A collection of short stories, all set in Japan, by Rebecca Otowa, an American who moved to Japan in 1978 and stayed there. The stories are based on her own experiences, anecdotes of other foreign women in Japan, those of her Japanese family and their ancestors, and news articles.
I enjoyed all the stories and none were duds - I usually expect a few in a collection - and Otowa clearly has a talent for writing, managing to introduce characters, vividly describe their worlds, and tell an entire story within a dozen pages, often leaving the reader with a satisfying question to chew on - why did Saeko eat her son's giri-choco?
My favourite story was The Rescuer, in which a man who is killed by falling onto the subway track while absorbed in his smartphone becomes the ghost of the station, saving lives of similar people by blasting energy at them to startle them back to awareness of their environment. The title story, The Mad Kyoto Shoe Swapper, is about a young man whose obsessive-compulsive disorder involving furtively swapping his shoes with those of strangers gets out of hand. Interestingly, according to the Author's note, this is also based on personal experiences! However, most of the stories are more prosaic, though no less readable, with recurring themes such as the difficulty of fitting into Japanese society (for Japanese as well as foreigners), how things decay over time, and the conflict between one's own desires and duty. Japanese husbands come in for some criticism and elderly people with a sense of entitlement even more so.
This collection perceptively portrays Japan from the viewpoint of a person under-represented in the foreign literature about Japan: the mature foreign woman who as settled here and 'married the country'. Some of the writing is rather raw, particularly in the autobiographical Rachel and Leah: 'As well as the clean air and the good water and the quiet days [of rural Japan], I got the insidious time-theft of school and neighborhood and temple, the incomprehensible expectations that bled the heart out of me and left a performing monkey, dancing desperately to rhythms I couldn't feel, making one mistake after another and trying so hard to belong.' Ouch! Otowa has bravely revealed a lot of herself in this book, whose writing must have been cathartic.
This book comes highly recommended to anyone interested in Japanese society and will be an eye-opener even to jaded long-term residents.
I enjoyed all the stories and none were duds - I usually expect a few in a collection - and Otowa clearly has a talent for writing, managing to introduce characters, vividly describe their worlds, and tell an entire story within a dozen pages, often leaving the reader with a satisfying question to chew on - why did Saeko eat her son's giri-choco?
My favourite story was The Rescuer, in which a man who is killed by falling onto the subway track while absorbed in his smartphone becomes the ghost of the station, saving lives of similar people by blasting energy at them to startle them back to awareness of their environment. The title story, The Mad Kyoto Shoe Swapper, is about a young man whose obsessive-compulsive disorder involving furtively swapping his shoes with those of strangers gets out of hand. Interestingly, according to the Author's note, this is also based on personal experiences! However, most of the stories are more prosaic, though no less readable, with recurring themes such as the difficulty of fitting into Japanese society (for Japanese as well as foreigners), how things decay over time, and the conflict between one's own desires and duty. Japanese husbands come in for some criticism and elderly people with a sense of entitlement even more so.
This collection perceptively portrays Japan from the viewpoint of a person under-represented in the foreign literature about Japan: the mature foreign woman who as settled here and 'married the country'. Some of the writing is rather raw, particularly in the autobiographical Rachel and Leah: 'As well as the clean air and the good water and the quiet days [of rural Japan], I got the insidious time-theft of school and neighborhood and temple, the incomprehensible expectations that bled the heart out of me and left a performing monkey, dancing desperately to rhythms I couldn't feel, making one mistake after another and trying so hard to belong.' Ouch! Otowa has bravely revealed a lot of herself in this book, whose writing must have been cathartic.
This book comes highly recommended to anyone interested in Japanese society and will be an eye-opener even to jaded long-term residents.