New Murakami article recounts memories of his late father
By MARIKO NAKAMURA/ Asahi, May 10, 2019 (see here for original)
Haruki Murakami attends a speaking event at La Colline Theatre National in Paris on Feb. 23. (Asahi Shimbun file photo)
Influential novelist Haruki Murakami has spoken and written about
many subjects in his long internationally acclaimed career, but one in
particular has rarely got a mention: his father.
Breaking with tradition, Murakami, 70, tackles his late father’s time
in the Imperial Japanese Army in China in the June issue of the monthly
magazine Bungei Shunju.
The piece, “Neko o suteru: Chichioya ni tsuite kataru tokini boku no
kataru koto” (Abandoning A Cat: What I Talk About When I Talk About My
Father), came out on May 10.
At the start of the article, Murakami recounts a memory from when he was in elementary school of going out to abandon a cat with his father, Chiaki. When they returned home, the pair are spooked to find the cat has somehow already returned.
Murakami writes about the episode in his signature lyrical style. But
his tone changes when he touches on his father’s war experience.
Chiaki was born the second son of a Buddhist priest in Kyoto in 1917.
He was 20 and still in school when he was inducted into the Imperial
Japanese Army’s 16th Division’s 16th Regiment as a soldier in a
transport battalion in 1938.
When Murakami was in elementary school, his father told him that his troops once executed a captured Chinese soldier. “Needless to say, the barbaric sight of a human head getting cut off by a military sword was deeply etched into my young mind,” Murakami writes.
The impression was so strong, the author says, that he feels he has partially inherited the experience from his father.
Confronting wars and violence has been one of the most important themes throughout Murakami’s works.
“No matter how unpleasant things are and how much we want to look
away from them, human beings have to accept such things as part of
ourselves,” writes Murakami. “If not, where would the meaning of history
lie?”
His relationship with his father became further strained after he became an author.
“We didn’t see each other at all for more than 20 years,” Murakami says in the article. Shortly before his father’s death in 2008, however, they “did something like a reconciliation.”
Murakami spent about another five years researching his father’s military record. “I met various people who had a relationship with my father, and little by little, I started listening to stories about him,” he writes.
Material resembling his father’s wartime experience has emerged in Murakami’s works. A character in “Kishidancho Goroshi” (Killing Commendatore), a long novel the author published in 2017, relates a war story similar to the one Murakami’s father told him.
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For the full article in the New Yorker written by Murakami about his father and grandfather, please click here. It’s a fascinating piece in which we learn a lot about the Kyoto past of Murakami’s family. His grandfather’s temple was Anyoji in Higashiyama, apparently at the back of Maruyama koen. His grandfather, the head priest, was killed at 70 by a train when crossing the Keishin Line to Otsu. The temple was taken over by Haruki’s uncle, and then by his cousin.
Murakami’s father was born in Awata-guchi, off Sanjo, and went to Higashiyama Junior High School. He was a devout Buddhist, and though he was drafted he somehow managed to evade the war proper and enrolled at Kyoto Imperial University in 1944 to study literature (he had a particular interest in haiku). Not long after he graduated at the age of 27, he had a son (Murakami Haruki in 1949) and moved to Nishinomiya to teach. Though there were no more children, the father-son relationship was strained and for 20 years they barely spoke, only being reconciled a few days before the father’s death in a Nishijin hospital.
A life in writing How do you make sense of the world if you’re restless by nature and always on the move? Over lunch at Kyoto University’s French restaurant, Stephen Mansfield gave an elegant and entertaining response.
When he was just 15 he hitchhiked from the UK to Yugoslavia, and while still young made trips outside Europe which included travelling with camel-dealers across the deserts of Sudan. An exhibition of Henri Cartier-Bresson led him into photography, and after becoming a freelance photojournalist he did commissions such as covering the Lebanese civil war.
By combining writing with his photography, he was able to create order out of his travels, and he found himself drawn to the attractions of Asia. One of the highlights of this period was a two hour interview with Aung San Suu Kyi. In 1990-1991 he made visits to Laos, which later became the focus of his first book – a coffee table photographic study which came out in 1997 after some 30 rejections (a lesson in persistence!).
Books followed on other countries, namely the Philippines and Japan, and it was the latter in particular on which he chose to focus. Despite starting a family, he continued to make trips collecting information and doing interviews while taking photos of food, architecture and urban renewal. And of course gardens, for which he has become well-known. In all, he reckons to have visited 430 Japanese gardens, of which he selected 100 to be featured in one of his many books.
To wrap up his talk, Stephen read out an essay he wrote after a visit to Donald Richie in his Tokyo apartment. It was a revealing portrait of the author, full of insight and delicate touches. Like his predecessor Lafcadio Hearn, Richie exemplified diligence and dedication to his craft, even scribbling away while in hospital. It was a fitting conclusion to an inspiring talk, and Writers in Kyoto is indebted to Stephen for coming all the way from Chiba and providing us with such fine fare our lunchtime gathering.
