Kamisama 2011 by Kawakami Hiromi
Kamisama 2011 by Kawakami Hiromi also deals with the ideas of kizuna between humans and nature and between generations, as explored in Wagō’s work. Although it is still too early to conclude that these concerns represent a key theme of 3/11 literature, the similarities between these two texts, published within four months of each other, indicate the possibility of a further development of this theme in the future.
|
Kawakami Hiromi] Kawakami Hiromi is an Akutagawa Prize-winning novelist, known for her signature style of mixing fantasy and reality in her writing. Kawakami’s Kamisama 2011, or God Bless You, 2011, is a rewriting of Kamisama (1994) – her first published literary work. Very short and almost fairytale-like in composition, Kamisama is a story about watashi (“I”), who can be assumed to be a young woman, who goes on a walk with a friendly talking bear.43 The 2011 version has exactly the same plot as the original, except for the fact that the events take place in a world post-3/11, probably near the Fukushima power plant, where one has to measure one’s own radiation exposure every day and where there are no longer any children. The disaster of 3/11 is never referred to explicitly in the work, but indirectly as “ano koto” (that thing); despite the plot of the story being the same, the 2011 version feels completely different, because “that thing” has permeated every aspect of life. |
Through a seemingly innocent juxtaposition of these two versions, Kawakami shows the devastating effects of 3/11, where everything that was normal in the past has changed beyond repair. The juxtaposition thus serves to highlight the fact that the abnormalities of life post-3/11 make us appreciate these normal moments that were perhaps overlooked before the earthquake. The 2011 version also demonstrates that we can no longer read the original version in the same way – and, by extension, we can no longer read or write any piece of literature in the same way. Kawakami achieves this effect in her work by inserting words such as “plutonium”, “cesium” and “sV” (sieverts) that would never otherwise have appeared in her fantastical writing.44
It is significant that Kawakami chose to rewrite this short story at this particular moment. Even in the original version, the bear in the story seems to represent the kind of “real” kizuna associated with traditional Japanese values and customs. When the bear moves to the same building as watashi, he goes to greet all his neighbours on the same floor of his building (and to the three remaining households post-3/11 in Kamisama 2011) with some soba noodles and ten postcards.45 Watashi seems to consider this unnecessary – a reflection of the erosion of these traditional customs in Japanese society. Although it is unclear how relevant this is to Fukushima rather than Tokyo, where Kawakami is based, Kawakami kept this example in Kamisama 2011. Furthermore, the bear appears to be very moved by the fact thatwatashi is a distant relative of someone who helped him a lot in the past (or during the post-3/11 evacuation process in Kamisama 2011), and uses the old-fashioned word “enishi” (fate) to describe the situation.46 These gestures and words lead watashi to consider the bear to be “old-fashioned”, and she reasons that the bear’s non-human status is to blame for this – the bear needs to be overly considerate to others in order to be accepted in human society. The fact that the bear’s actions appear odd and “old-fashioned” shows how much Japanese society has changed, and how little kizuna there is in Japanese society today. Later on, when the bear offers to sing a lullaby to watashi before her nap, watashi refuses, saying she can fall asleep without it.47 This prompts a disappointed expression on the bear’s face, probably because the lullaby was intended less as a pragmatic tool to help watashi fall asleep than as a moment of bonding between them. He therefore feels slightly offended that his offer was refused.Watashi seems unable to even recognise these signs of kizuna, let alone strengthen her bonds with others.
