'American Stories' by Nagai Kafu (Review)

Japanese Literature Challenge 7 has just started, and to kick off my contribution, I thought I'd review a book I received quite recently, but one I'd been after for a while.  When I initially requested a copy from Columbia University Press, the hardback had gone out of print, so I was delighted when a paperback copy unexpectedly dropped through my letter-box a few months later :)  The name of the writer is probably familiar, the book perhaps less so, but it does just what it says on the cover...

*****
Nagai Kafu's American Stories (translated, and with an introduction, by Mitsuko Iriye) is a collection of short works written during the author's time overseas.  While Mori Ogai chose to pursue medical studies in Germany (and Natsume Soseki had a horrid two years studying literature in England), Nagai's coming-of-age trip to the west took him to the United States - and (naturally) he decided to write about his experiences in a country he considered to be the new capital of the world.

American Stories is a strange book in many ways though.  While at times it reflects Nagai's own experiences (similar in tone to Heinrich Böll's Irish Diary or a more literary Bill Bryson), other parts are straight fiction, short stories reflecting the people and places he came across on his travels.  What links many of the stories is the way Nagai uses frame narratives and stories within stories, perhaps hiding his own opinions within a Russian-doll structure.

There are a few common themes the writer explores in American Stories.  One is the plight of poor immigrant workers, many from the west or south of Japan, who head to America in search of a more lucrative existence.  Sadly, many of them find themselves living in cramped, dirty, Japanese quarters, and Nagai has an almost unnatural interest in penetrating the darker regions of his new home.  'Night Stroll' recounts a nocturnal visit the narrator pays to a Japanese area of New York, while in 'A Night at Seattle Harbor', he visits a seedy bar over on the other coast.  In both stories, Nagai (or an alter-ego) comes across as a casual visitor, a scientist examining creatures of interest...

"It is strange how one develops a taste for evil.  Why is it that the forbidden fruit tastes so delicious?  Prohibition adds the sweetness and transgression increases the fragrance.  As the flow of a mountain stream does not become violent unless there are rocks, so too is man incapable of discovering the excitement of crime, the pleasure of evil, unless he has conscience and morality."
'Night Stroll', p. 207 (Columbia University Press, 2013)

Nagai is well-known for his stories of Tokyo night-life, and he often covers the same ground here.  Several of his stories revolve around men bewitched by ladies of dubious morals.  In 'Long Hair', a Japanese student enters into a relationship with a woman whose marriage ended because of her infidelity, abandoning his studies and becoming her plaything.  In a sign of what might be to come for that student, a later story, 'Old Regrets', has an old professor telling the story of how his marriage ended - after confessing to an embarrassing affair with a low-class actress.

The tales of sexual tension and frustration don't end there.  Many of the Japanese men featured in the stories appear to be struggling with balancing respectability and libido in a place far from home (you do start to wonder how much of this is autobiographical...), and we eventually move from extra-marital affairs to the pleasure quarters.  There is much talk of the difference between prostitution in Japan and the US, and in 'Ladies of the Night', the Japanese reader is 'treated' to an insight, in the form of one night in a New York brothel.

Rest assured that it's not all about sex.  Nagai does a great job of exploring the continent through the eyes of a newcomer, comparing the wide-open, continental expanses with his home landscape, and marvelling at the newly-built skylines of Chicago and New York.  In one of the final stories, 'A June Night's Dream', he describes a tender, doomed love affair, a last encounter with a woman (and the country) before he has to sail off across the Atlantic...

On the whole though, the stories look at characters with ambiguous feelings towards their mother country and their adopted home.  'Daybreak', set on one night on Coney Island, sees a young Japanese man explaining to the narrator why he has run away from his responsibilities and joined, if not the circus, the carnival at least.  'January First', set during a New Year's party of ex-pat Japanese, looks at the role of women in Japanese society, one which the main protagonist compares unfavourably to that of American women.

"I rejoice each time I see a young woman taking a big bite out of a sandwich or an unpeeled apple at a spring picnic in the fields, or married women drinking champagne and chattering away at a restaurant late at night after the opera or the theater with little regard for their husbands or the other men in their group, or even more extreme examples; at least they are enjoying themselves, having fun, and are happy.  Because I never saw a mother or a wife in a happy state, such scenes are so soothing to me." 'January First', (p.141)

Translator Michiko Iriye does a good job, even if the dialogue is a little too faithful to the original at times (I would have preferred a bit more realistic, earthy dialogue considering some of the people who are talking...), but where she excels is in the introduction.  It contains a great background to Nagai's travels and an excellent explanation of the state of Japanese literature at the start of the twentieth century.  In contrasting Nagai's style with what was in fashion at the time, she allows the reader to see why these stories would have been seen as a breath of fresh air.  And perhaps still are :)

*****
I loved this collection, and I'm hoping to dip into it again from time to time, but I do have a word of caution for anyone thinking about picking it up on my recommendation.  The stories were written right at the start of the twentieth century, and a century later some of the casual racism and sexism may be startling.  There are comments about Negroes, women, sweaty meat-eating westerners and even his fellow Japanese - Nagai certainly wasn't afraid of speaking his mind.  I wouldn't let it put you off - just bear in mind that these stories were written in very different times...

