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Japanese sake and cuisine, travel and history, literature and art, film and music by Ad Blankestijn
21 Mar
The last decade of the 35 formative years of Japanese film sees several developments: a new and more realistic type of period film, with gradually more storytelling and not only filled with sword fights (chambara); a number of fresh new actors playing nihilistic heroes; conscious art films, made by directors Murata Minoru and Kinugasa Teinosuke; and, at the end of the twenties, the birth of "everyday realism" (shomingeki) in the hands of new directors as Ozu, Mizoguchi, Naruse and Shimizu, working at Shochiku. Unfortunately, also from this period, the number of films that has been preserved intact, is still tiny. 

1920
Japan's second major film company, Shochiku, begins production. Originally, Shochiku had started out as a Kabuki production company. Like Nikkatsu, it owned theaters. It was set-up by two peanut vendors (peanuts were the equivalent of American popcorn), Shirai Matsujiro and Otani Takejiro. The company started with substantial capital to produce and distribute films. Its studio was built in Kamata, in the southern suburbs of Tokyo. From the start, it used actresses instead of onnagata. Those actresses were such a novelty that they became stars almost overnight. The most famous actress was Kurishima Sumiko. Shochiku also introduced new techniques under the guidance of former Hollywood cameraman Henry Kotani.

Nikkatsu also begins using actresses, and the onnagata vanish completely from the film world in a few years' time.

Tanizaki Junichiro, a strong advocate of film reform, writes the script for a film by former Hollywood actor Thomas Kurihara (1885-1926), "Amateur Club." It is an American-style comedy about a group of amateur Kabuki actors at the seaside.

1921
Murata Minoru (1894-1937) helms Japan's first artistic experimental work for Shochiku, the still extant Rojo no Reikon ("Souls on the Road"), partly based on Gorki's The Lower Depths. It consists of two crosscut stories: a prodigal son who returns penniless, but with wife and son; and two convicts who wander about the country seeking a place to live. The stories are united in mood and atmosphere and the film was shot on location, with endless dark roads - it shows how landscape defines character. Souls on the Road led to more films showing Japanese life as it was. It is also one of the few surviving films from the early period. The fevered crosscutting was inspired by Griffith's Intolerance, but went much further than anything in the West.

Makino Shozo directs Jiraiya with Onoe Matsunosuke, one of the stars' most popular films, and one of the very few that has survived. Onoe plays a ninja and the film contains various examples of nifty trick photography. Jiraya gives a good impression of Onoe's acting: a small man with an enormous Kabuki wig, always keeping a straight back even while jumping around, and every few seconds striking a pose, thereby halting the stylized fighting scenes. The film also highlights Makino's archaic style with his long shots and long takes with a fixed camera.

Later that year, Makino Shozo breaks with Onoe and sets up his own production company. He continues making costume dramas, but of a somewhat more modern type, both as regards contents (more geared towards adults) and style (a less fixed camera).

Nikkatsu now controls half of all 600 cinemas in Japan.
1923
Instead of the term "kyuha," the word "jidaigeki" starts being used for period film. A new type of period film, realistic and meant for adults, starts being made.

From about this time, a new type of hero also appears in period film. While Onoe Matsunosuke always played a good guy winning from the bad ones (a moralistic stance based on kabuki and kodan stories), now we get the "nihilistic hero" or "anti-hero,"  whose (first wave of) popularity would last until the early 1930s. The first nihilistic hero appears in Makino Shozo's Ukiyoe Murasaki Zukin ("The Woodcut Artist") of 1923. This type of hero is an outsider and lowly samurai or even a ronin, a masterless samurai; he is not accepted by the world and therefore lives by the sword; he is rebellious; and at the end he usually is killed in a great sword-fight.

A new generation of period drama actors appears to play this type of hero: Bando Tsumasaburo (1901-1953), Okochi Denjiro (1898-1962), Arashi Kanjuro (1903-1980), Tsukigata Ryunosuke (1902-1970), and Kataoka Chiezo (1903-1980).  In other words, the star system was in place in Japan.

Directors of this new type of realistic period film are Makino Masaharu (1908-1993, the son of Makino Shozo), Ito Daisuke (1898-1981), Inagaki Hiroshi (1905-1980) and Itami Mansaku (1900-1946).

In this period, sword-fights also become somewhat more realistic. Taking their cue from the realistic Shingeki drama (plays as Daibosatsu Toge), they become faster, fiercer and the (fake) weapons really touch the opponent (in Kabuki styled fights, that is not the case). There was also a certain influence from the fast acrobatics in American films, as those with Fairbanks.

A more realistic film, Kyoya erimise ("The Kyoya Collar Shop") by Tanaka Eizo wins critical acclaim (Nikkatsu).

1924
Seisaku no Tsuma ("Seisaku's Wife") by Murata Minoru (1894-1937) is a tragic story about a wife who blinds her husband so that he will not leave her. Technically, the film was influenced by German Expressionism. The heroine was played by one of Japan's first screen actresses, Urabe Kumeko.

1925
There are now 800 theaters in Japan.

Orochi, with Bando Tsumasaburo, and director Futagawa Buntaro (1899-1966), is known for its masterful sword-fighting scenes and melancholy mood. The film was made at Makino Productions.

1926
The film magazine Kinema Junpo starts its annual rankings. The best film for 1926 is The Woman Who Touched The Legs, followed in fourth place by Kurutta Ichipeiji.

Kurutta Ichipeiji ("A Page of Madness") by Kinugasa Teinosuke (1896-1982) is an avant-garde film about a janitor trying to free his wife from the mental hospital where she is kept. The first consciously art film made in Japan, it shows great visual brilliance and an ambiguous melding of fantasy and reality. It was lost for 50 years, but rediscovered by the director in his storehouse. The film is highly original, one of the great avant-garde silent films. Kinugasa had spent several years as an actor of female roles (oyama), and when real actresses took over, he had become director. He made his first film in 1922, the start of a long career that would last until 1966. After WWII, he won praise abroad with The Gate of Hell (Jigokumon, 1953). But with the exception of A Page of Madness and Crossroads from 1928, which were inspired by German avant-garde films as Caligari, Kinugasa manly made mildly traditional chambara films, proving how alien his experiments were in the Japanese contaxt.

Ashi ni Sawatta Onna ("The Woman Who Touched the Legs") by Abe Yutaka (1895-1977), is a - now lost - ironic comedy about  a writer's encounter with a female thief, modeled on American film - Abe had trained in Hollywood. It was twice remade. Abe was known for his witty social satires, but these have all been lost.

1927
Chuji Tabi Nikki ("A Diary of Chuji's Travels") by Ito Daisuke (1898-1981), the master of silent jidaigeki, features Okochi Denjiro as outlaw hero, a gambler, who faced with the conflicting demands of his own moral code and that of society, fights the authorities. It was a big hit with the public. Film made in 3 parts - only fragments survive. Ito's career spanned the years 1924-1970.

1928
Pro Kino ("Japan Proletarian Motion Picture League") gains support from progressive intellectuals, students and film makers.

Jujiro ("Crossroads") is another modernistic film by Kinugasa Teinosuke, about a young ronin's psychological sufferings after he has been temporarily blinded in a quarrel at the Yoshiwara over the geisha he loves. He has feverish visions of her and of the gaudy revelry at the entertainment quarter. Like A Page Out of Order, this film is also filled with hallucinations and with past and present mixed up. It was one of the first Japanese films to be be exported and win praise abroad.

Shinban Ooka Seidan ("Oka's Trial") was made by Ito Daisuke, with Okochi Denjiro as Tange Sazen. Tange Sazen is a staple in jidaigeki, a one-eyed, one-armed nihilistic super-samurai, who is bent on revenge for the injuries inflicted on him by his clan.

1929
At the Shochiku Studio in Kamata, on the outskirts of Tokyo, under studio head Kido Shiro, directors as Ozu Yasujiro (1903-1963), Mizoguchi Kenji (1898-1956), Shimizu Hiroshi (1903-1966) and Gosho Heinosuke (1902-1981) create the new film genre of "everyday realism" (shomingeki). They portray the lives of common people with humor and pathos. Shochiku is called the "actress kingdom," because of the large number of actresses working there, such as Tanaka Kinuyo.

Roningai ("Street of Masterless Samurai") by Makino Masahiro (1908-1993) was an account of a group of unemployed samurai in Edo, focusing on the tedium of daily life. About one hour of the long film survives. It was later remade. Makino Masahiro was the son of Makino Shozo and started directing at age 18 for his father's company. His career spanned the years 1926-1972. Makino mostly worked as a period film director, although he also made same socially conscious films after the war when jidaigeki were forbidden. In the 1960s, he also became associated with the ninkyo-eiga genre, films about chivalrous yakuza.

Ozu Yasujiro (1903-1963) made Wakaki Hi ("Days of Youth"), his 8th film, a comedy about student life and skiing, which is the earliest Ozu film to have survived intact. It expresses his admiration for Borzage, Lubitsch and Lloyd. Ozu was born in downtown Tokyo, but educated in Matsuzaka in Mie Prefecture and in Nagoya. He was a fiercely independent character, who never submitted to authority (unless they wanted him to do what he already wanted to do) and who found various ingenious ways to skip school and the military. When his family returned to Tokyo in 1923, he joined the recently founded Shochiku studios against the opposition of his father. He became assistant director and was, among others, trained in "nonsense" comedies, often not more than strung together gags. His debut was in 1927 with a period drama, but from 1928 on he became a comedy director.
[Based on information from: Currents In Japanese Cinema by Sato Tadao (Tokyo, 1987); The Japanese Movie by Donald Richie (Tokyo 1982); A Hundred Years of Japanese Film by Donald Richie (Tokyo, 2001); Wikipedia]
15 Mar
During this decade, trends from the previous period are continued and intensified. More film companies are established, including the modern Shochiku which uses actresses instead of female impersonators, and "Shimpa" films on modern subjects come into their own besides the "Kyuha" period pieces - programs typically consist of a double bill containing one of each. But despite attempts at reform, the level of Japanese films remains low, an amusement for children and the lower classes. Intellectuals invariably prefer Western films, which are imported in great quantities. Almost all Japanese feature films from this period have been lost.

1910
Makino Shozo directs his first version of Chushingura ("The Loyal 47 Ronin") with Onoe Matsunosuke.

1912
The first major film company, Nikkatsu (Nippon Katsudo Shashin), is established by consolidating several companies under its trust (some of which were started in 1909), and the Japanese film industry begins mass production. The first Nikkatsu studio is in Mukojima, in eastern Tokyo. Period dramas were made in Kyoto. Both Makino Shozo and Onoe Matsunosuke transferred to Nikkatsu, bringing the new company commercial success.

In these early years, no copies were made of films. The original was the only copy and it was used up until it was gone. Therefore, there are extremely few early films left. Those that are left, are invariably in a bad condition.

Although intellectuals would see Western films, at this time Japanese films were mostly made with the lower classes and "snotty-nosed kids" as an audience. Gangsters were heavily involved in both the studios and the running of the theaters.

1913
Makino's The Loyal Forty-seven Ronin is typical of the films made in this period: the cuts are very long, the camera position never shifts, and the star, Onoe Matsunosuke, plays directly into the lens during emotional scenes.

1914
The Japanese film Katusha, based on Tolstoy's Resurrection, draws large audiences. Despite the fact that this film is based on Shingeki, the Japanese version of Western theater, the heroine was played by the onnagata Tachibana Teijiro. Costumes and settings, however, were Russian.

Nikkatsu starts making 14 films a month. Individual films now have an average length of 40 minutes. Another studio, Tenkatsu, is formed as a rival to Nikkatsu (but it only survives until 1919). Tenkatsu was more modern, but Nikkatsu continued to control most theaters, as owners were satisfied with its "double bills:" one Kyuha film, and one Shimpa film.

In October, the film magazine Kinema Record is started to support the Pure Film Movement, pleading for reform in Japanese film (the magazine folds in 1917, but its function is taken over by other magazines as Kinema Junpo).

1915
Foreign films start to be imported in large numbers.

1916
Intellectuals prefer foreign to Japanese films. The latter mainly attract the common people. The Italian historical drama Cabiria is a big hit.

1917
Makino Shozo makes another version of The Loyal Forty-Seven Ronin. This time he uses a script, reframing pans and matching cuts. In other words, advanced planning is born and films grow more sophisticated.

There is a call among critics for a broader use of cinematic techniques. The Living Corpse by Tanaka Eizo (1886-1968), another Tolstoy adaptation, for the first time uses close-ups and flash-backs. The same is true of another film made this year, The Captain's Daughter by Inoue Masao. Both films put emphasis on having good scripts. But such films could only be made by pretending they were meant for export, and they were shown in theaters used for foreign films.

For the first time, Nikkatsu and Tenkatsu overtake foreign companies as the main source of income for Japanese screens (probably also due to the war in Europe).

1918
Kaeriyama Norimasa (1893-1964) makes two experimental - and now lost - films ("The Glow of Life" and "Maid of the Deep Mountains") in order to try to bring some reform to the custom of using benshi and onnagata. The onnagata would disappear in a few year's time, but the benshi would hold out until the mid 1930s - but they agreed to limit their number to one benshi per film, in order to increase the tempo.

Charlie Chaplin's films become very popular.

1919
Griffith's Intolerance and Chaplin's A Dog's Life are hits. Due to WWI, European films have stopped being produced and their place is taken by American films.

Film magazine Kinema Junpo starts publication in July. Founded by a group of students who support the Pure Film Movement, it pleads for more modern cinematic methods in Japanese film making.

Based on information from: Currents In Japanese Cinema by Sato Tadao (Tokyo, 1987); The Japanese Movie by Donald Richie (Tokyo 1982); A Hundred Years of Japanese Film by Donald Richie (Tokyo, 2001); Wikipedia]
8 Mar
Rashomon was the great international breakthrough film for Japanese cinema, winning the Golden Lion at the Venice Film Festival in 1951, and an Academy Honorary Award at the 24th Academy Awards in 1952. The film caused great excitement among Western film scholars, critics and directors; it received heaps of praise and also became a source of inspiration. It also helped establish Kurosawa's name as an important authorial director, both in and outside Japan, and established Mifune Toshiro as a commanding new star.

The film starts with a frame story. While they are sheltering from the rain under the eaves of the dilapidated Rashomon Gate forming the southern entrance to Kyoto, about one thousand years ago, a woodcutter (Takashi Shimura) and priest tell the story of a rape and murder to a peasant they meet there (the woodcutter and the priest have been present at the trial as witnesses).

When traveling through a forest near Kyoto, a noblewomen (Machiko Kyo) was raped, her samurai husband (Masayuki Mori) killed, and a robber named Tajomaru (Toshiro Mifune) arrested for the crime. Rashomon relates through flashbacks four versions of the crime, as told by Tajomaru, the woman, the dead samurai (a medium is used to let his spirit speak) and the woodcutter, who discovered the crime and as now comes out, was also an unseen witness (although he kept that secret at the trial as he didn't want to get involved).

It is impossible to reconcile the four narratives and the film leaves the viewer with the ambiguity of the situation. There simply is no way of knowing who is telling the truth. At the basis of this problem is human pride, or in Japanese cultural terms, "Face," which also encompasses a person's identity. As Kurosawa remarked: "Human beings are unable to be honest with themselves about themselves. They cannot talk about themselves without embellishing."

