Can one be happy with doing less? You can definitely meditate on this question with ‘Song of the Samurai’.
Kurosawa Kinko belongs to a community of Samurai monks (The Komusō) from the order of Fuke-shū, which preaches humility and absence of ego. The Komusō monks are famed for playing a special type of bamboo flute (shakuhachi), and earn their living by collecting alms. Young Kurosawa has been quickly rising through the ranks in a temple in Nagasaki thanks to his musical talents. However, after an illicit affair with a married noblewoman, Kurosawa is expelled and transferred to another temple in Edo (Tokyo) to undertake a position as a musical teacher. In 1745 Japan this journey is not be easy - the country is under the Shogunate control, political unrest is palpable and the roads are far from safe. Along his journey across feudal Japan, Kurosawa crosses paths with merchants, ronins, courtesans, artists, and finally other monks. They exchange stories and music, share adventures, and Kinko is forced to face his prejudices and stereotypical worldview. He begins to doubt his religious order, the oral tradition, his beliefs, and the education he received. Most importantly, he recalibrates his musicianship and discovers its meditative qualities.
It took me a moment to warm up to Kurosawa. Throughout most of the book, he was rather intellectually arrogant, pretentious and quite misadjusted to real life. His lack of self-awareness was obvious, yet he was convinced of his superiority. I know that is a great start for a character embarking on a self-discovery journey, I just found it difficult to connect with his experiences for a while. To a person brought up in the catholic church, it initially felt like a parable - a simple story full of spiritual lessons about the benefits of suffering and searching within (a bit of a cringe). But later on, Kurosawa’s existential crisis became highly evocative. Midway through his journey, his POV shifts from being the center of attention to an observer. The questions he asks himself or is asked by people on his path can easily become therapeutic exercises: the need to reflect and heal to find peace in life, grieving as part of growth, being more aware, and realizing your attachments, finding the quality in taking time, focusing on small things, and not rushing. Can one be happy with doing less? With being less political, less performative, less ambitious? I am usually not the one to use self-help books or meditate, but I appreciate how this book gave me that impression without being superficially blunt. I especially loved how Kintsugi can be applied to life- making an art of celebrating flaws. The places of brokenness make us who we are; they’re what make us unique and beautiful. Altogether, it made for a nice ending about finding your place and pace.
Song of the Samurai is packed with cultural and historical tidbits. It was perfect for exploring the beautiful locations and scenery of Japan, enhancing my Vorfreude for my upcoming trip. The depiction of seasonal light changes was enchanting. I was surprised to find that the novel was inspired by the life of the historical figure Kurosawa Kinko, the legendary master of the shakuhachi flute. Song of the Samurai was not what I expected when I saw the word “samurai” in the title, but that’s not a bad thing. It’s a complex, vibrant take on The Canterbury Tales showcasing how music can enhance mindfulness.
PS. I only wished at times that the political plot was developed more, but I can see how its irrelevance was part of the message.
Thank you Running Wild Press and NetGalley for providing this book for my honest review. All opinions are my own.