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For Stephen Mansfield’s review of the WiK Anthology 3, Encounters with Kyoto, please click here.
For his amazon page with a list of his books, please see this link.
P U B L I S H E R S W E E K LY J U LY 2 9 , 2 0 1 9
An Olympian Effort BY JASMINA KELEMEN Ahead of the 2020 Summer Games in Tokyo, publishers are setting their sights on Japan
Travel to Japan has soared in the past five years, according to JTB Tourism Research & Consulting,with the number of visits tripling to 31 million in 2018. Prime Minister Shinzo Abe has taken steps to boost that number to 40 million in 2020 by easing visa requirements and increasing inland flights ahead of the Summer Olympics in Tokyo. Publishers are hoping to capitalize on the growing interest, bringing forth a slew of titles celebrating everything from the island nation’s centuries-old temples to contemporary cosplay culture—with plenty of stops for ramen and tonkatsu in between.
“Our travel publishing program has definitely been ramped up for the Olympics,” says Christopher Johns, sales and marketing director at Tuttle, which specializes in Asia-focused titles. “It’s not just us; authors are also coming to us and saying, ‘We want our books out for the Olympics.’ ”
The publisher, with offices in North Clarendon, Vt., and Tokyo, releases books on a variety of topics including cooking, language, and history, but through spring 2020, Johns says, Tuttle expects to “vastly” expand travel titles that are geared specifically for the Olympics. “We have three coming out and by next spring expect to have eight more.”
The recently released second edition of A Geek in Japan by Tokyo blogger Hector Garcia includes 30% more content than the 2011 first edition, such as a new chapter on Kyoto. Much of the book is devoted to explaining Japanese popular culture to first-time visitors, with the final chapters suggesting places to visit lists and sample itineraries. It’s Tuttle’s most popular travel guide, Johns says, and, according to BookScan, nearly 27,000 print copies of the first edition have sold.
Manga artist and comic book author Evangeline Neo approached Tuttle with her first foray into travel publishing, A Manga Lover’s Tokyo Travel Guide (Aug.). In it, an illustrated Neo (with Kopi the dog and Matcha the cat at her side) leads manga fans to memorabilia shops, anime museums, cosplay studios, and drawing classes. Both books, Johns says, contain the kind of idiosyncratic information that might otherwise elude trip planners: “I don’t believe you can recreate them through a Google search.”
Tuttle showcases ancient traditions in Japan’s World Heritage Sites (Oct.) by John Dougill, a retired professor at Ryukoku University in Kyoto. The book has been updated to include all of the new UNESCO World Heritage designations since it was last published in 2014. The smaller trimsize and lower price ($24.99, from $34.95) is an effort to appeal to travelers who may be looking for a souvenir on the way home from Japan, Johns says; Tuttle sells its books at airport bookstores throughout Asia, and in the English-language sections of Japanese bookshops.
The country’s UNESCO sites are the launchpad for photographer John Lander’s exploration of historical and natural wonders in World Heritage Japan (River Books, Oct.), which will be distributed in North America by ACC. The book was not published with the Olympics in mind, says ACC v-p and general manager John Brancati. Rather, it’s the culmination of Lander’s work photographing his adopted home over the last 35 years. Another longtime resident, travel writer Pico Iyer, contributed the preface.
After 32 years in Japan, Iyer stills feels like a newcomer. As he writes in the introduction to his forthcoming A Beginner’s Guide to Japan (Knopf, Sept.), which received a starred PW review, “I call this a ‘beginner’s guide’ not only because it’s aimed at beginners, but mostly because it’s written by one.” Drawing on personal reflections and conversations with his wife and other Japanese friends and family, Iyer’s observations act as an entrée into a culture.
Swedish food writer Jonas Cramby explores one of Japan’s most ubiquitous cultural exports in Tokyo for Food Lovers (Hardie Grant, Aug.). He begins the book with a disclaimer: Given that there are more than 150,000 restaurants in the city, “It is actually impossible to write a restaurant guide for Tokyo.” Instead, he’s produced a book that reflects his culinary “obsessions and hang-ups,” he writes; topics include how to consume yakitori (“Always eat the chicken straight off the skewer”) and the culture of an izakaya (“a temple devoted to the art of grazing.”)
The book, part of the Food Lovers series originally published in Swedish by Natur & Kultur, has been translated into English for the first time (forthcoming guides in the series focus on Paris and Rome). “We really loved the graffiti design and the authors’ focus on discovering new food trends in each destination,” says Hardie publisher Melissa Kayser. Cramby covers Tokyo’s ramen and sushi establishments but also devotes a chapter to “the hipster generation’s embrace of folksy Japanese curry.”
