October 19, 2017

Big junk day


Especially during the go-go 1980s, the Japanese were no slackers in the conspicuous consumption department. This started back in the 1960s, when the "Three Sacred Treasures" (a wry reference to the Imperial Regalia) were a television, a refrigerator and a washing machine.

Heart-warming movies like Always that take place in the post-war period dependably include a character who is the first in the neighborhood to buy the latest electronic gadget or appliance.

In the first movie, the dad (top right) is the first on the block to buy a B&W television. In the third installment, he's the first on the block to buy a color television (which would have cost the equivalent of several thousand dollars).

The inevitable problem in a country where storage space (like garages) is in very short supply is what to do with the old stuff. The answer: So dai gomi hi (粗大ごみ日) or "Big junk day." It's the day on which large pieces of refuse may be legally discarded in designated areas.

"Big Junk Day" produced a mountain of stuff in the central plaza of the apartment complex where I lived in Osaka. The first scavengers on the scene were the used appliance retailers, a great source for warrantied refurbished appliances on a budget (delivery included!).

If you don't mind crawling through the junk to get at the good stuff, you might come away with a prize. Courtesy of Hiroyuki Kitazawa, here's a more modest dai gomi collection. Cities that don't have a specific day will often haul stuff away for a nominal fee.


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October 15, 2017

Blue Orchid (7)


I've posted chapter 7 of "Blue Orchid."

In Embracing Defeat, John Dower documents the orgy of corruption and looting that took place in Japan during the few shorts weeks after Hirohito's public address announcing the surrender and before the post-war Occupation formally began.

The emperor's loyal soldiers and sailors seemed to have metamorphosed overnight into symbols of the worst sort of egoism and atomization. Officers as well as enlisted men engaged in looting, sometimes on a grand scale, and police reports expressed fear that public disgust would extend upward to "grave distrust, frustration, and antipathy toward military and civilian leaders," even "hatred of the military" in general.

During the Occupation, all that loot spilled onto the black market, which was made worse by the efforts of the Occupation forces to suppress it (as with Prohibition and organized crime, the yakuza was reborn during this era).

Recall from Poseidon of the East that the emperor indeed has no interest in the bureaucracy. But his willingness to delegate will prove a very successful approach to governance.

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October 12, 2017

Logan


I'm sure that somewhere along the line, the final cut of Logan was heavily influenced by Deadpool, which proved that a decidedly not family-friendly superhero flick could find a niche and deliver healthy box offices receipts.


And, as with Deadpool, it mostly works. Which isn't to say that being dark and gritty for its own sake (for ART!!!) is necessarily a good thing. I imagine Disney will keep things in check. I actually found the cussing less objectionable than the non-stop killing of "redshirts."

Nothing is more morally weird than the way the MPAA rates movies.

I'm not a devotee of superhero movies, so I don't have a long list to compare and contrast. But Logan is better than most. Though on an absolute scale it's still not very good, especially compared to Deadpool.

Logan is redeemed by Wolverine being so broken down he's almost "normal." Unfortunately, the plot of Logan was old when The X-Files did it to death—some evil corporation or government guy making and/or chasing "gifted" children around. The Ghost in the Shell remake has the same problem.

(Logan perhaps works best as a clever way to reboot the franchise, though I don't get why they clumsily set it in the "near future." By the time those kids grow up it will be the near future and time to start rolling sequels off the assembly line.)

In the process, Logan makes clear how more interesting the whole series might have been had Jackman's Wolverine that vulnerable all along. And had Patrick Stewart's Charles Xavier been that unstable from the start (the same way Stewart's manic Picard in Star Trek: First Contact is so refreshing).


And how much Wolverine not having to share the stage with a crowd of other heroes-in-tights improves the drama. Alas, comic book franchises these days are all about the "universe" of characters occupying them, which can't help but get unbelievably stupid in very short order.

Okay, so the R-rated superhero flick is now a thing (although anime has been doing it for ages). But here's another variation on a theme for the superhero franchises to test out (at the end of their run).

As with Logan, invent some alternate universe where all the rest of the boring superheros have been killed off except for the actually interesting (and vaguely plausible) one. Then let him deal with a world where all of the supervillains have been killed off too.

