play on words, as giri in Japanese is a term also meaning 'obligation' or the 'burden of obligation', finishing the story the impression left is that this is what is being passed on by Oba-san, or maybe the Phoenix tree or the wakagiri left behind is a symbol of an obligation or duty served. Overall a fascinating collection.

Carol A. Flath's translation of Rasuko and Aogiri won the Japan - U.S Friendship Commission Prize for the Translation of Japanese Literature.                                          

Lou-lan and Other Stories by Inoue Yasushi

Lou-lan and Other Stories is a collection of six stories by Inoue Yasushi, translated in an almost tag team kind of fashion by James T. Araki and Edward Seidensticker, published by Kodansha International, three stories are situated in ancient China and three have Japan as their setting. The first, the title story, Lou-lan, (translated by Seidensticker), traces the history of a remote town in a distant north western province of China beginning around 130 years BC, caught between many local warring factions and in addition the area is under threat by the expanding Han who send various emissaries and generals to the area intending to expand the empire. Throughout the story the name of Tun-Huang is mentioned on a number of occasions and incidences, but how the events of this story might overlap with those of the novel of the same name I'm not at all sure, but there are similarities in that Inoue expands the history of Lou-lan bringing it up to date with the re-discovery of it by the Swedish explorer Sven Hedin, as in Tun-Huang which also brings the story into the beginning of the twentieth century with the expeditions of Sir Aurel Stein. Lou-lan tells of the displacement of the people of Lou-lan and the suicide of a monarch discovered centuries later. Whilst reading the descriptions of Lou-lan another story came to mind that also has a remote Chinese settlement landscape at its centre, Takeshi Kaiko's Ruboki/Runaway first published in 1958 two years before Lo-lan appeared, Inoue's story has a broader historical panorama than Kaiko's, Inoue's stories have a subtle moral twist to them, as in the story Princess Yung-t'ai's Necklace, (translated by Seidensticker), another set in ancient China, which follows a group of grave robbers attempting to raid a tomb but are disturbed during the act, a subplot is that the ringleader's wife is having an affair with his brother, both of whom are keeping watch outside, as they hear the advancing troops the ringleader rushes back to grab the necklace, but the brother closes the tomb on him by rolling back a large stone doorway, this story also leaps forward in time by some centuries to the discovery of the skeletal remains with the necklace in its grasp. The second of the stories set in ancient China is The Sage, (translated by Araki), which also has the tone of being a morality tale, where an old blind sage who acts as an attendant to a holy spring is toppled by a young councillor who wants to change the old ways, but the changes bring about catastrophic events for the community, their moral tone resembles the stories of Nakajima Atsushi, many of which are also set in ancient China.

 

The first of the stories set in Japan is one centred around archaeology in, The Opaline Cup, (translated by Araki), whose narrator witnesses the bringing together for the first time in fourteen hundred years two ancient cups, the story has a subplot at the beginning which retraces the premature death of the narrator's sister, who the narrator was trying to organise her marriage to one of his friends. The second story The Rhododendrons, (translated by Seidensticker), is narrated by a slightly cantankerous elderly scholar, Shuntaro Miike, who runs away to the shore of Lake Biwa overlooking Mt.Hira. As he returns to his favourite inn, (the Reihokan), his past encounters and visits with the place are recalled. The initial object of his spleen venting is his immediate family who he sees as being too disrespectful although he notes they are quick to bask in the glory of his awards and achievements as a scholar, his major work is in the field of anthropology and anatomy, his magnum opus which he suspects he won't live to complete is The Arterial System of the Japanese, which he is writing in German - Anterin System der Japaneur, his two passions are research and liquor. The narrative again is one that retrospectively looks back at various episodes in his life, the relationship between a fellow student who vows to leave him his body for research in the event of his death, he talks about an angel of death being near him in his youth and recalls the case of Fujimura Masao, (featured also in Soseki's, Kusamakura). Another major incident that brought him to the inn at Lake Biwa is the suicide of his son, Keisuke, who had an affair resulting in the woman becoming pregnant, rather than obeying his father in forbidding him to see the woman again the pair kill themselves by drowning, the suicide of his son seems to act as a dichotomy between the narrator and his son.

