Category: All Things Japanese

Hyakunin Isshu

For you,
I came out to the fields
to pick the first spring greens.
All the while, on my sleeves
a light snow falling.

Emperor Koko, 9th cent.

This is a poem from the Ogura Hyakunin Isshu, probably the most famous of all collections of Japanese poetry. The name can be translated as “One hundred people, one poem each” and this anthology of waka poetry was collected in Kyoto’s Arashiyama district. There, at Mt. Ogura, was the home of Fujiwara no Teika (1162-1241), himself considered one of Japan’s greatest poets.

He selected many poems by his contemporaries, but also by famous older poets whose work had been handed down for many years, among them 20 women. While there are many other anthologies of waka poetry, it is believed that this one became so famous because of the fame of Fujiwara no Teika – and because he had just the right connections to the Imperial court.

Writing waka poetry was one of the courtiers’ favourite pastimes, and to this day, the emperor himself gives out the prize for the best new year’s poetry. Most of the poems contained in the Hyakunin Isshu are love poems, and many of them allude to a time of the year using words like “cherry blossoms”, “full moon”, “crimson mountains” and others.

The poems and their writers have garnered lots of attention over the years; both feature prominently in woodblock prints or are alluded to in other Japanese works of literature. Since the Edo period, they also have a connection to the New Year in the form of the karuta game.

Karuta is a game of memory, where, when hearing the first half of a poem, the players must find the card with the second half as quickly as possible. There are karuta clubs throughout the country, and therefore, the poems of the Hyakunin Isshu are known by practically every Japanese. At home, it’s usually played as a team of three people – one who reads the beginning of the poem, and two who are trying to find the other half of the card as quickly as possible.

Since 1904, there is also competitive karuta, with the main tournament being held at Omi shrine in January, and roughly 50 other tournaments being held throughout the year. In Japan, there are more than 10,000 competitive players, and the game is even considered a sport.

The Hyakunin Isshu has been translated numerous times into a number of languages. Each translation brings a new aspect to the poetry, yet, there are many hidden meanings that are not only hard to translate, but may fly over the head of the unsuspecting foreign reader. For example, would you have guessed that the “first spring greens” in the above poem (translated by Peter MacMillan) are the nanakusa – seven herbs that are gathered and eaten on January 7 for a healthy winter?

A Death in Tokyo

Keigo Higashino

On a typical evening in Tokyo, a man staggers onto Nihonbashi Bridge and collapses in front of a policeman. However, he isn’t just drunk, he had been stabbed to death. Not long afterwards, a young man called Yashima is hit by a car nearby. In his possession he has the wallet of the dead man on the bridge.

When eventually a connection between the two men is found and Yashima dies from his injuries, the police close the case. But inspector Kaga is not so easily satisfied, and when he digs deeper into the murder victim’s life, the unearths a motive tied to the man’s strong belief in justice and taking responsibility.

An enjoyable read about two good men who have to pay the ultimate price – one for sticking to his principles and the other for letting go of them in a moment of weakness. Even though I felt that the mystery element wasn’t as strong as what I have come to expect from Higashino, I liked that there was a larger team involved in the investigation. This is closer to reality than the usual lone wolf detective of fiction.

Keigo Higashino, born 1958 in Osaka, started writing while still working as an engineer for a Japanese automotive company. His first novel won the prestigious Edogawa Rampo Award for crime fiction, which led him to become a professional author. Since then, he has written more than 65 novels and 20 short story collections, many of which have won awards or have been turned into films or TV series. About 20 of his books have been translated into English.

At the end of this book, there is an unexpected moral lesson that is timeless and transcends the boundaries of culture and language. Find out what it is and get the book on amazon.

The Thief

Fuminori Nakamura

The Thief is an experienced pickpocket with hunting grounds all over Tokyo. He has honed his craft since childhood and over the years has even developed his own professional ethics: Target only wealthy people, only take the cash (and the occasional watch), drop the wallet into a mailbox after the deed.

His easy-going life is interrupted when his first partner in crime offers him a job: Simply tie up an old man and empty his safe. The Thief reluctantly agrees, and his instincts prove correct when he learns that after he had left the house, the man – a prominent politician – was brutally murdered. Now, the Thief is forced to leave Tokyo, but the person behind the murder may not be shaken off that easily.

This was an enjoyable, fast-paced read, and the unnamed Thief was easy to root for, thanks to his self-imposed moral code and his attempt to keep a poor boy from the neighborhood from following in his footsteps. As an interesting aside, the author poses the question of fate, essentially: “is our fate controlled by something outside of us, or is it our fate to be thus controlled?” While the story itself is quite straightforward, these are the questions that will keep you thinking for a while.