'Rivalry - A Geisha's Tale' by Nagai Kafu (Review)

After a week spent in constant danger of running into molten lava, I thought that a change of pace might be nice.  Today then we're heading back to 1912 to spend a little time relaxing in the Tokyo pleasure quarter of Shimbashi, in the company of some rather accomplished women.  Is your obi tied correctly?  The rickshaws are waiting...

*****
Nagai Kafu's Rivalry - A Geisha's Tale (translated by Stephen Snyder, published by Columbia University Press) is an excellent trip through the world of the fascinating Japanese courtesans.  It begins with a chance encounter at a theatre, as Yoshioka, a successful businessman, notices a face from the past.  His conversation with the beautiful Komayo is our ticket into the hidden world of the geisha.

Komayo, formerly known as Komazo, had retired from her career as a geisha after marrying one of her clients and moving to the provinces.  However, after her husband's death, a combination of homesickness and her new family's attitude brings her back to Tokyo.  She returns to Shimbashi and the career she thought she had put behind her - and for the new girl in town, picking up again with the brash Yoshioka might just be the break she needs.

However, it's not quite as easy as all that.  Yoshioka already has a geisha dependent on him, one who is unlikely to take kindly to the idea of losing her benefactor.  In the slightly incestuous atmosphere of Shimbashi, this is always going to cause problems.  And, of course, in accepting the patronage of a wealthy man, Komayo is going to be in big trouble if she really loses her heart to another man...

Nagai was no stranger to the delights of the pleasure quarters, and some of his best writing is set in and around these areas.  He portrays a parallel society, one far removed from the conventional office and home environment, where men stray from the 'other' Tokyo in search of entertainment, companionship and (occasionally) a little more.  Shimbashi is described as a pressure valve, a place to let off a little steam:

"Yoshioka's need to experience the carnal delights of civilized society was not unlike the urge that in ancient times led men to mount their steeds and chase wild beasts across the plains, to kill them and eat their flesh; the same urge that led medieval warriors to don fine armor and shed their blood on the field of combat.  They all were simply manifestations of that pathetic, and yet seemingly limitless, human energy known as desire.  With the advance of civilization, this energy was transformed, expressing itself now as the pursuit of luxury and pleasure, or else as the will to dominate in the business world.  Fame, wealth and women - these were the driving forces in the life of the modern man."
p.70 (Columbia University Press, 2007)

I suppose, as a hobby, it beats fox hunting...

What makes the setting of Rivalry so intriguing is the gradual uncovering of a whole interdependent society.  The centres of this world are the theatres, where actors, the leading lights of the quarter, entertain the hordes of businessmen and their female companions.  Later, the audience might head off to a tea house, where they will listen to music played by their favourite geisha, or perhaps indulge in a little harmless flirting.  Behind the scenes though, there are thousands of other people dependent on this night-life: maids, rickshaw drivers, bath house attendants, kimono makers...  The more we read of Rivalry, the further we are allowed to see into this world.

Which is not to say there's no real plot to the book.  Our focus is principally on Komayo, our guide to the world of the 'water trade'.  She is both an old hand and a new face, and in her attempts to adjust to life back in the quarter, the reader is slowly inducted into the secrets of the geisha.  We see the sacrifices she makes and the unpleasant side of her profession, one which strides an unsteady path between skilled artisan and sex toy.  There is no judgement here though - Nagai is just telling it how it is...

What exactly is it he's telling us though?  Is Rivalry glorifying the geisha, à la Memoirs of a Geisha?  Is he showing the reader how the profession empowers women?  Is he lamenting a system of sexual quasi-slavery?  Erm, the answer to all those questions is probably no.  The book concentrates on description, not proscription, and it is up to the reader to make up their own mind about how palatable it all is.

In fact, Rivalry is probably not best read in an analytical way but in a historical light.  It's a book which, for its size, contains a vast array of characters, each there to describe the pleasure quarters in more detail.  The more people we meet (and the more they interact with each other), the more we see of the intricate, tangled web of relationships upon which Shimbashi rests.  The book is less about Komayo than about creating a picture of the time and place she lived in.  Don't worry though, it all makes for pleasant reading - and (unlike many J-Lit classics) this one has an ending to look forward to :)