Keys to the Country Guidebook publishers are prepping new and revamped editions in time to meet the expected crush of visitors. Moon Japan (Jan. 2020), written by Tokyo journalist Jonathan DeHart, is the publisher’s first Japan guidebook in 25 years and was on the wish list for more than a decade, says Grace Fujimoto, v-p of acquisitions at Moon.
Because of Fujimoto’s family ties to the country, getting the book just so was especially important to her. “It was really hard for me to find the right author,” she says. “Jonathan’s understanding and appreciation of the culture was everything I wanted.” The book guides travelers to a range of experiences, offering suggestions for those who’d like to spend a contemplative night in a countryside temple, for instance, as well as those interested in experiencing the hyperefficiency of a capsule hotel in the heart of Tokyo.
Wallpaper City Guide Osaka (Phaidon, Jan. 2020), which was last published in 2014, is aimed at design-conscious travelers, steering its readers to the most rigorously of-the-moment restaurants, nightclubs, and art spaces. Lost Guides author Anna Chittenden hopes to appeal to the image-conscious traveler with Tokyo & Beyond (dist. by Cardinal, Oct.). At nearly 150 listings, it’s the most ambitious of Chittenden’s guides, she says, and though it concentrates on Tokyo, it also includes day trips made accessible by the bullet train, as well as a section on Kyoto. Entries are culled from her favorite finds, such as a flea market stall that sells vintage kimonos and a 10-seat Japanese-Italian restaurant hidden down a back alley from Tokyo’s main business district.
Chittenden says she’s most enthusiastic about sharing experiences that are enmeshed in traditional Japanese culture, such as taking a flower arranging class whose tenets date to the seventh century and spending the afternoon at an outdoor public bath. Zipping through centuries of history in one of the world’s most modern cities is likely to prove disorienting to many of those setting their sights on Japan in 2020, no matter which guide they take along with them. And that’s okay, Iyer writes in A Beginner’s Guide , summing up assurances that can be found in nearly all of the guides cropping up to assist the expected masses. “You’ll be taking in the country as most of us do,” he adds, “bumping from the strange to the familiar and back again.”
Something for everyone at Japan Writers Conference
September 27, 2019 By Kiri Falls / Japan News Staff Writer
Japan may seem an unlikely place for English-language novelists, poets and essayists to ply their trade, but if the annual Japan Writers Conference is any indicator, there is no shortage of opportunities for writers based here to find a niche.
This year’s conference — which will
take place Oct. 12-13 in Tokyo — offers as much variety as ever, with
presentations from writers, translators and editors with a broad range
of experience.
Sessions include everything from writing about
disability in children’s books, to using surrealist strategies to
generate poems, and the pros and cons of the global online event
National Novel Writing Month (NaNoWriMo). Poetry, mystery, flash
fiction, historical fiction, science writing and memoir are just some of
the genres touched on during the two-day event.
Co-organizer John Gribble emphasizes that it is not a “literary” conference, but one focused on the practical processes of writing and publishing.
“It has a DIY aspect,” he told The Japan News
recently. “The question we ask of all potential presentations is: If
someone is interested in writing, editing, publishing or translating,
can they learn something?”
There will certainly be plenty of
chances to learn, whether it’s in sessions that offer practical advice
on publishing and building a writing career or those that get into the
nuts and bolts of writing — dissecting plots, naming characters, writing
sex scenes.
Less conventional presentations are crossing genre boundaries — such as one on how photo editing skills can help writers. Writer Sara Ellis is taking a novel approach, looking at how comic book layouts can give prose writers helpful clues for writing scenes.
“The JWC provides a bridge between the academic and creative. You’re
allowed to get your weird on and be taken seriously at the same time,”
Ellis told The Japan News by email.
There will be several firsts at this year’s event, such as a science writing workshop from RIKEN science communicator Amanda Alvarez and JAXA astrophysicist Elizabeth Tasker. Alvarez is also an organizer of the monthly event Nerd Nite Tokyo, which the Japan Writers Conference will collaborate with on its October event.
Another new addition is a two-part workshop for which participants had to submit a full novel draft in advance. Session leaders Holly Thompson and Mariko Nagai hope that by providing a deadline for people already working on a young adult or middle-grade novel and having them receive feedback in advance, the workshop will create a community and enable better revising.
“Writing groups often only have time to workshop one chapter or scene at a time … This program offers participants face-to-face workshop sessions to process the feedback, ask questions of the entire group, read revised work, and set the next round of revisions in motion,” Thompson said in an email to The Japan News.
The conference is free and no pre-registration is required — anyone can turn up on the day. This is part of the conference’s “egalitarian” nature, Gribble said, pointing out that a lot of people have writing responsibilities in their everyday jobs, even if they don’t think of themselves as writers.
