Category: All Things Japanese

Battle Royale

Koshun Takami

Instead of going on a school trip, 42 junior high school students from the small town of Shiroiwa find themselves on a tiny island in Japan’s Inland Sea. There, they are told that they were chosen for “The Program”, an annual competition where they have to fight each other to the death until only one is left alive. Each of them is given rations for a few days and a randomly chosen weapon and sent off, the game starting immediately.

New, uneasy alliances are forged and old friendships are broken as each one of the 15-year-olds struggles with their conscience, their fear, and raw survival instinct. But who will make it out – the smartest, the most ruthless, or those who can fly under the radar until the end?

This is a fast-paced thriller where I never knew what to expect next. I was worried of losing track of the students’ names, but the author’s choice of introducing them only when they become relevant (i.e., when they get into their first fight) helps to avoid confusion. He also describes the thought processes of the students in realistic terms, with all their juvenile flaws and misplaced confidence and flashes of both brilliant insight and childish ignorance. The deaths were all described in bloody detail, but overall, this didn’t bother me too much, and the twist at the end is satisfying.

What I found most interesting was the setting in a dystopian Japan. While depictions of authoritarian governments in fiction are nothing new, the author lets Japan fall from the Edo period (and the opening of the country) straight into a totalitarian system. Set in modern times when the kids have mobile phones and computers, unfettered access to information, in particular from abroad, is forbidden, just like free travel or rock music. In some ways, it reminded me of the situation in countries like China (in particular Hong Kong) or Iran: As long as you stay within the government-approved mould, you’ll be just fine. Quite worrisome, somehow…

Koshun Takami was born in 1969 in Amagasaki and grew up in Shikoku. After obtaining a degree in literature from Osaka University, he worked as a reporter for the Shikoku Shimbun for five years. Battle Royale, published in 1999 is his first, and so far only novel. Although its violent premise caused it to lose out on a literature prize, the controversy surrounding it made it an instant bestseller. It was adapted into manga and film.

Given the number of dead people in the end, I wouldn’t call this “light reading” or “enjoyable” by any stretch, but it’s a book worth reading. Get it from amazon in many different versions.

The Last Empress of Japan

As it is well known, the imperial house of Japan is (still) facing a succession crisis. With male heirs to the throne in short supply for many years, the entire burden of producing a son is currently resting on a single youth, currently 20 years of age.

While there is no imminent pressure to reproduce for the young prince, the burden might be lessened quite a bit if the Succession Law were to be changed to absolute primogeniture, and women were allowed to ascend to the throne.

There are powerful arguments on both sides, and on the opposing one, one famous story is cited over and over again: That of Shōtoku, the 6th and last “real” Empress of Japan, and her involvement with a certain monk called Dōkyō.

Read the story, which is really nothing more than a juicy 8th century palace intrigue, over on Yamato, it’s a freebie!

The Ogura Hyakunin Isshu Love Poems

Having lived in 6 countries, there’s one thing I’ve learned: people aren’t that different, really. Our emotions are the same, just the expressions thereof are determined by culture, upbringing, sex… And the fun thing is that these human emotions haven’t changed much in the last, say 1000 years.

Case in point: Japanese love poems from the Heian period.

The Ogura Hyakunin Isshu, compiled in 1235 by Fujiwara-no-Teika, is a collection of 100 poems by 100 Japanese poets who lived from the Asuka period (7th century) to the Heian period (late 12th century). Most of them were aristocrats (the only Japanese who could read and write at the time), but even though their lives are so vastly different from ours, their emotional poetry still strikes a chord.

Read my new take on the Hyakunin Isshu over on Yamato (it’s a free post): https://yamatomagazine.substack.com/p/love-poems-for-eternity-the-ogura-hyakunin-isshu, an old one from this blog is here.

The Kamogawa Food Detectives

Hisashi Kashiwai

Nagare Kamogawa and his daughter Koishi run a detective agency of a special flavour: From their inconspicuous little restaurant, they track down lost recipes for their clients. Together with the food, they also offer their clients insights into the memories that made the dish so unforgettable in the first place.

This is not so much of a novel, but rather a collection of six loosely connected stories, all centered around a single dish, a single memory. They run the gamut from the funny to the deeply moving, and show how much of our memories are connected to tastes, as well as sights and sounds.

