Oh, I have no luck with my reads recently. This one is a strangely unpleasant book, whose sycophantic nature is symbolized by the main character's life story.
The character, a French/American girl named Aurelie, wants the readers to believe that she's had a miserable childhood. Born in 1857, she's never known her father, and her mother was taken in by her priest brother (Aurelie's uncle), and placed in a New York school run by nuns, as a servant. The mother despises the nuns and laughs at her brother's airs and graces. Then the uncle gets assigned to a mission in Kyoto and takes nine-year-old Aurelie with him, having made her learn Japanese from books (it's 1866, mind). Meanwhile the mother dies of tuberculosis, and when Aurelie lands in Japan, she is unpleasantly surprised by the priests' contempt for Japan, and then by her uncle's clearly pedophiliac tendencies. Ah, how nasty!
But wait, it's not going to be that bad, is it? After all, it's Japan, the land of dreams. So Aurelie goes to the nearby shrine and prays for another life. Of course she gets it. That very night a fire destroys the mission and Aurelie runs away, only to be taken in by a gentle and rich family whose members have been teaching tea ceremony for generations. She becomes their servant and gets to wear nice kimonos and to work around the teahouse in the garden, observe the lessons and so forth, as the family is convinced that she is really Japanese, only a bit soft in the head (she can speak Japanese a bit, because of the books, and because she had a great communication with a Japanese cook on the ship on the way to Japan). Aw, how sweet!
Everything goes smoothly to the moment when the Meiji Restoration happens. Old traditions (good) are violated, new ways (bad) gain an upper hand, tea ceremony is out of fashion (sniff sniff), crass and ugly foreigners start to interfere and destroy the local culture... the people in the neighborhood start to whisper that Urako (Aurelie) is really one of them foreign devils, and therefore unclean... Ah, how horrible!
Now, I can get over the relative implausibility of the premise; it's pretty well done, and much stranger things happen to people, and this is a novel. What I can't get over, though, is the fact that the book idolizes Japanese culture and vilifies everything else, at the expense of psychological and historical truth, and even to the point of doing harm to the very Japanese culture which it seeks to eulogize - because it describes it as vicious and dishonest.
The Japanese are supposed to be refined and sophisticated, but come off as two-faced, as well as mean, brutal and simply stupid. (A father beating his daughter's face so as to draw blood, and then announcing that she is to be introduced to her fiance in a few hours is an example.) They smile into the face of a guest/foreigner/stranger and badmouth them and ridicule them as soon as they turn their backs. The foreigners are of course stupid, mean and ugly, there is no doubt about it, they can't understand Japan, nor can they learn the language - oh, of course except the heroine Urako aka Aurelie. She is quite intelligent, pretty actually, and she doesn't consider herself a foreigner, how could she? Foreigners are abominable. Especially, y'know, women. Maybe the author, who is fascinated by Japan and the Japanese tea ceremony which she teaches, regrets the unfortunate fact that she's not Japanese herself. This is understandable. But the overwhelming attitude of the book is that everything non-Japanese is inferior and disgusting, if not outright hateful.
To be honest, I've had enough of historical books which describe Japanese culture as being invaded and violated by Western civilization, because it more often than not distorts the picture. This book by trying to be more Catholic than the pope and more Japanese than the Japanese themselves, shows the Meiji Restoration as an oppressive, damaging power, something akin to the Maoist Cultural Revolution, and misses the mark completely. It ignores the spirit of the times: the surge of enthusiasm, the enormous passion for education, the fascination by all things Western, the pride felt by the Japanese people when they saw how fast their country was being modernized and how it gained recognition and respect in the eyes of other nations. True, there was a reaction against the new ways circa 1887-1895, when people briefly tried to return to old fashions and rejected all things foreign, but in "The Teahouse Fire" (which covers almost 40 years) everyone is, all the time, firmly against the Restoration, the modernization, and foreigners. Not one word is spoken in favor of the reforms. There is nothing but disapproval for the new. The book just exploits The Big Fat Fetish Of The Traditional Japanese Culture, without offering a real insight.
Which would be forgivable if the plot had a bit more momentum, and characters some depth, but no - the pace was slow, the story not very interesting after the initial oomph, and nearly all the characters one-dimensional. And I would like the lesbian subplots and overtones more, if the heroine wasn't so unsympathetic, hypocritical and boring.
As to the details, I guess they were accurate when it came to the tea ceremony, and there were many incidents thrown in which show high quality research on the author's part (balls in the Rokumeikan Palace, the public outrage at the drowning of the Japanese crew when the foreigners were rescued), but there were also things like people wearing black in mourning (not done at the time), sushi as a delicacy (it was just fast food), fish as everyday food (it was rare), or a wife of a rickshaw puller as a main force in the neighborhood and the heroine's nemesis (rickshaw pullers were extremely poor and would not live near the Shin residence, and their family would be even less likely to be able to afford the same bathhouse as the servants). The last one in particular was forced, as if the author decided that she couldn't do without a villain, but it goes to show that the interactions between different social classes were a bit off.
Also, "The Pillow Book" by Sei Shonagon is not a novel, it's more like a collection of essays, and the heroine kept referring to Sei Shonagon simply as "Shonagon", which is annoying, because it makes it sound like a name. It isn't. It's a government post belonging probably to her close relative, and while it might have been her nickname, now she is referred to as "Sei" or "Sei Shonagon" in Japanese.
Oh well. These things would be less jarring if the story itself wasn't so false and pompous.