Now in its 13th year, the conference had its highest-ever attendance at last year’s event in Otaru, Hokkaido. “There are a lot of fresh faces among the presenters this year,” Gribble said. It would seem Japan is still a good place for writers.
A report written by Ruth Williams who calls Melbourne, Australia home.The launch took place on September 22, 2019.
Every good book deserves further
acknowledgement and the third Writers in Kyoto Anthology qualifies. Following
the Japanese launch held in Kyoto in June, an Australian launch took place in
Tasmania in late September. This was fitting as both Jann Williams (the chief
editor and designer) and Corinne Costello (the cover artist and daimonji
illustrator) live on this beautiful island.
Friends, family and colleagues of both Jann and Corinne were thrilled when the Hobart launch was announced and delighted with the presentations, the venue, and the thoughtful provision of delicious hors d’oeuvres and a selection of wine and other beverages to enjoy.
Thanks goes to James Hampton for offering his restaurant Lizzie & Lefroy as the launch venue
After being welcomed by Michael
Cromer, an accomplished practitioner in the local Urasenke tea group, the
anthology was officially launched by Dr Heidi Auman (author, biologist and
taiko player), who began by acknowledging the traditional owners of the land on
which we met that day.
Not surprisingly, and indeed satisfyingly for the audience, Heidi’s focus was largely on the contributions to the anthology made by Jann and Corinne, drawing on an interview with the chief editor. This gave the audience insights into the many steps along the way involved in producing the publication. Heidi declared the anthology to be full of ‘elegance, balance, beauty and honesty’, adding ‘to sum it up would be to express a sense of ‘Ahhh!’ that resonates with an energetic sense of knowing.’
Heidi receiving applause and appreciation after launching the third WiK Anthology in Hobart, Tasmania
This was the perfect lead into Jann William’s talk. The audience was interested to learn of the role Jann played as chief editor: to create a publication of which the authors would be proud, and that readers would find stimulating and new. Based on the early response to the anthology, this aim was indeed achieved.
Jann informed us that the Kyoto launch was three months ago ‘to this day’, occurring on the Summer Solstice in Japan. (Winter in the Southern Hemisphere.) There was a pleasing sense of serendipity that the Hobart launch should occur on the Spring Equinox in Australia, especially with Jann’s interest and knowledge of the seasons through her work on the elements.
There were many people for Jann to thank, particularly the anthology writers and illustrators for their efforts and her siblings Ruth, Hugo and Rod for travelling from Melbourne for the launch
Jann read from Ken Rodger’s compelling and reflective essay in the anthology, as well as her contribution, Shinsen’en, a Heian-kyo Power Spot. The audience learnt that it is only a five-minute walk from where she stays when in Kyoto. You could almost see people wondering if they could drop by Jann’s lodgings for a visit and tour of the area!
A very appreciative audience. Some who have already travelled to Kyoto, reminiscing
Corinne Costello brought a strong sense of wonder and artistry to the event. She began by reading from Alan S. Weiss’ anthology story, An Intercalary Moment. Alan’s reference to ‘the hour entre chien et loup… a transformative moment’, correlated closely with Corinne’s interest in the Japanese concept of ‘ma’ (the space between two structural parts) in art. The audience were clearly fascinated with Corinne’s insights and many attendees spoke with her after the official launch.
Corinne fills the space between one of her beautiful works and a captive audience
Sometimes it is good to be reminded of the space between things. To acknowledge ‘the silence between the notes that make the music’. (*) The combination of ‘notes’ that have been brought together to create Encounters in Kyoto has resulted in a precious anthology, where the sum is more than its parts.
May the Australia-Japan connection continue for many years to come.
(*)When Less is More: Japanese “MA” concept, minimalism and beyond” wawaza.com
The Japan Times puts out a daily newsletter called Take 5 which takes the pick of current content and links to archived material. Item no. 5 in the Wednesday Sept 25 edition was of particular interest for WiK, as you can see in the piece below…
5. Foreign writers in Japan, a century apart
In the Books section, Jason James explores British author William Plomer’s 2½-year stay in Japan in the 1920s, during which he developed a complex relationship with the country, loving its theater and culture but hating the rising tide of nationalism. Plomer was ahead of his time in many ways. His opposition to racism is one example, but he also decried the “enslavement of women” in Japan, as well as the frequency of suicides, which he described as “annoyingly common.” Both these themes feature strongly in “Paper Houses,” his 1929 Japan-themed volume of short stories, writes James. In the buildup to World War II, Plomer wrote, “I detest their tendency to nationalistic paranoia and their particular politico-religious superstitions … which, if persisted in, will have terrible results.”