The robber confesses the rape but maintains he killed the samurai in an honest and fair duel with swords, presenting the image of a "noble robber." The noblewoman stresses that after she had been raped, the look of loathing on her husband's face drove her almost to madness, and in a fit she planted her dagger in his breast, presenting an image of a rightful lady. The dead samurai - lying from beyond the grave - tells that his wife after she had been raped, wanted to join the robber and even asked for the death of her husband - out of mortification, the husband later committed suicide with a dagger (suicide is more honorable than being murdered). The woodcutter (who at the trial claimed he only found the body of the samurai but did not witness the crime) now tells he saw the crime after all: it was a duel between the robber and the samurai, but they were both fearful and it was a sorry fight, won by the robber through a stroke of luck. The samurai even begged for his life before being killed, the woodcutter maintains. The noblewoman had fled in terror. The woodcutter finally steals the samurai's sword. He shows the perspective of a common man, but also his story is doubtful, as he kept it from the court at the trial.


Rashomon is now generally considered one of the greatest films ever made. Here are the reasons this film is special:

Visual technique: This wonderful film tells large parts of its story with only the camera, harking back to the silent cinema of Murnau and Eisenstein, and inspiring, for example, Bergman in his Virgin Spring. Especially the long shots where the camera follows the woodcutter or robber, running trough the forest, are impressive. Interesting is also the trial, where the accused and the witnesses face the viewer, who thereby becomes the judge (in fact the magistrate, as there were no specialized judges in ancient Japan) we never see. The robber and the witnesses give their testimony from the courtyard of the magistrate's mansion, where they kneel on the white gravel. The magistrate would sit on the raised veranda, so higher than the accused, but in the film the camera has been placed on the same level for more effect. "Rashomon-effect:" The same set of events is recalled in strikingly different terms by a group of characters - this phenomenon, which points at the cultural notion of the relativity of truth, was made well-known through the present film, although it was in turn based on a short story from 1922 by Akutagawa ("In the Grove"). This idea fit the existential despair over the instability of truth and value going strong in the Europe of the 1950s (think of Sartre and Camus). In a wider sense, Rashomon reflects on more general philosophical questions, such as loss of faith in human beings, the human propensity to lie, pride and egoism, and the world as hell.  Acting: Over the top performances as in silent film and the traditional Kabuki theater work well in combination with the long silent passages. Especially the big laughs Mifune lets roll from his chest reminded me of the Kabuki. The miko (female medium) who summons the spirit of the dead samurai is also very effective, speaking very uncannily with a low male voice.Symbolism: Not only does the dilapidated and disused Rashomon Gate serve as a symbol for the chaotic times, in which authority has been crumbling, the heavy rains (obtained by hosing water mixed with black ink) also represent the turmoil of the age (and of our own time as well!), while perhaps also having a cleansing effect - at the end, the crime has been washed away and a humane gesture has become possible. And, even more than gate and weather, the shifting light and shadow with the sun shining through the dense leaves in the forest (obtained by using mirrors to reflect the light) expresses the continuous shifting of the truth. At the end of the film, a baby is found, discarded under the eaves of the gate. The peasant reveals his real character by stealing the clothes of the child and running off. But the woodcutter, who has already five kids, decides to bring up the baby as his own. This is the glimmer of hope in human nature with which the film ends.


6 Mar
In these initial years movies were more a rough fairground amusement than serious entertainment. Most films shown were shorts imported from the West. About 15 years lie between the first import of film machines to the establishment of the first Japanese film company. At the end of the first decade of the 20th century, also the first native director came up, who discovered and promoted the first native star. Japanese films at this time were mostly period films full of fighting scenes in Kabuki-style. Two tendencies typical for Japanese film also started in this early period: the use of the benshi-narrator (until the mid-1930s) and the use of oyama-female impersonators (until about 1920). As far as I know, no complete feature films have been preserved from this period. In fact, for the whole period until 1945, during which tens of thousands of films were produced in Japan, only about 300 are extant; besides that we have a few hundreds of fragments.  

1896
Edison's Kinetoscope is imported. This was not a film projector, but rather a "peep-show machine." Films had to be viewed individually through the window of a cabinet. The machine was in fact developed by Edison's employee William Dickson, although the concept came from the famous inventor.


1897
The Lumière Brother's Cinématographe and Edison's Vitascope are imported. A cinematograph is a film camera, which also serves as a film projector and developer. The Lumière brothers shared the patent and made their first film, Sortie de l'usine Lumière de Lyon, in 1894. It was introduced in Osaka during what was Japan's first public film screening and showed twenty films with images from New York, France, England etc. The Vitascope was an early film projector which cast images via film and electric light onto a wall or screen. It showed images of a flood and a collision at sea.

In Japan, films were shown with a narrator (benshi), a system that continued until talkies replaced silent movies in the mid-1930s. Benshi not only read the inter-titles and voiced all on-screen characters, they also added their own commentary, explaining what was happening in the film. Like in the West, films were also accompanied by live music, usually a mixture of Japanese and Western styles.

1899
The first Japanese films are shot. Performances by the two famous Kabuki actors Ichikawa Danjuro IX and Onoe Kikugoro V in Maple Viewing ("Momijigari") are recorded on film, and this is the oldest extant Japanese film. It was made by Shibata Tsunekichi of the newly formed photographic department of the Mitsukoshi Department Store in Tokyo. The film was shot outdoors, at the back of the Kabuki Theater. Danjuro was originally opposed to appearing in something as lowly as films, but was eventually convinced that his doing so would be a "gift to posterity." The film was shown in private to Danjuro, giving rise to the remark: "It is terribly strange to be able to see my own dance." It was finally shown to the public in 1903, when illness prevented Danjuro from performing in Osaka and he sent the film instead. It proved very popular. Also in 1899, Japan's first documentary was shot, a short film of a geisha dance.


1903
The first permanent movie theater is built in Tokyo.

1904
Newsreels of the Russo-Japanese War prove popular.

1907
Osaka's first permanent movie theater is built.

The fist version ever of the eternally popular Kabuki classic Chushingura ("The Loyal Forty-Seven Ronin") is made.

1908
A Kyoto Kabuki manager, Makino Shono (1878-1929), begins making period drama movies with Kabuki actors. This pioneering director of Japanese film, started his influential career with Honnoji gassen ("Battle at Honnoji Temple"), produced for the studio Yokota Shokai. Makino Shozo has rightly been called the "Father of Japanese Period Film (jidaigeki)."


Early Japanese film was heavily influenced by Kabuki, both in its style, mannerism and subject matter, as in the fact that all roles were played by men: films copied the custom of working with onnagata (also called oyama), who were very skilled in acting femininity, until close-ups started showing their Adam's apples to disadvantage. Oyama disappeared from film in the early 1920s.
Also, at this early period the camera position was fixed (the viewpoint of the ideal spectator at a play - this was also initially the case in the West) and there were no scripts, the director just shouted some instructions to the actors, who then did their thing as they saw fit. 
1909
Makino Shozo also was the discoverer of Onoe Matsunosuke (1875-1926), Japan's first movie superstar, who initially worked as an itinerant Kabuki actor. Between 1909 and 1926, Onoe appeared in over 1,000 films, mostly shorts. His debut film in 1909 was Makino Shozo's Goban Tadanobu. Onoe specialized in playing heroic warrior roles. He used his eyes for their expressiveness, earning him the nickname "Medama no Matchan" ("Eyeballs" Matsu). Onoe was especially popular among children, who took to imitating his ninja performances in their games. One of his most popular films was Jiraiya (1921). The most important part of these period films was the sword fight, called tate or tachimawari. In Onoe's films, the fighting scenes are as in Kabuki: heavily stylized, but that was what spectators were used to and what they wanted.


This year, too, the first feature film based on a modern subject is made: Onoga Tsumi ("My Sin"). This is the beginning of a new genre besides period drama: sentimental contemporary drama based on modern plays. Period drama was called Kyuha ("Old School"), this new genre Shimpa ("New School"). Although Shimpa films used colloquial language and contemporary settings, with an acted performance versus the stylized movements in Kabuki (and Kyuha films), it still retained some old elements, such as the use of onnagata (males in female roles).
[Reference works used: Currents In Japanese Cinema by Sato Tadao (Tokyo, 1987); The Japanese Movie by Donald Richie (Tokyo, 1982); A Hundred Years of Japanese Film by Donald Richie (Tokyo, 2001); Japanese Film Directors by Audrie Bock (Tokyo, 1985); A Critical Handbook of Japanese Film Directors by Alexander Jacoby (Berkeley, 2008); Wikipedia]
1 Jan
2015 is the Year of the Sheep. The sheep or goat is the eight symbolic animal of the East-Asian zodiac.

Years of the Sheep are 2015, 2003, 1991, 1979, 1967, 1955, 1943, 1931, 1919, 1907... etc.

The Year of the Sheep
In China the goat may have been the original zodiacal animal, but in Japan this sign of the zodiac is called hitsuji, sheep (goat is yagi). But it is still a cultural import from China, for neither sheep not goats used to be very numerous in Japan, and in art before the Meiji-period they are virtually absent, too. Japanese paintings of these animals are usually copied from Chinese originals. The extreme scarcity of sheep and goats may be due to the fact that there are no grasslands in Japan - except in Hokkaido where one does find sheep today, but that is again a modern phenomenon.

People born in the Year of the Sheep are said to be elegant and highly accomplished in the arts. They are also considered to be passionate in whatever they do.

I wish you a very cultural year!

12 Dec
The Temple of the Golden Pavilion (in Japanese Kinkakuji) is a novel about beauty so perfect that its becomes unbearable and has to be destroyed.

The novel, written in 1956 by Mishima Yukio, is based on a real event. On July 2, 1950, at 2:30 a.m. the Golden Pavilion of Kinkakuji Temple (official name: Rokuonji) in northwestern Kyoto was torched by a 22-year-old novice monk, Hayashi Yoken, who then attempted suicide on the hill behind the temple. He survived and was arrested. Later he was sentenced to seven years in prison, showing no contrition, but released because of mental illness (schizophrenia); he died of tuberculosis in 1956. The pavilion was a wonder of architecture, a marvelous wooden, three-storied structure, a national monument that many times through history had been spared destruction. It now burned to the ground, with the statues inside, and the loss of the precious, seven-centuries old architecture severely shocked Japan and the world.

Kinkakuji, Winter 2007[The new Golden Pavilion in light snow (2007) - photo Ad Blankestijn]
Of course, today the Golden Pavilion is again one of the top tourist attractions of Kyoto, but what all those tourist throngs don't know is that they are looking at a copy, a reconstruction vintage 1955. The present Golden pavilion looks even better than the real one, for while the old one was just a bare wooden structure without any gold on its outside walls, the new one has in the late 1980s - Japan's nouveau-riche period - been covered in an obscenely thick layer of gold. Yes, it looks good on photos, especially after it has been powdered by a thin layer of snow, but it is not the original national treasure anymore. And it is debatable whether the original pavilion really was ever covered in gold on the outside of the whole building, instead, as was usual, only on the inside.

Mishima regularly based his novels on real events - another example is After the Banquet, about machinations in the political world, based on the lives of the proprietress of a famous traditional restaurant and a well-known politician (who in fact successfully sued Mishima for violation of his privacy). Also for the present novel Mishima carefully studied the reports of the case, including the transcripts of the trial. But of course Mishima was a writer, not a journalist, so he changed events and characters to obtain an artistically satisfying story. The resulting novel is an imaginative reconstruction of the pathology of the perpetrator.

[The original Golden Pavilion in 1886 - isn't it without gold much more beautiful than the "new" one? - Photo Wikimedia]
In the novel, the arsonist-acolyte is called Mizoguchi, a person afflicted with an ugly face and a stutter, who from his youth has been so obsessed with the beauty of the Golden Pavilion (possibly as a symbol for the whole of Japanese traditional culture) that he gradually - especially after the war has been lost - starts feeling the urge to destroy it. His character defect has made him jealous of beauty, in his view true beauty is something that overpowers and finally destroys. He is prodded on by his friend and "bad angel" Kashiwagi, a cynic, who has a club-foot, and likes to hold long "philosophical" digressions.

Already during his childhood, on the coast of the Japan Sea in Maizuru, Mizoguchi was assured by his country-priest father that the Golden Pavilion was the most beautiful thing on earth. But he is a friendless, stammering boy, who seeks compensation for his weakness in vengeful fantasies. At the height of the war, in 1944, his fate is sealed when he becomes a novice at the Rinzai Zen temple Rokuonji that in 1397 was set up to control the Golden Pavilion. At that time, it is almost deserted, as most monks have been drafted into the army. When American planes are destroying one Japanese city after another with their terrible firebombings (which took many more lives than the atomic bombs), Mizoguchi has an ecstatic vision that also the Golden Pavilion will be burnt to ashes. Unfortunately for him, the Americans have the decency to spare the cultural capital, Kyoto, and the war ends in bitter disappointment for Mizoguchi. There is the suggestion that he later destroys the Golden Pavilion because it survived the war.

[The Golden Pavilion after arson - photo Wikimedia]
The Pavilion has such a huge hold over Mizoguchi that it even makes him impotent - Kashiwagi (who is as little popular with women as Mizoguchi) has taught him a trick how to seduce women by making them feel sorry for him, but when Mizoguchi successfully puts this advice into practice, and is about to embrace his girlfriend, his mind is so filled with the image of the Golden Pavilion that his desire is blocked. It is as though the temple is shutting off Mizoguchi's access to the normal world. The Golden Pavilion in all its arrogance becomes his mortal enemy. And after Mizoguchi has finally set fire to the Pavilion, he feels properly relieved - instead of trying to commit suicide as the real arsonist did, he sits down on the hill above the temple and lights a cigarette, enjoying the view of the blaze.

Japanese tradition fares badly in this novel. The tea ceremony, flower arrangement and garden viewing - and not to forget Zen Buddhism - provide occasions for acts of sadism, arson and treachery. Beautiful traditional symbols are deliberately contrasted with the ugliest of actions and placed in a world of lost ethics and perverted values. The abbot of Kinkakuji Temple is caught by Mizoguchi when he secretly visits a geisha. At a tea ceremony, a woman who is taking leave of her lover who has been called into battle, squirts milk from her breast into the man's traditional tea bowl. An American soldier walking in the garden of the Golden Pavilion with his pregnant Japanese girlfriend, tempts Mizoguchi into kicking her in the belly, so that she has a miscarriage. The novel, a study in evil, has therefore been called "an expression of postwar nihilism." But the novel can also be understood from Mishima's (anti-) aesthetics: the Golden Pavilion simply is too beautiful, it has to be robbed of its arrogance and power. Mizoguchi - and also Mishima - seems to feel that he will only become free through its destruction.