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October 08, 2017

Blue Orchid (6)


I've posted chapter 6 of "Blue Orchid."

The author uses a curious idiom in this chapter: 「梨の礫」 (nashi no subute). Literally, "a pear's small stones." It means to get no response to an action, which I translated as "hitting a brick wall" (p. 247).

In this case, nashi (梨) is an ateji (当て字), a written kanji assigned to a word based on how it is read aloud (the phoneme), not the meaning.

Perhaps the most common ateji known around the world is sushi (寿司). Its kanji, meaning "longevity" and "political administration," have nothing to do with fish or even food.

A little online research reveals that nashi should logically be written 「無し」 or "none, without any." Thus the expression literally means "no small stones." Throw small stones at a big problem and you'll get no response.

As the result of a semantic substitution or a malapropism that caught on, the adverb nashi was replaced by a noun ("pear") that is its homonymic equivalent but whose literal meaning is nonsensical.

To be sure, all languages, no less English, are plagued by such idioms and colloquial expressions. Off the top of my head (not the bottom or the side):

"head over heels" (not "heels over head"?)
"pull one's leg"
"drunk as a skunk"
"as all get out"

And when you're done, be sure to put the cat back in the bag.

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October 05, 2017

"Shogun" revisited (4)


What struck me the most forcefully when I started rewatching Shogun for the first time in almost 40 years is how politically incorrect it is starting out. And I don't mean the silly Orientalism that You Only Live Twice revels in (though there is plenty of that).


No sooner has Chamberlain's Blackthorne run his ship aground in the "Japans" but his ego collides with every human obstacle in literal spitting (and pissing) distance. In the process, determined to repay every slight and assert his authority, he makes life much worse for himself and his men.

However he may realize that he is a stranger in a strange land, it takes him too long to grasp how the balance of power has shifted, that he has no power and no authority except that which is granted to him.

In any early scene, the hugely enjoyable John Rhys-Davies (his part isn't nearly big enough) commiserates with him in a hilariously vulgar rant. I doubt that any network would broadcast such a soliloquy of racial slurs over the air today.

This is not vulgarity for its own sake. In Blackthorne, Clavell creates a character arc comparable to Clint Eastwood's Walt Kowalski in Gran Torino and even Andrew Garfield's Rodrigues in Silence (though at opposite ends of the civility and introspection spectrums).

All three men find themselves at war with an image of themselves that cannot survive a changing environment, with the moral stakes raised all the higher when the fate of third parties become dependent on their actions.

In both Silence and Shogun, the well-being of their colleagues, and then the lives of villagers unknown to them, are used to extort from them external changes in behavior (in Japanese, tatemae) that eventually become incorporated into their characters (honne).

The English translation of Shusaku Endo's novel was published in 1969, which leads me to believe Clavell was familiar with it when writing Shogun.

There was literally no going back for Blackthorne. He had to adapt or be crushed underfoot, because the new world was not going to adapt to suit his whims. By the end of the story, his sense of who he is as an Englishman will have been taken apart and remade in Japanese terms.

The striking nature of his transformation is illustrated when he is briefly reunited with his old crew. They haven't changed. They can't even imaging changing. The differences are stark. They have literally grown worlds apart. He can't leave their presence and get back to "Japan" fast enough.

Like Rodrigues in Silence, this is a transformation resisted, negotiated, and then embraced. In Blackthorne's case, however, he does so largely on his own terms and not at the point of a sword.

A big disappointment of Shogun is that so much happened after the miniseries ends. As a retainer of Tokugawa Ieyasu, Adams fought at Sekigahara, he negotiated trading rights with the Dutch and the East India Company, and captained several voyages to the Phillipines.

As the fictional Father Alvito predicts, Will Adams never returned to England. He died in 1620, leaving behind families in both countries. Adams is buried outside Nagasaki, where his grave marker still exists. Richard Cocks of the East India Company recorded in his diary,

I cannot but be sorrowfull for the loss of such a man as Capt William Adams, he having been in such favour with two [shoguns] of Japan as never any Christian in these part of the world.

Two and a half centuries later, another man from the British Isles, the Scotsman Thomas Glover, moved to Japan. In 1859, he established himself in Nagasaki and became a key arms dealer supplying guns and warships to the Satsuma and Choshu domains in their successful revolt against the shogunate.

