A blog on Japanese books, mostly untranslated, that deserve a wider audience outside of Japan

Month: January 2020

本屋大賞2020 Japanese Booksellers Award 2020

The books nominated for the Booksellers Award were announced this week. Bookstore employees around Japan vote for the books they are most eager to recommend to customers. I used to try and read every book on the list by the time the winner was announced, only to end up disappointed by many of them. After all, there is something for everyone on this list, and even if I don’t get on with every book here, I think that the list is a snapshot of the variety out there in the Japanese literary scene. The winner will be announced on April 7.

砥上裕將『線は、僕を描く』

Hiromasa Togami, “The Lines that Portray Me”

This debut novel won the 59th Mephisto Prize and was initially written as a manga (which can be read here). The main character loses his parents in an accident when he is still in college and is befriended by an ink-wash painter he meets at the gallery where he works. The artist takes him on as an apprentice, but this angers the artist’s granddaughter, who vows to beat him in an art competition. The novel uses ink-wash painting to explore themes of loss and recovery. Reviewers praise the descriptions of this art form (Togami is himself an ink-wash painter), but for some this wasn’t enough to make up for a simplistic plot.

早見和真『店長がバカすぎて』

Kazumasa Hayami, “The Store Manager is Just Too Stupid”

The heroine of this novel works in a bookstore in Kichijoji, where she has to deal with all the problems her idiot manager causes. The only saving grace is her love of books and a co-worker, until one day he suddenly announces he is quitting. Although this sounds light, I will be reading this simply because it’s set in a bookstore (perhaps that explains why it was nominated?) and will serve as a break from some of the heavier books on this list.

川上未映子『夏物語』

Mieko Kawakami, “Summer Story”

Natsuko, a 38 year-old woman born in Osaka and now working as a novelist in Tokyo, begins to realize that she wants to have a child of her own. She begins to look into ways she could have a child without a partner, and encounters people who force her to ask herself whether it is selfish to bring a child into this world. This is a long novel that grapples with the fact that we can’t decide whether to be born ourselves, but can decide whether to have a child.

川越宗一『熱源』

Soichi Kawagoe, “Heat Source”

This book has already received several awards, including the 162nd Naoki Award and the 9th Booksellers’ Historical Novel Award. Set during the Meiji era (1836-1912), it tells the story of Yayomanekuh, an Ainu man born in Sakhalin whose homeland is stolen from him by the Japanese government. After losing his wife and many friends to smallpox and cholera, he takes on a Japanese name, Yasunosuke Yamabe, and resolves to return to Sakhalin. This story is told in parallel with the story of Bronisław Piotr Piłsudski, born in Lithuania but not allowed to speak speak Polish, his mother tongue, due to harsh Russian assimilation policies. He was sentenced to hard labor on Sakhalin for his involvement in a plot to kill the czar, and this is where he meets Yamabe. This novel, based on real events and people, depicts the effects that the Meiji government’s forced “civilization” had on the Ainu.

横山秀夫『ノースライト』

Hideo Yokoyama, “North Light”

In this mystery, an architect discovers that the new house he has designed for a family lies empty, with nothing in it but an old chair and a phone. This is Yokoyama’s first book in six years, since “64” (which has been translated into English as “Six Four” by Jonathan Lloyd-Davies).

青柳碧人『むかしむかしあるところに、死体がありました。』

Aoyagi Aito, “Once Upon a Time, There Was a Corpse”

This book consists of five linked stories in which locked rooms, alibis and deathbed messages are used to retell Japanese folktales like “Urashima Taro,” “Momotaro” and “The Grateful Crane.”

知念実希人『ムゲンのi』(双葉社)

Mikito Chinen, “Infinite i”

Chinen, a practicing doctor, has written another thriller set in a hospital. A young doctor, unable to find a cure for a series of patients who are unable to wake up, consults her grandmother, who is a psychic. Her grandmother tells her that she must try mabuigumi, an Okinawan shamanistic practice in which a shaman calls back spirits that are wandering the world, untethered from the physical body. This is the third straight year that Chinen’s novels have been nominated.

相沢沙呼『medium霊媒探偵城塚翡翠』

Sako Aizawa, “Hisui Jozuka, Psychic Detective”

Shiro Kogetsu, a mystery novelist who has also solved some difficult cases, meets Hisui Jozuka, a medium who can convey the words of the dead. The pair use psychic powers and logic to resolve cases.