***

[Mishima Yukio in 1956 - Photo from Wikipedia]
Mishima Yukio (Hiraoka Kimitake, 1925-1970) was one the major twentieth century Japanese authors, and also one of the most problematical. Highly talented, Mishima started writing at the end of the war and at high speed produced many acclaimed novels, short stories and literary essays, as well as modern plays for the Kabuki and Noh theater. He was originally inspired by such Western authors as Wilde, Rilke and Mauriac. His breakthrough novel, written at age 24, was Confessions of a Mask, about a young homosexual who must hide behind a mask in order to fit into society. This novel also introduced Mishima's masochistic fantasies, as well as his preoccupation with the beauty and decline of the (male) body, themes which recur in his later work as well. Many of his later short stories and novels deal with the themes of suicide and violent death. That preoccupation also influenced his extra-literary activities, as he for example posed in photographs of "St Sebastian shot through with arrows" (showing off his bodybuilding) or acted a doomed yakuza in a 1960s film, or played the officer who commits (a rather distasteful) seppuku in the film version of his own story Patriotism.

Mishima, who spoke fluent English, in the 1950-1960s befriended several American and British Japanologists in Tokyo, who later became translators of his novels, so the ratio of his work that was translated was higher than was the case with contemporaries. Other famous works are, for example, After the Banquet (1960), The Sailor Who Fell From Grace With The Sea (1963), Death in Midsummer (1963), and the Sea of Fertility tetralogy (1965-70). In the late 1960s, Mishima was several times nominated for the Nobel Prize, but he was passed over due to the extreme right-wing ideas and activities he had developed by that time (including a private militia of 100 radical youths). The Nobel Prize, rightly, went to Kawabata Yasunari in 1968.

While interest in his work declined in Japan in the course of the 1960s, Mishima gradually conceived a chaotic, extreme right-wing ideology, becoming an adherent of his own brand of bushido. That ideology formed the background for the terrorist attack with his militia on the head-quarters of the Self-Defense forces in Tokyo, on November 25, 1970. They took the commandant hostage and Mishima held a speech for the soldiers at the base, from the HQ balcony (giving occasion to an all-too famous press photo), trying to incite them to a coup d'état, and revive the ghosts of the nationalistic past that had been happily laid to rest in 1945. But the soldiers kept their heads cool and only laughed and jeered at Mishima, after which he went inside and committed ritual suicide (the seppuku was botched, so Mishima died a most painful death). In the view of most Japanese at the time, Mishima's deed was just as schizophrenic as the torching of the Golden Pavilion.

The English translation is by Ivan Morris and dates from 1959 (Vintage International).
7 Dec
Although lying next to the much trodden Philosopher's Path (Tetsugaku no Michi) at the foot of the Higashiyama range in Shishigatani in Kyoto, Kounji is only open a few weeks each year and therefore happily free from tourist throngs. I had previously caught glimpses of its garden and also marveled at its huge tiled roof just below me when walking along the Philosopher's Path.

Kounji Temple, Kyoto[Kounji Temple, Kyoto]
The temple in fact belongs to Nanzenji (as a outside subtemple), but originally came from Osaka where it was presumably founded in 1280 by Daimin Kokushi, the founder of Nanzenji. After it fell into disrepair due to various wars, in 1664 it was rebuilt and revived on the present site by the 280th abbot of Nanzenji, Eichu. The present main hall and belfry still date from that period, but most other buildings and land were lost in the mists of modern history.

Kounji was in fact re-established in 1664 as the family temple of Tofukumonin (Tokugawa Masako, 1607-1678), the daughter of the second Tokugawa shogun Hidetada and consort of Emperor Gomizunoo. She was the mother of Empress Meisho (reigned from 1629-1643), the seventh out of only eight women to occupy the Chrysanthemum Throne. Empress Meisho dedicated the above mentioned belfry to the temple. Tofukumonin was an important patron of the arts and used her wealth to help restore many temples and other significant buildings that had been damaged or destroyed during the centuries of internal wars that had ended with the peace of the Tokugawas.

Kounji Temple, Kyoto[Garden of Kounji Temple]
The main image of the temple is a serene Shaka statue with two disciples. There is also a very fine Sho Kannon statue that used to be the object of personal devotions of Tofukumonin. The high and spacious main hall also houses a statue of Tofukumonin herself, clad in imperial robes and with a golden crown on her head.

Kounji Temple, Kyoto[Stepping stones - Garden of Kounji Temple]
The small but exquisite garden of Kounji already existed in the 18th century, as it is mentioned in travelogues of that period, but it only took its present shape under the hands of the famous modern garden master Ogawa Jihei VII (Ueji; 1860-1933). Ogawa Jihei was also responsible for the gardens of the Heian Shrine, the Murinan Garden and Maruyama Park, where he worked with water as he did in Kounji. He restored the Kounji garden in 1927. It is a pond stroll garden with the Higashiyama hills as borrowed scenery (visitors have to view the garden from the temple, it is not possible to enter it; but as it is quite small, that is in fact a wise arrangement).

Kounji serves as the Nanzenji Zen Center and also offers Zazen sessions (English website of the head priest, Tanaka Kanju). Kounji lies just west of the southern end of the Philosopher's Path, not far from the Eikando Temple. It is only open to general visitors for a few weeks in autumn, at the end of November.
2 Dec
The twelfth month is traditionally called Shiwasu. This name is often explained as "Buddhist priests (shi) busily running around (hasu, wasu) to hold year-end Buddhist services in people's houses" - something which etymologically doesn't sound very convincing, but there seems to be no better explanation for the poetical name of the twelfth month. It is the season that the trees shed their leaves (ochiba), although - depending on the weather - the momiji can still be beautiful in early December. But winter inexorably deepens and the sunlight becomes weaker - although never as weak as in my native north-western Europe where it can remain almost dark the whole day. There are more winter showers and a cold north wind starts blowing.

One of the seasonal points is called Daisetsu, Great Snow, around the 7th or 8th of December, when winter is deemed to be starting in earnest. Fifteen days later, on the 22nd or 23rd of December falls Toji, the winter solstice, with the shortest day time and longest night time of the year. There is an old belief that taking a bath with yuzu citrus floating in it (yuzu-yu) will help one stay healthy through the cold winter. Another winter solstice custom is to eat kabocha squash.

Yuzu[Yuzu]
After November with its enjoyment of nature by way of viewing the gorgeous autumn colors, December is a rather colorless and above all busy month. The 13th of December is called Kotohajime, the Start of Preparations for the New Year, a custom originating in Edo Castle in the Edo period. The first thing to do is housecleaning (soji), not only in order to start the new year with a spic-and-span dwelling, but also as a sort of ritual cleansing of the evil that may have accumulated in the house during the year. At Nishihonganji Temple in Kyoto, Buddhist priests clean the dust away in the huge temple on December 20 in a ritual called Susuharai.

People may also be busy buying and sending out Seibo or Year-End Gifts. Oseibo are given to persons who have supported one personally or professionally during the past year and are generally of a higher value than the summer gifts (Ochugen). Usually expensive food items are bought, of course nicely packaged - many companies devise special gift sets for Oseibo. The busiest time of Oseibo shopping is from early through mid-December when the winter bonus is paid to workers of companies and government agencies.

In December, people are also kept busy with Bonenkai or Year-End Parties. These are held with colleagues or friends to forget the hardships of the past year, to thank each other and ask for continued support in the new year. Depending on the size of one's social network, some people have to attend many of these parties and as the drinking is usually quite heavy, there are a lot of people suffering from head-aches during the daytime.

Kadomatsu[Kadomatsu]
At the end of December, but before the 28th, the New Year Decorations such as Kadomatsu have to be put up by the entrance to welcome the God of the New Year (Toshigami). This has to be done early so that the deity can be welcomed in a relaxed way. Kadomatsu are placed in pairs on both sides of entrances to homes, shops, offices, etc. These consist of three diagonally cut bamboo poles of varying length, symbolizing strength and growth, and pine branches which symbolize long life, bound with a newly woven straw rope and sitting on a straw mat at the bottom. As these are very expensive, ordinary homes instead may only put up Shimekazari: a small rope made from rice straw (shimenawa), with zigzag-shaped paper strips called shide, small pine branches and a citrus fruit as the daidai to add color - these are hung above doorways, both inside and outside the house, and serve to keep bad spirits away.

Also around the 28th of December (the exact date can become earlier when it happens to be in a weekend) falls Goyo Osame, "Concluding the Year's Work," by the employees of public organizations and government agencies. In companies, this is called shigoto osame. The work of the year is formally completed, so that one can make a fresh start in the new year.

Kera-mairi, Yasaka Shrine, Kyoto[Kera-mairi - lighting the rope with the sacred fire]
Then comes December 31 or New Year's Eve, in Japan called Omisoka. People stay up late and many visit a shrine or temple at midnight to make an auspicious start of the new year. One way to spend the long evening is to watch Kohaku Utagassen, the Red vs. White Song Competition, which is broadcast live by NHK since 1951.  In the four hour long show a red (female) and white (male) team each consisting of about 25 of the most popular artists of the year compete in acts that are often the highlights of a singer's career. New Year's Eve is also the time to eat Toshikoshi Soba, buckwheat noodles, something which originally started as a simple and quick dish for merchants who were still busy settling their books on this day, but which now continues because of the expression "to live long like a soba noodle." Finally, at midnight on New Year's Eve, temple bells are rung 108 times to eliminate the 108 delusions and false attachments to which human beings are subject. This is called Joya no kane. There are many temples where visitors can join in ringing the bell. A nice custom exists in the Yasaka Shrine in Kyoto, where on New Year's Eve watch fires and toro lanterns are lit using the roots of a medicinal herb called Okera, which is believed to help cast away evil influences from the past year. This festival is called Okera-Mairi. In the past, visitors, used to take back embers from this fire to prepare the ozoni for New Year. Nowadays, visitors can buy a bamboo rope and kindle this symbolically with the herbal root fire. You have to keep swinging the rope to keep the fuse burning, and it is a nice sight to see people walking in the darkness with those small red flames - although it is now impractical to take these ropes home.

There are several other festivals in December. One, also in Kyoto, is the Kyoto Minamiza Kichirei Kaomise, or the annual Appearance of the All-Star Cast of Kabuki at the Minamiza Theater. It is a stage for actors from east and west Japan to meet each other and also a greeting by the cast to the audience, asking for their continued patronage.

December is also the month of Chushingura or the story of the Forty-seven Ronin. This tale of feudal loyalty, based on a historical incident, has inspired countless media, from kabuki and bunraku to film, theater, novels and manga. The Forty-seven Ronin refers to the 47 loyal retainers of Lord Asano of the Ako clan, led by Oishi Kuranosuke. As their revenge on Asano's rival, Kira Yoshinao, took place on a snowy night on December 14, this has become the day of the Gishisai or Festival of the Loyal Retainers at Sengakuji Temple in Tokyo - Sengakuji is the temple where they and (some years earlier) Lord Asano himself were buried after committing seppuku. On December 14, many people visit their graves and also come to watch a parade of persons dressed up as these 47 loyal retainers. (in Ako in Hyogo Prefecture, the location of the castle of Lord Asano, a similar parade is held on the same date - see my post about Ako).

Sensoji, Tokyo (Hagoita Fair)[Hagoita Market, Sensoji, Tokyo]
A more bright event are the Hagoita Markets (Hagoita Ichi) held throughout Japan from mid-December. A hagoita is a paddle used in the game called hanetsuki, a sort of badminton which in the past was a popular pastime at New Year. However, the hagoita sold at these markets today are purely ornamental - they are beautifully decorated with pasted pictures of Kabuki heroes, geisha, film/TV stars and anime characters. By far the largest and most famous Hagoita Market is held in the Sensoji Temple in Tokyo from Dec. 17 through 19.

The flower of December is the tsubaki (sancha) or camellia, an evergreen shrub with flowers that range from white via pink to deep red. Depending on the sort, tsubaki can bloom either in winter or in spring. The winter type starts blooming in October, keeps blooming during winter, and looses it flowers in spring. The flower is indigenous in China and Japan and was brought to Europe by the German botanist Engelbert Kaempfer, who called them "Japan Roses." In the 19th century it was a popular luxury flower in Europe, as appears from Dumas' La Dame aux camélias.

Tsubaki[Tsubaki]
A popular fruit of December is the yuzu, which was already mentioned above. Winter is also the time that enormous amounts of mikan, Japanese mandarins, are consumed. Typical vegetables of December are shungiku (kikuna), edible chrysanthemum leaves, which add a bitter note to stews and one-pot dishes, and of course the versatile daikon or giant white radish that is eaten boiled in various dishes. Several temples and shrines in Kyoto have days that they serve daikon-daki, boiled slices of daikon, often with abura-age, for example Daihoonji (also called Senbon Shakado, Dec. 7 & 8) or Ryotokuji (Dec. 9 & 10).

A popular fish of December, finally, is buri or yellowtail, This is an auspicious fish that has its name changed as it grows from infant to adult as though it were given a "promotion." It is also a must for the New year dinner in West Japan, and often used as a year-end gift.

30 Nov
Shishigatani is the area between the small Shirakawa River and the thickly wooded slopes of Higashiyama, just south of Ginkakuji. For centuries this shallow valley was farmer's land, interrupted only occasionally by a small temple or a country villa. But then, after WWII, the city started expanding and a wave of stucco houses swept also over Shishigatani. But with the Philosopher's path and the little, almost hidden temples - and despite the unpleasant rise in numbers of tourists - Shishigatani is still one of my favorite Kyoto haunts.

Reikanji Temple, Shishigatani, Kyoto[Reikanji temple halls on the hill slope]
Reikanji and Anrakuji both form part of this string of secluded, little temples that cling to the hillside where the slope of Higashiyama begins to get steep. They are usually closed and only open to visitors for a few weeks in spring and autumn.

***
Reikanji or "Sacred Mirror Temple" is a nunnery of the Rinzai school of Zen. It was established in 1654 for the 10th daughter of the retired Emperor Gomuzinoo, Johosshinin no Miya Socho. The new temple took over as main image the Nyoirin Kannon statue (as well as sacred mirror) of a temple in the area that had been closed.

Until the Meiji Restoration, Reikanji served as a monzeki monastery that always had an imperial princess for its abbess. The Shoin, the first building one passes, possesses screens by Kano Motonobu. Opposite is a small moss-covered rock garden with old stone lanterns and a pond which used to contain water, but now stands dry. On a somewhat higher level and connected via a corridor, stands the main hall housing the small Kannon statue.

Reikanji Temple, Shishigatani, Kyoto[Maple leaves at Reikanji]
The garden spreads out over the hill and the one-way path leads first steeply up, and later again down, through flowering bushes and trees. The flowering trees in the northern part of the garden include red and white camellias, plums and cherries. It is a fine, though small, garden. One exits via a path that leads under the corridor between the two temple buildings and finally can enter the Shoin, where usually some treasures of the temple are exhibited. These include fine makie lacquer work, and infallibly one also finds some of the marvelous dolls the princesses owned (like the Imperial nuns of Hokyoji). The temple is only open to visitors for a few weeks in spring (early April), when the cherry trees are in full bloom, and autumn (late November) when the maple trees are on fire.

***
Anrakuji is a Jodo (Pure Land) temple that legend has firmly linked to Honen (1133-1212), the founder of that school, and two of his disciples, Anraku and Juren. It was probably founded around 1211-1212, to the memory of both these priests, although it was only named after one of them. It stands about one kilometer from the spot where Anraku and Juren had set up their cottage called "Shishigatani Soan." Both priests were experts in shomyo, Buddhist chanting, and their beautiful singsong had attracted many followers. Among them were also two court ladies of Emperor Gotoba, Matsumushi-hime (Pine Beetle) and Suzumushi-hime (Bell Cricket). They were so entranced by the teachings of the musical priests that they fled the palace and became nuns. Legend adds as spicy elements that the Emperor was especially fond of them and that the other palace ladies had become extremely jealous.