Glover went on to contribute significantly to the industrialization of Japan during the Meiji period. Unlike Adams, he couldn't be made the hatamoto of a shogun who no longer existed. He was instead awarded the Order of the Rising Sun. Like Adams, he was also buried in Nagasaki.

And thus did two subjects of the Queen of England help shape the future of Japan.

Related posts

Shogun revisited
Techno-orientalism
Dances with Samurai
Japan made in Hollywood
Dogs, demons, and construction companies

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October 01, 2017

Blue Orchid (5)


I've posted chapter 5 of "Blue Orchid."

The roboku (路木) is the riboku located at the heart of the Imperial Palace. The riboku is first described in chapter 53 of Shadow of the Moon. New species of plants can essentially be bioengineered via the roboku. In the wild, they also spontaneously evolve new plants and flowers on their own, as Rangyoku explains in chapter 33 of A Thousand Leagues of Wind.

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September 28, 2017

"Shogun" revisited (3)


I was a Japanese major in college when Shogun debuted on American television. The subject of one's scholarship appearing in popular culture is always just cause to take up academic arms against superficial ways a complex subject is so often reduced to in the mass media.

Shogun provided plenty of material for the easily outraged.

The propensity to treat a foreign culture as an extended episode of Ripley's Believe It or Not! is known as "Orientalism." It's a valid criticism, though keeping in mind that that the biggest Orientalists in the world are Orientals. Ditto "Occidentalism."

The more blatant Orientalist sins are found in the middle arc of Shogun, which, frankly, slows to a drag. The political scheming and deal-making that would soon shatter the fragile regency and lead to the Battle of Sekigahara was going on elsewhere. So Blackthorne hasn't much to do.

Instead we get a tedious soap opera, poor language acquisition skills, and a crash coarse in Nihonjinron, a nativist philosophy that was all the rage in the 1970s and 1980s. Nihonjinron argues that everything about Japan is unique, special, and unlike anything else in the world.

And every Japanese, by dint of being Japanese, is born a zen master.

Not only James Clavell, but pretty much the entire media establishment bought into it hook, line, and sinker. As a result, any silly assertion could be justified on the grounds that it was "Japanese," including all that pop-psychology blather about "living in the moment" and whatnot.

In part, I believe that writers of Clavell's generation were trying to comprehend Japan's role in WWII. Thus the huge influence of Ruth Benedict's The Chrysanthemum and the Sword. Written during the war, it helped spawn the modern Nihonjinron movement after the war.

I remember my Japanese professors of Japanese being the most annoyed about the absurd business with the pheasant and the depiction of seppuku (harakiri) and kiri-sute gomen (切捨御免) as being well-nigh ubiquitous.

Meaning "to cut down without regard," the latter refers to the "right" of the samurai "to strike with sword at anyone of a lower class who compromised their honor." As portrayed, it's about as historically accurate as gunfights at high noon were in the 19th century western United States.

Meaning, it happened. Now and then. Certainly not as often nor as casually as suggested in Shogun (and countless home-grown samurai actioners). Killing commoners was a bad idea in an agrarian society with limited arable land and a staple crop that requires a lot of care and nurturing.

Actual armed conflicts were more likely to erupt between high and low-ranked samurai, hence the term gekokujou (下剋上), meaning "juniors dominating seniors." The legendary "revenge of the 47 ronin" began with two high-ranked provincial lords getting into a tussle in Edo Castle.

The Meiji Restoration was in large part driven by lower-ranked samurai revolting against their masters, up to and including the Tokugawa shogunate.

But let's make love, not war. Orientalism doesn't get any sillier than the scene in which Blackthorne is offered a foursome. The only difference with practically the same material in You Only Live Twice is that James Bond is randier than Blackthorne. And takes himself less seriously.

Of course, the message of this Oriental "exoticism" is that everybody is having better sex than stuffy old us. Though given the current birth rate in Japan, that particular message seems to have gotten lost somewhere along the line.

We also get a de rigueur mixed-bathing scene. As far as that goes, you'll have to look long and hard to find a mixed public bath in Japan these days, though it was once commonplace.

