The Tzer Island book blog features book reviews written by TChris, the blog's founder.  I hope the blog will help readers discover good books and avoid bad books.  I am a reader, not a book publicist.  This blog does not exist to promote particular books, authors, or publishers.  I therefore do not participate in "virtual book tours" or conduct author interviews.  You will find no contests or giveaways here.

The blog's nonexclusive focus is on literary/mainstream fiction, thriller/crime/spy novels, and science fiction.  While the reviews cover books old and new, in and out of print, the blog does try to direct attention to books that have been recently published.  Reviews of new (or newly reprinted) books generally appear every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday.  Reviews of older books appear on occasional weekends.  Readers are invited and encouraged to comment.  See About Tzer Island for more information about this blog, its categorization of reviews, and its rating system.

Entries in Japan (31)

Wednesday
Oct032018

The Lady Killer by Masako Togawa

First published in Japan in 1963; published in translation by Pushkin Vertigo on October 30, 2018

Pregnant from a one-night stand, Keiko Obana hangs from a windowsill until she plunges to her death. The police rule the death a suicide, but the inspector who investigates the case believes Keiko killed herself because of the pregnancy. So does a woman who believes her death is attributable to the rogue who made her pregnant.

After that prelude, the story follows Ichiro Honda (the rogue) as he seduces one woman after another, always assuming an identity other than his own, generally pretending to be foreign visitor to Japan. Honda keeps a diary of his sexual conquests that he refers to as his “Huntsman's Log.” The reader also follows Honda’s surprised response when he discovers that some of the women he seduced have been murdered. He even finds one of them dead when he turns up for a new assignation. Of course, the reader knows it is only a matter of time before Honda is blamed for the deaths.

The novel’s second half shifts the focus away from Honda to a young lawyer named Shinji who is helping an older lawyer handle Honda’s case. The older lawyer is the novel’s Sherlock, while Shinji does all the investigative legwork. Shinji is startled to learn that one of Honda’s conquests was a woman he was dating in college. Masako Togawa uses that coincidence to develop Shinji as a dispirited and lonely young man who is also a bit judgmental about Honda’s promiscuity — unless he is simply envious.

The Lady Killer creates a mystery for Shinji to unravel (how and by whom was Honda framed?) but it maintains interest by giving Shinji a series of interviews with characters who are carefully developed despite their brief appearances. Those characters — a medical intern, a salaryman, a salesman, a day laborer, and a gay prostitute — open a window on different aspects of Japanese life. The investigation also reveals how people are like “toothed cogs; once one cog slips out of sync, it damages not merely those around it but also others having no direct connection with it.”

The novel is noteworthy for its glimpse of Japanese culture, including the divide between older people who hold traditional values (for example, values that compel suicide for disloyalty) and younger people who have adopted a western approach to moral decision-making. Themes of duty and loyalty are prevalent throughout the novel. The Lady Killer also explores social norms, not unique to 1960s Japanese culture, regarding the judgment that society visits upon men who use women, even if the women happily agree to be used for a night of passion, and upon women who are branded as promiscuous because they enjoy casual sex.

At the same time, Honda’s view of himself as a hunter and of women as his prey makes it difficult to feel sympathy for Honda, even though he is an innocent accused. Yet Honda is far from being the most aberrant character in a story that exposes the dark side of humanity. This example of Japanese noir strives to spotlight darkness rather than to promote empathy for its characters.

The plot depends on an elaborate scheme to frame Honda for multiple murders that will expose him to the death penalty. My initial reaction was that the killer could more easily have killed Honda; the decision to kill several innocent people struck me as an unlikely way to seek revenge. By the end of the novel, however, a plot twist allows the reader to see the story in a different way. Combined with an epilog that fills in the gaps, the mystery’s resolution is credible, surprising, and satisfying.

RECOMMENDED

Wednesday
Jul252018

Convenience Store Woman by Sayaka Murata

Published in Japan in 2016; published in translation by Grove Press on June 12, 2018

As a child, Keiko Furukura decided to teach another child some manners by braining him with a shovel, a decision she regarded as perfectly reasonable. She was thereafter viewed as a strange and troublesome child. Realizing that her straightforward approach to life kept getting her into trouble, she learned to mimic the behavior of other kids and to follow instructions, never speaking or acting on her own initiative. The conformist strategy worked for her, as it does for many people.

Convenience Store Woman follows Keiko’s life from college, when she takes a part-time job in a Smile Mart, until Keiko is in her late 30s. The convenience store job suits her because a convenience store “is a forcibly normalized environment where foreign matter is immediately eliminated.” In other words, conform or leave. Keiko adapts perfectly to the convenience store lifestyle, faithfully following her trainer’s instructions about shouting greetings to customers, looking them in the eye, smiling, asking if they want anything else, bagging purchases and making change. Thanks to the scripted work and clear expectations, Keiko finally feels comfortable interacting with others. It is her first time as “a normal cog in society.” She is so happy that she is still working there eighteen years later.