Anrakuji Temple, Shishigatani, Kyoto[Main Hall of Anrakuji]
So the rumor machine worked at full speed, suggesting that the intentions of Anraku and Juren were not honorable. The handsome priests were accused of having a love affair with the beautiful palace ladies. As a result, Emperor Gotoba - who had already for a long time been pronged by the traditional schools to put a stop to the teachings of Honen - became furious and exiled the aged Honen. Anraku and Juren were hit by a harder fate, for they were executed on the bank of the Kamo River on a charge of immorality. The grounds of Anrakuji contain the small graves of Anraku and Juren, and - chastely in a different spot - those of the palace ladies, who became nuns and died at a later time.

The grounds of Anrakuji are well-planted and have fine camellia trees. The graves are to the right (Anraku/Juren) and far right (at the back) of the entrance path; the path leading to the main hall, standing to the left, crosses this at a right angle. Both sets of graves are surrounded by low fences.

Anrakuji Temple, Shishigatani, Kyoto[Anrakuji - The graves of the two court ladies]
The present main hall dates from the late 16th century. The central trinity in this hall of Amida, Kannon and Seishi, has been ascribed to Eshin (942-1017). The altar also contains an ancient Jizo statue. To the left of the main altar stands a smaller altar with a statue of Honen and his most important follower, Shinran. Here one also finds a walking stick and hat said to have belonged to Shinran, but both look suspiciously newer. A right-hand altar contains the images of Anraku, Juren, Matsumushi-hime and Suzumushi-hime. The court ladies are depicted as nuns.

Connected to the main hall is a shoin type building, which has a nice garden with azalea bushes on its east side, against the green background of the Higashiyama hills. One can sit down here and relax. Anrakuji is filled with peace.

Anrakuji Temple, Shishigatani, Kyoto [Anrakuji - the Shoin garden with clipped azalea bushes]


26 Nov
Okichi Sanso is a mountain villa, laid out on the sides and top of a steep hill next to Kameyama Park in Arashiyama. It affords grand views over both the city of Kyoto (towards the Higashiyama range) and over the gorge of the Hozu River. There are evergreen pine trees, but also maple trees and cherry trees which dress the garden in the color of the season. There are also several buildings, such as a shrine, a tea house and a private residence in traditional style, but these are not open to the public.

Okochi Sanso, Arashiyama, Kyoto[Okochi Sanso - the lawn in front of the main house with a gorgeous Ginkgo tree]
Okochi Sanso is named after the man who constructed house and garden: Okochi Denjiro (real name Obe Masuo; 1898-1962), one of Japan's most famous film actors. Okochi's career started in 1926 with silent films, and he mostly - though not exclusively - acted in period films (jidaigeki). He worked with directors as Kurosawa Akira, Ito Daisuke, Yamanaka Sadao, Kinugasa Teinosuke, Inagaki Hiroshi and Makino Masahiro, and played next to famous stars as Bando Tsumasaburo, Kataoka Chiezo, Shimura Takashi and Hara Setsuko.

Okochi Sanso, Arashiyama, Kyoto[Okochi Sanso - the main house called Daijokaku]
Among Okochi's famous films are The Million Ryo Pot (Tange Sazen Yowa: Hyakuman Ryo no Tsubo), a jidaigeki comedy made in 1935 by Yamanaka Sadao; and Sugata Sanshiro (1943), The Men Who Tread on the Tiger's Tail (Tora no O wo Fumu Otokotachi, 1945) and No Regrets for Our Youth (Waga seishun ni kuinashi, 1946), all by Kurosawa Akira. His most famous genre roles in period film were that of the wandering gambler Kunisada Chuji and the nihilistic ronin Tange Sazen, who has lost his right eye and right arm due to betrayal. In non-period films (made during the Occupation after WWII, when jidaigeki were forbidden), he usually depicts a traditional, overbearing father.

Okochi Sanso, Arashiyama, Kyoto[Okochi Sanso - Mossy garden next to the Tekisuian tea house]
The 20 thousand square meter garden was constructed over a period of 30 years. The main structures, such as the Daijokaku main house and Tekisuian tea house were built in the 1930s and 1940s; only the Jibutsudo Buddhist shrine dates from the Meiji period and was brought here from elsewhere. This unique garden has only few flat spaces - the largest one is in front of the main house, where visitors can sit down on benches and enjoy the view over Kyoto. Another one is close to the entrance, where there is a restaurant serving the cup of green tea and a sweet included in the (somewhat higher than usual) entrance fee. There is also a mossy garden next to the exquisite Tekisuian tea house. But for the rest this garden consists of narrow paths running steeply up or down the hill, all with one-way traffic - to see the garden, one has to do quite a lot of climbing. At the top of the hill is a viewpoint affording a view of the Hozu River gorge and Daihikaku Temple on the opposite hillside - but the view over the same river gorge from nearby Kameyama Park is better, as that allows a broader and more open view of the valley.

Okochi Sanso, Arashiyama, Kyoto[Okochi Sanso - the view towards Kyoto]
As a bonus there is a small outdoor museum with pictures of Okochi Denjiro in various film roles; but unfortunately for foreign visitors, no effort at translation has been made here. The garden is open around the year and although one has to do some effort to see it, the reward for that is a rich seasonal feeling.
24 Nov
A few weeks ago, when the leafs on the trees were just starting to show some color, I visited two beautiful gardens in Kyoto's Arashiyama: the garden of Hogonin temple and the garden of the Okochi Sanso (Mountain Villa). Here follows first Hogonin.

Hogonin is one of the subtemples of Tenryuji, the Rinzai Zen temple that sits in a central position in Arashiyama, Kyoto. Hogonin was originally founded in the 15th century in central Kyoto, suffered several times destruction, then was restored in the grounds of Kogenji, another subtemple of Tenryuji, before being set up in the present independent location - a spot where originally another subtemple of Tenryuji had stood which was closed down. After that, during a spat of fighting with rebellious Satsuma forces in 1877, Hogonin's buildings were again destroyed, together with those of Tenryuji. In other words, the present buildings of the temple were all reconstructed in the 20th century, and you come here not for the architecture, but for the garden.

Hogonin, Kyoto[Hogonin garden with large rock shaped like a Shishi lion]
That garden, which predates Hogonin, is ascribed to a disciple of Muso Soseki, the famous priest credited with the creation of the great Tenryuji garden. But as far as I can see, there is no proof for that ascription. We only know for certain that the garden did exist in the Edo-period, as it is mentioned in travelogues of the 18th century (such as the Miyako Rinsen Meisho Zukan or Guidebook to the Gardens of Miyako dating from 1799). The name of the garden is "Shishiku," which means "Lion's Roar" - an image of the preaching of the historical Buddha, Sakyamuni (in modern Japanese it also means "making an impassioned speech").

The garden is usually described as a "shakkei kaiyushiki teien," a "circuit stroll garden (often centered on a pond, but not here) that incorporates the surrounding scenery into its design." This is also called "borrowed scenery" (shakkei), but gardens with borrowed scenery usually have a framing device through which the borrowed scenery is viewed - as Mt Hiei seen through a frame of strategically placed trees in the case of the Entsuji garden. That is not the case here and as the Arashiyama hill serves more as a diffuse background and continuation of the tall trees in the Hogonin garden itself, I doubt whether it formally could be called a "borrowed scenery garden."

Hogonin, Kyoto[Arashiyama seen through the trees of Hogonin]
That does not make the garden less interesting, on the contrary: this is an enclosed "forest garden" (my term, not a traditional one!) with tall Japanese maple trees (iroha momiji), various varieties of moss, and several colossal rocks. In one place, a pine tree grows from a rock, having split the stone in two. The garden almost seems to be natural, but of course is carefully tended. The moss is so beautiful that Hogonin is a good alternative to the so-called Moss Garden Temple (Kokedera) elsewhere in Arashiyama, which restricts visitors by a super-high entrance fee and compulsory sutra copying. The rocks in Hogonin must have been eroded in the past by the nearby Oi River - thanks to the human "Rorschach fallacy," one of them looks indeed like the Shishi lion that gives the garden its name.

What makes this garden interesting is the natural atmosphere - the murmuring of a small stream that flows through it, the bird calls, the rustling of the leaves, these are all like "wordless preaching." There are some benches where visitors can sit down to enjoy the peaceful atmosphere. Adding to the rustic character are several interesting bamboo fences, one made with bamboo branches (not poles) packed tightly together (takeho-gaki); there is also an unusual hanging bamboo gate as used in tea ceremony gardens, made from strips of bamboo woven into a diamond pattern (shiorido). Although these elements are newly made by the gardeners, they wonderfully fit the garden. The only element that I could do without is the small "themed garden" that has been laid out near the entrance and that shows the Buddhist River Styx (made with large, round stones), with a boat-stone to pass to the "other side (higan) where three large upright stones symbolizing the Amida trinity wait - this is just too artificial.

Hogonin, Kyoto[Maple leaf on the moss]
For an extra fee, one can have matcha in the tea house in the garden; and for another extra fee it is also possible to enter the main hall and see the screens by contemporary painter Tamura Noriko - but for me, the garden with its beginning autumn colors was more than sufficient. As an added bonus there is a cute set of arhats (rakan) called the "Arashiyama Rakan" sitting outside, opposite the gate of Hogonji. It is good this fine temple is nowadays open (something which only started recently), if only for a few weeks in spring and in autumn.



4 Nov
November is traditionally called Shimotsuki, or “Month of Frost.” It is the time that temperatures get lower and days shorter - one week into November the seasonal turning point of Ritto comes along and actual winter is deemed to start.

But November is in fact a most beautiful month as it is the time of momiji (maple leaves). Although less well-known outside Japan than cherry blossoms, in Japan the koyo or colored leaves of autumn are just as big an event. Like hanami or blossom viewing, momijigari ("hunting for colored maple leaves") draws huge crowds. Not only the famed "sakura zensen," but also the "koyo zensen" or "front map of autumn colors" is heavily reported, from TV to magazines and internet. Based on the information given by the media, people plan day trips or short holidays to enjoy the fall colors. In the past, the beauty of autumn leaves was eulogized in poems and paintings. In the Heian-period, aristocrats would enjoy lavish banquets under the autumn leaves, gathering the fallen leaves, and writing poetry.

Autumn in Kiyomizu Temple, 2008
November is also characterized by several interesting public holidays and other events. November 3 is Culture day, when the Emperor awards the Order of Culture to people of outstanding achievement in the fields of science, art or culture. There are also many art festivals and cultural activities nationwide. Museums have special exhibitions, such as the annual Shosoin Exhibition of priceless treasures and household goods once belonging to the 8th century Emperor Shomu held around this time at the Nara National Museum. There are also special temple openings in Kyoto, which are normally closed to the public, such as of subtemples of Daitokuji (these seasonal openings are nowadays held - depending on the temple - somewhere between late October and early December).

November 15 is a good day to visit a Shinto Shrine, as this is Shichi-Go-San (Children's Shrine Visiting Day), the "seven-five-three" festival when parents with boys of five, girls of seven and either boys and girls of three dress their children in gay clothes and take them to shrines where they pray for their children's future. These three numbers were chosen since odd numbers are considered lucky and also go back to old dress customs.

Tori-no-ichi or "Cock Market" is held in the Otori Shrine in the Taito Ward of Tokyo on the two or three days of the cock falling in November according to the old calendar. It is nowadays held for success in business and among the lucky items for sale are kumade or bamboo rakes, to rake in good fortune.

On November 22 and 23 (a public holiday as this is Labor Thanksgiving Day) at the Sukunahiko Shrine in Osaka the annual Shinnosai is held. This small shrine in the pharmaceutical district is dedicated to the Chinese and Japanese gods of Medicine and on the festival days it is customary to purchase a toy tiger (hariko) as a prayer for good health (see my post about the Sukunahiko Shrine and Doshomachi).

Although the weather in November is generally good, in early November (or sometimes already in late October) a cold wintry wind coming from the northwest called Kogarashi blows - “Kogarashi” is literally the wind that sears the leaves of the trees. The first such withering blast is called “Kogarashi Ichigo.” Early and mid-winter are also the season of Shigure, rain showers. These showers occur after the sky suddenly clouds over, but they pass quickly. Shimoyo is the name for nights when the stars are bright in the sky and there is a blanket of frost on the ground. November actually knows also many beautiful, clear days and these are known as Koharu(-bi), or “Little Spring” as the weather can be quite balmy.

As foods go, November is the season that kaki or oysters come to market, which are cultivated on a large scale, for example in Hiroshima. They are eaten raw, fried, cooked in hotpot or mixed through rice (kakimeshi). Another wintry seafood that starts being sold in November are large crabs from the coast of the Sea of Japan called zuwaigani. They are served in various forms, as sashimi and tempura, or just with some vinegar. It is also the season of ginnan or gingko nuts, from the prehistoric Gingko tree, which have a subtle taste and are eaten skewered, grilled or in chawan mushi.

Bessho Onsen 2004
As fruit goes, in November the season of kaki or persimmons starts. This autumn fruit rich in Vitamin C is either eaten raw or dried (hoshigaki); persimmons in Japan are usually sweet but there are also astringent varieties. Dried persimmons also form part of the New Year decoration. The orange kaki fruits hanging on the trees or after plucking strung under the eaves of farm houses are a beautiful sight in the Japanese countryside.

In the tea ceremony, finally, from November starts the use of the sunken hearth (ro), instead of the portable stove which is used in summer.

3 Nov
Culture Day (Bunka no Hi) on November 3 is originally the holiday dedicated to the Emperor Meiji, whose birthday according to the Lunar Calendar fell around this date. Before the war, people would gather at shrines throughout the country and bow in the direction of the Imperial Palace. Under the postwar constitution the day was rechristened as "Culture Day", as after all autumn is a time for cultural pursuits. Moreover, on this day in 1946, the new constitution was officially announced.

Meiji Shrine[Meiji Shrine, Tokyo]
On November 3 the Emperor awards the Order of Culture to people of outstanding achievement in the fields of science, art or culture. The Emperor presents the awards (shaped as a mandarin orange blossom with purple cord; the mandarin orange was planted in the palace courtyard since Heian times and symbolizes eternity - in this way the timelessness of culture is expressed) during a ceremony held in the palace. There are also many art festivals and cultural activities nationwide, where lesser awards are given by all kinds of organisations.

The best news: it is always sunny weather on November 3, at least in Tokyo or Kyoto, so it is a great day to go out! Some suggestions:

- In Tokyo, visit the Meiji Shrine for the last day of the Shrine's Festival (held from Oct. 29 to Nov 3). Various activities are held, including yabusame (archery on horseback) and other demonstrations of martial arts.

- In Nara, visit the National Museum to see the Annual Exhibition of Shosoin Treasures. These are 650 items, all personal belongings of Emperor Shomu, given to the Great Buddha of Todaiji by his widow, the Empress Komyo in the 8th century. Among the priceless treasures are many Persian and Chinese items that reached Japan via the Silk Road. Carefully kept under lock by Todaiji for many centuries, the Shosoin is now under the care of the Imperial Household Agency. The annual exhibition shows a limited number of items, usually for about 3 weeks from the last week of October. See the webpage of the Museum for details.

