The Glass Slipper and Other Stories

by Shōtarō Yasuoka, Royall Tyler (Translator)

"Yasuoka’s venal, youthful first-person narrators grasp at beauty and romance amid a changing Japan in these nine stories, all published in Japan in the early 1950s . . . Tyler’s translation captures Yasuoka’s effortless style, registering dark but delightful impressions of youth."—Publishers Weekly

Genres: Japan, Short Stories, Japanese Literature, Fiction, Literary Fiction, Literature

146 pages, Hardcover

First published January 1, 1951

About the author

Shōtarō Yasuoka (安岡 章太郎 Yasuoka Shōtarō?, May 30, 1920 – January 26, 2013) was a Japanese writer.

Yasuoka was born in pre-war Japan in Kōchi, Kōchi, but as the son of a veterinary corpsman in the Imperial Army, he spent most of his youth moving from one military post to another. In 1944, he was conscripted and served briefly overseas. After the war, he became ill with spinal caries, and it was "while he was bedridden with this disease that he began his writing career." Yasuoka died in his home at age 92 in Tokyo, Japan.

As an influential Japanese writer, Yasuoka's work has won him various prizes and awards. Notably, he received the Akutagawa Prize for Inki na tanoshimi (A Melancholy Pleasure, 1953) and Warui nakama (Bad Company, 1953); Kaihen no kōkei (A View by the Sea, 1959) won him the Noma Literary Prize; and his Maku ga orite kara (After the Curtain Fell, 1967) won the Mainichi Cultural Prize. He also received the Yomiuri Literary Prize for Hate mo nai dōchūki (The Never-ending Traveler's Journal, 1996); and the Osaragi Jirō Prize for Kagamigawa (The Kagami River, 2000).

A leading figure in post-war Japanese literature, in 2001 Yasuoka was recognized by the Japanese government as a Person of Cultural Merit.

(from Wikipedia)

Reviews

[MJ Nicholls · Rating 3 out of 5]

Shotaro Yasuoka is a ninety-year-old Japanese writer who started his career bedridden with spinal caries (a rare form of TB that affects the spine), writing stories for half a century until the English-speaking world saw fit to acknowledge his work in 2008 with ONE slim volume of stories. Sometimes there’s no fairness in the world.

These stories, which take place in post-war Japan, concern the alienation, confusion and sadness that swept the country at this time, with focus on the aimlessness of adolescents, the quiet desperation of lower-class servants, and soldiers adapting to a world without war.

The translation of these tales doesn’t capture the Japanese spirit of the originals, since the translator Royall Tyler has used American English throughout, giving us pants, high schools, vacations, etc . . . all a little out of line with the uniquely Japanese world being described. Having said that, all these stories have the same first-person voice, whether it’s a child or soldier narrating, giving them a repetitive feel. Still, worth a peep for the curious. (They're funny, too).

[David · Rating 3 out of 5]

I was very excited about this as Shotaro Yasuoka is from Kochi! But these stories are all set in Tokyo. Shotaro gives us lots of aimless young men scratching a living and generally failing at life. Poor old Japan.

"One vague memory of my boyhood has to do with a sword dance, in which a man with a cushion strapped to his back, representing a baby, fights an enemy while at the same time wiping away his tears. The baby on his back probably keeps the man from wielding his sword freely against his powerful foe, although he wouldn't dream of abandoning it, either. I suppose that's why he's crying. The dance was as boring as it could possibly be, as far as I was concerned, so why in the world did it linger on that way in a corner of my mind? For one reason it sometimes comes back to me and plunges me into gloom."

"Ah, the old Edo days! I said to myself, then stopped, feeling utterly foolish. Still, that firefly roaming the air, blinking its little light next to a broken-down wall hundreds of years old, was amazingly cute."

[Chinoiseries · Rating 2 out of 5]

The Wandering Minstrel is the opening story to a collection of nine, featuring a young man who, after graduation, is lucky enough to land himself a job by making up a song for the company's owner. He talks about his own (lack of) abilities in a deprecating fashion, and it is obvious that his colleagues despise him, but still he decides to stay on. Just when he fears he will be sacked, his boss asks him whether he is interested in marrying his niece. After all, the protagonist is young, lacking in wealth, and unmarried, and she comes with a dowry that is not to be sneezed at. Because of her round face, he starts associating her with cows in a pasture (like the ones in his nightmare) and he just cannot go through with the engagement. But he also can't blow her off, for fear of losing his job.
That's about the gist of it. Isn't it a strange, little tale? There is no real storyline to the twelve-page spanning monologue and the main character isn't that likable either. The opening paragraph also did not help generate enthusiasm:

"This year on New Year's Day I had a dream. The morbidly unpleasant impression it left suggests that it may ultimately have set me on the path toward the present impossible situation to which my own foolishness has led me."

