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Je suis un écrivain japonais
Il vit à Montréal, il lit Mishima et Basho, il drague des japonaises, il passe sa journée au café, il projette d’écrire un roman ou de faire un film, mais plus particulièrement un roman ou un film à la manière des maîtres japonais.
C’est ce qu’il raconte à une journaliste japonaise en tournée dans la métropole québécoise, et c’est ainsi que le scandale éclate à Tokyo. Comment peut-on, quand on vit à Montréal, se prendre pour un écrivain et un cinéaste japonais ? Jusqu’à son éditeur, qui l’appelle pour lui dire son mécontentement de ne pas avoir reçu ce roman qui l’a déjà rendu célèbre sur les rives du Pacifique.
Dany Laferrière est ici plus que jamais fidèle à lui-même. Fête de l’intelligence et des sens, Je suis un écrivain japonais est une célébration de la littérature et du plaisir, des femmes et des écrivains, dans l’ordre et dans le désordre.
C’est ce qu’il raconte à une journaliste japonaise en tournée dans la métropole québécoise, et c’est ainsi que le scandale éclate à Tokyo. Comment peut-on, quand on vit à Montréal, se prendre pour un écrivain et un cinéaste japonais ? Jusqu’à son éditeur, qui l’appelle pour lui dire son mécontentement de ne pas avoir reçu ce roman qui l’a déjà rendu célèbre sur les rives du Pacifique.
Dany Laferrière est ici plus que jamais fidèle à lui-même. Fête de l’intelligence et des sens, Je suis un écrivain japonais est une célébration de la littérature et du plaisir, des femmes et des écrivains, dans l’ordre et dans le désordre.
272 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 2008
19 people are currently reading
908 people want to read
About the author
Dany Laferrière
77 books470 followersNé à Port-au-Prince en avril 1953, Dany Laferrière a grandi à Petit-Goâve. Il écrit pour le journal Le Petit Samedi soir et fait partie de l’équipe de Radio Haïti. Il quitte son pays natal à la suite de l’assassinat de son collègue et ami, le journaliste Gasner Raymond. Il s’installe au Québec où il occupe plusieurs emplois avant de commencer à écrire.
Son premier roman, Comment faire l’amour avec un nègre sans se fatiguer, paraît en 1985 (VLB). Le succès est immédiat et les réactions nombreuses. Laferrière devient alors l’un des principaux représentants d’une nouvelle génération d’écrivains dans le paysage littéraire québécois.
Dany Laferrière écrit ensuite Éroshima (1987), puis L’Odeur du café (VLB, 1991), qui est récompensé par le prix Carbet des Caraïbes. En 2000, près de vingt-cinq ans après son arrivée au Québec, il signe Le Cri des oiseaux fous (Lanctôt), roman dans lequel il témoigne des raisons qui l’ont poussé à quitter Haïti et qui remporte le prix Carbet des Lycéens. En 2006, le prix du Gouverneur général du Canada est décerné à son album jeunesse Je suis fou de Vava.
Habitant en alternance Montréal, New-York et Miami, l’auteur se considère avant tout comme un citoyen de l’Amérique. C’est dans cet esprit qu’il rédige ce qu’il appellera son Autobiographie américaine, un grand projet regroupant une dizaine de ses titres et qui dresse un portrait de l’Amérique, d’Haïti à Montréal, en passant par les États-Unis.
Dany Laferrière mène, parallèlement à ses activités littéraires, une carrière de journaliste et de chroniqueur, tout en faisant quelques apparitions à la télévision et au cinéma. Il a également scénarisé quelques longs-métrages, le plus souvent des adaptations cinématographiques de ses romans.
Édités en France chez Grasset, les livres de Dany Laferrière ont été traduits dans une douzaine de langues, dont le coréen et le polonais.
Laferrière a publié cinq romans aux Éditions du Boréal. Son plus récent livre, L'Énigme du retour, est en lice pour le prix France Télévision, le prix Wepler et le prix Décembre. En plus, il se trouve déjà en deuxième sélection pour le prix Médicis 2009 ainsi que pour le prix Fémina 2009.
Biographie tirée du site Internet des éditions Boréal.