Keiko draws her malleable personality from her co-workers, taking a bit from each one until she has amalgamized a personality of her own, albeit one that changes as a function of employee turnover. She believes she has been “infected” by their speech patterns and vocabulary, causing her own speech patterns and word choices to change as new co-workers replace the old ones. Even her gestures change as she absorbs the behavior of new workers. Keiko has no desire to look for a better job because this job has allowed her to master the art of pretending to be a person.

The story has several themes. One is socially-enforced normalization. Being a convenience store worker is fine for a college student, but as time goes on, Keiko doesn’t fit in with society’s expectations because she lacks the ambition to find a better job or to pursue marriage. On the few occasions she socializes, she is ostracized or criticized because she doesn’t fit society’s vision of how a maturing woman should live her life. Living a fiction of normalcy isn’t easy, particularly for a woman; to justify her low-end job as a middle-age woman, Keiko contrives excuses and finds a relationship partner, even if the platonic and rather unpleasant relationship is one of convenience.

The culture of gossip is another theme. Keiko is happiest when she is talking with co-workers about essential convenience store issues, like whether the store can make its sales goal for deep-fried chicken skewers. When co-workers realize Keio is having contact with a fired worker in her free time, they can’t stop grilling her about her relationship. They also feel compelled to lecture the ex-worker and Keiko about their respective failings. In Japan as everywhere, people want to meddle when they should mind their own damn business.

Perhaps the overriding theme is the importance of being true to one’s nature, regardless of society’s expectations. Keiko’s sister is distressed about having to cope with the fact that Keiko is not “normal,” but Keiko is content just the way she is. Her life has definition. The convenience store speaks to her in a voice that only she can hear. She knows exactly what the convenience store needs. Being a convenience store worker makes her happy, while the prospect of looking for a better job or getting married and having sex are antithetical to Keiko’s ability to live a fulfilling life.

That, I think, is the great lesson of Convenience Store Woman: when someone is happy and content to live in a way that doesn’t harm others, whether the person has a “normal” life isn’t the business of anyone else. Being happy and harmless is just fine, and trying to change a person who isn't hurting anyone because they don't "fit in" is an act of cruelty. Convenience Store Woman teaches that profound lesson in an allegorical story that is both appealing and deceptive in its simplicity.

RECOMMENDED

Monday
Feb052018

The Master Key by Masako Togawa

First published in Japan in 1962; published in translation in 1985; published by Pushkin Vertigo on March 27, 2018

The first chapter of The Master Key establishes a central mystery. The novel then tells a series of interlocking stories about apartment building residents, revolving around nosy neighbors and the secrets they uncover about other residents. The plot is intriguing and suitably mysterious, but the characters (aging women who are driven by loneliness to spy on each other) make this novel special.

The story begins when a man dressed as a woman, wearing a red scarf on a snowy day, is killed in a traffic accident. The woman who was awaiting his return continued to wait. That story dovetails with the kidnapping of a four-year-old child and the burial of a small corpse in the basement of an apartment building.

But before any explanation begins to emerge, the novel introduces some of the residents who occupy the 150 apartments in the ladies’ apartment building where almost all of the story take place. One of those residents has spent years preparing a manuscript of her husband’s academic writings — a manuscript that contains surprising content discovered by a nosey receptionist. Another resident sneaks about at night in search of the heads and bones of fish.

Playing a central role is an elderly violin teacher and the story of a violin that was stolen in 1933. One of the saddest stories involves a former teacher who finds a sense of purpose by writing to each of her former students, giving her an opportunity to reflect on the educational reforms and social changes that followed Japan’s defeat in World War II. The reply she receives from a former student whose son was kidnapped years earlier causes the retired teacher to embark on an investigation of her own, one that involves another retired teacher who lives in the same building.

By stealing the master key to all the rooms, Noriko Tamura learns the secrets of some of the building’s residents. And by stealing it again, Yoneko Kimura learns more secrets. But a priest from the spiritualist Three Spirit Faith sect purports to discover even more secrets (not to mention healing persons and property) through séances that become increasingly popular with the residents.

A wrap-up chapter at the end provides a solution to most of the novel’s mysteries. It ties together the various storylines, leaving no loose ends. The cleverness of the plot construction can’t be fully appreciated until that chapter unlocks nearly all the puzzles — except for the final mystery, which awaits resolution in an epilogue. Suffice it to say that events that seem to be improbable coincidences while the story unfolds are neither improbable nor coincidental by the novel’s end.