Author William Plomer had many close Japanese friends and lovers, and the utmost respect for Japan’s culture, but became alarmed by the spread of fascism. | THOMAS KILBURN
Contributing writer Stephen Mansfield recalls acclaimed Japan writer Donald Richie lamenting the lack of an English-language literary salon in the country, an omission that forced him to live “alone in the library of my skull.” Were Richie alive today, Mansfield says, he would likely be a fully paid-up member of Writers in Kyoto, a group of authors whose influence is already being felt in literary circles.Founded by writer John Dougill in 2015, Writers in Kyoto was formed with the purpose of creating, they say, a “sense of community” to “help foster a literary culture for published English-language authors associated with the city.” Mansfield finds plenty to praise in their new collection, with its writing “by turns studied, witty and rancorous.”
Kyoto has long been seen as a magical locus for fantastical happenings. Not only is it the cultural heart of the nation, but it has a rich legacy of the unseen. This is after all the home of ancestral spirits, of Daimonji, of Inari and Tenjin and a host of Buddhist deities. It is a city of power spots and time slips, where the supernatural is an integral part of the religious heritage. History is very much present in the fabric of the city.
This makes Kyoto popular with anime artists, who use the city as a base for imaginative flights of fancy.Inari Konkon and Uchouten Kazoku (Eccentric Family) are just two of the anime films to exploit the otherworldly nature of the city. Now comes news of a major new addition to the genre – Hello World – which takes a Matrix view of the ancient capital. What follows is an introduction by the Japan Times entitled ‘Hello World’: Kyoto as you’ve never seen it before.
HELLO WORLD by Matt Schley, Sept 18, 2019, Japan Times
If you’ve studied the basics of computer programming, you’ll probably recognize the phrase “hello world.” It’s the textbook-recommended line of text learners type into their first program, then delight as it pops up on screen.
The new anime film
“Hello World” centers around a computer program, albeit one slightly
more complicated than a line of text. The film opens in Kyoto in the
year 2027, on what seems to be a normal day for high school student
Naomi Katagaki (Takumi Kitamura), a young man who’s obsessed with
reading and short on friends.
On his way home from school, Naomi encounters a mysterious older man (Tori Matsuzaka) who knows his name and everything about him. The man, it turns out, is an older version of Naomi himself. And here’s where the computer program comes in: Young Naomi’s entire world is actually a giant computer simulation, the Kyoto of the near past preserved down to the last detail for future generations to study.
Coming soon to Japan cinemas
The older Naomi has somehow hacked his consciousness into this
computer simulation for a single purpose — to get his younger,
computer-simulated self a girlfriend. The object of his affection is
Ruri Ichigyo (Minami Hamabe), a similarly bookish, brusque girl who
seems immune to what little charms Naomi has to offer. But get together
they must, says Naomi 2, or his younger self won’t be able to protect
Ruri from being injured and falling into a coma the night of the
upcoming summer festival.
Meanwhile, as Team Naomi begins to alter
the timeline, the computer simulation’s anti-corruption software —
which takes the form of creepy, hunchbacked creatures wearing fox masks —
enters the picture, trying to put things back the way they were by
force.
What’s the point, you may be asking, of the older Naomi
trying to change the past if it’s all just a computer simulation?
Without getting into spoiler territory, let’s just say the dividing line
between these two worlds is less solid than it initially appears.
The
hazy border between flesh-and-blood worlds and computer-generated ones
is a well-worn theme for “Hello World” director Tomohiko Ito, best known
for helming popular anime series “Sword Art Online.” In this film, he
stretches that theme to its limits, building to a climax that will
either thrill or frustrate depending on how much you value
comprehensibility (if someone could explain the final shot to me, that’d
be great, thanks).
But while the ideas get complex, Ito and
screenwriter Mado Nozaki never forget to ground their story around its
characters. The interactions between Naomi and his grown-up counterpart
are well-written and charming. The same goes for young Naomi and Ruri,
whose unlikely relationship blossoms in a way that doesn’t feel forced.
Small details keep our heroes’ personalities in mind: When bookworm
Naomi receives baddy-busting powers, he doesn’t wield a gun or sword,
but a giant enemy-thwapping book.
A significant portion of the characters’ charm comes from designer Yukiko Horiguchi, known for Kyoto Animation works like “Lucky Star” and “Tamako Market.” The characters in “Hello World” are animated in CG, a method that’s been making serious inroads in anime production. With a few exceptions aside, one serious roadblock in replicating the appeal of hand-drawn anime in CG has been the uninspiring character designs. I’m still not 100 percent on-board for the whole CG thing, but “Hello World” is one of the best-looking examples I’ve seen to date.
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For the official trailer, see this link on Youtube
‘Fragrant Harbor’ they called it. But Hong Kong was anything but fragrant the night Poh Seng Pang flew in. The air outside the terminal was dank, vegetative—like the smell of the Singapore River in wet season, or the streets of the Jurong Wholesale Market after a deluge. Poh found it strangely comforting.