Son premier roman, Comment faire l’amour avec un nègre sans se fatiguer, paraît en 1985 (VLB). Le succès est immédiat et les réactions nombreuses. Laferrière devient alors l’un des principaux représentants d’une nouvelle génération d’écrivains dans le paysage littéraire québécois.
Dany Laferrière écrit ensuite Éroshima (1987), puis L’Odeur du café (VLB, 1991), qui est récompensé par le prix Carbet des Caraïbes. En 2000, près de vingt-cinq ans après son arrivée au Québec, il signe Le Cri des oiseaux fous (Lanctôt), roman dans lequel il témoigne des raisons qui l’ont poussé à quitter Haïti et qui remporte le prix Carbet des Lycéens. En 2006, le prix du Gouverneur général du Canada est décerné à son album jeunesse Je suis fou de Vava.
Habitant en alternance Montréal, New-York et Miami, l’auteur se considère avant tout comme un citoyen de l’Amérique. C’est dans cet esprit qu’il rédige ce qu’il appellera son Autobiographie américaine, un grand projet regroupant une dizaine de ses titres et qui dresse un portrait de l’Amérique, d’Haïti à Montréal, en passant par les États-Unis.
Dany Laferrière mène, parallèlement à ses activités littéraires, une carrière de journaliste et de chroniqueur, tout en faisant quelques apparitions à la télévision et au cinéma. Il a également scénarisé quelques longs-métrages, le plus souvent des adaptations cinématographiques de ses romans.
Édités en France chez Grasset, les livres de Dany Laferrière ont été traduits dans une douzaine de langues, dont le coréen et le polonais.
Laferrière a publié cinq romans aux Éditions du Boréal. Son plus récent livre, L'Énigme du retour, est en lice pour le prix France Télévision, le prix Wepler et le prix Décembre. En plus, il se trouve déjà en deuxième sélection pour le prix Médicis 2009 ainsi que pour le prix Fémina 2009.
Biographie tirée du site Internet des éditions Boréal.
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 82 reviews
May 7, 2012
Here's my review for Drunken Boat, just out in issue 15:
http://www.drunkenboat.com/db15/I-am-...
Irreverent, insightful, at times beautiful as well as just plain fun, I Am a Japanese Writer is a novel about writing a novel, the contemporary publishing scene, the poet Basho, Montreal, race, identity, cultural politics, and well…life.
Written in 2008, I am A Japanese Writer was translated from the French by David Homel and recently released in the U.S. At this point I want to tell you that Laferriere was born in Port au Prince in 1953 and makes his home in Montreal, but I have the novelist’s voice in my ear: “I don’t understand all the attention paid to a writer’s origins. Because for me, Mishima was my neighbor. Very naturally, I repatriated the writers I read at the time. All of them: Flaubert, Goethe, Whitman. Shakespeare, Lope de Vega, Cervantes, Kipling, Geothe, Whitman, Shakespeare, Lope de Vega, Cervantes, Kipling, Seghor, Cesaire, Roumain, Amado, Diderot—they all lived in my village. Otherwise, what were they doing in my room? Years later, when I became a writer and people asked me, ‘Are you a Haitian writer, a Caribbean writer or a French language writer?’ I answered without hesitation. I take on my reader’s nationality. Which means that when that when a Japanese person reads me, I immediately become a Japanese writer” (14).
The novel, just under 200 pages and written in short titled chapters, starts off at a lightning pace…it’s dazzling to read a novelist with a voice as fresh Laferriere’s, and David Homel deserves kudos for capturing it in English. We follow Laferriere--the writer’s alter ego, that is—as he traverses Montreal—on subway or by foot, with Basho as his companion, being treated all the while to his rich interior monologue. Given Laferriere’s resistance to pigeon-holing, it’s easy to see how the title is decided upon, and then once given and accepted—welcomed—by his publisher, he’s off, and the reader along with him, in search of a novel. First up: finding a Japanese character, or group of characters (a hip young group is decided on), and then, “a novel needs a death” which is soon provided by an unexpected suicide…One of the richest aspects of the novel is the interest the Japanese Consulate takes in this (not yet) novel with the arresting title. The sleuthing that ensues is richly comic, and well, worthy of a Japanese novelist. In this era of Murakami (this week sees the release of the American edition of his opus 1Q84 and suddenly Murakami profiles and reviews are everywhere), and to a much lesser extent, writers like Banana Yoshimoto and Natsuo Kirino, it’s understandable why Japanese is settled on, in the same way, thanks to Stieg Larsson, one might say, “I am a Swedish Crime Novelist” if one were writing mysteries. In fact, Murakami is given a nod in the novel, but it is Mishima and more so, Basho, whose sensibility guide it: “My intention is to live like Basho this time. Underneath a banana tree. But the winter is too harsh”(139). Indeed within the oddness of Laferreire’s quest and world, there are moments of poetry, beauty and tranquility. This is not a novel where quirkiness and zaniness rule for sake of it; rather, the novel offers a multiplicity of tones, textures, characters and scenarios. But it is the sensibility of the novelist—now like Basho, now like Murakami, always most essentially Laferriere--that prevails.