U.S. Consul Townsend Harris was shocked by the practice back in the 1850s. He was reassured by one of his more anthropologically-minded friends that "the chastity of Japanese women" was due to "this very exposure that lessens the desire that owes much of its power to mystery and difficulty."

Which brings us to a running joke in the Shogun miniseries that happens to be pretty spot on. Again, it was Townsend Harris who observed that the Japanese "are a clean people. Everyone bathes every day."

Back in the 16th century, Europeans didn't. So the first time he's told to wash his smelly self off, Blackthorne reacts as if he's been told to jump into a volcano. Though it doesn't take him long to think better of the practice (especially when he gets to share the tub with Yoko Shimada).

Blackthorne never quite conquers the conjugation of "to be," but the o-furo is one cultural practice he has no problem accommodating himself to.

Related posts

Shogun revisited
Techno-orientalism
Dances with Samurai
Japan made in Hollywood
Dogs, demons, and construction companies

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September 24, 2017

Blue Orchid (4)


I've posted chapter 4 of "Blue Orchid."

The more daring of the "freelance" yaboku hunters work in the Yellow Sea. There they are known as "corpse hunters" because their life expectancy is so low. In The Wings of Dreams, when Shushou hires him, Gankyuu is a corpse hunter entering the Yellow Sea, not to go on the Shouzan, but to hunt youjuu that can be trained as kijuu.

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September 21, 2017

"Shogun" revisited (2/4)


It's hardly "serious" fiction, but the miniseries Shogun takes Japanese history more seriously than most recent Hollywood productions. One exception is Martin Scorsese's Silence. Scorsese stuck closely to Shusaku Endo's book and hired BYU professor Van C. Gessel as a consultant.

Gessel discusses the experience in the lecture featured below (the audio quality is unfortunately poor).


Shogun is also based on a novel. James Clavell did his homework too. But nobody sells 15 million copies of anything conducting a graduate course on medieval Japanese history and anthropology. So Clavell methodically runs through a checklist of every "educated" stereotype on the subject.

And probably promulgated a few new ones. This isn't necessarily a bad thing. Stereotypes persist because of their utility. If 15 million people can be persuaded to read a 1152 page melodrama about Japan's Warring States period at the end of the 16th century, maybe they'll be game for more substantive fare.

But how does the miniseries otherwise hold up as a cinematic experience? Sure, it clunks rather loudly at times. But all things considered, better than I expected it would.

As mentioned previously, Shogun looks like a NHK historical drama from the early 1980s. That's a criticism and a compliment. And no surprise: it was shot at Hikone castle, Himeji castle, and at the legendary Toho, Shochiku, and Daiei-Kyoto Studios. It's nice to see real Japan in a movie about Japan.

The Last Samurai was shot in New Zealand, 47 Ronin was shot in Scotland and Hungary, Silence was shot in Taiwan. This isn't all the fault of Hollywood. Local Japanese politicians haven't quite grasped the idea of a film commission that recruits big budget film productions and cuts through the red tape on their behalf.

One advantage of building sets and shooting in places like New Zealand is not having to matte out the backgrounds. As Akira Kurosawa once noted, "Japan's penchant for power lines and retaining walls has left little unspoiled scenery for movie makers."

Shogun director Jerry London employed the same cheats as Masato Harada did shooting his 2017 historial epic, Sekigahara: high and low angles with tight fields-of-view (which is less annoying when the castle in the background is a real Japanese castle).

Shogun co-star Yoko Shimada wears too much makeup and the wigs aren't terribly convincing. Again, what you'd expect in a NHK drama from forty years ago. They've greatly improved in both departments since, though the chonmage (丁髷) is still a challenge.

The chonmage hairstyle lasted well into the 19th century. It's essentially a reverse Mohawk, hard to pull off without leaving a bump across the forehead. Issei Takahashi in Naotora wears one about as good as I've seen—except when viewed from the back.

But it's a costume drama, so—costumes. Richard Chamberlain wears a hakama quite nicely. But knowing a little more history (and being exposed to a lot more Japanese television) than I did back then, what first upset my suspension of disbelief was the casting of Ishido.