- In Hakone, go and see the Daimyo Procession in Hakone Yumoto (and while you are there, have a look at Sounji Temple).

- Go out into nature to view the maple leaves (momiji-gari). In the city it is still to early (both Tokyo and Kyoto have the best leaves from the middle of November on), but if you travel to Nikko or Hakone you will be greeted already by a carpet of red and yellow. In the Kansai, Koyosan should be beautiful around this time.
2 Nov
This year even Japanese television, NHK, was excited. Perhaps they really thought that, after the triple Nobel Prize in Chemistry, Japan would also get the Nobel in Literature in the person of popular author Murakami Haruki. The result was, of course, disappointment among Murakami's worldwide fan base. What surprised me, however, was not that Murakami again missed this prestigious prize. I was instead amazed that so many readers seriously believed Murakami could ever win the Nobel. That has nothing to do with whether Murakami is a good writer or not (although in my view he doesn't measure up to true Japanese giants as Soseki, Ogai, Akutagawa, Kafu, Tanizaki, Kawabata, Abe and Oe), - there are after all many excellent authors who never received the Nobel - it is simply for the objective reason that he doesn't fit the profile for the coveted prize.

Before we look at that profile, we first have to realize that the Nobel Prizes for Literature, Economics and Peace are very different from the Nobels for Physics, Chemistry and Medicine. While those last three are "hard" sciences, where one can determine rather objectively how important a certain discovery has been (for example, because it has given rise to a whole new field of subsequent research), the prizes for literature, economics and peace are determined by ideology, by ideas. Should a market economy be controlled by a strict market master or should it be completely free? Should a country always invest in times of economic downturn, even if it already has a large debt, or should it be frugal and first clear-up that debt? These are all ideological choices, not science based facts. Even more so in the case of literature, where there are many different tastes and ideas about what constitutes great literature. So according to what general standard does the Nobel Committee make its literary choices? What is the profile of winning authors?

In accordance with the wishes of the founder of the prize, the Nobel Prize Committee makes its selection from a certain standard about what great literature should be. The standard has varied a bit since the prize was first awarded in 1901, but since WWII it is - just like the dominant culture in Europe - basically liberal and humanist, affirming the value of human life, emphasizing originality and autonomy, as well as addressing moral ambiguities and individual struggles with conscience. It is often engaged with the larger issues of society, without getting too overtly political; and it may be geared a little towards the left, again as is normal among European intellectuals. But the choice is always for individual human beings and their freedom, and not for ideology. As regards style, prizewinning authors are generally characterized by a complex and mature literary expression, without becoming too consciously artistic or turning into modernist fireworks.

By its selection, the prestigious Nobel institution sets up a standard of what according to them constitutes great, serious literature and then propagates that as the universal standard. In doing so, they often put the spotlight on authors who have unjustly remained somewhat in the shadows. This means of course that the Nobel Committee is not at all interested in how many fans a certain author has or who stands highest in the betting pools. The Nobel prize is not a popularity contest, but an informed and deliberate choice.

It will be clear this is not a profile into which Murakami Haruki easily fits. Take his contents, which are often said to have a rather narrow focus (with as possible exception his best novel, The Wind-Up Bird Chronicle), being mostly centered on the boredom and loneliness of young persons or others who seem to have never matured out of adolescence. He mixes in a generous amount of magic-realist elements, which is not wrong in itself (see Nobel winner Garcia Marquez) as long as it stays playful and ironic - Murakami's problem seems to be that, at least since Kafka on the Shore, he has started taking these supernatural intrusions too seriously. On the other hand, we don't find any struggles with conscience or moral problems in his novels - this in sharp contrast to this year's Nobel winner, Patrick Modiano, who writes about "the tyranny of memory of the Holocaust and Nazi occupation"and received the prize for “the art of memory with which he has evoked the most ungraspable human destinies and uncovered the life-world of the occupation.”

It is also often said that Murakami is not improving with the years, on the contrary: a recent novel as 1Q84 is mostly judged as rather superficial and two-dimensional. So there seems to be a general down-ward trend in his work since The Wind-Up Bird Chronicle.

And as regards the style of writing, Murakami's prose is rather bland and wooden - something which is not the fault of his translators, for it is the same in Japanese. Although that alone should not be an obstacle to getting the Nobel, it doesn't help, either.

But what does it all matter? Why would Murakami need a Nobel prize, except for reasons of (national) prestige or fan-base self-satisfaction? He is already a million seller. Countless readers are enjoying his books and - Nobel or no Nobel - will continue doing so... are prizes really relevant?

P.S.1 I like Murakami's early novels as A Wild Sheep Chase and especially his short stories best - I believe that is where his talent mainly lies. P.S.2 It is often stated that the Nobel Prize in the course of the 20th c., and especially at its beginning, missed a lot of great authors. That is true, but it is not the intention of the Nobel Committee to include all great authors from the world (that is over-estimating the value of the Nobel Prize!) - it would also be impossible with only one prize a year. What they want to do is much more modest: just ask attention for some of the authors who match their standard about what great literature should be. And of course everyone is free to disagree with that standard...P.S.3 And who knows, next year the Nobel Committee changes its standard and Murakami wins after all. In that case I will be glad I put the word "probably" in my title... 
17 Oct
Matsuo Basho made frequent visits to Kyoto, but today only two physical monuments remain: The “Hut of Fallen Persimmons” in western Kyoto, owned by his haiku disciple Kyorai, where Basho wrote his Saga Diary, and the “Basho Hut” on the flank of the eastern mountains set up by enthusiastic follower Buson to commemorate the haiku master.

West: The “Hut of Fallen Persimmons” 
To the west of Kyoto lie the scenic areas Arashiyama and Sagano. They were already popular with aristocrats of the Heian-period, who came here for outings or built their summer villas among the bamboo groves. Since the 17th century, the Hozugawa River at Arashiyama has been spanned by the Togetsukyo bridge, making traffic easier. Not far from the bridge stands the Tenryuji Temple with its famous landscape garden. In Sagano one also finds such temples as Daikakuji, a former imperial villa, Nisonin, where Fujiwara Teika compiled the tanka anthology A Hundred Poems by a Hundred Poets, and Seiryoji with its exotic Shaka statue.

Basho's student Kyorai owned a cottage here, which bore the poetic name of “Hut of Fallen Persimmons” (Rakushisha). Mukai Kyorai (1651 - 1704) was one of Basho’s major disciples. The son of a wealthy physician from Nagasaki, and well-to-do himself, he was able to play host to Basho and other haiku poets when they visited Kyoto. His poetry faithfully observes the principles of Basho and the Master even said he was “in charge of haiku in Western Japan” (Basho himself lived in Edo, in the East).

Rakushisha, Kyoto[Rakushisha, Kyoto]
Here is the story how the cottage received its remarkable name. Kyorai had about 40 persimmon trees in the garden of his Saga cottage. In autumn, their fruit had ripened to a shiny orange. Too much to eat on his own, Kyorai sold his persimmons. However, the night of the day before the fruit was going to be picked, a gale blew over the Arashiyama area - a name that itself means 'Stormy Mountain' and presumably was given for good reasons! All the fruit was destroyed and Kyorai had to pay back the advance money he had received from the merchant. The loss of the persimmons was seen by Kyorai as a humorous lesson not to strive after worldly gain. On top of that, it led to a Satori experience: through the branches of the trees, now bare, Kyorai had an excellent view of Arashiyama. He saw the mountain in a way he had never seen it before. The storm and Stormy Mountain proved not to be unconnected. Here is the haiku he wrote about it:
“master of persimmons” -
so close to the tree tops
Stormy Mountain 
Basho visited Rakushisha three times: in 1689, 1691 and again in 1694, a few months before his death. During his second visit, which took place during the months April and May, he wrote the Saga Nikki or “Saga Diary.” In contrast to Basho's usual travel accounts, this is a real diary, with exact dates, about his fifteen day sojourn in the Rakushisha. Apparently, it was a pleasant and relaxed stay, interspersed with boating on the nearby river, as well as temple visits. Almost every day, local disciples and others came to visit Basho. In between, the poet did a lot of reading - he mentions the books he brought with him, such as the works of the Tang-poet Bai Juyi and the Tale of Genji.

Rakushisha, Kyoto[Rakushisha, Kyoto]
The cottage is still there, not far from the foot of Mr. Ogura where the Niosonin Temple stands, and right next to the Hinoyashiro, the tomb site of an imperial princess, daughter of Emperor Saga (8th c.). Or, I should rather say that the cottage is there again, because the original dwelling fell into ruin after Kyorai’s death. In the late eighteenth century, Basho followers bought the present site and erected a structure that is thought to resemble Kyorai's original dwelling. It indeed serves eminently to recall the past atmosphere of haiku-gatherings in the beautiful surroundings of Sagano. The bamboo hat and straw raincoat hanging in the wall of the cottage used to indicate that the occupant was at home.

Today, Rakushisha is a tasteful monument to Kyorai and Basho. Besides tourists, Basho fans and haiku enthusiasts come here, with a reverent look on their faces, some silently mumbling haiku. The most famous haiku Basho himself wrote here is:
summer rain
on the wall traces
of torn poem cards
Basho wrote this poem when he was about to leave Rakushisha. Having enjoyed the serene life in the countryside of Sagano and feeling sorry to leave, the poet wanders around the rooms. The rains mentioned in the haiku are the rains of the rainy season, when the monsoon from the south brings weeks of damp and wet weather. The “poem cards” are shikishi, square pieces of cardboard on which one could write a haiku, but could also paint a picture. They were glued to the walls and are a reminder of haiku sessions Basho has held with his visitors in the “Hut of Fallen Persimmons.” The fact that they are peeling, in some cases only leaving traces (perhaps caused by the damp weather) is a fitting symbol for the fact that Basho's “session” in Rakushisha is over: he has to “peel” himself loose, too!


East: the Basho Hut in Konpukuji Temple 
The other Basho spot lies right at the other side of Kyoto, in the northern part of the Eastern Hills. Konpukuji (“Temple of Golden Bliss”) stands close to Shisendo, in a quiet area which until not too long ago was countryside. It was founded in the second half of the 9th century by the priest Enchin, who enshrined a Kannon statue here. Later the temple fell into ruins until it was rebuilt in the 17th century by a priest called Tesshu. At that time it also became a Rinzai Zen temple. It is just a small temple, consisting of only one modest hall, but it is famous among haiku lovers for the Basho Hut (Basho-an) that stands on the low hillside at its back.

Ironically, it is not certain Basho ever really came here. It is a mere tradition that, during one of his many visits to Kyoto, he spent some time in a small cottage in the grounds of Konpukuji, and the above-mentioned priest Tesshu therefore gave that humble dwelling the name "Basho-an." The cottage had fallen into ruins when Japan's second great haiku master, Buson (1716-1784), paid a visit here in 1760. In 1776 he started to rebuild it, with the aid of the then priest, Shoso, a work that was only finished in 1781.

Konpukuji, Kyoto[Konpukuji, Kyoto]
From 1776 on, Buson would regularly come here in spring and autumn with his disciples to hold haiku sessions. Buson also wrote a haibun about the hut, called “A Record on the Restoration of the Basho Hut in Eastern Kyoto.” He expresses his longing for this “deeply hidden place,” “where green moss has covered all traces of footsteps,” but that at the same time is not completely cut off from the world, as one can hear dogs barking across the fence, and even buy tofu nearby. There is an echo here from Basho's Genju-an, a haibun about a hut near Ishiyama at Lake Biwa where Basho lived for a few months after his trip along the “Narrow Road.” At that time, Buson was already famous as both a painter and a poet.

The cottage (even today still looking very new, so probably many times restored) stands on the hill at the back of Konpukuji. It sports a straw roof and is in fact quite spacious. It is a warm and sunny place, with dense vegetation even in winter. Beside the Basho Hut stands a stone monument dedicated to Basho, carrying an inscription that relates his life. This stele was also put up by Buson. Higher up the hill is a cluster of graves, with the main one that of Buson himself. Buson loved the place so much, that he asked to be buried here, at the side of the Basho monument, near the Basho-an in Konpukuji, a wish that was respected by his disciples.
when dead let me lie
next to my Basho stone
withered pampas grass

How to get to Rakushisha: 10 min. on foot from Arashiyama Station on the Keifuku Dentetsu Line.
How to get to Konpukuji: 10 min walk from Ichijo-Sagarimatsu-cho bus stop (bus 5 from Kyoto St). (Closed 1/16-31 and 8/5-20)
16 Oct
A Portrait of Shunkin (Shunkinsho) is the most celebrated novella by Japan's greatest 20th century author, Tanizaki Junichiro, and like The Bridge of Dreams it is a story of an ideal world that is artificially (even monstrously) kept intact. The story is set in Doshomachi, the pharmaceutical district of Osaka (see my post about this area) and tells about Shunkin, the daughter of a pharmaceutical dealer and her servant / pupil Sasuke. Despite its dramatic character, the story is told in a classical, distanced manner, and is written in an almost hypnotically beautiful prose style (with very little punctuation as in classical Japanese). By the way, this use of a classical style was not a "return to traditional Japan" by Tanizaki, as is often asserted, but rather a Modernistic stylistic device used to give an impression of authenticity to the story.

[Tanizaki in 1913]
The tale is told by an unnamed antiquarian (living around the time the story was written, so the early 1930s) who has obtained a copy of a biography of Shunkin who lived in the late Edo to early Meiji periods (her life is given as from 1829 to 1886). This biography, which is rather a hagiography so that the narrator also warns against trusting it too much, is the main source of the story; the narrator either retells it (adding his own thoughts) or quotes it directly ("sho" in the Japanese title Shunkinsho is not a portrait, but a commentary on a text, and that is exactly what the narrator provides); to this he appends the personal remembrances of an old servant of Shunkin and Sasuke, obtained via an interview, as well as a brief account of a visit to their graves, sitting next to each other in a temple in Osaka. Shunkin's grave is larger, as Sasuke even after he became a great master on the shamisen himself, always treated her as his teacher. All these narratives are in a different register: the biography is in the classical style used in the 19th century, the servant speaks in Osaka dialect, etc., - subtleties which are difficult to bring out in translation.

Besides using different registers, Tanizaki also uses the in Japan all-important titles deftly: Sasuke does not allow his own pupils to call him "Master" (oshisosan) because that is his designation for Shunkin; the narrator, however, refers to him as "Kengyo," the most exalted, official title for a shamisen master and one that Shunkin never attained.

Sasuke, who was four years older than Shunkin, became her special servant when she was eight (just after she had become blind due to an infection) and he was twelve. Musicians were often blind people in traditional Japan, and as Shunkin was already interested in music, she now became a dedicated player of the koto and the shamisen. It was Sasuke's task to take the blind girl everyday to her music lessons.

Sasuke is very devoted to the meek and gentle-looking Shunkin and also develops an interest in music. He practices the shamisen secretly at night, sitting in a cupboard, and when that is discovered and he proves to have talent, it is decided that Shunkin will become his official teacher. Shunkin is a very strict and even cruel teacher for Sasuke, but he is totally devoted to her, even masochistically, in both his subservient roles. He follows her like a shadow and even ministers to her in the toilet ("she never has to wash her hands afterward"), something glossed over in the prudish English translation. When, after finishing her own studies, she sets up shop as an independent teacher, Sasuke accompanies her and starts living with her. That their relation secretly must encompass something more, becomes clear when the unmarried Shunkin has a baby, although both refuse to confess who is the father (the baby is immediately sent away for adoption).