http://www.drunkenboat.com/db15/I-am-...
Irreverent, insightful, at times beautiful as well as just plain fun, I Am a Japanese Writer is a novel about writing a novel, the contemporary publishing scene, the poet Basho, Montreal, race, identity, cultural politics, and well…life.
Written in 2008, I am A Japanese Writer was translated from the French by David Homel and recently released in the U.S. At this point I want to tell you that Laferriere was born in Port au Prince in 1953 and makes his home in Montreal, but I have the novelist’s voice in my ear: “I don’t understand all the attention paid to a writer’s origins. Because for me, Mishima was my neighbor. Very naturally, I repatriated the writers I read at the time. All of them: Flaubert, Goethe, Whitman. Shakespeare, Lope de Vega, Cervantes, Kipling, Geothe, Whitman, Shakespeare, Lope de Vega, Cervantes, Kipling, Seghor, Cesaire, Roumain, Amado, Diderot—they all lived in my village. Otherwise, what were they doing in my room? Years later, when I became a writer and people asked me, ‘Are you a Haitian writer, a Caribbean writer or a French language writer?’ I answered without hesitation. I take on my reader’s nationality. Which means that when that when a Japanese person reads me, I immediately become a Japanese writer” (14).
The novel, just under 200 pages and written in short titled chapters, starts off at a lightning pace…it’s dazzling to read a novelist with a voice as fresh Laferriere’s, and David Homel deserves kudos for capturing it in English. We follow Laferriere--the writer’s alter ego, that is—as he traverses Montreal—on subway or by foot, with Basho as his companion, being treated all the while to his rich interior monologue. Given Laferriere’s resistance to pigeon-holing, it’s easy to see how the title is decided upon, and then once given and accepted—welcomed—by his publisher, he’s off, and the reader along with him, in search of a novel. First up: finding a Japanese character, or group of characters (a hip young group is decided on), and then, “a novel needs a death” which is soon provided by an unexpected suicide…One of the richest aspects of the novel is the interest the Japanese Consulate takes in this (not yet) novel with the arresting title. The sleuthing that ensues is richly comic, and well, worthy of a Japanese novelist. In this era of Murakami (this week sees the release of the American edition of his opus 1Q84 and suddenly Murakami profiles and reviews are everywhere), and to a much lesser extent, writers like Banana Yoshimoto and Natsuo Kirino, it’s understandable why Japanese is settled on, in the same way, thanks to Stieg Larsson, one might say, “I am a Swedish Crime Novelist” if one were writing mysteries. In fact, Murakami is given a nod in the novel, but it is Mishima and more so, Basho, whose sensibility guide it: “My intention is to live like Basho this time. Underneath a banana tree. But the winter is too harsh”(139). Indeed within the oddness of Laferreire’s quest and world, there are moments of poetry, beauty and tranquility. This is not a novel where quirkiness and zaniness rule for sake of it; rather, the novel offers a multiplicity of tones, textures, characters and scenarios. But it is the sensibility of the novelist—now like Basho, now like Murakami, always most essentially Laferriere--that prevails.
December 2, 2025
2,5⭐️
La posture de Dany Laferrière, à travers laquelle sa vie ne semble être qu’une expérimentation sans grande valeur (et qu’il vaut mieux la passer au lit!), est tellement rafraîchissante!
Cela dit, les courts chapitres sans fil conducteur évident rendent la lecture laborieuse. Le chapitre sur Björk: rien compris. Si ce n’était pas de mon club de lecture, j’aurais DNF.