He checked his Citizen Quartz Titanium; almost dinnertime in Singapore. Betty would be taking first customers at her small chicken-rice stand inside the Hawkers Centre. He tried not to eat on the plane; ‘airline food’ was an oxymoron and it gave him constipation. But this time he’d missed his wife’s lunch in the rush to the airport and had reluctantly accepted the airline offerings; a decision he now regretted as he stood clutching his small overnight bag on the concourse.
Beyond the terminal, rain fell. With no wind to speak of, it drifted down in an almost vertical fashion across the runway, hangars and the harbor beyond. A black Toyota Lexus sat idling at the end of the taxi rank, its exhaust steaming the night air. The driver was old-school—silver crew cut, permanent scowl, a real toothpick-chewer. His gaze met with Poh’s in the rear view mirror. He lowered his newspaper and the rear passenger door clicked. Poh pulled on the handle and climbed in. They exchanged single-syllable greetings and the car moved away from the curb to join the swirl of courtesy buses, catering trucks, rental cars and limousines leaving Chek Lap Kok island for Kowloon and the night beyond.
Poh was feeling pensive tonight. This would be his last assignment. On his return to Singapore, he would formally tender his resignation. At 58, he was getting too old to be a “shipping agent”.
He was looking forward to retirement; he’d help Betty at the chicken-rice stand, maybe join a mahjong club, and take more of an interest in his daughter’s studies in Australia. Microbiology, wasn’t it? What did he know about microbiology? Except that you should always wash your hands after flying because, as his daughter insisted, ‘airplanes are crawling with bacteria.’
Poh yawned.
The travelling, the hotel rooms, the waiting—the waiting was the real killer. He’d read somewhere that the average human spends a year of their life waiting. The only thing that made the waiting bearable, besides the money, was dining. He loved sampling the specialties of each town and city he visited: the dumplings in Taipei, Medan chicken curry in Sumatra, pork noodles in Sabah, suckling pig in Bali. Dining was his real pleasure, but only after a job was done, and even then it had to be a quick meal en route to the airport.
He slumped back in the seat, listening to the timbre of the windshield wipers working away the rain. Why had he chosen this line of business? Actually, he hadn’t chosen this business; it had chosen him. His talent had been recognised early. The recruitment process had been quick, the training minimal and his first assignment issued within a few weeks.
He had never botched a job. Granted, it was possible. Once, in a Kuching hotel, his gun had jammed. The target had woken with his call girl beside him and he’d had to knuckle-dust them both. Then he’d smothered the target with a pillow and walked. He never killed women—as a rule—and he was glad he’d never been put in a situation where he’d had to choose between a woman’s life and his own. It was another reason to retire.
Could you tell us
briefly about how you came to Kyoto?
I’m the only person I
know who actually came to Japan by boat, landing in 1983 after living several
months in Russia, then the Soviet Union. My major at UC Irvine, near Los
Angeles, was Russian, and after graduation I joined a student tour group, living
several weeks in different Russian cities, and gradually traveling eastward on
the Trans-Siberian Railroad. Another American in the group, who was far more
organized than myself, had an edition of Lonely Planet that I began to browse,
and I remember my jaw dropping upon reading I could make all of forty dollars
an hour teaching English in Japan! Wow! Before learning this, my plan was to
see Tokyo, then visit Australia, before returning home.
As the ship sat in
Yokohama harbor waiting for processing, I asked a Japanese gentleman where
Tokyo was, and he simply waved his hand at the enormous brown smudge in the
distance. I remember thinking, ‘Oh, so it’s a lot like Los Angeles.’
But the smudge seduced
me that first night. I was transfixed by the non-stop, electrifying neon of the
early 80s. After all, I’d just spent five months in sleepy Russia, where the
entertainment consisted of making friends, drinking, dancing and complaining of
the food. I knew I would stay that first night in Shinbashi. The earthquake and
subsequent catastrophes of 2011 prompted my family (we had a two-year-old at
the time) to leave Tokyo and return to Los Angeles.
But Japan is in the
blood. We came back in 2013, this time to Kyoto.
How and when did you
take up writing?
I
started writing in my later years. I wasn’t ready when younger, wandering with
story ideas that were only half-baked, unable to express myself through prose
in any real way. I write now because I can’t not write. Just ask my family: If
I’m not plugging away at something, I’m not much fun to be around.
I
write for myself, not for the market. I have no idea what will sell, but as
long as I’m happy with a story, I will show it. I don’t know if I’m going to
make any money doing this, but I don’t write to get rich. I do it for another,
deeper satisfaction. I also write for the person I know best: myself.