 

The last story, Passage to Fudaraku, (translated by Araki), is set in the middle of the last millennium set around an ancient religious practice in the Kumano area, in particular the Fudarakusan-ji. The story follows the Abbot of the temple who is next in line to carry out the tradition of taking the journey to Fudaraku Island - in other words setting sail for the Pure Land to serve Kannon. Through the Abbot, Konko, we are told of the departures of the previous Abbots who have taken the trip, some first hand from his own memory, others from anecdote, the rule being that it's expected that the Abbot make the journey by the time he reaches age of 61, the Abbot travels alone in the vessel escorted as far as Tsunakiri Island and then set adrift out into the deeper sea. At the start of the story there is much anticipation as to when Konko will announce the date of his departure. Out of the previous Abbots there were stories that only one managed to return with extensive knowledge of the Pure Land, another before departing has visions of Fudaraku, observing that - 'these people don't age as they serve the Buddha', although with deepening trepidation Konko observes that the journey will only spell certain death. Konko's apprehension mounts as the day of his departure draws closer, he falls into an almost catatonic state, remaining silent when people visit him wanting him to pass messages on to the Buddha. If you're a Japanese reader you can read more about this tradition on the Japanese entry on the Fudaraku jinja, which gives more information on this religious practice, boats were leaden with stones representing sins, and as in the story the chamber that the Abbot or Priest occupied on the boat had no doors and was nailed to the boat. Also the boat was fitted with four Torii, (seen here), representing the four gates of the Pure Land. These stories open vistas into the past that trickle back into the modern world.

                    

The Funeral of A Giraffe - Seven Stories by Tomioka Taeko

The Funeral of A Giraffe is a collection that would be difficult to improve upon, coming with a thorough introduction covering Tomioka Taeko's career as a writer who made the transition from poetry to prose, she also wrote film scripts for Masahiro Shinoda, along with this an author interview continues to explore some of the themes that Tomioka's writings are concerned with. After finishing these stories a good place to turn to could be See You Soon - Poems of Taeko Tomioka, translated by Hiroaki Sato, or perhaps the more recently published novel Building Waves translated by Louise Heal Kawai. Most of these stories are set or centred around the Kansai area, Tomioka was born in Osaka, and some reflect Tomioka's interest in rakugo, a number of the stories open with referencing passages taken from rakugo and in another, a fragment from The Tales of Tono sets the scene, it's interesting to read how Tomioka works these into these narratives which are predominately concerned about the lives of their female protagonists. It's startling to contemplate that these stories first appeared in 1976, they are still imbued with a notable contemporary tone, what with the latest interest at the state of relationships and the sex lives of young Japanese these stories show that perhaps this isn't such a new phenomenon or dilemma as we might be led to believe, in the last story Timetable, the narrative follows a young woman caught between the lives of various men as she endeavours to come to terms with her own feelings and search for her place in the scheme of things. The story reads like a minor epic of contemporary life, initially the narrator stays with, S, a male friend in Paris whose wife is in hospital with T.B, she meets with another expat, an artist friend of S. The narrator learns of the suicide of, R, a friend from the past, and in a similar  structural style to some of the other stories here, the narrator looks back at the events and nature of their relationship. Another man at the centre of this story is Q, who is married with children but is seeing the narrator on and off, both parties seem to be quite non-committal to the affair. The tone of Tomioka's narratives feel very non-judgemental, where empathy falls is pretty much left up to the reader, although in Timetable when Q confesses and questions the narrator, 'Why do I work so hard?, I'm sick and tired of my wife and children', it's a statement that inspires feelings of both slight repulsion and empathy, in Timetable there's a lot of space to make us consider cause and effect. nearing the end of the story the suicidal figure of R surfaces again, and we learn further details of his suicide which hovers somewhere between the forefront and in the distance of this story to remind us of the potential of the end result.