小川糸『ライオンのおやつ』

Ito Ogawa, “The Lion’s Snack”

Another author who has been nominated many times for this award, Ogawa tells the story of Shizuku, who is only 33 but has only a short time left to live. She spends her last days at a hospice in the Setouchi islands, where the patients can request a memorable food they want to eat again on Sundays. Unable to choose, Shizuku thinks about what she really wanted to do in her life.

凪良ゆう『流浪の月』

Yu Nagira, “The Roving Moon”

After her father dies and her mother disappears, a young girl is sent to live with her aunt. When her cousin sexually abuses her, she resolves to run away, but is instead rescued by a 19 year-old boy who is also uncertain about his place in the world. The calm life they create for themselves is broken up after two months, and the young man is arrested and sent to a juvenile medical treatment facility. They meet again as adults and form a relationship that goes beyond either love or friendship. This novel questions what is “normal” and what families can look like, and I am particularly interested in reading this one.

 

 

 

Misumi Kubo imagines a sexless Japan

アカガミ、窪美澄、河出書房新社、2016

Akagami, by Misumi Kubo, Kawade Publishing, 2016

“Akagami” is Misumi Kubo’s vision of what would happen if the trends seen among Japan’s younger generation were to reach an extreme. These trends—a rising suicide rate, a preference for one’s own company and hobbies over social activities, lack of interest in sex and romantic relationships— are both sensationalized and treated with genuine concern by the media, politicians and academics, but Kubo made it come alive for me.

This novel, published in 2016, is set in 2030, and in the 10 years since the Olympics (an event that seems to be used as a turning point or catalyst in many books) the number of suicides among people ages 10 to 20 climbed from 6,000 a year to over 100,000 and 4 million were seeing psychiatrists. Pundits are at a loss, blaming these problems on video games, climate change, a growing withdrawal into virtual reality, or perhaps radioactive materials spewed into the air after the nuclear disaster. Whatever the reason, Shibuya’s scramble crossing might still be lit up with neon, but there is almost no one under the age of 30 there.

Empty Shibya crossing. Photograph by Martin Hladik

The first section of the novel is narrated by Log, a high-end sex worker and researcher who was summoned home by the Japanese government in the hope that her expertise could help resolve the mystery behind young people’s complete indifference to sex. Mitsuki is one of the young women Log interviews, although the setting in this case is a bar, where Log rescued Mitsuiki from a suicide attempt. Mitsuki is a nurse in a geriatric facility and her lack of interest in food, other people, fashion—anything other than keeping any speck of dust and dirt from polluting her apartment—makes her typical among her age group. But she doesn’t show as much revulsion as others do when Log mentions love, and so she recommends Mitsuki for Akagami, a government matchmaking program.

An area of bars and restaurants outside Shinjuku station that is normally packed with people. Photographed by M/k/suke Umeda when a typhoon forced people off the streets.

The next section, narrated by Mitsuki, is a moving—and sometimes very funny—portrayal of the awakening of the senses. The government plays a part in this by teaching the Akagami applicants about love, marriage and family using movies, anime and novels (some of the applicants are so repulsed that they walk out), but it is really her own curiosity that helps her overcome her fears. Once she is matched with Satsuki, who has joined Akagami to provide for his family, they live together in a well-guarded apartment complex, where they are supposed to eventually “procreate” and produce a baby—an end that the nurses and doctors stationed at the complex, the cooks who make their food, and the guards at the gates are all working for. Satsuki and Mitsuki’s slow, tentative moves toward friendship and then love are sweet and sad and funny all at once (Kubo is so good at making readers feel multiple, contradictory emotions all at once).

In one scene, Satsuki has a fever and Mitsuki gives him a bed bath as he sleeps. She realizes that the body of a man in his 20s is nothing like that of the elderly men she cares for at work. Having grown up in a generation that is repulsed by human touch, she is finally figuring out what sexual arousal is, and I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. Kubo also enjoys a little role reversal by having Mitsuki ask Satsuki why he doesn’t seem to want to have sex with her and promises to wait until he’s ready.

Mitsuki, absorbed in her new feelings for Satsuki and then her pregnancy, innocently takes Akagami at face value, and Kubo—for the most part—lets us drift along with her in the middle section of the book, but she yanks us out of this warm cocoon in the last section, narrated by Satsuki. He has never entirely trusted the program, and wonders about the trucks that occasionally drive by the apartment building, yelling and tossing sheets of paper over the fence. He feels like they have been “paired off like animals, encouraged to mate and caged in by fences,” “treated with kid gloves like an endangered species.” As Mitsuki nears the end of her pregnancy, they are moved to a luxurious apartment building deep in the forest. Satsuki realizes that, although the program began in 2020, there are no 10 year-olds here, only babies. He manages to pick up one of the leaflets thrown over the wall that the guards missed, and finds that it reads, “The children born in Akagami become the nation’s property and are used for the nation’s ends.” His disquiet only grows when he learns that “akagami” is shorthand for the draft cards sent out by the military.