Foodies may want to try and recreate the dishes – from Japanese beef stew and mackerel sushi to Neapolitan spaghetti – and those familiar with Kyoto will enjoy following the Kamogawas on their way through Kyoto’s neighborhoods.

Hisashi Kashiwai was born in 1952 in Kyoto and worked as a dentist. Kyoto city and its neighborhoods features prominently in his writing.

Whether you’re a foodie or a lover of Kyoto, or just somebody who likes escapist little stories, this one’s for you – and available on amazon.

Haru Urara, the Racehorse that Never Won

Haru Urara is probably the most famous of all Japanese racehorses, even though, or rather: because she never won a single race.

Starting out promising with a pedigree full of winners, she lost all of the 113 races of her lifetime. However, her unwavering spirit – perfectly in line with the Japanese ganbatte attitude – made her a household name, saved an entire racetrack, and inspired films, books, and manga.

Read about her life in this free article over on Yamato Magazine: https://yamatomagazine.substack.com/p/haru-urara-japans-most-inspiring-loser

I’ve written about her on this blog before, but now there is so much more information available about her life after retirement, so the article justified an update.

Nitten 2025/26

Last Friday, I was invited to the press preview of the 118th Nitten, one if not the largest exhibition of contemporary Japanese artists. It is a touring exhibition where each stop features about 50% local artists, in this case from Kyoto and Shiga prefectures.

The Nitten comprises five art faculties; namely Japanese Style and Western Style Painting, Sculpture, Craft as Art and Calligraphy. Each of the departments features works of the great masters of the modern Japanese art world alongside the works of new talents. At the press preview, each section was introduced by one of those great masters (I believe) but since the whole preview was limited to one hour, there was not enough time to really appreciate the whole exhibition.

In any case, here are a few of my personal favourites from this Nitten exhibition.

This one is a nihonga – Japanese painting called “Ray of Light”, and on closer inspection it’s red leaves in a forest.

This one is another nihonga, it looks quite abstract on first glance, but it isn’t. I would call it wabi-sabi.

The next images are from the “Crafts as Arts” section. My favourites were the lacquer pieces, but thanks to their shiny black surface they are incredibly difficult to photograph. Hence just an overview. The pieces on the wall are not paintings, but textiles, either woven or in yuzen-dyeing.

My favourite part are always the sculptures. I remember the very first Nitten I want to, where about 90% of the exhibits were nude females standing like soldiers, looking straight ahead. I was so disappointed – what a waste of medium! However, things have improved considerably as you can see, I wonder if the people who choose the art have changed.

This was my favourite piece of the whole exhibition. She looks defiant and confident in herself, yet sensual at the same time. As with most of the art that I like I can’t really say why exacly I like her. Apparently the piece is called “Dusk”.

And here are yoga, Western-style paintings. Tokyo Tower stood out to me, a bustling evening scene in the big city with bright colors and lights everywhere.

And here is Ojii-san, he comes every year to the exhibition and brings his grandchildren. They are growing up! With the horses in the background, it’s probably a nod to 2026, the Year of the Horse. I’ll have to check the other paintings if there’s a similar theme.

That was the Nitten, the last big exhibition for me this year. This is also the last post before I go on my annual Christmas holiday; I’ll be back on January 7th next year or thereabouts.

The Death of the Tea Master

Sen-no-Rikyu (1522–1591) was the most influential of all Japanese tea masters. Not only did he shape tea ceremony as it is practiced today, he was instrumental in the “tea diplomacy” used by his lords Oda Nobunaga and Toyotomi Hideyoshi to unify the country.

Born into a wealthy merchant’s family in Sakai (south of Osaka), he studied tea ceremony from a young age and eventually stripped it from everything he deemed unnecessary. Rikyu’s emphasis on the simple and the idea that everybody was equal before the tea led him straight to the courts of the leaders of the country at the time.

Influential though he may have been, it left him vulnerable to the whims of the very people he served. For some reason – several have been put forward, but which was the true one has been lost to history – Hideyoshi and Rikyu’s relationship soured in 1591, and in the end, Rikyu was ordered to commit suicide. Rikyu is said to have conducted a final tea ceremony for his closest friends, given them all his prized tea utensils, and then calmly followed his lord’s orders.