I’ve
settled on comic fantasy as a literary genre. Humor with thoughtful
undertones. Visionary. Metaphysical. Childish. But I’m not for children. I
write about teens, but not necessarily for them. My sub-genre
might be: weird fiction. But Amazon has yet to make a category for that.
Your novel Plum Rains on
Happy House is set in a transmogrified Kyoto with a touch of the grotesque. How
did you conceive of the idea?
“Plum
Rains on Happy House” is a result of personal experiences of living in Tokyo
and not having any money. If you’re broke, you often live in a guest house (or gaijin
house). I’ve lived in a few, though none were as interesting as the one in
Kawasaki, which is the model for “Happy House”. I lived there, thinking the
whole time: ‘Somebody has got to write a story about this craziness!’
Book cover of “Plum Rains on Happy House”.
The
novel is really a detective story. A fellow named Harry invites the
protagonist, nicknamed the Ichiban, to Japan. But the residents of Happy
House all deny any knowledge of this mysterious Harry. Readers may pick up on
the references to the 1973 film The Wicker Man, about a policeman who is
lured to a Scottish island to investigate the report of a missing child. It’s a
game of deception. The islanders are playing with him. The paganism and the
sexual activity the sanctimonious policeman finds so objectionable are simply
part of the selection process—to see if he possesses the characteristics to
burn in their wicker effigy so that the village will have subsequent successful
harvests. In “Plum Rains on Happy House”, the Ichiban must undergo his own
horrific sacrifice to appease the house.
The novel is a tribute to that remarkable film, and it has the same
basic plot lines, but I’ve laid down hearty layers of satire and side stories.
In
creating the residents of Happy House, I mingled the characteristics of a few
of the unique people I’ve met over the decades in Tokyo and in Los Angeles. In
some cases, I didn’t need to exaggerate at all. The residents of the house had
to be distinctively quirky, and I didn’t know how bawdy things were going to
become, or how much depravity would creep its way into the story. But once I
had the characters, they took charge and I relegated myself to being, more or
less, their stenographer.
I’ve
mixed in a lot of elliptical dialogue I feel compliments the baffling
idiosyncrasies of Japan that newcomers have a hard time handling. I’ve also
structured the story within the sometimes vexing stages of culture shock, which
frame the Ichiban’s misadventures, and eventual acceptance, of the house—which
has its own plans. After all, the old guesthouse is haunted:
“Happy
House is an amoeba everlasting, a floating world—capturing and sealing the
self-indulgence of the red-light districts, the bordellos and the fleeting,
delightful vulgarity of ancient Japan, an eternal time capsule of the
flamboyant and the boorish.”
The
dichotomy of substance versus form also plays an important part in underscoring
the tension—in the way one swings a tennis racket, or walks in a swimming pool,
or plays baseball, or eats particular dishes: What should predominate—what you
are doing or how you are doing it?
On
another level, the story examines language acquisition and the role of
structure within the learning process. The residents all have their various
opinions: As teachers, should English be taught through some kind of lock-step
formula, or would one be better off approaching the pedagogy in a more
hands-off manner, rather like painting? Everyone seems to have an opinion. The
idea of structure comes to the forefront again when discussing what one character,
Sensei, calls the hidden structure of the house, which, like the
neighborhood (or any cityscape in Japan) appears as an amorphous sprawl. But
look underneath this sprawl and one sees the organism. The randomness, or
chaos, embraces a flexible, orderly structure, likening the house to an amoeba
that has the ability to alter its shape. Similarly, this amoeba can be seen as
a microcosm of Japan as a whole.
You have published and
marketed your books yourself, I believe. Could you tell us about the experience?
Indie
publishing is a great way to get your stories out there. I’ve only been doing
it for a little over a year, but I’m happy having all this control over my own
stuff. It’s taken a while, but now that I (somewhat) understand what I’m doing,
I’m approaching publishers, just to gauge interest.
Through
stores like Amazon, anyone can now market their own work. I’ve never taken a
prose writing class. I wouldn’t know a support group from an A.A. meeting. I
don’t know what a writers’ retreat is (though it sounds restful). I write
alone. With a house pet—a gentle cat named Howard. I have friends that will
read stuff for me, and I have an editor who will lend me his professional eyes.
I often use Fiverr.com for book covers and for formatting. No
self-publishing workshops for me (even though the half-day sessions are only
$79—and what a great way to get yourself out there; what’s wrong with me?)
I
write alone, mumbling incoherently as I do so. “Mom says you’re talking to
yourself again,” my daughter will yell through the door of my tiny study. I’m
an indie writer. I’m self-employed. The mumbling—it’s a staff meeting.
Sometimes I have to raise my voice to make a point. But she can hear me in the
kitchen, which is directly below. They’re always lively meetings. Lots to
discuss.
