The Name of the Game is A Kidnapping

Keigo Higashino

PR genius Sakuma is miffed when his latest idea is rejected out of hand by Nissei Auto, a major car manufacturer. After a drinking spree, he goes to Nissei CEO Katsuragi’s home, where he watches a girl climbing down the wall outside. It is Juri Katsuragi, trying to escape her abusive family.

Sakuma, thirsting for revenge, and Juri, who needs money, team up and fake Juri’s kidnapping. But Katsuragi is no fool, and when the two believe to have reached their goals, Katsuragi proves to be a master of the end game after all.

This was a fun, fast-paced thriller, and other than Higashino’s usual books, there is no police involved. The plot revolves around the three characters, with Sakuma and Katsuragi playing a wonderful game of mental chess. Of course, it wouldn’t be a Higashino novel without a twist at the end, and once again, it was a total surprise to me. I did feel that there was something wrong about Juri’s story, but what had really happened before she escaped the family villa, I couldn’t guess.

Another excellent and twisty book by Higashino, and of course available on amazon.

so-on-g

On my quest to follow BATI-HOLIC to all of their concerts (in Kyoto), I am exposed to a lot of other bands, both local and foreign. There are all sorts of music styles, all stages of proficiency, and different levels of “I like it”.

One of my recent discoveries is so-on-g (騒音寺). The kanji mean “Noise Temple”, but even though they could be considered as rock band, their music is very melodic and easy to dance along. And sing along, if you know the texts, of course. Here’s one of their music videos:

so-on-g “Long Line” music video

so-on-g are a band from Kyoto and they’ve been around for 30 years. They have plenty of fans, which makes their shows fun to watch. It was even more fun to watch BATI-HOLIC leader Nakajima move into the first row at their latest show and completely switch to fanboy mode. Musicians just love music – just like writers just love books…

Underground

Haruki Murakami

In the early morning of May 20, 1995, members of Aum Shinrikyo, a now-forbidden religious cult, released sarin gas on three Tokyo subway trains. However, the deadly nerve gas, conceived in Nazi laboratories in the 1930s, failed to cause the destruction the perpetrators had intended. Yet, the families of the 12 people who died and the thousands of injured – a good part of whom had to deal with varying long-term aftereffects – would disagree with this assessment.

In the course of 1996 when the worse shock over the attack had passed, but memories were still fairly fresh, Haruki Murakami interviewed 62 survivors. Of these testimonies, 34 are contained in “Underground”, a shocking account of how a normal Monday commute turned into a nightmare for many, touching on emotions that were still raw a year or more after the attack.

This edition of “Underground” also contains a part 2, titled “The Place that was Promised”, a collection of 8 interviews with (former) members of Aum Shinrikyo. While most of the victims expressed a hatred toward Aum, these interviewees were torn in their views. Most of them initially joined the group because they felt alienated by the world around them or tried to fill a (spiritual) void in their lives.

Even though they had a spiritual home in and were completely devoted to Aum, they declared that had they been asked to carry out the attack, they would have declined. Only one said that he would have gone through with it “if I had been asked by the right person.”

This raises the question – and Murakami addresses it in his own reflections on the topic – how far each of us would be willing to go for “the right person” or “the right cause”. On average, as history shows: all the way down to the inner circles of hell.

Haruki Murakami (born in Kyoto, 1949) is a Japanese author. He is most famous for his novels, which have been translated into dozens of languages and received numerous (international) prizes. He also writes essays and non fiction like this book.

For a first-hand account into one of Japan’s deadliest terrorist attacks in peace time. I recommend this particular edition for a view of both sides; they are equally chilling but for different reasons. It’s available on amazon.

Moon Viewing 2024

Even though full moon is today – and it’s even a supermoon, extra close to the Earth – Japan’s traditional moon viewing ceremonies were held yesterday. And once again, I went all the way over to Matsunoo Taisha for it.

Not much has changed compared to last year, the performers were largely the same. However, I thought that the selection of shakuhachi songs was more lively this year. And the koto-shinobue duo afterward performed a great version of Amazing Grace. Pity this was in Japan, I’m pretty sure that in America, people would’ve known the lyrics and would’ve sung along.