This is where The Death of the Tea Master starts, a short biography of Sen-no-Rikyu, his tea ceremony and his times. It is this month’s free article on Yamato, I hope you’ll enjoy it! In the future, I will link the monthly free Yamato article here every first Sunday of the month; you have no obligations to read or subscribe.

Hotel Iris

Yoko Ogawa

The little family-owned Hotel Iris and the little seaside town it’s located in have seen better days, but this is all that 17-year-old receptionist Mari knows. One evening, there is a commotion between an elderly man and a prostitute, and while Mari’s mother is keen to evict them quickly, Mari feels inexplicably drawn to the man’s commandeering voice. By chance, they meet in town, and soon a passionate affair begins between the unequal couple. Mari is pulled into a maelstrom of pleasure and pain, but things come to a head when her mother finds out about the affair – with tragic consequences.

I felt much compassion for Mari, ever under the thumb of her domineering mother (her father had died years earlier). Mari believes herself in love with the 50-odd years older “translator” whose name we never learn. Naive and inexperienced as she is, she goes along with his sexual demands. No kink shaming here, but not being able to say no is not the same as consenting.

To me, the translator was a manipulative predator, who knew exactly what he needed to tell her and didn’t care about his victim (who, given the scene at the very beginning of the book, could’ve been anyone, really.) And Mari was a victim, because narcissists like him know how to make you think that whatever you do or endure, it’s voluntary and out of love.

Yoko Ogawa was born in 1962, studied at Waseda university, and became a medical university secretary. After her marriage, she quit her job and began writing, at first in secret. She won the Kaien Literary Prize for her debut novel in 1988, and has since won many more prestigious literary prizes, among them the Japanese Akutagawa, Yomiuri, and Tanizaki Prize, as well as international awards.

Ogawa’s description of their sexual encounters have just enough detail to make the reader understand without being too (porno-) graphic. I am not sure if I would recommend this book unreservedly, but it has become a classic of modern Japanese literature. Make up your own mind with a copy from amazon.

Shadow Family

Miyuki Miyabe

When a middle-aged company employee is found dead, police soon discover that he frequented where he was the “dad” of an online fantasy family. When the police find evidence that this second family had begun to meet offline as well, the man’s real-life daughter complains of being stalked. Where lies the motive for the murder – on- or offline? Bringing the “shadow family” back together for one last time might be the only way to solve the crime.

The book starts in the middle of the police investigation, and what happened before is told in flashbacks. The novel shows the boundaries between what’s real and what’s fake, and how nowadays, where everybody switches between real life and online persona seamlessly several times a day, the boundaries are less defined than ever.

Miyuki Miyabe was born in Tokyo in 1960 and started writing novels at the age of 23. In 1984, while working at a law office, she began to take writing classes and subsequently made her debut in 1987 with ‘Our Neighbour is a Criminal’, which won several prizes. She writes mysteries and historical fiction, among other genres, and her books were the basis for a number of films.

If you’re in for a psychological murder mystery with a twist that makes you question the whole thing at the end, get this book from amazon.

Local Matsuri

This afternoon, a friend of mine had a taiko performance at a neighborhood festival. The venue was one of those tiny parks/playgrounds surrounded by houses, and the locals had set up booths selling drinks and food (including kakigori) and there were others with games and activities for kids.

A large tarp was set up with 10 taiko drums; the performers were mostly kids from Bati-Holic Kuro-chan’s wadaiko school. They only played three songs, the concert wasn’t perfect, but you could see how everybody had loads of fun, not just the kids playing, but the parents watching too, of course.

I took a few photos and after the concert bumped into another acquaintance whom I met at a Bati-Holic concert. She has now also started up taiko classes and was there as support, as you do here in Japan. We caught up and chatted a bit, and then I went home. On the way, I bumped into my doctor from Kyoto University Hospital. He was wearing his face mask, just like at work (I don’t think I could recognize him without) but he approached me as I waited at a red light.

And finally, I bumped into a sunset, well, I was a bit too late. I usually don’t notice it when I’m working, and from my house it’s difficult to watch it anyway. Things are different down at the river. This time of the year is so beautiful.