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Japanese Prose Poetry (review)

2008, Journal of Japanese Studies

Japanese Prose Poetry (review) Leith Morton The Journal of Japanese Studies, Volume 34, Number 1, Winter 2008, pp. 208-212 (Review) Published by Society for Japanese Studies DOI: https://doi.org/10.1353/jjs.2008.0021 For additional information about this article https://muse.jhu.edu/article/231204 [ Access provided at 5 Oct 2020 04:51 GMT from Auckland University of Technology ] 208 Journal of Japanese Studies 34:1 (2008) by the modern ideology of love), clearly articulates her wish to share her husband’s thoughts and anguish, and she expects a reciprocity in their relationship that Sensei is never willing to give. Shizu is not Nogi’s Shizuko, with the unquestioning loyalty of a samurai’s wife, and that was perhaps one of the problems Sensei had difficulty dealing with, a problem he discovered only after marrying her. In reading “the Nogi palimpsest underlying Kokoro” (p. 185), it is just as important to pay attention to the gaps and differences between it and Kokoro as it is to the parallels between them. Bargen finishes the book by presenting examples of the variants of junshi from other places and times: the suicides of Marcus Porcius Cato Uticensis, Marcus Tullius Cicero, and Lucius Annacus Seneca from antiquity; many civilians and military men of 1945; and Mishima Yukio from postwar Japan. And this brief coda is perhaps meant to resonate with her earlier “anthropological speculations about East-West form and dissimilarities” (p. 8) in chapter 1. While we should give credit to Bargen’s attempt to combine various perspectives in shedding light on this little-understood (and often misunderstood) practice of junshi, I believe the historical and literary perspectives in the Japanese context are the most fruitful and valuable. By bringing into focus the historically specific circumstances surrounding Nogi’s life, and bringing together the selected texts of Ōgai and Sōseki, the book gives us invaluable insight not only into Nogi’s junshi but also into Ōgai and Sōseki’s moral dilemma and anguish and into the challenges that the changing values of the bakumatsu and Meiji periods must have posed for the Japanese people in general. Japanese Prose Poetry. By Yasuko Claremont. Wild Peony Pty. Ltd., Broadway, New South Wales, 2006; distributed by University of Hawai‘i Press. 164 pages. $25.00, paper. Reviewed by LEITH MORTON Tokyo Institute of Technology To my knowledge, the book under review is the only book to have been written in English on Japanese prose poetry since Dennis Keene’s pioneering work—The Modern Japanese Prose Poem—was published in 1980. Keene’s book quickly went out of print and Princeton University Press has never republished it, so Yasuko Claremont’s volume is a welcome addition to the tiny library of books in English on Japanese verse—here meaning vers libre, not traditional genres of poetry such as tanka, haiku, and senryū. This is not to say that other English-language books such as Hosea Hirata’s The Poetry and Poetics of Nishiwaki Junzaburō (Princeton University Press, Review Section 209 1993), or John Solt’s Shredding the Tapestry of Meaning on Kitasono Katsue (Harvard University Press, 1999), Miryam Sas’s Fault Lines: Cultural Memory and Japanese Surrealism (Stanford University Press, 1999) dealing mainly with poetry of Takiguchi Shūzō (but examining other poets as well), or my own Modernism in Practice: An Introduction to Postwar Japanese Poetry (University of Hawai‘i Press, 2004) have not treated prose poetry, as such writing was an important part of the oeuvres of the several poets examined in these works. And these are not the only books in English to touch upon Japanese prose poetry, but none of the books mentioned above attempts the kind of detailed and specialized analysis that Claremont and Keene undertake in their respective volumes. Claremont divides her book into four general chapters that examine a host of poets (20 by my count) and three other chapters that each focus on a single poet. This creates both advantages and disadvantages. The advantage of chapters that treat themes such as the aftermath of World War II, that is, the legacy bequeathed to postwar poets (chapter 3), and also the isolation of the self (chapter 4), by referring to a mass of poets and prose poems is that readers have the opportunity to encounter a large number of poems by a diverse group of poets. The disadvantage is that sometimes the treatment of an individual poet or poem is no more than a page or so—and most of the page is taken up by a translation of a poem. I would have preferred that Claremont had undertaken detailed studies of a small group of poets, say seven or eight writers, rather than divide the book in this way, as a passing glance at a multiplicity of writers does not add a great deal to the main thrust of her analysis. Another consequence of dividing the book is that the three detailed chapters on Irisawa Yasuo (b. 