In 2019, I had vowed to read more women authors. For the year that came after, I had no such goal but I somehow stumbled into the world of Japanese literature and, to be honest, it’s what’s kept me sane for most of 2020.
Like most people, my first introduction to Japanese literature was Haruki Murakami. A genius writer, but not everyone’s cup of tea. A little hyped, in my opinion now, but my younger self was more than happy to accept the pedestal people put Murakami on. Murakami’s stories haven’t stayed with me, his writing style has. It’s slow, it simmers, it also spins around in different directions and brings you back just when you start feeling hopeless and lost. It was the experience of reading his books that makes me admire him.
Kafka on the Shore, my first Murakami:
But beyond Murakami, I didn’t know much. I’d read Kazuo Ishiguro’s Never Let Me Go but he’s technically British so..
In June 2020, amid the pandemic stuff, I found myself exhausted. Reading for pleasure had started to feel like a laborious task and I wanted to read something that was easy and not too much of a commitment. Also, lockdown days. So we were trying not to order anything but the essentials. That’s when a virtual friend sent me a few Japanese e-books with one particular recommendation - In The Miso Soup by Ryu Murakami. And I dove right into it.
In The Miso Soup is a wild one. It follows a Japanese tour guide and an American tourist as they go around exploring the city. The premise does not prepare you for the violent mess that eventually follows. The book is bizarre and keeps you hooked till the last word. It’s also under 200 pages so that worked out perfectly. In The Miso Soup and the subsequent Japanese novellas that I read were exactly what I needed - they were really short and I could finish them off in one sitting. They also provided the right amount of escapism. The Japanese universes I briefly lost myself in felt distant and unreal enough for me to detach from my immediate surrounding.
My next couple of reads were Convenience Store Woman by Sayaka Murata and Ms Ice Sandwich by Mieko Kawakami. Both heartwarming stories in their own way. What particularly appealed to me was the ordinariness of the stories. These novellas were not plot-heavy as such. If I were to explain the story to someone, I would be at a loss of words because not much actually happens in the books. Yet there’s something beautiful about the way the characters are fleshed out. The way they interact, their quirks, their insignificant habits, their peculiar relationships with other people - that’s what left me enchanted.
Recently, I devoured Before the coffee gets cold by Toshikazu Kawaguchi.. Not one I would recommend but the similar pace of things is what kept me going. Even though it’s about four different people, it feels more like an anthology of four parallel stories. Terribly structured, badly written, overall an awful experience but the detailing kept me going. I liked reading about the people, the secrets they harboured, the little tragedies that made them.
I think translations are also a big part of the experience. All the books that I read are *popular* and the translations are flawless. I haven’t come across a bad translation yet but I hope I do! It would be an interesting comparison.
Just today, I finished The Housekeeper and the Professor by Yoko Ogawa. Another phenomenal 200-page read that is so warm and filled with joy. It’s about an unusual and unique friendship between a mathematician and his housekeeper and her son. The mathematician suffered brain damage and has a memory span issue wherein he can only remember the last 80 minutes at any given point of time.
The premise is fertile, the end is inevitably laced with sadness, but neither of these things is that important because Japanese literature (in my limited exposure) is not about the beginning or end but everything that happens in between. The start and the end are both equally unappealing in my opinion. These stories require patience from the reader. They require one to bask in the ordinary and appreciate it. A little bit like life, I guess?
Gonna check out the one by Mieko Kawakami! I loved her writing in Breasts and Eggs