Crazy about all things Japanese

Grass for his Pillow 

This is the second in the Tales of the Otori trilogy about feuding clans in a Japan-like country in a mythical medieval time. Critics have called it spellbinding, masterful and remarkable and I would have to agree. Perhaps it is the gripping storyline, or maybe the perfectly captured imagery of nature, or more likely both. There are at least four versions of the cover that I know of, but this is the most evocative and the prettiest!

For a while, there was great excitement in the publishing world because the writer has used a pseudonym. Once it was clear that the first book (Across the Nightingale Floor)had been universally acclaimed, the author revealed her identity, although many by then had guessed who it was. It was known that she was Australian, and that she had extensive knowledge of Japanese culture. The only person fitting that description was Gillian Rubinstein, a well-known and very well-respected writer of children's fiction. She had spent many years in Japan and used part of her own name in the pseudonym - Lian - and part of the name of a famous commentator on Japanese history - Hearn. Be that as it may, the critics had given their seal of approval and Rubinstein had ensured that she now has a foothold in the growing young-adult crossover market.

All this has got me reflecting on how much I appreciate many aspects of Japanese culture, and to wondering why that might be the case. I remember once my mother dressed me up in a crepe paper kimono for a fancy dress costume competition on board ship (part of the usual activities on our biennial trips back to the UK from Africa before airline travel became more usual - and doesn't that date me!). The black and white photo actually shows I have quite a resemblance to a little geisha! Could my interest have dated back that far?

Though I have never been there, I can imagine staying in an elegantly built inn somewhere up in the mountains where the clouds caress the tops of the cypress trees, and a crystal clear stream trickles nearby. In the approach to the front of the inn, stone lanterns light the way alongside the bamboo lined path, and inside someone slides the door open to reveal a warmly lit room covered in tatami mats. Before retiring for the night, a light meal of miso soup, a few slices of sashimi and some sushi, a small plate of green soba noodles with a tofu salad and a steaming hot cup of green tea. All is quiet outside save for the rustling of the breeze in the bamboo under the moonlit sky. Sleep is deep and undisturbed.

How wonderful if such a place existed!

Certain aspects of Japanese culture are still understated, elegant and refined - the spare designs of ikebana, the richness of the laquerware, the intricately woven kimono and obi, the clever origami, the eloquently concise haiku, the peaceful zen gardens, the art of bonsai, the beauty of a finely wrought samurai sword, the pottery that English potter Bernard Leach (more about him in a later post) so admired, the exquisite cherry blossoms. So many things to admire!

I bought a book once called Blue and White Japan that made me want to instantly replace my beds with futons, remove all my clutter, and strategically position some swatches of indigo-dyed material over the furnishings and purchase a delicate bone china teaset. Even imagining how it could be can send me into transports of delight!

My son, meanwhile, has developed an interest in anime movies and comics, and I know otherwise sane individuals who love manga. Hello Kitty culture was popular to such an extreme degree here a couple of years ago and people were queuing up by the hundreds to get their free Hello Kitty couples from Macdonalds. The Japanese cult of the cute and cuddly is a mystery to me when so much in their culture is so elegant. It's a bit like the difference between Audrey Hepburn and Marilyn Monroe - worlds apart, but both have their fans.

Needless to say, my feet are firmly in the camp of Audrey Hepburn.