In Kamisama 2011 the nuclear meltdowns in Fukushima are shown to have exacerbated this lack ofkizuna between humans. Although the bear is punched and kicked by a little child in Kamisama, this violence is portrayed partly as a childlike and innocent act.48 In Kamisama 2011, however, where there are no longer any children, two men in protective gear (“Long Gloves” and “Sunglasses”) simply come up to the bear and watashi and pull on the bear’s fur while talking about its resistance to radiation.49Although there is less physical violence involved, the way the man in the sunglasses refuses to look the bear straight in the eye and talks about the bear as if he is not even there makes the encounter much more hostile. The bear, on the other hand, remains considerate and polite in Kamisama 2011, hiding his true feelings from watashi by saying “I guess they meant well”.50 He does, however, sound much less certain than in the original version, when he says “young people don’t mean any harm, you know”.51
The fact that this messenger of kizuna takes the form of a bear is also significant. The bear may not even literally be a creature of another species, but rather a metaphor for those who are discriminated against for looking different or for having a particular skin colour. The bear, who eats pâté and radishes with a baguette for lunch while watashi eats an umeboshi (pickled plum) rice ball, is a foreign figure to some extent, although bears are often seen around humans in Fukushima. This bear seems to belong neither in bear society nor in human society. In “Sōjō no Chūshoku” (The Luncheon on the Grass), a story that appears in the original Kamisama collection of short stories as a sequel to Kamisama, the bear eventually feels ostracised in human society which lacks kizuna; and goes back to live with his fellow bears. Tragically, Kawakami seems to suggest that there is no longer a place for real kizuna in modern Japan.52 Whether one looks at the bear as an animal or as a metaphorical figure, it is clear that the novel is commenting on Japanese society. In a society where strong community ties have been lost, people have much to learn about kizuna from these outsiders, whom Kawakami refers to as “symbols of minorities”.53
|
Kamisama 2011 |
Kizuna between Humans and Nature
Kawakami seems to imply that an Earth without bears or nature is not a sustainable place for humans to live. As Kawakami points out in the afterword to her book, Japanese people traditionally believed in a divine presence, or spirit, in all existing objects and living beings (yaoyorozu no kami) such as mountains, rivers, rain and animals, as well as in wells and even toilets.54 Evoking this respectful kizunathat humans had with nature, Kawakami asks what the God of Uranium would be thinking now, about our exploitation of this natural resource.55 Kawakami seems to be suggesting that we have made a kind of vindictive god (tatarigami) out of the “God of Uranium”, and that Japanese people are forgetting their general sense of reverence for those elements of nature that make their current lifestyles possible. She also seems to be warning her readers of the dangers of playing God. The nuclear reactions that happened over billions of years have reduced radioactivity on Earth to a level that human beings can finally inhabit, and yet humans risk turning Earth into an uninhabitable planet again by playing with nuclear power.
Although conventional Japanese literature focuses on the portrayal of watashi (as typified by the “I novel” genre known as ‘watakushi shōsetsu” or “shishōsetsu”),56 Kawakami’s works portray a different world view in which watashi is but a tiny existence in a world which will continue to revolve without these individuals. Watashi is not completely insignificant, though – Kawakami believes that each person’s perspective still matters.57 In Kawakami’s world view, although humans have a contribution to make, they must realise that they are not as significant as they think. Such a view leads to betterkizuna with nature. Kamisama 2011 seems to be warning humans who act as though they are rulers of the vast playground of planet Earth that they are mere children, who still have much to fear from nature. Unlike religious beliefs and superstitions which aim to convey a similar message using scare tactics (such as the traditional Japanese association of earthquakes with an angry catfish), Kawakami’s story evokes feelings of guilt, with particular pertinence in contemporary Japan.
Kizuna between generations
Like Wagō, Kawakami also evokes the kizuna that exists (or that needs to be strengthened) between Japanese people today and future generations. Postmodern novelist Takahashi Gen’ichirō includes a chapter in his post-3/11 novel Koisuru Genpatsu (A Nuclear Reactor in Love) called “Shinsai bungaku ron” (An essay on earthquake literature), where he reviews some of the literary texts he believes are relevant to 3/11.58 Although it is by no means clear whether this chapter reflects Takahashi’s honest opinion, since it is part of a novel and not an essay, his analysis of Kawakami’s text is worth mentioning. In fact, the Kawakami work discussed by Takahashi is an imaginary text, built on both versions of Kamisama 2011. Takahashi’s version is Kamisama (2011), a new text which adds parentheses to Kawakami’s Kamisama and Kamisama 2011 to indicate parts that have been added or deleted. Takahashi focuses his analysis on the abovementioned confrontation scenes, where the child punches and kicks the bear in the original version, and the two men (who were accompanying the child in the original version) simply pull the bear’s fur and talk about him as if he is not there, in the post-3/11 version. Takahashi points out that superimposing the two texts in this manner creates an effect of the children talking behind the men, as if they are ghosts.59 Although the ghost-like presence of children could be interpreted as the spirits of the young victims of the earthquake and tsunami, Takahashi prefers to read them as the future victims of radiation poisoning – children who will be killed by radiation, or will never be brought into this world due to fears about the effects of radiation.60 For Takahashi, Kamisama (2011) is thus Kawakami’s display of commitment towards future generations as a member of current society, in line with Kawakami’s humble and respectful attitude towards the world.