There's no arguing with Toshiro Mifune as Toranaga, nee Tokugawa Ieyasu, though sans the chonmage that in contemporaneous portraits Ieyasu is always depicted sporting. I suspect that Mifune, as well as Kaneko, simply didn't want to go through all the bother, the kind of thing an actor can get away with if he's a big enough star.

But casting Nobuo Kaneko as Ishido only made me grin. The problem is that Nobuo Kaneko resembles a Japanese Edward G. Robinson. Maybe they wanted to be obvious and have a heavy play the heavy.

Ishido's historical equivalent is Ishida Mitsunari, who led the Western armies against Ieyasu's Eastern forces.

Mitsunari was only forty-one at the Battle of Sekigahara. He was a capable administrator who single-highhandedly kept the regime viable as Hideyoshi turned into a paranoid Shakespearean villain, executing anybody who challenged his legitimacy or threatened the succession of his son and only heir.

Mitsunari made a lot of enemies as Hideyoshi's enforcer. He also lacked battlefield experience, not having fought in Hideyoshi's two pointless Korean campaigns. As a result, keeping his allies on the same page was like herding cats. Many simply disliked Ieyasu more than they disliked Mitsunari.

Ieyasu as well usually left the fighting to others. A wily politician and negotiator, he convinced (bribed and coerced) several of Mitsunari's generals to either sit out the fight or defect to his side. The cataclysmic battle was over in a single day, despite half of Ieyasu's army arriving a day late.

As one of history's great might-have-beens, Mitsunari has long been ensconced in the pantheon of Japan's heroic losers. As such, he is invariably played by a dashing young actor, like Shun Oguri's portrayal of Mitsunari in Tenchijin (also sporting a great chonmage).

In the run-up to the Battle of Sekigahara in 1600, Mitsunari and Ieyasu jostled for political control of the regency created by Hideyoshi before his death. Sort of a Japanese version of The West Wing circa 1599. Alas, that's not the kind of material to make an American miniseries about.

There not being enough time or budget to show the battle itself, we're simply told about the subsequent events. This is unfortunate, considering that Adams himself removed the cannon from his ship, accompanied them to Sekigahara, and commanded the battery. Ieyasu had many reasons to prize the man's company.

So in order to place our protagonist in constant peril, Shogun exaggerates the importance of the Jesuits and the Portuguese in the months before Sekigahara. They mostly operated in and around Nagasaki. These confrontations foreshadow the fate of Japan's Christian community and the disastrous war soon to engulf Europe.

And Blackthorne's verbal spats with Father Alvito (Damien Thomas, whose Japanese isn't as "native" as his backstory suggests but is nevertheless quite good) make for better drama than the melodramatically overwrought romantic interludes with Mariko (Yoko Shimada).


Mariko is far more interesting as a spot-on illustration of the highly syncretic nature of religion in Japan, which can seamlessly blend Buddhist practice and Christian belief without a second thought. In fact, this may be the most accurate reading of Japan's contemporary culture in the miniseries.

But speaking of melodramatic excesses, rumors of conspiracies to assassinate Ieyasu really were rife. Though they never materialized, the Machiavellian Ieyasu leveraged them to his own advantage. And so do writers of historical fiction, such as Keiichiro Ryu's Kagemusha Tokugawa Ieyasu.

Related posts

Shogun revisited
Techno-orientalism
Dances with Samurai
Japan made in Hollywood
Dogs, demons, and construction companies

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September 17, 2017

Blue Orchid (3)


I've posted chapter 3 of "Blue Orchid."

Bamboo hats (笠) come in many shapes and sizes, but I believe the reference is to something like this.

The water-channeling properties of the beech tree is called "stemflow."

Stemflow is the flow of intercepted water down the trunk or stem of a plant. Stemflow, along with throughfall, is responsible for the transferal of precipitation and nutrients from the canopy to the soil. In tropical rain forests, where this kind of flow can be substantial, erosion gullies can form at the base of the trunk. However, in more temperate climates stemflow levels are low and have little erosional power.

The Japanese chinquapin is Castanopsis cuspidata. The camphor tree is Cinnamomum camphora, "a large evergreen tree that grows 60 to 100 feet tall. The leaves have a glossy, waxy appearance and smell of camphor when crushed." The Chinese hackberry is Celtis sinensis.