1931), Takayanagi Makoto (b. 1950), and Hiraide Takashi (b. 1950) are more studies of individual poets than a detailed consideration of prose poetry per se and do not link directly with the four general chapters discussing broader themes. The chapter on seven contemporary women poets (chapter 8) seems especially isolated because it is not clearly integrated into the broader thematic discussion conducted in the other general chapters. I assume Claremont chose the structure she did because this is only the second book on the subject in English (and I know of no other books on the subject in any other European language) and also because she wanted to differentiate her volume from that of Keene who has detailed studies of six modern prose poets (Miyoshi Tatsuji, Anzai Fuyue, Tamura Ryūichi, Yoshioka Minoru, and Tanikawa Shuntarō), half of whom are also treated in Claremont’s book but in nowhere near the same detail as in Keene’s. Claremont’s book thus discusses approximately four times as many poets as Keene’s, but only the three contemporary poets mentioned above receive the same kind of intensive analysis that Keene devotes to his choices. 210 Journal of Japanese Studies 34:1 (2008) Claremont’s analysis of poems and themes is, at times, illuminating and is always informative. Her discussion of Hagiwara Sakutarō and Nishiwaki Junzaburō (chapter 2) is clear and incisive, not a surprise since Claremont has published previously on these poets. But by far the best chapters are those on Irisawa Yasuo, Takayanagi Makoto, and Hiraide Takashi. The chapter on Irisawa deals extensively with his masterpiece Waga Izumo waga chinkon (My Izumo, my requiem, 1968) as well as other poems. Claremont reads this long epic, parodic poem as essentially a quest by the narrator for his lost soul. At the same time, she notes that it is an epic journey-poem traversing vast tracts of Japanese myth, history, and legend. It is also a supremely playful poem. If I have a criticism of Claremont’s interpretation, it is that more attention should be paid to the notes (according to Claremont, some 147 in total but I count a few more), which constitute the “My Requiem” half of the poem. However, this is a minor quibble as the poem, one of the masterpieces of postwar verse, can accommodate several contradictory readings. Claremont’s chapter on Irisawa is the longest in the book and, in view of the stature of this poet, this is not unexpected. Takayanagi is a poet who is far less well known than Irisawa or Hiraide but Claremont makes a strong case for his importance. As Claremont’s English translations are the first ever made of this poet, this chapter takes on extra significance. Her translations read well and I have no doubt are a good guide to the originals. Takayanagi’s prose poems appear to me to resemble some of the work by contemporary English and American poets— “language” poets such as Ron Silliman and the famous Cambridge poet J. H. Prynne. But readers will find their own connections to this poet who will surely come under further scholarly scrutiny in the years to come. Claremont has published previously on Hiraide Takashi and has met with the poet on more than one occasion. Thus the readings she proposes of the three books discussed in chapter 7 carry some weight. It is unfortunate, in my view, that the interpretation advanced by Claremont of Hiraide’s important collection Ie no ryokusenkō (Green flash in the house, 1987) fails to focus on the main structural device employed by the poet. Claremont notes that “Hiraide takes up the same topic repeatedly, each time with a different perspective” (p. 119) but more or less leaves her observation at that point. For me, Hiraide’s technique of confusing/fracturing/playing with the same subject matter (and sometimes the same words) creates two sets of poems on the same subject: a parallel universe of poems, a shadow (as in a photographic negative) and a positive double-layered structure that is witty but also serious in its dislocation (or defamiliarization) of language. Further, the double structure is repeated in the central motif of the “Green Ray,” a phenomenon both fictional and scientific. The disagreement provoked by Claremont’s careful analysis of this important poet—simultaneously vilified and lauded by Yoshimoto Takaaki in Sengoshi shiron (A historical Review Section 211 study of postwar poetry, 1981), his landmark history of postwar verse (republished in 1986)—is testimony to the depth of her scholarly examination. One general critique that can be made of the book is from the very examples cited by Claremont—Irisawa’s Waga Izumo, for example. At times it is impossible to draw a definite dividing line between prose poetry and “regular” poetry, for want of a better word. My view is that postwar poetry embraces a spectrum in which prose poetry may appear at one pole and poetry written with a heavy metrical structure may appear at the opposite pole. Much modern poetry (Japanese or otherwise) falls somewhere in between. In addition, while