Kawakami’s vision of community also involves kizuna and offers reconciliation with those who were directly involved in the nuclear meltdowns. Kawakami prefers to refer to nuclear incidents as “that thing” as though to avoid placing the full blame on those who operated the power plant (by calling them genpatsu jiko, or “nuclear accidents”, for example). This shows Kawakami’s willingness to accept some of the blame as a member of society who used electricity derived from nuclear power without questioning its safety. In this vision, all Japanese citizens who use electricity are in some way involved in the disaster, and thus bear some responsibility for any future consequences. Kawakami does not use quotation marks for watashi’s dialogue, as though she is intending to merge the reader’s consciousness with watashi’s. The whole story reads as though it is a daydream. Kawakami is participating indirectly in Japan’s recovery from the triple disaster, by guiding her readers to accept what has already happened and move forward, living in harmony with nature, so that their homeland can be passed onto future generations without further damage.
Conclusion
Wagō and Kawakami both challenge and then expand on the narrative of kizuna that has been repeated in mainstream media following 3/11. Rather than simply denying or questioning the existence of this kizuna in Japanese society, Wagō and Kawakami both present visions of kizuna which they believe to be more relevant to the physical and emotional reconstruction of the disaster-hit areas, at times by referring back to traditional Japanese worldviews. Most notably, both authors emphasise the importance of kizuna with nature as well as with future generations in their initial literary reactions to the triple disaster, even though these elements were not included in the popular notion of kizuna that was used by the mainstream media and the general public.
Wagō and Kawakami both changed their characteristic writing style significantly in their responses to the disaster. In order to disseminate their message in a timely manner, they both abandon any attempt at literary greatness or timelessness. Wagō, who previously only published his poetry in established literary magazines after weeks of refining his writing, now publishes impromptu poetry on Twitter. Kawakami destroyed her characteristic fantastical style, and produced a story which can only be fully understood in the post-3/11 context. The two authors used what they could get their hands on – Twitter in the case of Wagō and a pre-existing story in the case of Kawakami – and managed to create something new out of the debris. In the face of this unprecedented disaster, 3/11 literature thus provides a model for Japan’s emotional and physical reconstruction through its resourcefulness, sense of urgency, and alternative vision of kizuna.
Recommended citation: Tamaki Tokita, "The Post-3/11 Quest for True Kizuna – Shi no Tsubute by Wagō Ryōichi and Kamisama 2011 by Kawakami Hiromi (真の「絆」を追求する３.１１文学 ― 和合亮一「詩の礫」と川上弘美「神様２０１１」を中心に ―)", The Asia-Pacific Journal, Vol. 13, Issue 6, No. 7, February 16, 2015.
しかし、３・１１の背後の見えない闇もある。それが解明されるまでまだまだ時間がかかるのだろう。真実は表層の蠢きだけではないところがある。もっと科学技術のありようを見据える必要もあるようだ。そして犠牲を厭わない思想もある。殺しが正当化されるグローバル妖怪の存在もあるね。
Author Biography
Tamaki Tokita is a PhD candidate in the International and Comparative Literary Studies Program at the University of Sydney, Australia. Her research interests are mainly in the fields of Comparative Literature and Translation Studies. Her current project examines global literary responses to the 2011 Tōhoku earthquake and tsunami in Japan.
Notes
1 Established in 1984, the Shingo Ryūkōgo Taishō (“the grand prize for new and popular words”) is awarded to the top ten vogue words of the year, chosen by a committee of seven judges from a pool of public nominations.“Kanji” are the Chinese-derived ideographic characters used in Japanese, alongside the hiragana and katakana syllabaries.
2 Tsuruoka Masahiro, “Sekai no ‘Kizuna’ ni Kansha: Shushō, Kakkoku Yūryokushi ni Messēji Kōkoku” [Thanking the World for their ‘Kizuna’: PM Sends Message Advertisement to Major International Newspapers], Asahi Shimbun Digital, 12 April 2012. Retrieved 22 March 2014.
3 Japanese Kanji Proficiency Society. “2011 nen ‘Kotoshi no Kanji’” [2011 ‘Kanji of the Year’]. Japanese Kanji Proficiency Society Website, 2011. Retrieved on 23 March 2014.