La posture de Dany Laferrière, à travers laquelle sa vie ne semble être qu’une expérimentation sans grande valeur (et qu’il vaut mieux la passer au lit!), est tellement rafraîchissante!
Cela dit, les courts chapitres sans fil conducteur évident rendent la lecture laborieuse. Le chapitre sur Björk: rien compris. Si ce n’était pas de mon club de lecture, j’aurais DNF.
December 27, 2020
Dieses Jahr wäre Kanada eigentlich das Gastland der Frankfurter Buchmesse gewesen. Ich interessiere eigentlich überhaupt nicht für kanadische Literatur, mit einer Ausnahme: Dany Laferrière. Zum Glück wurde anlässlich des Gastlandauftritts wieder etwas Neues von ihm auf Deutsch veröffentlicht. Obgleich er in der französischsprachigen Welt alle Ehren gewonnen hat, die es zu gewinnen gibt (einschließlich erster Kanadier, erster Haitianer und zweiter schwarzer in der Academie Francaise) ist er außerhalb der Frankophonie kaum bekannt. Seine Werke sind pure Metaliteratur mit Referenzen zu so ziemlich allen Strömungen die der Vielleser aufsaugt und in Ironie verarbeitet. Stilistisch liegt Laferrière manchmal in der Tradition der Beatniks oder der Literatur der amerikanischen Westküste, ohne indes den beleidigten Unterton oder die ausufernde Weitschweifigkeit. In diesem Werk, dessen Handlung vernachlässigenswert ist, da sie eher als Hintergrund für die Haltung des Erzählers zum Erzählen und zu Fragen der Identität dient, nimmt Laferrière sich vor allen Dingen die japanische Welt vor und nutzt sie als Spiegel für unsere eigenen Chlichés.
July 16, 2020
this is a book I'll be glad to forget I ever read
abandoned
February 27, 2016This seems like a book I would normally like, but I just don't. I started it & put it down a few days. Then, I restarted it again from the beginning (the flow & very short chapters make me think it might best be read in one sitting) & I still can't get into it. I'm finding the trope of "I'm an author who should be writing a book for my publisher but instead am doing all these other things instead, which I'll blather on about (rather than writing the 'real' story)" getting tiresome. I get the meta-ness of it all & maybe the end would be worth it, but I'm not willing to wade through chapters & chapters of miscellaneous stuff just to see if it might be worth it.
I think this is one case where I like the idea of the book better than the book itself.
I think this is one case where I like the idea of the book better than the book itself.
January 19, 2025
Ignore the haters they just didnt get it
All good books have a low-mid 3 stars
All good books have a low-mid 3 stars
April 22, 2020
(3,5/5, I liked it ++)
« Le plus rapide titreur d’Amérique », c’est ainsi que l’a proclamé la femme d’un ami. Ici, le titre est venu avant qu’un seul mot du livre ne soit écrit : JE SUIS UN ÉCRIVAIN JAPONAIS. Reste plus qu’à le pondre ce livre!
Dans cette autofiction, l’auteur s’affaire donc à trouver l’inspiration pour rendre justice à l’affirmation proposée par ce titre. L’immersion est la solution. Mais, pas l’immersion au Japon — Mais, je ne veux pas visiter le Japon … quelle idée! —, à Montréal plutôt. L’auteur plonge dans Mishima et Basho, s’immisce dans une communauté parallèle nippone, baise une japonaise, mais il le fait à la sauce Laferrière. C’est-à-dire avec charme, humour et constante candeur et autodérision. Ce que la voix de l’Immortel est mise en valeur dans ce roman! Tout est vu, perçu et décrit avec un mélange de bonhomie, de sociologie, d’anthropologie et, évidemment, de philosophie. Les commentaires sont souvent naïfs, jamais méchants, toujours appropriés.