The ranka is a made-up word, created from the kanji for egg/ovum (卵) and fruit (果).

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September 14, 2017

"Shogun" revisited (1/4)


The Shogun miniseries debuted on NBC on September 15, 1980. It ran for five consecutive nights and a total of 12 hours, garnering the highest weekly Nielsen ratings in the history of the NBC network.

Two months later Ronald Reagan would be elected in a landslide. A year later, IBM launched the IBM PC. Japan had the second largest economy on the planet. Japanese automakers were leaving Detroit in the dust and Sony was the Apple of its day. Serious people were seriously predicting "Japan as #1."

(And I was studying Japanese at BYU.)

By the end of the decade, Sony Corporation owned Columbia Pictures and Mitsubishi bought Rockefeller Center. Only seven years after that, Mitsubishi lost a billion dollars on the deal and sold off its controlling interest. The real estate bubble burst and Japanese fell into a decade-long recession.

(And I was teaching English in Japan.)

But at the time, Japan was the China of today, with a critical difference being that Japan was and remains a stalwart ally of the United States.

So credit NBC with great timing. But also credit the network for broadcasting a pretty good product. Based on the 1975 novel by James Clavell and starring Richard Chamberlain and Toshiro Mifune, Shogun gave its American audiences a westernized version of a classic NHK Taiga historical drama.

Meaning "big river," the Taiga is a big-budget (by Japanese standards) hour-long drama that runs from January to December. Each year it tackles the life of a notable historical figure. This year, the 16th century female clan leader Ii Naotora; next year, the 19th century general Saigo Takamori.

Unlike Shogun, the Taiga drama strives for sufficient accuracy to use everybody's real names, and does its best to faithfully recreate well-documented events. Though with forty or so hours to fill, a healthy amount of fiction will inevitably backfill the scarcer stuff that historians are confident happened.

Taking place after the death of Toyotomi Hideyoshi in 1598 and before the Battle of Sekigahara in 1600, Shogun is mostly fictional filler. But the miniseries does nail down the time frame and the principal characters, and does a reasonable amount of justice to the historical context.

Richard Chamberlain's John Blackthorne is based on a real person. Will Adams was the English captain of the Dutch-flagged expedition. Confined to a single year, at the end of which Tokugawa Ieyasu defeated Ishida Mitsunari at Sekigahara, Shogun can't help but downplay what a fascinating figure he was.

It also downplays the cruelly ironic turn of history that would take place in his lifetime. Every indignity suffered by the Protestant sailors at the beginning of Shogun would be visited upon the Jesuits a hundred fold. One explanation for this reversal of fortunes is made clear in Shogun, and another is alluded to.

Made clear is the geopolitical insult of the Treaty of Tordesillas, which "divided the newly discovered lands outside Europe between the Portuguese Empire and the Crown of Castile." The reason alluded to was Portuguese involvement in the mid-16th century trade of Chinese and Japanese slaves.

Restrictions on Catholicism in Japan began in earnest under Ieyasu's predecessor, Hideyoshi. Shogun mostly ignores this to keep the Jesuits around as the bad guys. It became a draconian ban under Ieyasu's son, culminating in the systematic annihilation of the Christian community after the Shimabara Rebellion in 1638.

Martin Scorsese's Silence (based on the novel by Shusaku Endo) explores this at length (if you can stomach two hours of man's inhumanity to man vividly illustrated).

Along with the suppression of Christianity, the Edo period of Tokugawa rule was characterized by a strictly-enforced sakoku (isolationist) policy. But Ieyasu did employ Adams to negotiate limited trading rights with the East India Company and the Dutch, though they were confined to a small port off the coast of Nagasaki.

Until the mid-19th century, information about the outside world trickling in from Europe became known in Japan as rangaku (蘭学) or "Dutch learning." Though it was an Englishman that made it happen.

Shogun is hardly without its anachronisms, categorical stereotypes, and soapy subplots. But as a Hollywood version of Japanese history, it does an all-around better job than The Last Samurai or 47 Ronin. Not merely a noted moment in television time, almost forty years later, Shogun stands up well to a second viewing.

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September 10, 2017

Blue Orchid (2)


I've posted chapter 2 of "Blue Orchid."