4 Nadeshiko refers to the pink Dianthus flower (Cayrophyllaceae), which is said to symbolise Japanese femininity.
5 Saitō Tamaki, “‘Kizuna’ Renko ni Iwakan” [Feeling Uneasy with the Repetition of ‘Kizuna’]. Mainichi Shimbun, 11 December 2011.
6 Sugimoto Yoshio and Ross Mouer, Nihonjinron no Hōteishiki The Formula of Nihonjinron], Tokyo, Chikuma shobō, 1995, p. 198. See the rest of the book for an in-depth analysis of the development of Nihonjinron.
7 Amy Chavez, “Hey, Look! No Loot!” The Japan Times 26 March 2011. Retrieved on 29 January 2014; Susan Donaldson James and Russell Goldman,“Japanese, Waiting in Line for Hours, Follow Social Order After Quake” ABC News, 15 March 2011. Retrieved on 29 January 2014; Ed West, “Why is There No Looting in Japan?” The Telegraph 14 March 2011. Retrieved on 29 January 2014.
8 An example of this is: “Kaigai ‘Nihonjin ni Kokoro kara no Keii o’: Shinsai Ji no ‘Nihon no Tamashii’ ni Gaikokujin Kandō” [The World Sends their Heartfelt Respect to Japanese People: Foreigners are Touched by the “Japanese Spirit” Displayed After the Earthquake], Pandora no Yūutsu [Pandora’s Gloom], 5 June 2013. Retrieved on 22 March 2014.
9 Saitō, “Kizuna”.
10 Richard J. Samuels, 3.11: Disaster and Change in Japan, Ithaca, Cornell University Press, 2013, p. 40.
11 Azuma Hiroki, “Shinsai de Bokutachi wa Barabara ni Natte Shimatta” [The Disaster Broke Us Apart], Shisō Chizu Beta 2 [Thought Map Beta 2], 2011, p. 12. Also see English translation: Azuma Hiroki, “The Disaster Broke Us Apart”, trans. Matsuyama Naoki, Shisō Chizu Beta 2 [Thought Map Beta 2], 2011, p. 220-223.
12 Azuma, “Shinsai”, p.14.
13 Azuma, “Shinsai”, p.14.
14 Wagō Ryōichi, and Kamata Minoru, “Taidan: ‘Ganbarō’ de Naku ‘Akiramenai’” [Interview: ‘Don't Give Up’ Not ‘Hang in There’], Fujin Kōron Women’s Review], vol. 96, no. 25, 2011, p. 59.
15 It should be noted here that it is possible to say a lot more in a tweet (which has a 140-character limit) in Japanese than is possible in English.
16 For more information about Shi no Tsubute and a translated excerpt, see: Wagō Ryōichi, “Pebbles of Poetry: The Tōhoku Earthquake and Tsunami”,The Asia-Pacific Journal, vol. 9, iss. 29, no. 4, 18 July 2011. Retrieved on 20 March 2014, from http://japanfocus.org/-Jeffrey-Angles/3568. For an in-depth analysis of Wagō’s use of Twitter, see: Takushi Odagiri, “The End of Literature and the Beginning of Praxis: Wagō Ryōichi’s Pebbles of Poetry”,Japan Forum, vol. 26, no. 3, 2014, pp. 361–382.
17 Wagō Ryōichi, “Hito to Chikyū ni Torubeki Katachi o Anji Seyo: Shi no Tsubute to Iu Basho kara” [Suggesting to People and the Earth how they Should Be: From a Place Called Shi no Tsubute], Gendaishi Techō [Journal of Contemporary Poetry], vol. 54, no. 8, 2011, p. 130.
18 Wagō Ryōichi, Shi no Tsubute. Tokyo, Tokuma Shoten, 2011, p.11 (trans. Jeffrey Angles). All further translations from Shi no Tsubute are my own.