Is the writer not as gifted with words as with imagination? Or is the translator, renowned Japanologist Royall Tyler to blame for the awkwardness of this paragraph?
But wait, let's take a step back and take a closer look at the author, Shotaro Yasuoka. What do we really know about him? He was born in 1920, conscripted to join the turmoil of the war in 1944, but returned home quickly after he developed tuberculosis. After the war, when he was disabled from his illness, he took up writing. The Glass Slipper and Other Stories was published in 1951, when the author was 31, and it was acknowledged as an impressive debut. While writing his stories, he drew heavily on his own experiences, putting a lot of himself into his first-person narrators. This quality, along with simpleness bordering on the monotonous, amorality and closeness to everyday life (among others), was attributed to the so-called Third Next Generation of Japanese writers. This type of writing contrasted strongly (and perhaps felt like a breath of fresh air) against the more abstract writings that preceded this "wave". Also, bearing in mind that The Glass Slipper... was written just after the end of World War II, it gives a disturbing insight into the lives of people trying to get to grips with their post-war realities.
So, keeping this in mind, we can perhaps now better understand Yasuoka's writing. I just wish the translator had included a brief introduction containing the above background information. Readers could easily deem this book uninteresting and discard it after the first story.
The other stories all had something in common with the first one: the protagonist is a young man (or child even) who can't take responsibility nor willing to improve his own situation. They are boys who don't want to grow up, but who don't want to chase any particular dream either. They just waste away their days doing nothing. You could easily apply the modern term freeter to some of them.
In The Glass Slipper, the main character works night shifts at a gun store, while sleeping in classrooms during the day (but it's not clear whether he actually attends class or just goes to sleep in an abandoned room). When he meets Etsuko, a maid, at the house of Colonel Craigow, they wind up spending the entire summer holiday together, playing silly games and cleaning out the Craigow's pantry.
Homework is one of the longest and probably the most obnoxious story of them all. It's about a boy who is sent to a prestigious school, but fails to fit in. He neglects his homework, and starts skipping class. His favorite place to hang out is the local cemetary. The House Guard fared a little better. Here, the protagonist is a student who works part-time as a house guard, occupying (and protecting) vacant houses that have been left behind by their owners for one reason or the other. He lives a comfortable life, with the neighbor's maid supplying him with abundant food.
Jingle Bells follows a young man trying to make his way (but not in a very urgent manner) to his girlfriend across the city. He knows beforehand that he will be late, but he decides to finish the journey anyway. In The King's Ears a young man loses his way in university and pulls a friend with him on a downwards spiral. It's a story of lying and being lied to.
The protagonist of The Sword Dance is frustrated by his veteran father who, in his eyes, eats more than his allotted share and does not contribute to the household's income. It is a story of poverty, despair and damaged people trying to make a living for themselves one way or another. If I had to pick one, I'd say this is my favorite story of the bunch.
The Medal tells the story of a young man who one day decides to go to Tokyo and finds a relatively well-paid job as cleaner in an office building full of American military men. The connecting thread is tobacco, a increasingly scarce commodity.
The book ends with A Room in Tsukiji, a story that features a group of young men who drop out of college to chase their dreams of reliving glorious Edo times.
Overall, the book was an interesting read, but there was too much monotony to upgrade it to three stars.

[M.R. Dowsing · Rating 4 out of 5]

Really enjoyed this collection of semi-autobiographical stories originally published in the early 1950s. They're all set in the post-war period in Japan when many people were suddenly disillusioned and struggled to get by, including the young male protagonist, who drifts in and out of a succession of crap, often absurd, jobs and flirts with petty crime. It reminds me of the American beat writers who came along a little later and even at times of Bukowski. I had the feeling that some of the humour may have fallen flat in translation, but it's still pretty funny in places.

[Raúl Sánchez · Rating 5 out of 5]

Bellísimos relatos del japón de la posguerra. Comencé a leerlo con algo de frivolidad, pero cada uno de los relatos me dejaba más espiritualmente agotado de lo que pensaba. Tardé tal vez 6 meses en terminar y ahora mismo siento algo de añoranza de leerlo.

[Sae-chan · Rating 5 out of 5]

I really like this collection of short stories. They are the embodiment of escape that I always long for.

People in these stories have the most unusual occupations. A translator of fashion magazine (could you really translate the trend of fur and suede?), a nightwatchman of a jewellery store which don't really know how to fight bad guys or fire, a houseguard of a half burned house, a student that don't know what in the world is homework and prefer being in the cemetery than in class, a liberal artist (whatever that is), a sweeper in an army barrack acquired by the allied force (just because he needs a quick fix of cigarette stubs? he himself is not sure why, so how should I know), and my favorite of all a student trying to live as an artist then turned to be a would-be-gangster that was too poetic.

Aaaaah, they need their escape, and most certainly, so do I!!