The taiko were great and uplifting as always, but I now find that something has to be added. It’s hard to explain, but I’ll try: taiko drums are essentially just rhythm, and while you do get excited, the adrenaline doesn’t last forever. With a melody overlaid, no matter how simple, the interest can be kept up throughout the piece. This time again, the second piece was the best, it added flutes and cymbals to the drums.

This time I went alone, but I was having a nice chat with the person in the seat next to me. He didn’t drink sake or cared for the sweets that were offered, so he gave me his ticket for a second helping to both. It was very good sake; after all, Matsunoo Taisha enshrines the god of all things alcohol. Another addition this year were the food stalls outside the shrine, but even though they had some karaage (fried chicken) left when the ceremony was over, I resisted the temptation. Maybe next year.

New Money

Already back in the beginning of July, the Japanese government has begun to issue new banknotes, the first one to feature English in their design (Bank of Japan). They took a while to trickle down to Kyoto, and even longer to make it into my own wallet, but here they are, courtesy of National Printing Bureau, Independent Administrative Institution (独立行政法人 国立印刷局):

The new 1000 yen bill features Kitasato Shibasaburo (1853 – 1931), a Japanese bacteriologist. While he was sent to Hong Kong during an outbreak of the bubonic plague in 1894, he isolated the bacterium that caused the plague, just days ahead of Alexandre Yersin who is generally (the only one) credited with the discovery.

He was also nominated for the very first Nobel Prize in Medicine, for the work he and Emil von Behring did on the diphtheria antitoxin serum. However, only von Behring received the Nobel Prize for this discovery, probably because Kitasato was only a student at the time.

He kept working on infectious diseases for his entire life, and founded the Kitasato Institute, now a private university for medicine, in Tokyo.

Like the last 5000 yen bill, this one also features a woman: Tsuda Umeko (1864 – 1929), who was educated in the US as a child and later even went to college there. Upon her return to Japan, she became an educator and founded Tsuda Women’s University in Tokyo.

Throughout her life, she was a strong advocator for women’s education and social reform. Interestingly, she was not an advocate of women’s suffrage or even a feminist movement.

Finally, the 10000 yen note shows, quite fittingly, Eiji Shibusawa (1840 – 1931), an industrialist of the Meiji period who introduced capitalism to the country and founded the first modern bank of Japan, which was even allowed to print its own banknotes.

Born into a farmer’s family, his aptitude for finances landed him in the household of the (future) shogun and, after the Meiji Restoration, in the new Ministry of Finance. He resigned in 1873 and, besides the First National Bank, founded more than 500 other corporations, among them the Tokyo Stock Exchange, the Japanese Chamber of Commerce and Industry, Tokyo Gas, and the Imperial Hotel Tokyo, all without holding a controlling stake in them.

Furthermore, he was also involved in projects related to social welfare and education, like the Japan Red Cross, which he founded as well. He was granted the title of viscount and in 1929 was nominated for the Nobel Peace Prize. Today, he often features in Japanese manga and fiction.

Interesting people! Let’s hope many of them make it into my wallet in the future!

What I Talk About When I Talk About Running

Haruki Murakami

Cover for "What I talk aobut when I talk about running" by Haruki Murakami

This book delivers exactly what its author says in the foreword: “This is a book in which I have gathered my thoughts about what running has meant to me as a person.”

It was written between summer 2005 and autumn 2006 and comprises nine essays, written in different places and about different races – marathons and triathlons – and the training that went into them. Yet, the essays are not just about running, but are also a memoir about writing and how Murakami became a writer in the first place. His early life as the owner of a music bar was especially interesting; his love for music is undiminished as can be seen in his novels that all seem to have at least one character obsessed with music.

Overall, I’m not sure what to think of this book. I am not a runner and not much of a writer myself, which probably explains a certain detached interest. Murakami is also not very good when writing about himself. He seems to be more at ease in the role of a (self-) chronicler, preferring to keep his deeper thoughts to himself.

Certainly, the subject matter of long-distance running doesn’t lend itself easily to deep philosophical insights, but I also think that the vertical pronoun throws Murakami’s prose off somehow. At least all the “in my opinion’s” that were so obnoxious in his book on writing are less numerous here, which makes him sound much less pompous and more human.