As well as being centred around the emerging lives of young women, a couple of the stories have at their centres elderly women, Happy Birthday follows an unnamed woman who has sold her home and is waiting out her last years in a home for the elderly, the narrative pans out in studying her relationship with the rest of her immediate family, her elderly sister and younger niece, Yoko, who comes to visit. Days of Dear Death is set in a three gen household, beginning with a segment from The Tales of Tono which resembles Ubasute, although instead of waiting on the mountain for death the elderly return to the community and take up work again. Similar to Happy Birthday, Days of Dear Death through examining the family's relationship with Granny there is a subtle examination of the perceptions of the elderly in society at large. Granny swaddles herself in layers of clothes like Jūnihitoe worn by Heian era ladies of court, this is a subtle portrait of the isolation of the elderly, although at times it feels a little like a self imposed withdrawal, but Tomioka's prose works it way between the lines of straightforward appearances and assumptions.

The second story Yesteryear, also opens with a reference to a local rakugo story for its opening, although leaning towards being from the perspective of the wife it follows a family of the Kansai area not long after the war whose father, Junnosuke, turns to giving tea ceremony lessons in a makeshift outbuilding. He travels to Kyoto to buy the finest teas and utencils and to consult with a master, an observation by his wife captures his psychology - 'Junnosuke had not run away from something, as she saw it, but had entered into something'. Junnosuke seems to loose more money than he makes, his wife begins to give sewing lessons to supplement the family's income, Junnosuke appears oblivious to the family's financial predicament, and moves to a small rented building just outside of Kyoto. Tomioka goes for the option of presenting no single message in most of these stories, in Yesteryear there are a number of differing ideals on display, the Yesteryear of the title is the brand name of a particular tea, Junnosuke's behaviour looks like he is wanting to adopt or revert to a lifestyle that might be more in tune with traditional society, when the family is forced to move into Junnosuke's rented house the son observes the earthen floor in the kitchen contrasting it with the fact that most people are installing washing machines in their kitchens, Junnosuke seems to be heading in a contrary direction opposed to accepting the benefits of commercial materialism. A percentage of these stories appear to end quite abruptly, which may give the reader the impression that the story ends before being fully resolved, but these incongruities only reflect the lives of her characters more acutely, in the title story it ends with mother and daughter in the midst of a physical disagreement, in Yesteryear it ends with Junnosuke forcing himself on his wife, which gives the story a different slant, becoming the story of marital subservience and a reaffirmation of the patriarchal structure, as Junnosuke does this in full view of his son, this action seems to be him demonstrating that this is the way things are.

The presence of the patriarchal can be seen vaguely again in A Dog's Eye View when a distant relative re-enters into the life of Chizuko, now married, but Hisae begins to try re-ingratiate himself into her life untapping a landscape of inner turmoil, the narrative of this story looks back over their relationship from Chizuko's perspective, again in a slightly detached way, Hisae is unpleasant but whilst concentrating on Chizuko's feelings the panorama provided in Tomioka's prose allows space to contemplate or speculate as to what has made him the way he is, many of the male characters appear to have an assumed sense of superiority, although more often than not the female characters appear to be much more self assured. Yesterday's Girl is an at times fragile story of Ran-ko and her relationship with her friend Ritsuko, Ran-ko perhaps is the more introverted of the two, Ritsuko is a cabaret dancer, part time translator, who also goes off travelling the hippie trail around India and then to Europe. The lives of the two dispense with the conventional, Ran-ko recalls them kissing after Ritsuko visits with her slightly over the top friend Ruiko, which for Ritsuko we get the impression that it was a casual event, but for Ran-ko this provokes further and deeper thoughts and explorations of her feelings, she feels that their friendship transcends the genders, envisioning the relationship being one similar to a male to male one, these themes appear in Tomioka's poetry as in the poem - Let Me Tell You About Myself. Tomioka's prose has a great space for the speculative in the characters she creates, whose lives are lived parallel to the conventional. The stories are translated by Kyoko Selden and Noriko Mizuta, each chapter comes with numbered explanatory notes.

The Funeral of a Giraffe at M. E Sharpe