That last story was so entertaining and hillarious, especially about that kid that was into onomatopeic poem. (**Aiba-chan, there is definitely a good future for you in poetry...)

[Maggie · Rating 3 out of 5]

Admittedly, I picked this up because the jacket copy indicated that Haruki Murakami adores Yasuoka. This slim volume primarily focuses on young men wandering in Japan following the Second World War. The destruction of Tokyo floats in and out of view as Yasuoka follows his characters through the simple struggle of life. The prose is spare without being choppy or boring, with a wry sense of humor to most of the ends. Well-crafted and deeply enjoyable work.

[Ad · Rating 3 out of 5]

Yasuoka Shotaro (1920–2013) was born in Kochi Prefecture as the son of an army veterinary surgeon. He experienced an early life of frequent moves from one military post to the next, and developed a dislike for schooling. Still, he did manage to get accepted into Keio University's preliminary course, but was immediately drafted and sent to Manchuria. He was discharged when he fell ill with what appeared to be Pott disease, an illness which would haunt him for ten years. As his father had lost his livelihood, Yasuoka was obliged to do odd jobs to earn money for his own treatment (one of those jobs is described in "The House Guard"). It was while he was bedridden with this disease that he began his writing career. Besides for humorous stories and essays, Yasuoka is also known for the novella Umibe no kokei (“A View by the Sea,” 1959) about his mother’s death in an insane asylum. Yasuoka’s characters are all clumsy persons who masochistically persist in challenging themselves even when realizing there is not the slightest chance of success. Failure has been called a constant trademark for Yasuoka, whose work with its self-depreciating tone has also been seen as a cross between Dazai Osamu and Shiga Naoya.

Two characteristic stories are:

- "Garasu no kutsu" ("The Glass Slipper," 1951)
The narrator, a clerk at a shop selling hunting rifles, is sent to the home of a U.S. military doctor to deliver a purchase. The doctor and his wife are out, and in their place a teenage maid, Etsuko, answers the door and welcomes the narrator in with great warmth. The narrator develops fervent feelings for the naive Etsuko whose strange, playful ways move him and torment him. He visits her every day, but when the doctor and his wife return home, things come to an end. Etsuko is like Cinderella's glass slipper that disappears at the stroke of midnight. A story which has earned high praise from Murakami Haruki.

- “Hausu gado” (“The House Guard,” 1953)
The narrator has the leisurely job of guarding houses requisitioned by the Occupation. He spoils a nascent love affair with the maid from next door through sheer ineffectuality.

[Krishna Avendaño · Rating 4 out of 5]

Pocas cosas hay tan lamentables para una joya como la presente obra que padecer de una traducción deficiente, peor aun si se nota, incluso para quien no es el más atento de los lectores, que esta es la traducción de otra traducción. Que este libro de relatos de Shotaro Yasuoka nos venga filtrado por dos traducciones no solo es lamentable, resulta criminal, porque a pesar de sus virtudes, rayanas en la genialidad, es inevitable que la torpeza del mercachifle que pasó este libro del inglés a un español ibérico empañe la lectura de la obra (tan pobre que, joder, parece que en Madrid y en Tokio se comen noodles y no fideos). Y es una pena aun más honda porque en occidente ese genio del humor y del absurdo que es Yasuoka es apenas conocido. Es una lástima, en serio, sobre todo cuando no es fácil, incluso cuando se trata de los grandes cuentistas, hallar un libro de narraciones breves en las que ninguna desmerece, en las que todas son buenas y memorables.

[Onírica · Rating 2 out of 5]

Muy interesante en los pasajes reflexivos que el autor ofrece, de los que se echan de menos más, no tanto en las historias donde ni el contexto ni el fondo expresan demasiado. El conjunto es desigual.

[Miguel · Rating 3 out of 5]

Recuerda a Dazai. Destacar 'The Glass Slipper' o 'Jingle Bells', los demás no están mal.

[That lady from Europe · Rating 1 out of 5]

I tried. First 3 stories. I don't get it. It must be a cultural thing, but I didn't understand any of them. At all.

[Veronika KaoruSaionji · Rating 5 out of 5]

Sweet (sometimes rather sad) short stories, mainly about the author´s childhood or teenage years (as student), about his fears, sorrowas, joys, loves, relationships with mother and father, friends and girls which he loved - before, during and short after war. Clear, soft and beautiful stories. I love the author´s style of writing!

[unevendesk · Rating 5 out of 5]

While this is a collection of stories, they are linked; they portray the author at different times of his youth. They are told with the perfect emotional distance and delicate surrealism and comedy. The sequencing of the stories in this volume is excellent, leading with some describing the egotistical teenage years and following these with those describing the bewildered childhood.

[Micha · Rating 3 out of 5]

Murakami recommended this novel in an article I read. It was weird. And well writen. I would recommend it, but only to a select few. Or one entire literary group I happen to love.