This was a mildly interesting book, which contained nearly every possible cliche a male Orientalist writing about Japan would consider useful to employ – and which also seems to have been heavily influenced by the Flashman books. I think it’s been intended as a light entertainment, but I’ve seen these motives and characters already, and the whole thing tastes a bit stale, like an old pastry. Not filling enough, not fresh enough.
The bumbling, incompetent hero finds himself in the middle of the conflict between Great Britain and Satsuma, and despite his incompetence and awkwardness is able to survive, to be made a samurai in a matter of minutes, to get himself a mistress… The mistress is a feudal lady who is also a ninja! Can you guess the additional bonuses? Yeah yeah, she is beautiful and good in bed – aint’t that a given – but she also acts as his bodyguard!
By the way, he meets her at an inn. Here’s the description:
“This third lady, clearly the social superior of the others, was covered from her swan-like neck to her hidden feet in a garment of fiery red silk decorated with motifs of white cranes and silver flowers, bound together with a wide yellowy brocade sash. Her black shining hair was piled high on top of her head, held there and ornamented by a number of elaborate kanzashi hairpins. Between the red of her kimono and the black of her head was the stark white of her heavily powdered face, a coating that could not hide the sculpted symmetry of real beauty, in the centre of which sat perfect lips as red as the kimono.”
Sitting lips aside, these are the looks of a courtesan. A garish red kimono, brocade, numerous hairpins, heavy makeup – this is not how a feudal lady would dress herself, on the road no less. Why doesn’t the hero know this? Did he get confused? I’m the last person to shame a woman on being sexually aggressive – she visits the hero the very night, driven, I guess, by curiosity – but you know, in Edo it took three visits before the courtesan agreed to untie her sash for you. Yeah, it’s an Orientalist fantasy, I get it, I get it…
Or do I? See, the guy has a girl in a Yokohama brothel, named Hanako (of course!), whom he visits regularly for his sexual needs.
“She told me of her desperately poor family in some far-flung part of northern Japan where the rice crop was poor, the winters harsh, and younger daughters a particular burden. Hanako’s father was not the first in her village to sell a daughter to one of the brothels of a big city and was unlikely to be the last. She had accepted her fate stoically – the Japanese can do stoicism like no others –“
How very deep!
“Reluctant at first to fraternise with barbarians, she now claimed a preference for Western customers as most of them treated her if not as an equal then at least as a human being, which could not be said of her countrymen.”
What do you expect, o gentle 21st-century reader, after a bold statement such as this? That the valiant hero refuses to take advantage of Hanako the sex slave? (Let’s not mince words.) Maybe he buys her out? Marries her? Helps her in any way? You bet. Hanako disappears off the radar. He goes on to the ninja/lady/courtesan’s bed, and then marries a white girl. He’s more humane than Japanese men, because he tells you so. Orientalist masturbation at its finest, o gentle reader!
“I had come to prefer a futon to a bed, rice to potatoes and fish to meat, green tea to its English equivalent.” Let’s put aside the fact that most Japanese at that time could afford neither futons nor fish, and that green tea was not unknown in the West at that time – but if the hero has to be more Japanese than the Japanese, he should know certain things. Thus:
“Ichibu” is not a currency. “Bu” is. “Ichibu” means “one bu”. “Seiza” not “sea”, “itterasshai” (too modern btw) and not “ittarasshai”. Wearing thick makeup was not common for all women – that’s a mistake usually made by casual travelers who had contact with professional ladies only. Takoyaki is a 20th century invention.
Well, maybe he’s confused, because he’s been knocked unconscious so many times… Why no one ever realizes how dangerous is that? I hate this, really. Don’t want to see this way of ending a scene again. Way too unrealistic and lazy.
If not for the style, which flows quite pleasantly, it would be 1 star. Let’s cheer with other guests at the British Minister’s residence to “the items of lost property that he inadvertently left behind in Japan” – what are these, you ask? Why, they are women, Mrs McGovern and her beautiful daughter, the future wife of the hero.
Oh the women, the items. What would the random Japanese Orientalist do without them? Acknowledge that samurai bonked each other like crazy? Oh, I am dreaming… *evil and knowledgeable laugh*