Shunkin is nor only very beautiful, she also has a vivid character, and therefore she is a popular guest at social gatherings. But then - in the year she is 36 and Sasuke 40 - a terrible accident happens: at night, someone - probably a thief who panicked, or a pupil with a grudge - throws scalding hot water in her face which as a result is disfigured by scars. Sasuke says he can't endure looking at her destroyed countenance and therefore blinds himself by pricking with a needle through the pupils of both his eyes. Now he shares the same world as his beloved Shunkin. He remains her dedicated servant and even continues calling himself her pupil, although he has by now become a master on the shamisen in his own right. The apogee of sadomasochistic devotion!


Osaka, Doshomachi[Detail of a monument in the grounds of the Sukunahikona Shrine
in Osaka's Doshomachi district, dedicated to Shunkinsho.
It shows the beginning of Tanizaki's manuscript.]
That is the story, as a casual reader will pick it up. But there are always many false bottoms in Tanizaki's literature, especially here. In the first place we have to note that the story has several layers of unreliability:

- As the narrator, a sort of local historian, notes, the Life of Mozuya Shunkin, the biography which is his main source for the story he tells us, is rather unreliable. It displays strong hagiographic tendencies, and on top of that the person who is praised most is not Shunkin, but rather Sasuke who is always presented as an example of the highest and most self-sacrificing devotion (note that Sasuke was the one who had The Life compiled). In other words, it is more "A Portrait of Sasuke" than of Shunkin...
- But also the narrator is not objective, and he, too, is on the side of Sasuke - note that after Shunkin's death, Sasuke became a much more famous musician than Shunkin had ever been, and the narrator may have been influenced by Sasuke's greater renown,
- The only other source is a maid who served Shunkin and Sasuke later in life - obviously, this maid was not present during the crucial events that took place earlier in the lives of the two artists.

Faced with so many uncertainties, we should ask ourselves if everything we read is true:

- Was Sasuke really unselfishly devoted to Shunkin?
- Was Shunkin really exceptionally cruel to Sasuke (note that teacher-pupil relations in the arts and crafts in traditional Japan - and even occasionally today - contain a certain amount of, if not outright cruelty, at least harshness)?
- Remember that when Sasuke became Shunkin's servant, he was twelve and she eight; although girls are earlier ripe than boys, with such an early age difference, initially Sasuke most have been more dominant.
- Considering their formal relation, how could Sasuke be the father of Shunkin's child, if he was not in a controlling position (he is the only one who can be considered, as Shunkin led a secluded life and had no other, private contacts)?
- Who threw the hot water in Shunkin's face? The story about a thief or pupil with a grudge looks very weak, intruders usually don't have the leisure to boil a kettle of water...

Here follows the most probably explanation, based on The Secret Window, Ideal Worlds in Tanizaki's Fiction (Harvard, 1994) by Anthony Hood Chambers:

Sasuke must have been the one who dominated Shunkin, instead of being controlled himself by a cruel and sadistic mistress. Outwardly, he played the servant and pupil who was masochistically dedicated to his mistress, but behind the scenes he, the older one, pulled the strings. When we follow these lines, Sasuke becomes rather repugnant, for wasn't Shunkin in that case little more than his sexual playmate whom he had completely in his power? More monstrous is that Sasuke himself may have been the one who threw the scalding hot water in Shunkin's face, to destroy her beauty out of jealousy, because he didn't want to share her with others at parties and gatherings, where she was admired for her beauty and where he was pestered and lost control over her. Destroying her beauty meant that she could not go out anymore and he would again have her completely in his power. By blinding himself and so for outsiders (and Shunkin) playing the perfectly devoted servant - and perhaps also on an unconscious level doing penance for his crime -, he finalized and stabilized his control over her. However warped it was, Sasuke had created a sort of private "ideal world."

The meaning we thus discover in the story is the opposite of what it seemed at first sight. As Anthony Hood Chambers puts it in The Secret Window: "Sasuke has molded a woman to dominate his fantasy life as his "ideal woman," and when he has maneuvered her right to where he wants her, he throws himself at her feet. When she has outlived her usefulness, he creates an idealized mental image to replace her." Instead of a masochistic slave, controlled by Shunkin, Sasuke was himself the sadistic keeper and even gaoler of Shunkin.

One passage of the story indeed gives a strong hint of Shunkin as Sasuke's prisoner. Shunkin liked to keep birds, nightingales and larks, and these captivated song birds are indeed an apt symbol for her own position as a musician who was the prisoner of Sasuke. Once, when one of her larks flew up to the clouds and didn't return, she seemed to follow his flight into the free azure longingly with her blind eyes...




4 Sep
Tanizaki Junichiro wrote several top class novellas, such as The Reed-cutter (Ashikari), Arrowroot (Yoshino-kuzu) and A Portrait of Shunkin (Shunkinsho), but my favorite is The Bridge of Dreams, although also for an extra-literary reason: it is set in Shimogamo, a beautiful area in Kyoto where I lived in the 1980s. Tanizaki himself had lived next to the Shimogamo Shrine from 1949 to 1956 - his residence was called Sekisontei and he used this as the basis for the house and garden in The Bridge of Dreams. In this story, published in 1959, two of Tanizaki's major obsessions are perfectly united: the search for a lost traditional Japan and the search for a lost mother, who combines the maternal with the seductive.

This is also what the title points at: the "(Floating) Bridge of Dreams" is the name of the final chapter of the Genji Monogatari, and here meant as a reference to the whole novel, which starts with the affair the protagonist has with his stepmother Fujitsubo. And the title is of course also a metaphor for the dreamlike quality of life and of the world of love.

Shimogamo New Year 2007[Bridge in the Shimogamo Shrine, Kyoto]
The story is set in the womb-like enclosed environment of a traditional house and garden where three people live: a father, his wife Chinu and their young son Tadasu (named after the forest of the Shimogamo Shrine). It is an isolated but perfect world, the ideal retreat, full of literary and historical allusions, on which the story is wholly focused - daily activities that fall outside this estate are usually not mentioned. The garden stands deep in a grove and is far removed from the dusty world. You reach it, of course, by crossing a narrow stone bridge.

Here Tadasu lives in the warmth and security of his mother's embrace, a dim, white world:
"The mingled scents of her hair and milk hovered there in her bosom, around my face. As dark as it was, I could still dimly see her white breasts. She would sing while I drifted off into a peaceful sleep, still clutching her breasts and running my tongue around her nipples. Gradually I would slip into the world of dreams."By the way, the most conspicuous image of the pond garden is the water mortar, a bamboo tube that fills with water from a small stream where the father (and after growing up also Tadasu) used to cool his beer. When the pipe is full, it tips of its own weight and hits a flat stone with a characteristic clacking sound. Empty, it sways up again and the process repeats itself. Such devices were originally employed by farmers to scare away wild boars, but from the 17th century they were as ornaments incorporated in gardens, like the famous Shisendo garden in Kyoto - an enclosed hermit garden with which Tadasu's estate has many elements in common. When Tadasu went to sleep, the distant, rhythmic clack of this water mortar would mingle with the voice of his mother singing a lullaby and would penetrate his dreams. It became therefore strongly associated with memories of his mother.

But humans are mortal and when Tadasu is only five years old, his mother dies. After a while, his father remarries and now something strange happens: he has his new wife impersonate the deceased one. She has to take the same name, Chinu, wear the same type of clothes and allow Tadasu to sleep with her in the same way he did with his own mother. She also plays the koto and practices calligraphy, like Tadasu's first mother. And so the idyllic life in the enclosed paradise garden continues even after the intrusion of death, the stepmother conflated with the real mother... When he nurses on his stepmother's breast, Tadasu again hears the clack of the water mortar - everything is again the way it used to be...

What happens further is not so clear, for Tadasu is an unreliable narrator - what he tells is true, but he doesn't tell everything. Time passes and when he is eighteen years old and at high school, Tadasu learns that his stepmother is pregnant. A boy, Takeshi, is born, but the baby is soon sent away by his father to be brought up by farmers. A weird scene happens in the seclusion of a small tea house in the garden, where the stepmother has Takeshi suck the milk from her breasts, heavy so soon after giving birth. As a grown-up man, he is allowed to enter the milky white world of childhood again, now mixed with a decidedly erotic element...

Later that year, Tadasu's father - who had been ill since more than a year before - dies and asks Tadasu to take good care of his (step-) mother. In other words, Tadasu is asked to take over the role of the father. By now, Tadasu has learnt his stepmother's real name, and also that she was a geisha before she married his father. In order to keep up appearances (there is after all an outside world) Tadasu marries the daughter of their gardener, Sawako - but it is clear he is more interested in his stepmother.

A few years pass. Then the stepmother dies - she had a weak heart and was frightened by a centipede, while undergoing massage by Sawako. Tadasu now separates from Sawako and seeks out his half-brother, Takeshi, whom he decides to bring up himself. But he has to sell the large estate and instead moves to a smaller house near Honenin temple - not accidentally a place just as secluded as the first one.

The ambiguous story leaves us with several questions - the reader has to act as detective:
Was the death of Tadasu's stepmother homicide? Did Sawako kill her out of jealousy - Sawako who after all was a disparate element in the household, and who was treated very coldly by Tadasu? Was that the reason Tadasu decided on a separation?Whose child was Takeshi? Was he really Tadasu's half-brother, or was he his son? There are some hints that Tadasu's custom of cuddling up to his stepmother and suckling her breasts when he was a young boy, continued also when he grew up and then developed into outright lovemaking... On top of that, the father was already ill when the child was conceived. In addition, this would explain not only why the baby was sent away but also why Tadasu later decided to bring the boy into his house and take care of his upbringing.And, finally, the most radical interpretation: was it perhaps Tadasu himself who killed his stepmother rather than Sawako (the killing was of course in either case indirect, by dropping a centipede on her to frighten her)? There are indeed some hints that Tadasu was getting tired of her as she was getting plump and therefore was losing the image of his original mother... (while in Takeshi, Tadasu found the face of his mother again). Another fact supporting this interpretation, is that the negotiations for the separation from Sawako took two years and also that Tadasu had to sell his estate - in other words, he probably had to pay a large amount of money to Sawako and her family to buy their silence about the real events.But the story does not give us any clear clue to the right interpretation, and in that vagueness lies its beauty. Life is a dream and dreams can be wild and convoluted, shimmering like a chimera...

P.S. Perhaps we can also see the secluded estate as a symbol for a traditional Japan that had been lost in the 20th century, a loss finalized by postwar Americanization.
The Bridge of Dreams has been translated by Howard Hibbett in the collection Seven Japanese Tales (together with six other works by Tanizaki, including "A Portrait of Shunkin"), published in various editions by both Tuttle and Vintage. The novella is discussed in The Secret Window, Ideal Worlds in Tanizaki's Fiction by Anthony Hood Chambers (Harvard University Press, 1994). The interpretations mentioned above are based on Chambers.
31 Aug
Obuse is a small, attractive town with enough places to visit to warrant a day excursion from Nagano. Thanks to rows of old warehouses, it preserves a classical atmosphere and is nice to wander around in - everything can be seen on foot from the station.

Nowadays, Obuse is perhaps most famous for the Hokusai Museum, which displays about 40 scrolls and screens painted by the master (rather than his ukiyo-e) as well as two large festival floats he decorated. Hokusai's connection with Obuse came about later in his long life, when the prosperous Obuse-merchant Takai Kozan invited him to come and stay. Nearby the Hokusai Museum is also the house of Kozan, with Hokusai's studio and also paintings of demons on display by Kozan himzelf. A third museum in the town is the modern Obuse Museum, which has a wing dedicated to modern Japanese-style painter Nakajima Chinami, who is famous for his meticulous renderings of cherry blossoms and cherry trees. And, finally, a fourth one is the Japanese Lamp Museum, which houses a fascinating collection of lighting devices from the past.

[Hokusai painting on the ceiling of Ganshoji Temple in Obuse - Photo Wikipedia]
The other thing Obuse is famous for is rather sweet: chestnut cakes and chestnut candies. You will find factories in old storehouses and shops throughout the town. Two famous names are Chikufudo and Obusedo. Chestnuts are intimately linked to Obuse's history, as it was the Muromachi-period warlord Ogino Jorin who brought chestnut tress from Tanba and planted them in the Mabukawa Delta, a place with acid soil and therefore perfectly suited for this purpose. These chestnuts were so good that they were sent as presents to the shogun.

Haiku poet Issa, whose hometown was Kashiwabara, not far from Obuse, wrote the following "chestnut haiku:"

nobody picks it up
a wonderful chestnut
so big hirowarenu | kuri no migoto yo | okisa yoIssa 

This haiku stone stands in front of Obuse Station. 
24 Aug
The Gate (Mon), published in 1910, is one of Natsume Soseki's most delightful novels, thanks to the warm-hearted portrait of the happy love for each other of a married couple. There are countless novels in world literature about adultery and broken marriages, but how many are there of couples who are simply happy together?

No that the life of this couple, Sosuke and Oyone, is easy. They live in a sort of gentile poverty, Sosuke earns just enough as a low-ranking civil servant to make both ends meet. They rent a rather dark and cheerless house in Tokyo, and have no contact with family, no friends or acquaintances. Their solitary existence is wholly uneventful. You could almost say that they live as recluses in the big city, their gate always closed.

Engakuji, Kamakura[Gate of Engakuji Temple in Kamakura - as Soseki had connections with Engakuji, this is probably the temple that plays a role in The Gate - see below]
This seclusion has been caused by a dark spot in their lives. When he was a promising student at Kyoto University, Sosuke had a good friend, Yasui. One year after the summer holidays, this Yasui suddenly set up house with a quiet young woman - the author does not make clear whether she was his wife or his girlfriend - and Sosuke also got to know her gradually. This young woman was Oyone. She and Sosuke fell in love and she broke with Yasui to marry Sosuke. This caused a scandal in the university town - these were strict times in which students were supposed to be models of society - and Sosuke was forced to leave university, ending his prospects for a flourishing career. He was also ostracized by his family and, to get away from scandalous rumors, moved with Oyone to Western Japan. Yasui voluntarily left the university to establish himself as a sort of adventurer-business man in Mongolia. Only after several hard years could Sosuke get his present government job and return to Tokyo, the city where he and Oyone were born.

The joint betrayal of Yasui has left both Sosuke and Oyone with a feeling of guilt. They have remained childless, although they would have liked children. Oyone has had three miscarriages, and they ascribe this fate to the "wrongdoing" which was involved in bringing them together. But their shared feeling of guilt also forms a strong bond and they are happy with each other. Their love is the one abiding element in their lives.