I
also do all my own stunts. But never intentionally. I lack exercise because I
spend that time writing. It’s what writers do—we spend all this time with
ourselves when we should be out exercising and considering our overall health
picture. But how can I leave the study when my new story-baby is so
underdeveloped, so sickly? Revision is the only remedy. Lots of rewriting.
James Michener said:
“I’m not a good writer, but I’m an excellent rewriter.”
The
stories get better, tighter, with revision. If we want to achieve a level of
accomplishment in the world of story-telling, then all the alone time is
merely the price of admission.
Finally, what are your favourite
books about Japan, and why?
I couldn’t get my hands
on all that much in the 80s, but Reischauer’s “The Japanese” was the most
enlightening. I remember enjoying a few tongue-in-cheek books on getting by in The
Big Mikan. In the early 90s I was impressed by Karl Van Wolferin’s “The Enigma of
Japanese Power”, as well as Alex Kerr’s “Dogs and Demons” later on. Recently,
because I’m ignorant of the history and culture of Kyoto, I picked up John Dougill’s
“Kyoto: A Cultural History” — and it whet my appetite for more on this
captivating city.
I’ve
read a lot of Japanese fiction, but I’m always on the lookout for comedic or
satirical perspectives on this country we live in. “Plum Rains on Happy House” is
a somewhat skewering lampoon on both Japan and those Non-Japanese that have
chosen to live here. The story is a twisted, genuine way of looking back at
ourselves, employing (I hope) memorable characters that make memorable tales.
I
think that’s my job, my goal—to write characters and stories that are absurd,
violent, childish, but that resonate with truth.
California ex-pat Michael Greco as lived in Asia
for over 25 years, and his stories are dappled with the character and spirit of
Asian communities. He teaches writing in university and has jotted extensively
about the joy and frustration of the creative process. He has written for the
Asahi Shinbun newspaper in Tokyo, and received his master’s degree in
theoretical linguistics, in Los Angeles. He is a regular contributor to The
Japan Times and the online journal The Font. Michael lives in Kyoto, Japan,
with his wife, daughter, and a honey-sweet cat named Howard. He uses Japan as a
springboard for his frequent forays to other regions of the world, often with
his 10-year-old as a travel companion.
Running is not an activity you associate with my family. So
says my brother Rod.
This is true in recent decades. Vigorous exercise has not been
our forte. That changed when I was lured to join the regular circuit runners
around Nijojo (Nijo Castle) in Kyoto. A 2 km circuit that encircles the castle,
its moat and the surrounding hedge.
Aerobic exercise has a long and positive connection with
creative writing. Walking is recommended as the most natural way to enhance
creativity and stimulate insights.
I love to walk, and now I love to run. As well as helping my
fitness and ability to climb mountains, it has opened new worlds to delight and
stimulate the senses.
Early morning is the best time to run I find. As do many
others, of all ages and levels of fitness. These companions, especially those
in their elder years, motivate me to start the day in a good way.
Most of us run or walk anti-clockwise except for one
gentleman who defies the norm. He is yet to say hello when he passes by. I hope
that will change, as it has with others as I become a regular.
Every day is different around the castle, the moat and the
hedge. Many surprises have revealed themselves since I started running around 12
months ago.
What first seemed like a biological desert of hedge and lawn,
with planted Sakura and pine trees, has turned out to be far from it. The
Nijojo circuit provides homes for many.
As the seasons progress different plants and animals present
themselves, often in subtle ways. It is important to have your eyes and mind
wide open so not to miss them.
My most exciting discovery has been the thousands of spiral orchids (Spiranthes sinensis) growing between the moat and the hedge during tsuyu, the rainy season.
Thousands of spiders use the hedge as habitat, their flat
extended webs catching the raindrops like ephemeral jewels.
In the heat of summer the cicadas sing. The hedge provides
resting spots for their metamorphosis. They are beautiful to behold.
Along the front of the castle, where there is a fence rather
than a hedge, myriad mushrooms complete their life cycle and disappear until
the next suitable season.
On the water two herons hunt, ducks swim above and carp
below, water-striders lightly touch the surface. In summer, water plants are
profuse.
Profusion is also found in abundance in Spring as the Sakura
burst forth with their canopy covering floral display.
And then there is the entrancing interplay of light and
shadow, changing with the time of day, the amount of cloud and the position of
the sun. The shadows of the pine trees in the bright light are striking. So too
the glorious orange/pink bark touched with the morning rays.
Pine trees also feature in my favourite conditions to run –
just after it has rained. There is something very special about water droplets
on pine needles.
The castle, the moat and the hedge. My ‘go to’ place for
running and revelation when I find myself in Kyoto.
Perhaps it is in the blood after all. My brother Rod ran a world peace marathon in Russia in his youth. Now it is my turn to pound the pavement.
All photos taken by Jann Williams on her runs around Nijojo. For other experiences see: https://elementaljapan.com/.
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