Fuminori Nakamura (a pseudonym) was born in 1977 in Aichi Prefecture and graduated from Fukushima University (Applied Sociology) in 2000. In 2002, his first novel won the Noma Literary Newcomer Award. Since then, he has won numerous prestigious awards for his writing – The Thief earned him the Oe Prize for example – and a number of his books were translated into other languages. Nakamura now lives in Tokyo.

The Thief was his first novel to be translated into English. However, its fairly straightforward style makes the original popular among Japanese students. Whatever language you prefer, the book is available on amazon.

Autumn Ikebana

On Friday, I went to this year’s Autumn Tanabata Exhibition of the Ikenobo school for ikebana flower arranging. This is the oldest annual exhibition of ikebana; it dates back to the Edo period and has been ongoing ever since. I have written about the history of ikebana and the Ikenobo school when I went to the spring exhibition in 2022, so I will not go into details again here.

This year, I had as a guide a friend of mine who works at the Ikenobo to show me through the exhibition and explain more of the art behind ikebana and what to look for in an arrangement. Here are a few details of what she told me.

Rikka is the oldest, most traditional style of flower arrangement and the most heavily formalized. It originated in the Muromachi era and was meant for large-scale arrangements in temples and the homes of nobles and samurai – essentially to show off their wealth and influence.

In Rikka, the goal is to create a whole landscape with a wide variety of plants; the back and top of the arrangement signifies the landscape far off, the closer and lower parts the nature nearby. Rikka is easily recognized by the round bundle the stems of the plants form in the container.

Shoka was developed in the Edo period. These arrangements are often much smaller, since they were meant for the tokonoma in the rooms of the lower class people (albeit rich ones, think merchants etc.)

A Shoka arrangement uses at most three different types of plants, they form a single line segment in the container and are best viewed from the front of the row rather than the side. Shoka is considered the most dignified style, and ideally, the flowers used encompass the past, present, and future of the seasons.

Then there is Free Style, where essentially “anything goes”. These arrangements come in all sizes and often include non-natural materials as well. Looking through the photos I took, I find myself mostly drawn to these pieces, they are very individual and often outright whimsical. Yet, the flowers should still form the focal point of the arrangement.

The goal of any arrangement in any style is that it looks as natural as possible, even if artificial means are used. We’re talking about using wires to bend stiff materials, or hand creme to prevent the tips of leaves from drying out too quickly. Some arrangements are even planned out in advance, and tree branches are cut and put together to create specific angles to fit the design. All of this is fine – as long as the end result still looks natural.

When learning ikebana in the Ikenobo school, students start out with the Free Style before moving on to Shoka and finally, Rikka. My friend explained that soft materials are easiest to use, while a Rikka arrangement that only consists of pine branches, for example, marks the height of a student’s accomplishment.

With all this information, the exhibition was much more enjoyable than the previous time. I feel I know some details to look for, even though I cannot judge the actual artistic merit of an arrangement. So far, I’ve always thought that ikebana had very strict rules to create a piece, but when starting out in Free Style, this is not necessarily true. I’m thinking it might be nice to try ikebana, but it is a very expensive hobby indeed.

Hanten

This is a hanten, a traditional Japanese jacket that originated among the common people in the 18th century. Since it is meant for winter, it is stuffed with wadded cotton for insulation. There is no difference in hanten worn by men and women, and traditionally, they may show family crests or other decorations.

I got my hanten from a friend late last winter, so it only has the tiniest of sleeves. I’ve been wearing it for a couple of weeks now and it is surprisingly warm, even though I am not heating my house yet. I doubt that this particular hanten will work throughout the entire winter though, for that it would need to fully close in front. Also, the neck area is quite unprotected; for now I’m wearing turtleneck sweaters underneath, but experience shows that I’ll need more than that when winter hits for real.

The company producing this item was founded in 1913 in Fukuoka prefecture and the whole production – from design to weaving to sewing – is done in-house. They have many versions of hanten and other traditional Japanese clothes like samue, haori or jinbei for summer, but they also produce more modern clothing. From what I can gather, they do not ship abroad (the website is Japanese only) but just window shopping for their colorful clothes is quite satisfying.

Check them out here: https://shop.miyata-orimono.co.jp/

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…

Matcha Samurai

I found a new youtube channel and it’s hilarious. Matcha Samurai seems to have lived in England for a long time but is now back in Japan and comments on the culture from an insider point of view. He does have a few longer videos, but his shorts are much more fun. Enjoy those two about dating culture in Japan:

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.