Natsume Soseki gives detailed descriptions of their daily life, the halting conversations they have together, and the Tokyo scenery of the late Meiji-period. The atmosphere of their almost featureless days is unfailingly conveyed, but never gets boring thanks to the superior writing. Of course, readers who are looking for dramatic plots are at the wrong address, Japanese literature is not about plot but about atmosphere. That being said, drama is smoldering quietly below the surface of this novel, all connected to the betrayal that has connected Sosuke and Oyone. For example, after the event Sosuke has become sluggish and a procrastinator - he has even allowed his uncle to strip him of part of his inheritance without speaking up. His younger brother, Koroku, who is still at university, used to be financially supported by that uncle, but the money now stops and Koroku comes to live with Sosuke and Oyone, disturbing their quiet routine. Again, it takes time until a solution is found. On a positive note, the solitary Sosuke has come to know their wealthy landlord, Sakai, an extroverted and generous person, who lives on the hill behind their house and has a large family. Sosuke is often invited for a talk by this landlord and that leads to a small drama: Sakai invites him to a dinner where also a man called Yasui, recently returned from Mongolia, will be present...

Sosuke is completely shaken by this news and to avoid the dinner runs off to a Zen monastery in Kamakura, hoping by meditation to find some way out of his anguish. But already in the early 20th century, Zen was so far from the daily lives of ordinary Japanese, that Sosuke had no idea what was waiting for him in the temple. After struggling for ten days in vain with a koan, on a meager diet, he again leaves in despair. He has been unable to open the symbolical three gates of enlightenment (Sangedatsumon), those of emptiness, formlessness and inaction.

But although enlightenment is not waiting for him, nor the worldly success of his neighbor Sakai, he is happy to be quietly home again. Miraculously, most problems, small as they were, have evaporated as non-occurrences: Yasui has returned to Mongolia without causing trouble, a solution has been found for Koroku (who becomes a shosei, a student lodger in the house of the landlord) and although a restructuring is undertaken in the ministry, Sosuke's job is spared and he even gets a small rise.

In the final pages of the novel Sosuke is back with Oyone and settles down again in a quiet vein behind their own gate. Spring is in the air, Sosuke who has just been to the hairdresser, tells Oyone that other customers were talking about hearing the first bush warbler of the year.
Gazing through the glass shoji at the sparkling light, Oyone's face brightened. "What a sight for sore eyes. Spring at last!"
Sosuke had stepped out on the veranda and was trimming his fingernails, which had grown quite long.
"True, but then it will be winter again before you know it," he said, head lowered, as he snipped away with the scissors.
This is a novel without illusions, but filled with a gentle compassion.

Read The Gate in the excellent new translation by William F. Sibley, published by New York Review Books (and replacing the older translation by Francis Mathy in Tuttle Books). Of the Japanese original many editions exist, and it is also available as a free etext at Aozora.  
22 Aug
"Hyakumanben" is the crossing between Imadegawa and Higashi-oji streets, near Kyoto University, and there couldn't be a stranger name: "one million times."

In fact, the name belongs to the temple standing in the northeastern corner of the crossing: Chionji, and that means the "one million times" has a religious intent. In 1331 a plague struck Kyoto and all supernatural means to stop it were ineffective, until the priest Kuen of Chionji chanted the "Namu Amida Butsu" incantation one million times... Emperor Godaigo afterwards gave that name to the temple and now it is the designation of the whole neighborhood.

Hyakumanben, Kyoto[The spacious grounds of Hyakumanben Chionji]
"Namu Amida Butsu" means "I take my Refuge in the Buddha Amida" and chanting this brief prayer, with faith, was essential to ensure rebirth in the paradise of the Buddha Amida. This was the religious revolution caused by Honen, who considered modern people to be too decadent to be able to reach enlightenment by meditation or other forms of hard practice. In Jodo or Pure Land Buddhism, believers have to chant this so-called "Nembutsu" as many times as possible, the more the better - thus the one million times to stem the plague. Honen's disciple Shinran further simplified the practice, by posing that one recitation in one's lifetime, if done with faith, was sufficient - that is now common in Jodo Shin Buddhism, the New Pure Land sect.

The temple came only to this spot long after the "hyakumanben" event - it was moved here in 1661 from its original location north of the imperial palace - it seems to have been a jinguji, a temple of the Kamo Shrines. The link with Pure Land Buddhism was made because Honen once stayed there when in the capital for missionary work.

Hyakumanben, Kyoto[The giant prayer beads]
Chionji is a relaxed temple that makes its spacious grounds often available for secondhand book markets or handicraft markets (on the 15th of every month). There are no great statues or gardens here, but it is a nice place for a casual visit. The main hall is interesting for the huge prayer beads (juzu) hanging along the walls, all around the large building. They are used for the memorial services for Honen.

Hyakumanben, Kyoto[Shinshindo]
Being close to Kyoto's major university, Hyakumanben is a nice area with small student cafes and bookshops. My favorite place is Shinshindo ("Notre Pain Quotidien"), a bakery and student cafe where you sit on simple benches at long and heavy wooden tables, scarred by years of use. It is a favorite student haunt, a nice place to write or study. Lots of space to spread out books and newspapers, although now you see most professors and students staring at the screen of their smartphone or tablet. There is also a small shady garden at the back where visitors can take their coffee. The menu is simple and you have to order your coffee with or without milk - they put it in for you (no customizing here), but the atmosphere is nicely nostalgic.

The cafe was founded in 1930 by Tsuzuki Hitoshi, the first Japanese to study for two years authentic French baking in Paris. Do not confuse this academic cafe with the chain of Shinshindo coffee shops you find all over central Kyoto - these are nothing special, although they apparently share the same founder.

Hyakumanben, Kyoto[The entrance of Kyoto University close to Hyakumanben]
(Revision of a post that has briefly appeared some years ago on a previous version of Japan Navigator)
8 Aug
Daimonji is the mountain in eastern Kyoto boasting the huge character for "Dai", "Big" that plays the central role during the "Gozan Okuribi" festival on August 16 when it goes up in a huge blaze at eight o'clock sharp. During that festival five huge bonfires are lit in the evening on Kyoto's eastern and northern hills. In mid-August the spirits of the deceased return to the earth for a brief visit. They are welcomed with offerings on the Buddhist home altars, but on the 16th they must depart again and the fires are meant to guide them back to the other world. The 446 m. high mountain looms up behind the Silver Pavilion, but you don't have to be satisfied with looking at it from groundlevel. It is relatively easy to climb and, standing in the heart of the "Dai," you will have a magnificent view of the old capital.

Daimonjiyama, Kyoto[View of Kyoto from Daimonjiyama. The green patch in front is Mt Yoshida with Shinnyodo, the one behind that Gosho, the old palace; the narrow one on the right is the Shimogamo Shrine]
I had been there before, many years ago, so long that I could not remember the path up the mountain anymore, nor the stone steps near the top. And in my memory the "Dai" was a grassy field, while in present-day reality it appeared to be rather overgrown and the face of the hill much steeper than I thought.

At the point where I stood was an altar dedicated to Kobo Daishi (774-835), the founder of Shingon Buddhism and perhaps the most famous Buddhist cleric Japan has known. He is credited with all kinds of inventions and too numerous temple foundings to be true and to my surprise also with establishing the custom of the Daimonji fires. Apparently he had a vision of the Amida statue of Jodoji (the temple that stood here before Ginkakuji was built) flying up into the air with a flash of light, so he started lighting the annual send-off fires in commemoration. This is clearly nothing more than a pious legend, but Daimonji still starts every year at 19:00 by lighting lanterns and chanting sutras at the Kobodaishi Hall. The light from the lanterns is then used to light the fires on the mountain.


Daimonjiyama, Kyoto[The center of Daimonji with the altar of Kobo Daishi]
There are in fact two more explanations of the origins of the Daimonji bonfires. The second explanation also smacks of the legendary, if only because an important historical figure is involved, Ashikaga Yoshimasa (1436-1490), the founder of Ginkakuji. Yoshimasa reputedly started the custom to commerate the death of his son, who was killed in battle in 1489. He had one of his retainers engrave the character Dai on the hillface behind Ginkakuji and set it ablaze in August 16 to send off the soul of his son. It is true that you have a great view of Mt Daimonji from the area north of the old Kyoto Imperial Palace (Gosho), where the Ashikaga shoguns had their "Palace of Flowers", but Yoshimasa was at that time already living in his Higashiyama mansion, now Ginkakuji, directly below the hill from where he could not see the Dai shape. Moreover, this would be only a one time event and does not explain how the bon fire came to be celebrated annually by the whole city, not only here, but also by fires in various other shapes on Kyoto's hills.

Thus we turn to the third explanation, that the Daimonji Okuribi festival was in fact started by the townspeople of Kyoto. Even here an Imperial Prince, Konoe, makes his appearance as calligrapher of the character Dai. Japan is a hierarchical society where apparently everything has to be linked to someone of importance in order to be important enough to consider. But we do not need princes or priests to understand Daimonji. This third explanation is the right one: Daimonji and the other bonfires on Kyoto's hills originated among commoners, among ordinary townfolk. A supporting fact is, that there is no official account of its origin, despite that the court chronicled all other seasonal activities.

Of course, the Gozan Okuribi is part of the Bon festivities which cover a week in mid-August and which were first recorded for the 16th century. This is the time the souls of the ancestors are welcomed back to the earth, to be regaled with food and incense. In the end, they are sent off again with small bonfires in the streets and by hanging out countless lanterns. So O-bon has always been a Festival of Light, of Ten-thousand Lamps (Manto-e). The step to lighting large bonfires on the hills, where all could see them, instead of small ones in the city itself, seems a natural one - it was also made possible by the rise of neighborhood associations who would built those fires together. This blowing up of the Festival of Light may also have been motivated by fear of angry spirits due to the many wars in the Muromachi period, such as the devastating Onin War in the late 15th. c.

Daimonjiyama, Kyoto[The fires are built on these stones]
The first mention of Daimonji comes from a diary dating from 1603. In the mid of the 17th c., when Japan was at peace and tourism became a popular pastime, the large bonfires on the hills of Kyoto became famous - but by then the origin had already been forgotten. This is also the period the theory about Ashikaga Yoshimasa first appeared.

Another mystery is the character Dai, "large." Why this character? Is it a human with outstretched hands? Or the halo of the Buddha Amida? The answer can be found in Rokuharamitsuji, a beautiful old temple in central Kyoto, where during O-bon many small lights in the Dai-shape are lighted. According to this temple, the Dai represents the four elements Earth, Fire, Water and Wind, plus a fifth one, Air, and so stands for all of Nature, for respect for the ancestors and fear for of the natural forces around us.

The character Dai that has been encrusted on the hill face is huge. The horizontal stroke measures 80 meters across, the longer vertical stroke is a full 160 meters. This is the first fire to be lit during the festival, exactly at 20:00. In the past the fires would be built in pits, now the wood is carefully piled up on stone foundations. It takes 600 piles of firewood, 100 piles of pine tree leaves and 100 piles of straw to light Daimonji. Mixed in are gomagi, pieces of wood on which people write a wish - you can buy a gomagi in the morning and afternoon of the festival in front of Jodoji Temple, next to Ginkakuji.

Daimonjiyama, Kyoto[View of Kyoto against the setting sun]
Daimonji has found its way into the hearts of the people of Kyoto, as is shown by several beliefs that have come up concerning it. For one thing, you should try to catch the reflection of the bonfire in your sake cup and then make a wish - that wish will certainly come true. Another belief is that the remnants of the fires, small pieces of charred wood, become powerful amulets. Many people therefore climb up Daimonji to find them on the day after the festival.

Dusk is falling, I have to hurry to get down the mountain... I start walking after one last look at the city, peaceful in the rays of the setting sun...
Mt Daimonji can be freely climbed, except on the day of the festival. The path starts at the back of Ginkakuji. In front of Ginkakuji, facing the hill, turn left; take the first right; and the first right again; you are now at the back of Ginkakuji. Where the valley ends, a path to the right leads up the mountain. The steps can be quite steep; the last section is a stone staircase. Wear good shoes and don't go when the path is too wet and slippery.

Best places for viewing the Daimonji bonfire are from the northern part of Kyoto, for example along the Shimogamo River, near the Shimogamo Shrine, etc.

The other bonfires are: the charachter Myo on Mt Mantoro and the character Ho on Mt Daikokuten - together these form the words "Wonderful Law," pointing to the Buddhism of the Nichiren sect; a ship sailing with souls towards the Pure Land of the Buddha on Mt Funayama; a smaller character for Dai on Mt Okita; and the shape of a torii-gate on Mt Mandara, symbolizing the Atago Shrine in northwest Kyoto.

6 Aug
From 794, when Kyoto was founded as Heian-kyo, to 1869, the Emperor of Japan lived in Kyoto, encircled by not only his household and courtiers, but also a whole government apparatus. What is now an almost empty green zone, used to be the busy economic, political and ritual focus of the city. It is amazing that so little is left of it, the wooden structures without heavy foundations just have faded away, together with the people who lived and worked here. Another surprise are the frailty of the defenses - just a simple wall - demonstrating how little contested the imperial position was during Japan's long history. There has been only one attack, in 1864, on the Hamagurimon outside the palace proper, and that was not aimed at the emperor as the assailants only wanted to offer him a petition.

Gosho, Kyoto[The Shishinden, seen through the vermillion corridor]
Despite those peaceful circumstances, the present palace is not the original one. Fires and earthquakes took their repeated toll and the original 9th c. palace, which stood two kilometres to the west (a stone monument points incongruously at its location in what is now the busy Senbondori shopping street) was definitely abandoned in the mid-14th century. As that original palace was for a long time already in bad shape, provisional palaces (satodairi) had sprung up all over the city, as living and ceremonial quarters for the homeless court, and the present Imperial Palace was one of those, called Tsuchimikado-Higashinotoin-dono. Originally a residence of the Fujiwara family, close relatives of the imperial family, it became the one and only palace at the ascension to the throne of Emperor Kogon in 1331.

That does not mean we are now looking at the original 14th c. structures, far from it. Fires continued consuming wooden structures, the palace underwent numerous reconstructions. The last great fire raged in 1854 and almost all present buildings date from 1855.

Gosho, Kyoto[Shin-Kuruma-yose, a porch built in 1914 for the Emperor's car]
There are a great number of structures inside the long earthen wall that encloses the palace proper. In the first place there are six gates in the wall, it depended on your status where you could enter. The imposing main gate, Kenreimon, in the south wall was only for the Emperor himself. Kenshunmon on the lower east side was originally for imperial messengers, the Gishumon on the east side was for ministers, court nobles and close family members of the emperor, the Seishomon also on the east side for children of the royal family but it also served as a sort of service entrance. The final two gates, on the upper east and north sides gave entry to the residence of the empress.

Inside the precincts, the building order is one of increasing privacy from south to north. In other words, we first have the hall of state for official receptions, then the living quarters of the emperor himself, and at the back the residences of his empresses and concubines.

Gosho, Kyoto[In line in front of the Shishinden]
The main official structure and most imposing building of the palace is called Shishinden. Here annual rituals were held and it was also used for enthronement ceremonies - lastly so for the Showa Emperor. Behind the thrones are panels with illustrations of Chinese sages. It stands turned toward the south, the direction in which emperors and rulers always faced in China. The hall has a thatched roof made of very thick layers of cypress bark. The Dantei, the South garden in front of the Shishinden was also used for ceremonies and is a solemn expanse of white gravel with a cherry tree to the right and an orange tree to the left of the hall.

The Shodaibu-no-ma is a series of three waiting rooms, in which visitors were divided according to rank - the lowest had to be content with the Room of Cherry Trees, while those of top rank were allowed to feed their self-esteem in the Room of Tigers.