As much as I enjoyed the plot, the novel’s real pleasure is the window it offers into the lives of aging women in Japan after World War II. They are nearly prisoners in an apartment building that prides itself on maintaining high moral standards. Many of the central characters rarely leave their rooms; most of those are suffering from what would now be recognized as severe depression. Their nosiness drives the story, but it also creates sympathy for characters who are bored and lonely and wasting away in a society where they are not valued. The novel’s insights into the role of women in post-war Japan adds meaning to the story, making The Master Key more compelling than an ordinary mystery.

RECOMMENDED

Monday
Dec042017

Ms Ice Sandwich by Mieko Kawakami

First published in Japan in 2013 (in a literary journal) and in 2014 (as part of a novel); published in translation by Pushkin Press on January 23, 2018

Ms. Ice Sandwich is the name bestowed upon a sandwich seller with large eyes and a damaged face by the novel’s young narrator. The narrator is fascinated by Ms. Ice Sandwich; he has a crush or the first experience of love from afar. He sketches her endlessly but never speaks to her except to order a sandwich.

Other kids, and some adults, view Ms. Ice Sandwich as a monster or a freak. She is apparently a victim of surgical malpractice, but whatever the cause of her unusual appearance, the young narrator feels saddened by the meanness that surrounds her. At the same time, when other kids question his obsession with the woman, he stops seeing her, a solution that saddens him until his new friend Tutti gives him some worldly advice that she figured out in the first grade. I won’t spoil the advice, but it is the kind of wisdom that is easily forgotten and from which everyone would benefit.

The novella offers the narrator’s amusing insights into his fourth-grade life as he reacts to a world he is trying to comprehend. His grandmother is dying. He isn’t sure what to make of concepts like aging and death. Girls and adults are mysterious, but Ms. Ice Sandwich is the most mysterious of all.

The story is obviously about growing up, but it is also about friendship. The narrator’s blossoming friendship with Tutti contrasts with the infatuation he feels for Ms. Ice Sandwich. Part of growing up is learning the value of genuine friendship, as is learning that physical appearance is not the standard that should be used to select friends — a lesson that comes late in life to many, if it comes at all.

Ms Ice Sandwich brilliantly captures the wonder and puzzlement of childhood, the burning desire to figure things out and the sense of loss when reality replaces imagination. Learning to say goodbye and coping with loss, real and imagined, is another important part of growing up, one that Mieko Kawakami illustrates in a variety of contexts. But for every loss there is a gain; for every goodbye, there is a hello. That’s another lesson that comes as we experience life, and one that the narrator’s experience will eventually cause him to recognize.

Ms Ice Sandwich is a story of emotions and feelings more than events. The novel’s limitations are also its strengths. The novella uses no more words than it needs. It does not pretend to be epic. Its focus is narrow, but the small world that the narrator inhabits is rich with the kind of details that children notice and that adults take for granted, like the sensation of falling snowflakes. The story is small but the novella’s lessons are large. That’s quite an achievement.

RECOMMENDED

Wednesday
Jun072017

Slow Boat by Hideo Furukawa

Published in Japan in 2003; published in translation by Pushkin Press on June 6, 2017

Slow Boat is a novella-length story of three loves, told by a man who recalls his past. Each love represents (at least in his mind) a failed attempt to leave Tokyo, either physically or metaphorically.

Slow Boat is almost existential in its depiction of a man who feels hopeless, powerless, and trapped in a heartless Tokyo. Three times, he has tried and failed to leave Tokyo. The first time he was in grade school, chasing after his girlfriend, whose parents were taking her away. The second time he was planning to join his new girlfriend at the airport. Both attempts ended violently. The third time he decided to leave metaphorically, leading to another new girlfriend and another disaster.

I’m not sure what to make of Slow Boat. It’s sort of a commentary on Japan over the course of the last few decades, but it’s also personal, a commentary on Japan as seen from the standpoint of a man (or boy) at various stages of his life, looking for a way out. Not a way out of Japan, necessarily, but a way out of the life for which he seems destined. Perhaps the narrator is simply coming to terms with his life, coming to accept that he is on a slow boat to nowhere. Or perhaps he is about to challenge fate. Part of the novel suggests that simply doing the best we can with what we have toward the people we love will have positive if unforseeable consequences, even if we do not stay with those people forever.

Fortunately, Hideo Furakawa includes an explanation of the book, which he calls a remix of Haruki Murakami’s story, “Slow Boat to China.” Familiarity with that story might help a reader appreciate Hideo Furakawa’s remix, but I haven’t read it so I can’t comment on that. I did appreciate the explanation of the novel’s surrealistic nature, which I found interesting but puzzling. Readers with a greater background in Japanese literature might get more out of Slow Boat than I did, but I liked it well enough to recommend it to readers who are up for a challenge.

RECOMMENDED

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