A rike (里家) is a foster/retirement home for orphans and the aged. In A Thousand Leagues of Wind, Youko goes undercover at a rike to further her education. Shoukei ends up at a rike after her family is killed in a coup, and is nearly killed herself when the people find out who she is.

Like me, you're probably going to learn more about the beech tree from this story than you ever expected. My own research aligns well with the author's descriptions. For example:

When milled into larger boards, beech tends to have more knots and defects than birch. Beech is more likely to suffer from decay than birch; it also may show mineral discoloration or "spalding," which is a type of decay or fungus.

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September 07, 2017

Trust but financially verify


Mooching is a given in Japan. I don't mean the welfare state, which is pretty parsimonious. Nobody goes to Japan to "game" the welfare system. Or the medical system. Japan has universal health coverage, and holds down costs with price controls and by being a late adopter, especially of drugs and pricey procedures like organ transplantation.

In 2015, there were 58 total organ transplants in Japan, versus over 30,000 in the U.S. Though Japan is a great place to get an inexpensive MRI or CT scan (technology, natch).

No, I'm talking about mooching off one's friends and relatives. The term du jour is "parasite single." Though it is constrained by certain cultural boundaries. The most common (dramatically speaking) is clearing debts and securing loans. The latter is a recurring dramatic trope: person X cosigns for person Y, who then defaults putting X in a tight spot.

Thereupon follows the trope of running out on one's debts, something that is more plausible in a country where so much of the financial system remains cash-based and bankruptcy is seen as the worse of the two alternatives. A national ID number system was only recently introduced.

A recent NHK morning melodrama began with the family decamping to the Noto Peninsula (the far side of the Moon) after the father defaults on a loan. It ends with him defaulting again (because his guarantor turned out to be crook), except this time he goes through a formal bankruptcy. This is depicted as the higher road but a tougher choice than in the U.S.

In any case, considering the kind of high-tech business he was in, in the U.S., he would have secured venture capital to start with, and at worse would have had to give up a controlling interest in the company. But the whole venture capital concept—giving money to complete strangers based on the strength of their ideas—hasn't really caught on in Japan.

Only recently has become possible to rent an apartment in Japan without a co-signer and the equivalent of a year's rent in advance. In the current NHK morning melodrama (which takes place during the 1960s), a girl renting a room in a boarding house (not an apartment) has her previous and future employer co-sign the lease.

The U.S., by contrast, because of its heterogeneous nature, evolved a "trust but verify" financial culture that makes it possible to invest in a person's resume rather that in who he's related to, and doesn't stigmatize risk-taking as long as the risk is understood. The venture capitalist accepts from the start that nine out of ten investments will fail.

This gets back to the intricacies of the mooching culture, which leads people to blindly trust "relations" even when the relations may turn out to be strangers. The result is an epidemic of what's called "Ore, ore" ("It's me") fraud. It's gotten so bad at times that police have been stationed at ATMs to ask the elderly why they are withdrawing money.

And yet, the deeply-seated cultural inclination, especially among the older generation, to trust "family" and to avoid public scandal, has made these crimes surprisingly difficult to curtail in a country that can rightfully boast of having one of the lowest crime rates in the world.

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September 03, 2017

Blue Orchid (1)


I've posted chapter 1 of "Blue Orchid."

The seed production cycle of the beech tree is known as "masting." Yields during an abundant year can be 80 percent higher than in a low year. Oak trees have a similar masting cycle.

In northern India, a particular species of bamboo flowers all at once every 48 years. The sudden abundance of bamboo seeds causes the rat population to explode. Once the rats have eaten their way through the bamboo, they turn on the granaries and paddy fields.

In the past, this phenomenon triggered famines. Now the cycles can be calculated and anticipated, but it's still a big problem every half-century.

Under the feudal system, a fief was "granted by an overlord to a vassal who held it in return for a form of feudal allegiance and service." In the Twelve Kingdoms, income from the fief pays a civil servant's salary. Apparently, he is also responsible for the wages of his subordinates.

A yaboku tree (野木) is the wild version of a riboku tree (里木). There are two types of yaboku: yaboku from which plants and trees are born, and yaboku from which animals are born. See chapter 53 of Shadow of the Moon.

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