19 Wagō, Shi no Tsubute, p. 11.
20 Wagō, Shi no Tsubute, p. 129.
21 Wagō and Kamata, “Taidan”, p. 60.
22 Wagō, Shi no Tsubute, pp. 68, 74 and 210.
23 Wagō, Shi no Tsubute, p. 22.
24 Wagō, Shi no Tsubute, p. 106.
25 Wagō, Shi no Tsubute, p. 68.
26 Wagō, Shi no Tsubute, p. 48.
27 Wagō, Shi no Tsubute, p. 141.
28 Wagō, Shi no Tsubute, p. 141.
29 Wagō, Shi no Tsubute, p. 213.
30 Wagō, Shi no Tsubute, p. 208.
31 Wagō, Shi no Tsubute, p. 227.
32 Wagō, Shi no Tsubute, p. 190.
33 Wagō, Shi no Tsubute, p. 235.
34 Wagō, Shi no Tsubute, p. 49.
35 Wagō, Shi no Tsubute, p. 210.
36 Wagō Ryōichi, “Chosha ni Kiku: Wagō Ryōichi Shi no Tsubute” [Ask the Author: Wagō Ryōichi Shi no Tsubute], Chuō Kōron Central Review], vol. 126, no. 8, 2011, p. 247.
37 Wagō Ryōichi and Azuma Hiroki, “Fukushima kara Kangaeru Kotoba no Chikara” [Thinking From Fukushima About the Power of Words], Shisō Chizu Beta 2 [Thought Map Beta 2], 2011, p. 187. The video version of this talk is available at: “Nico Nama Shisō Chizu 01 Wagō Ryōichi X Azuma Hiroki” [Niconico Live Thought Map 01 Wagō Ryōichi and Azuma Hiroki], Niconico, 30 May 2011. Retrieved on 22 March 2014.
38 Wagō, Shi no Tsubute, p. 64.
39 Wagō and Azuma, “Fukushima kara Kangaeru”, p. 187.
40 Fukuma Kenji and Wagō Ryoichi, “Daishinsai no Toshi, Shi no Ima o Kangaeru: Aoi Ie, Soshite, Shi no Tsubute Sanbusaku kara” [Thinking About Poetry Today in the Year of the Great Earthquake: Aoi Ie, and the Shi no Tsubute Trilogy], Gendaishi Techō Journal of Contemporary Poetry], vol. 54, no. 11, 2011, p. 18.
41 Wagō, Shi no Tsubute, p. 261.
42 Wagō, Shi no Tsubute, p. 263.
43 Although the bear will be referred to with male pronouns here, the gender of the bear is not stated in the novel.
44 Kawakami Hiromi, Kamisama 2011 God Bless You, 2011], Tokyo, Kodansha, 2011, pp. 29, 31 and 36; All English translations for Kamisama, Kamisama 2011 and the postscript are works of Ted Goossen and Shibata Motoyuki, taken from Elmer Luke and David Karashima, March was Made of Yarn: Writers Respond to Japan's Earthquake and Tsunami, London, Harvill Secker, 2012, 37–53.
45 Kawakami, Kamisama 2011, pp. 5 and 23.
46 Kawakami, Kamisama 2011, pp. 6 and 24.
47 Kawakami, Kamisama 2011, p. 13.
48 Kawakami, Kamisama 2011, pp. 9-10.
49 Kawakami, Kamisama 2011, p. 29.
50 Kawakami, Kamisama 2011, p. 30.
51 Kawakami, Kamisama 2011, p. 10.
52 Kawakami Hiromi, “Sōjō no Chūshoku” [The Luncheon on the Grass], in Kamisama, Tokyo, Chuō Kōron Shinsha, 1998, 175-92.
53 Kawakami Hiromi, and Mitsuyoshi Numano, “Sekai wa Yuragi, Genjitsu to Gensō no Sakaime mo Yuraide Iru: Nihon Bungaku no Hon’yakuka tachi to Shōsetsu Kazahana o Kataru” [The World is Shaking, and the Border Between Reality and Fantasy is Being Blurred: Discussing the Novel Kazahana with Translators of Japanese Literature], Japanese Book News Salon, Japan Foundation, 2012. Retrieved on 22 March 2014.
54 Kawakami, Kamisama 2011, p. 39.
55 Kawakami, Kamisama 2011, p. 43.
56 For an in-depth exploration of the “I novel” genre, see: Edward Fowler, The Rhetoric of Confession: Shishōsetsu in Early Twentieth-century Japanese Fiction, Berkeley, University of California Press, 1992.
57 Kawakami and Numano, “Sekai wa Yuragi”, unpaginated.
58 Takahashi Gen’ichirō, Koisuru Genpatsu A Nuclear reactor in Love], Tokyo, Kōdansha, 2011.
59 Takahashi, Koisuru Genpatsu, p. 210.
60 Takahashi, Koisuru Genpatsu, p. 211.
