Review of Yamada Monogatari: To Break the Demon Gate by Richards Parks

My first encounter with Richard Parks as a reader was a nice surprise.  Going through The Best Science Fiction and Fantasy of the Year Vol. 8 I came across the story “Cherry Blossoms on the River of Souls”. About a young boy who goes investigating the well outside his bedroom window which emanates music each night and the fantastical things he finds within, it’s atmospheric, it’s mysterious, and it captures a little bit of that exotic Oriental something that I find so often reading Chinese stories but so rarely in Western stories of the same intent.  Thus when a copy of Parks’ novel Yamada Monogatari: To Break the Demon Gate (2014, Diamond Book Distributors) came my way, it was difficult to refuse.

Lacking the subtlety and mood of “Cherry Blossoms on the River of Souls”, To Break the Demon Gate is more a straightforward samurai drama of the fantastic.  Intent on Japanese history and swordfights, demons and ghosts, and court intrigue, it mixes mystery, action, and tropes familiar from other genres to create a lean, vigorous story.  The main character a minor lord caught up in a series of seemingly impossible murders, his penchant for drink has him nodding to detectives of noir while wielding a katana in classic samurai style, killing the ghosts and demons that threaten to spin Japan’s highest regal court out of order.

Review of "The Tale of the Heike" trans. by Helen McCullough

One hundred and fifty years after the turn of time’s hourglass, BC to AD, the Chinese were in the midst of a major dynasty change.  A time called the “Three Kingdoms”, the period was later epitomized as the perfect example of how dynasties vacillate between unity, fragmentation, and unity once again.  Centuries later the history was published, including a romanticized version of events called simply The Three Kingdoms.  Japan experiencing its own transition of dynasties at the end of the 12th century, The Tale of the Heike is the country’s analogous work of literature.  Its is no less powerful.

The Tale of the Heike is the story of the transition of power from the Taira to the Minamoto clan.  The groundswell beginning several years before the Genjei War which decided matters, the book opens with a slip in the Taira’s power base many decades prior.  Taking years for this slip to manifest itself as a major weakness, the surrounding events are described and woven into the full political context of the kingdom at that time.  Phase by phase, individual maneuver by maneuver, the machinations and plots of the Minamoto clan slowly reveal themselves.  And in telling of the rise to power, not only cabals and battles fill the pages.  Earthquakes, assassinations, mass executions, and major fires—all from real history—flesh out the change of dynasty, giving the history an edged interest.

Review of "The 47 Ronin" [trad.]

It is no coincidence that ‘history’ ends with the word ‘story’; events from reality really do make the greatest tales.  The 47 Ronin is precisely that.  A novelized event from the Genroku era of Japanese history (late 17th-early 18th century), it is perhaps the greatest story of revenge ever told, not to mention one of the world’s great tragedies.  A deep expression of loyalty, the lengths Oishi and his fellow ronin go to perform their duties defending the honor of their liege arouses a primal sense of emotion, the suffering and triumph unmatched.  The men’s tombs standing to this day in Tokyo, the 200 years that have since passed have done nothing to diminish the power of this great story—true history.  

The storyline of The 47 Ronin is particularly difficult to comment upon without spoiling major plot points, some of which occur at the very beginning.  (For those not wishing to have the story spoiled, it is best not to read many reviews of the book; taking it all in with a clean slate is the biggest part of the enjoyment.)  Suffice to say, the book has everything a highly entertaining and emotionally affective story should.  Along with the aforementioned attributes, love, trickery, suspense, and sacrifice exist in such proportions as to make the reader doubt the veracity of the book as history.  It should thus be noted that there are two versions of the story told: the romanticized version and that closer to the real history.  John Allyn’s translation (the version being reviewed here) is of the former. 

The timeline, characters, and settings of the romanticized version the same as the historical, the difference amounts mostly to tone.  Purists will comment that details are altered, removed, or created, and yes it is true, however, the street-corner storyteller will tell you that it is well-timed and slight exaggerations combined with packaging the story in the language of novels that renders the romanticized version more engaging than the drier historical version.  Kira, for example, while following the same historical path in each version, is nevertheless capable of producing more despicable comments and damning words in the romanticized version.  Much like the two versions of China’s The Three Kingdoms, each have their advantages, and thus choosing between them is a matter of taste.  (If the reader prefers something more historically accurate, versions of that story are also in print.)  

While not necessary, a small amount of knowledge regarding traditional Japanese culture, particularly samurai codes of honor and propriety, would help the reader fully understand the sense of duty and propriety underlying the deeds and conduct of the daimyos, shoguns, samurais, sing-song girls, and peasants featured in The 47 Ronin.  The translation clear and lucid, Allyn presents the story transparently enough that the mindset motivating what otherwise seems strange behavior to the Western mind can be implicitly understood, extrapolated from context.  Though the cultural backdrop gives the story its depth, knowledge as such is not necessary, the bones of the story touching something more primeval in the human soul.

In the end, The 47 Ronin is one of the great tales of revenge, and given its cultural context, may be the greatest.  (The number of film and television versions of the story in Japan is mindboggling.)  That the story is taken from real history makes it all the more amazing—a thought that trails the reader like a shadow to the end.  Though I have not read other translations of the story, Allyn’s version is accessible, well-paced, engaging, and balances nicely on the line between condescending to the reader’s knowledge of Japan and telling an exotic tale.  The Tale of the Heike and The Tale of Genji may garner more attention from scholars, but The 47 Ronin is for everybody as beneath the culture, history, and samurai lore is a story that lives and breathes at all levels of humanity.  Their monument standing still, Oishi and the 46 other ronin truly deserve a place in people’s hearts and history.