I don’t regret having read this book, but had I not done so, I wouldn’t have missed much either. Try it out for yourself on amazon.

Kakigori

One of the things I have only discovered upon moving to Japan (and which I now believe is sorely missing from European summers) is shaved ice. Extremely refreshing and practically calorie-free, this light dessert is a beloved summer staple for kids and adults alike.

Apparently, the Japanese version of shaved iced, called kakigori, is especially fluffy, and indeed, the consistency reminds me of freshly fallen snow. (Yes, I do know how snow tastes, the best efforts of my grandparents to prevent that notwithstanding…)

Eating shaved ice dates back to the Heian period, when it was an expensive delicacy for aristocrats. It became widely popular (and available) in the 19th century, and today, July 25 is even considered Kakigori Day in Japan.

Traditionally, kakigori was produced by shaving a block of ice using a hand-cranked machine, and some food stalls at local festivals still have one of these (on display, if not in use).

The freshly shaved ice is put in a bowl or cup and sweet syrup is added for flavour. Lemon, strawberry, melon, ramune (a popular old-fashioned type of soda) and many other flavours are available.

A special green tea version with azuki beans and mochi, called ujikintoki, is said to have been invented in Uji city. There is also yakigori where liquor is poured over the ice and then set aflame, but somehow I feel that this goes against the purpose.

As I said, kakigori is ubiquitous in Japanese summer; it is sold everywhere the little flag with the kanji for ice is displayed, from restaurants and cafes to convenience stores all the way to yatai food stalls at festivals.

A personal favourite and the absolute winner when it comes to taste is the kakigori with condensed milk and strawberry jam served in the Saruya tea house at Shimogamo Shrine. And this year, coincidentally, I had one bowl of it right on Kakigori Day!

Ox Day

Today was doyou ushi no hi, which is considered the hottest day in midsummer. The doyou are 18 consecutive days that occur before the change of the season, and traditionally, the summer doyou are associated with the element of fire (for obvious reasons).

The doyou ushi no hi is the day of the ox during this period (sometimes there are two in the same year). It is considered healthy to eat foods with an u in it, for example udon noodles or ume plums are popular.

The #1 food for doyou ushi no hi goes back to the Edo period, however: It’s unagi – eel- sliced down the middle, broiled on a grill and served on a bed of rice. It is one of my favourite dishes regardless of the season. However, since the Japanese eel has become an endangered species, this dish is very expensive and more often than not, the eel is a China import.

In any case, today didn’t quite live up to expectations. It was rainy and rather cool, so no complaints from me. I bet August will be hot and unbearable again…

Seventeen

Hideo Yokoyama

When in August 1985, Japan Airlines Flight 123 crashed into the mountains of Gunma Prefecture, local newspaper reporter Yuuki Kazumasa is thrust into a position of leadership he never wanted: He is now in charge of the entire coverage of the accident, from choosing people to visit the crash site to editing the final articles. But tensions soon arise and never-healed wounds open up again as different departments – editorial, advertising, distribution – vie for influence to promote their own factions. Yuuki soon finds himself crushed between the front lines, but will he be ready to sacrifice his own career for what he believes in?

Once again, Yokoyama sheds light on what happens behind the scenes, but even though Yokoyama worked at a local newspaper at the time of the crash, I found this book lacking compared to SIX FOUR. That’s because arguments in the newsroom turned into physical altercations several times which I thought wasn’t very believable – images of Japanese parliamentarians on each other’s throats notwithstanding.

Also, even though I can believe that processing such an event can take years (Yokoyama even visited the crash site himself), the switching between the 1985 events with Yuuki’s personal rock climbing adventure in 2003 fell short to excite me.

Hideo Yokoyama was born in 1957 in Tokyo. He worked for 12 years as investigative reporter for a regional newspaper in Gunma Prefecture, where he still lives with his wife. His experience with the crash of JAL 123 made him quit the news industry and turn to fiction. He is now a popular writer of crime fiction and his novels are meticulously researched. He has won the annual Prize for Best Japanese Crime Fiction twice.

If you’re in for a dive behind the scenes of a (Japanese) newspaper, you should definitely try this book from amazon.