An example of the draft notice sent out by the Japanese army in World War II, known colloquially as “akagami” (literally, red paper).

Kubo leaves the reader with some hope, at least on a small scale. She starts out with a large-scale picture of Japan’s future, and then narrows our focus to one couple to make us really care about the potential future she is imagining in “Akagami.” I think that’s why I like novels so much—at their best, they make you care deeply about events and facts we read about in history books and newspapers and then put out of mind. This is perhaps proof of both the small, petty side of human nature and our capacity to excite the imagination and inspire empathy.

*This book has not been translated into English, nor have any of Kubo’s other novels, but part of her novel 「ふがいない僕は空を見た」has been published by Strangers Press as a stand-alone short story entitled “Mikumari,” translated by Polly Barton.

 

Tokyo Nipper

東京の子、藤井 太洋 、Kadokawa 2019

Tokyo Nipper, by Taiyo Fujii

Novels set in the future and other science fiction are often used to express our deepest fears about human nature and technology, but in Tokyo Nipper, Taiyo Fujii focuses on our brighter possibilities. In an interview, Fujii said that he doesn’t think we have to be so pessimistic about the future since, in his eyes, the world has improved in so many ways over the past 30 years. In his novels, he wants to create a sense that there is nothing embarrassing about speaking idealistically.

And his vision of Tokyo in 2023, three years after the Olympics, is very bold and optimistic. The government, left with sports facilities that had become liabilities and would have to be dismantled or repurposed at further taxpayer expense, decided instead to sell the land to the private sector, which then transformed the facilities into shopping malls, huge warehouses, tower condominiums, nursing homes and universities. It was foreigners who provided the labor, allowed in under Japan’s “foreign technician training system” and “highly-skilled professional system.” In Fujii’s version of history, the government had revised the immigration law in 2019 to significantly expand these two programs so that foreigners could work in Japan not only as IT engineers, civil engineers and nurses, but also as supermarket and convenience store staff and garbage collectors. Making the picture even rosier, Fujii writes that Southeast Asia’s economic growth means that foreign workers no longer work for miserable wages, but now expect the same pay as Japanese. This has increased Tokyo’s population from 13 million to 16 million in the three years following the Olympics and foreigners accounted for all three million.

The ruins of the bobsled track used for the Sarajevo Olympics. Source: Getty Images

Fujii also gives us a hero who is just as interesting as the new Tokyo he occupies. Isamu Karibe lives above a Vietnamese restaurant and makes a living by finding foreigners who have stopped showing up for work and convincing them to go back to work. Just like these foreigners, Karibe lacks roots. “Karibe” isn’t even his own name—he bought a family registry so his parents, who neglected him until he nearly starved as a baby, could never find him. The children in the institution he grew up in are given Korean-made smartphones by Okuma, a yakuza looking for new revenue streams (he paid them pocket change for repeatedly reloading websites to increase views and clicking on ads for adult videos). It was Okuma who helped Karibe make parkour videos in the early days of YouTube, making him one of its first stars. Karibe still uses parkour to chase foreigners. The description of parkour moves give the novel a dynamism that Japan’s aging, static society seems to lack in reality.

Photograph by Gabe L’Heureux

This is matched by the verve of the students—they even hold demonstrations and protests!—that Karibe meets at Tokyo Dual, a polytech with 40,000 students that has been built on a former Olympic site. The students study while also working for the “supporter” companies that have offices and factories on site. They earn salaries and can even go on to work fulltime for these companies after graduating. In this brave new world Fujii has created, supporter companies can fire students easily and students can change jobs at will.

Karibe’s assignment at the start of this novel is to find a Vietnamese girl who isn’t showing up for work or classes. In this search, he uncovers allegations of human trafficking and learns of a new law allowing Chinese to be forcibly deported. Unfortunately, I didn’t find this as interesting as Fujii’s world creation, and the parkour and the vitality of this Tokyo weren’t enough to make up for leaden dialogue and some confusing plot developments.

Fujii has said that this future is entirely possible, given that the government did in fact pass a law easing immigration rules for workers in December 2018. The resistance to these modest changes (Japan still prefers migrants who will go home some day over immigrants) makes me skeptical. Still, I think Fujii really just wants to start a conversation about possibilities, and I hope people are listening.

Source: Anouchka Noisillier

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