The Seiryoden faces east instead of south and although this used to be the emperor's residence in Heian times (still visible because of the sliding doors that could partition the room into private spaces), later it came to be used for ceremonies. In the center of this hall a throne has been placed as well. The Kogosho was a ceremonial hall for the use of the crown prince - it dates from only 1958 as the old one burned down due to a piece of fireworks that landed here by mistake from outside the palace.

Gosho, Kyoto[Shishinden]
Ogakumonjo is a study room, also used for poetry parties, and the Otsune-goten, finally, was the emperor's residence, containing fifteen rooms and thus quite spacious. Like the Seiryoden, this building faces east, towards the rising sun, the land of Amaterasu, in mythology the imperial ancestor.

Farther north of this are the quarters of the empress and her court ladies, but these are never shown to the public.

Gosho, Kyoto[The classical garden]
In front of the Kogosho and Otsune-goten stretches a large, classical landscape garden (Oike-niwa), with a pond and stone bridges and shady pine trees. Apparently, the Meiji Emperor missed this garden most of all after the move to what had been the shogun's castle in Tokyo.

Although situated right in the middle of the busy city, the palace is extremely quiet and peaceful and visitors take home a whiff of the solemnity that still imparts it.
Access: Kyoto Gosho is administered by the Imperial Household Agency and open to the public in the form of guided tours. Written permission has to be obtained in advance - see here for the procedure. In addition, Gosho is open to the general public for five days in spring and in autumn - at that time no permits are required. Get there by the Kyoto subway, Imadegawa or Marutamachi St.
30 Jul
One of the first Japanese novels that I read in the original language was Zero no Shoten (Zero Focus) by popular mystery author Matsumoto Seicho - it is thirty years ago that I found a copy in a secondhand bookstore in Kyoto. I especially enjoyed the atmosphere of the story: after the husband of a young newlywed disappears on what was supposed to be a brief business trip, the young woman, Teiko, travels from the comforts of Tokyo to snowy Kanazawa to search for him. Gradually she unravels the threads of the double life he led...

Years after reading the novel, I saw the film version Zero Focus by Nomura Yoshitaro on Japanese TV. It is a film noir as ever there was one, with strong hints of Hitchcock, and here, too, the atmosphere is great. During a second trip to Kanazawa, Teiko visits the Noto Peninsula, which in the film appears as a snowbound landscape full of dangers. Sheer cliffs tower over raging seas, dilapidated houses cling to rocky slopes, and the snow keeps falling relentlessly. If anything, the last scene where Teiko confronts the murderer on this cliff has been drawn out too long, there are too many flashbacks while she challenges the woman behind the mystery to a confession. But I can easily imagine Nomura Yoshitaro liked this landscape so much he just went on filming here...

Yase no Dangai, Noto[Yase no Dangai Cliff, Noto]
Since then, I have had the chance to visit Noto and finally I could stand on the same cliff as Teiko in that dramatic last scene, 50 meters above the sea: Yase no Dangai. It was a beautiful summer day, and the sea was a calm field of green-blue. No raging waves, no violent storm, no snow. The only things that reminded me of the danger of the place were the many signs warning against suicide. The bodies of people who jump down here from the cliff are carried far away by the tide. Think about the faces of your parents.

Matsumoto Seicho Poem, Noto [Matsumoto Seicho Poem, Noto]
Matsumoto Seicho also came here, of course, and he left the following poem that has been carved on a stone near Ganmon, a little bit to the south on the same rocky coast:
sagging clouds
alone facing
the raging waves
I feel sadness
first trip to Noto

kumo tarete | hitori takereru | aranami wo | kanashi to omoeri | noto no hatsutabi
Read more about places to visit in Noto in Ten Best Scenes on the Noto Peninsula.
26 Jul
"The fancy took me to go to Noto," wrote astronomer Percival Lowell in his travel book Noto (1891) - and off he went, to a place at that time virtually unknown. The man who would later discover the canals on Mars and speculate about intelligent life on the red planet, seems to have enjoyed wild places and inconvenient travel. Unfortunately, Lowell's travel account spends more time telling us about the hazards of the trip to Noto, than about the beauties of the peninsula itself.

Noto coast[Cliffs on Noto's Sotoura West Coast]
Noto is an axe-shaped peninsula, with a rugged and eroded (but beautiful) west coast and a more indented, sheltered east coast. Most places to see are on the west coast. Noto's charms are low-key but authentic, and the scenery is unspoiled by billboards or pachinko halls - instead you will find sleepy fishing ports, villages huddled together for protection against wind and waves, and a quiet agricultural inland. The best means of transport is a car (can be rented at Noto airport, or in Kanazawa if you travel from the capital of Ishikawa prefecture) - bus service is spotty and the trains only go as far as Wakura Onsen since the unfortunate demise of the line to Wajima. There are also tour buses. Also in the case of public transport the best basis for setting out to Noto is the city of Kanazawa.


Here are the 10 best spots in Noto:


1. Sojiji (officially: Daihonzan Sojiji Soin). Soto Zen temple with attractive halls in a meditatively green garden. The buildings are from the Meiji-period, after a fire destroyed the old ones, but the atmosphere is authentic. The temple was founded in 1321 and stands in the town of Monzen ("before the gate," the town traditionally catering to the needs of a temple). With Eiheiji, Sojiji used to be one of the two head-temples of the Soto School, but after the fire in 1891 the main temple was rebuilt in Yokohama; Noto's Sojiji was also rebuilt and sitting far from the hustle and bustle of the world, still is a strict training centre for Zen monks. If you reserve in advance it is possible to stay overnight in the shukubo, take part in a Zen session and have a vegetarian meal. [0768-42-0005]Sojiji Temple, Monzen[Sojiji Temple]
2. Wajima Lacquer Art Museum. Wajima is the cultural heart of Noto and its most interesting town, although the (in)famous Morning Market with elderly women hawking everything conceivable is a tourist trap. Most of all, Wajima is a capital for lacquerware (urushi) and you can see the best laquerware in the Wajima Lacquer Art Museum [0768-22-9788], both the local Wajima Nuri, as well as some stunning modern lacquer art. You can see craftsmen at work in another facility, the Wajima Lacquerware Center [0768-22-2155]. Another place to visit is the Kiriko Kaikan, a hall housing the giant and colorful paper lanterns used in Noto's festivals. Those festivals are held in summer in various places in Noto.
3. Gojinja Daiko. Wild, thunderous drumming by men wearing demon masks and seaweed wigs, said to commemorate a ruse to scare off the army of an invading warlord by villagers pretending to be a huge army. The main festival is on July 31 in Nabune, but all summer you can see short performances in front of the (disused) station of Wajima. (You can see such drummers in action in the samurai film Goyokin by Gosha Hideo - see my post about Samurai Films).

Shimo Tokikuni-ke, Noto[Shimo Tokikuni-ke and its magnificent thatched roof]

4. Shimo Tokikuni-ke and Kami Tokikuni-ke. Two magnificent traditional (Edo-period) farmhouses. The local Tokikuni family claims descent from a Taira clan noble exiled here in the late 12th c. Most impressive are the immense thatched roofs. Shimokuni-ke has a nice garden. Kamikuni-ke is the richer house of the main branch of the family, even sporting a curved entrance gable. Both houses stand close together in Sosogi. [0678-32-0075, Shimo Tokikuni-ke]
5. Myojoji. Nichiren sect temple in a contemplative environment near Hakui. Founded in 1293, the fine buildings date from the early 1600s when the temple was restored by the Maeda clan. Especially lovely is the five-storied pagoda; the best place to view it is from the shoin, with a small traditional garden in between. [0767-27-1226]
Glass Art Museum, Noto[Futuristic structures of the Notojima Glass Museum]
6. Notojima Glass Art Museum. More than the glass, it is in the first place the hypermodern architecture of contemporary architect Mozuna Kikko that attracts visitors to this museum. The plan hints at something cosmical. The exhibition features glass from all over the world, including Japanese artists as the internationally renowned Fujita Kyohei; outside also stand various scultptures. The museum faces Toyama Bay on picturesque Noto Island. [0767-84-1175]

7. Coast of Noto Kongo, Monzen and Sosogi. Dramatic views of impressive sea cliffs created by the pounding waves of the Japan Sea. Ganmon is a deep grotto in a rock that projects into the sea; Yase no Gankai, a periously overhanging cliff 50 meters above the roaring waves. There are also two "wedded rocks" as in Ise. Several narrow inlets sheltered by high cliffs are said to be places where Yoshitsune, when on the run for his brother Minamoto no Yoritomo, hid with his boat. Some of these cliffs will be familiar to viewers of Japanese TV thrillers, where the last scene in which the criminal confesses is often set at such a dramatic point - a convention started by Matsumoto Seicho (in Zero no Shuten, a story in fact set in this area).

Sunset, Noto coast near Monzen[The sunset at the coast near Monzen is the most beautiful in Japan]
8. The sunset from the Sotoura west coast, especially from the area near Monzen, is reputedly the most beautiful in Japan. You look right to the west from here and can watch the blazing sun sink into the sea until the last flicker of light is gone. The red light seems to create a path on the waves that leads directly to the Pure Land of the Buddha Amida... (some people seem to take that literally, so at Yase no Dangai there are many signs warning against suicide!).

9. Senmaida ("thousand rice fields"). In a hillside overlooking the sea tiny, terraced rice fields have been carved out, the smallest (it is claimed) only the size of a hat. They are at their most beautiful in spring when the fields are filled with water.Senmaida, Noto[Senmaida]
10. Keta Shrine. One of the greatest shrines of the Hokuriku region, in Hakui. Stands near a sacred primeval forest where nobody may enter at the seashore. Founded in the 8th c., the present buildings date from the mid 17th c. The main hall presents a picturesque scene.See the English website Tourism Ishikawa for more information about travel in Noto and Ishikawa Prefecture!
18 Jul
That the Japanese are great cat-lovers is obvious to any visitor here. This feline infatuation springs not only from the fact that cats are elegant and mysterious, but above all finds its origin in the feeling of iyashi, of peacefulness, that cats impart, and that makes you forget your daily worries. And, of course, as Japan is also the "country of cuteness," you'll stumble everywhere over cat bags, cat mugs, cat plates, and countless other daily items with feline images.

Cat in Kobe[Cat on a Kobe street - photo Ad Blankestijn]
Although we find some great cats in ukiyo-e - for example those by Kuniyoshi - cats really came into their own as protagonists in modern Japanese literature. The first famous literary cat is the unnamed feline of I Am a Cat (Wagahai wa Neko de Aru) written in 1905 by Natsume Soseki (1867-1916), one of Japan's greatest 20th c. novelists. The satirical story is narrated by a cat living in the household of a teacher of modest means and abilities. From a rather haughty point of view, the cat listens in on the discussions between the teacher and his family and friends: the cat is convinced that his master is selfish and lazy, if not a fool, and that he himself is a sort of special royalty - as cats indeed often think.

The poet Hagiwara Sakutaro (1886-1942) wrote the surrealistic short story The Town of Cats (1935) where a traveler in a strange town suddenly has a vision that all the roads around him are filled with cats - nothing but cats wherever he looks, something he finds horrifying. Obviously, here the cat is not a messenger of peace but rather a harbinger of the uncanny. (Did Murakami Haruki think of this story when he wrote about his own "cat town" in 1Q84?).

The cat also appears in crime fiction, such as in the popular whodunit Neko wa shite ita (1957) by Niki Etsuko (1928-1986), about a series of murders in a clinic where a black cat called Chimi is mysteriously involved. Another, even more famous example is the "Mikeneko Holmes" series ("Holmes, the Tortoiseshell Cat") by bestselling author Akagawa Jiro. The police detective in these popular books cannot bear the sight of blood and has phobias about heights and women, so it is a good thing that an intelligent cat comes to his rescue. Holmes stalks the crime scenes with feline composure, offering hints that lead to the solution and in fact doing all the detective work.

Cats also figure in contemporary novels. One example is Tama ya (Oh, Tama!) by Kanai Mieko, about an afflicted young man, his circle of bohemian friends and a pregnant cat that he is forced to take in. Another feline adventure is The Guest Cat (Neko no Kyaku) by Hiraide Takashi about a couple of freelancers working at home, who are visited by a small cat of the neighbors and end up falling in love with the "guest cat" they call Chibi.

Shinto cat - Umemiya Jinja[Cat in a Shinto shrine - Photo Ad Blankestijn]
But the best literary treatment of the feline phenomenon is without a doubt A Cat, a Man and Two Women (Neko to Shozo to Futari no Onna) written in 1935-36 by the masterful Tanizaki Junichiro (1886-1965). This is a charming, comic novella with a female tortoiseshell cat called Lilly as the absolute star. The male protagonist, Shozo, is a weak-willed man who is utterly in love with his cat Lilly - he loves her more than any of the two women who figure in his life. At the beginning of the story he is playing with Lily on the veranda of his house, sharing his mackerel with her and having her leap up to get the fish. His wife Fukuko clearly resents the close bond between her husband and his cat. Fukuko is Shozo's second wife - his young, new wife. The chastened ex-wife, Shinako, has been chased away by Shozo's scheming mother, who also lives in his house (the family has a shop) and in fact rules it with an iron hand.

So when a letter arrives from Shinako offering to take Lily off their hands, Fukuko is very much in favor, as is the mother... and Shozo is such a weak, submissive person that he agrees to give away his beloved Lily (only asking to be allowed to keep her for one more week). But after Lily is gone, Fukuko realizes with a shock it must have been a trick of Shinako: where Lily goes, Shozo also goes - isn't Shinako trying to get her husband back? Didn't Shinako in fact hate Lily? (That may be so, but when Lily comes to stay with her, Shinako develops a deep attachment to Lily and takes good care of her.) What will happen - will Shozo stay with Fukuko or go back to Shinako? I will not give the end away, which anyhow is rather open, but only remind you of the fact that Shozo loves Lily more than his two wives!

This is a humorous story which also provides an interesting glance at life in the Osaka-Kobe area in the 1930s (the story is situated in Ashiya), something which Tanizaki would do on a much grander scale in his masterwork, The Makioka Sisters (Sasameyuki).

But above all it is a very perceptive and touching story about the relation between a cat and the people around her, demonstrating Tanizaki's great understanding of feline behavior (Tanizaki was a great cat-lover himself) - and that all expressed in his usual, beautiful language.

[Kunisada - Image Wikipedia]

Some Japanese cats in translation:
A Cat, a Man and Two Women by Tanizaki Junichiro has been translated by Paul McCarthy and published by Kodansha International and Harper Flamingo Books in 1990. Unfortunately, out of print today.

I am a Cat (3 vols) by Natsume Soseki has been translated by Graeme Wilson and Aiko Ito in 1972 and is still in print (Tuttle Books).

The Town of Cats by Hagiwara Sakutaro has been translated by Jeffrey Angles in Modanizumu, Modernist Fiction from Japan, by William J. Tyler; another translation called Cat Town will be published in November of this year by the New York Review of Books (by Hiroaki Sato).

Oh, Tama! by Kanai Mieko has been translated by Tomoko Aoyama and Paul McCarthy and is available from Kurodahan Press.

The Guest Cat by Takashi Hiraide has been translated by Eric Selland and is available from New Directions.

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