Claremont sees prose poetry as essentially inspired by Western verse, and so an intellectual rather than musical construct, there exist antecedents within the Japanese verse tradition. Some nineteenthcentury shintaishi (new-style poems), while following a five/seven syllabic count, are indeed intellectual constructs arguing a philosophic, theological, or scientific case, and some of these poems are exceedingly long. The poems in praise of evolution composed by Inoue Tetsujirō (1855 –1944), Yatabe Ryōkichi (1851–99), and Toyama Masakazu (1848 –1900) in the Shintaishishō collection (Selection of new-style poems, 1882) are certainly inspired by Western science but not exactly Western verse, and they have no connection to Charles Baudelaire or Stéphane Mallarmé, who Claremont sees as fundamental models for the prose poetry genre in Japan. Another possible antecedent to prose poetry is the bibun (elegant writing) genre of prose, which achieved great popularity in the mid-Meiji period and was championed by the Myōjō-ha group of poets. This genre of writing achieved significant aesthetic success in the hands of accomplished poets such as Yosano Akiko and her husband Hiroshi, both of whom exercised powerful influence over later generations of poets, whether writing traditional verse or vers libre. Yosano Hiroshi’s long shi (poems) were written in a mixture of traditional and modern styles and could have played some role in preparing the ground for prose poetry. Contemporary poets such as Nejime Shōichi and Tomioka Taeko have written both prose poetry and poetry that often resembles prose. In fact, both poets have now more or less abandoned poetry for prose, writing only fiction and nonfiction. Itō Hiromi also writes poetry that often looks like prose and, since her shift several years ago to California, has turned her hand to fiction. Nevertheless, she has not abandoned poetry. Tanikawa Shuntarō’s poetry has approached prose at several times in his career but he has no qualms about returning to “regular” poetry. These contemporary poets occupy the middle ground on the spectrum I mentioned above but often travel to one end of the spectrum or the other. This is a more realistic picture of contemporary verse practice than that suggested by a clear division between prose poetry and the rest. The translations in the volume are mostly Claremont’s own work and are good, accurate guides to the original verses, but from time to time the 212 Journal of Japanese Studies 34:1 (2008) author, who is usually generous in her acknowledgment of the work of other scholars and translators, quotes renditions by other translators. I found four or five instances where Claremont, no doubt inadvertently, has failed to source the poem to the existing published translation but instead in the notes cites only the original Japanese verse. These errors would need to be corrected if the book were to be reissued. The book is a valuable addition to existing scholarship on modern Japanese poetry and provides much valuable information on prose poetry, and also on various poets, that was not hitherto available in English. The book has various flaws, but overall the information and analysis contained within demands our gratitude to Yasuko Claremont for the arduous scholarly labors she has undoubtedly undertaken in producing this work. Inexorable Modernity: Japan’s Grappling with Modernity in the Arts. Edited by Hiroshi Nara. Lexington Books, Lanham, Md., 2007. xiv, 269 pages. $90.00, cloth; $32.95, paper. Reviewed by TOM HAVENS Northeastern University Inexorable Modernity examines various tough questions asked by Japanese writers, painters, and playwrights as they confronted modernity from the late nineteenth to the late twentieth centuries. Nearly all of the contributors to this volume are associated with the University of Pittsburgh or with J. Thomas Rimer, the senior scholar to whom the book is dedicated. A brief introduction by editor Hiroshi Nara, a linguist and intellectual historian, frames 11 chapters as efforts “to show that there are a number of ways of dealing with modernity even within one culture.” The authors “aim to capture the multifariousness of modernity” (p. 5) in Japan, a phenomenon the editor believes was “inexorable” because “Japan sanctioned influences from outside”—i.e., from the West. Surprisingly, Nara also contends that “the centrality of perceived cultural tradition, along with the polyvalence, may be the only grand narrative of Japan throughout history” (p. 12). This problematic view is only fitfully developed elsewhere in the volume. Of four chapters on art and aesthetics, the most captivating is Mikiko Hirayama’s crisp study of the major art critic Kojima Kikuo (1887–1950), who attacked avant-garde styles by embracing an eclectic “new realism” in Japanese oil painting during the 1930s. By “new realism,” Kojima meant avoiding indiscriminate emulation of European methods and instead cultivating “solidity of form, superb draughtsmanship, and rich colors,” as well