« Je savais que la littérature comptait pour du beurre dans le nouvel ordre mondial. Il n’y a que les dictateurs du Tiers-Monde qui prennent les écrivains au sérieux en les faisant régulièrement emprisonner, ou fusiller même. »
Son projet, qu’il croit d’abord intimiste, engendre un tollé au pays de l’Empereur. Le mot se passe qu’un écrivain Noir de Montréal s’identifie comme Japonais. Le vice-consul demande à le rencontrer, des journalistes partent de Tokyo pour découvrir qui est cet homme et en réaliser un profil pour le publique avide d’en savoir davantage. Quel est ce livre? L’écrivain se démène pour crier à qui veut l’entendre qu’aucun livre n’est encore écrit. Tout ce qu’il a, c’est un titre!!!
JE SUIS UN ÉCRIVAIN JAPONAIS n’est peut-être pas le plus achevé des ouvrages de Dany Laferrière, mais il règne là-haut parmi les plus charmants et les plus divertissants. J’ai beaucoup aimé.
« Le plus rapide titreur d’Amérique », c’est ainsi que l’a proclamé la femme d’un ami. Ici, le titre est venu avant qu’un seul mot du livre ne soit écrit : JE SUIS UN ÉCRIVAIN JAPONAIS. Reste plus qu’à le pondre ce livre!
Dans cette autofiction, l’auteur s’affaire donc à trouver l’inspiration pour rendre justice à l’affirmation proposée par ce titre. L’immersion est la solution. Mais, pas l’immersion au Japon — Mais, je ne veux pas visiter le Japon … quelle idée! —, à Montréal plutôt. L’auteur plonge dans Mishima et Basho, s’immisce dans une communauté parallèle nippone, baise une japonaise, mais il le fait à la sauce Laferrière. C’est-à-dire avec charme, humour et constante candeur et autodérision. Ce que la voix de l’Immortel est mise en valeur dans ce roman! Tout est vu, perçu et décrit avec un mélange de bonhomie, de sociologie, d’anthropologie et, évidemment, de philosophie. Les commentaires sont souvent naïfs, jamais méchants, toujours appropriés.
« Je savais que la littérature comptait pour du beurre dans le nouvel ordre mondial. Il n’y a que les dictateurs du Tiers-Monde qui prennent les écrivains au sérieux en les faisant régulièrement emprisonner, ou fusiller même. »
Son projet, qu’il croit d’abord intimiste, engendre un tollé au pays de l’Empereur. Le mot se passe qu’un écrivain Noir de Montréal s’identifie comme Japonais. Le vice-consul demande à le rencontrer, des journalistes partent de Tokyo pour découvrir qui est cet homme et en réaliser un profil pour le publique avide d’en savoir davantage. Quel est ce livre? L’écrivain se démène pour crier à qui veut l’entendre qu’aucun livre n’est encore écrit. Tout ce qu’il a, c’est un titre!!!
JE SUIS UN ÉCRIVAIN JAPONAIS n’est peut-être pas le plus achevé des ouvrages de Dany Laferrière, mais il règne là-haut parmi les plus charmants et les plus divertissants. J’ai beaucoup aimé.
June 12, 2017
Despite some awkward ideas - or maybe it was on purpose and I missed the point- four stars because this was just so much fun to read!
July 20, 2016
Encore une fois un excellent livre de Dany Laferrière. Probablement pas son meilleur, mais tout de même un roman for intéressant dans lequel un homme déclenche involontairement une polémique folle en annonçant le titre de son prochain livre. Humour et réflexions philosophiques et culturelles se mélangent pour donner un livre difficile à catégoriser, mais qui vaut définitivement le coup d'oeil. Si vous ne connaissez pas Laferrière, je débuterais pas par celui-ci, mais pour ceux qui le connaissent déjà, vous y trouverai certainement votre compte!
September 25, 2011
Laferrière is an annoying man and a bad novelist, all of his characters are cardboard cut-outs, his narrators are flat versions of himself, his plots close to nonexistent, he's pretentious and as obvious as bird shit and this book, terribly appealing and amusing. He is not a Japanese writer, really. Neiher is Mishima a Haitian writer. So look at that. Hm. What I mean to say, I guess, is that everyone should read some Laferrière.
October 8, 2011
Metafiction + Noir + Race/Identity = I am a Japanese Writer. Very gripping yet thoughtprovoking novel that's part inquiry on the construction of race and part almost noir mystery. The postmodern aspects of it make it engaging on a visceral level, not just a mental one. A lot to chew on (in the best way possible). I'd like to try reading more Laferriere in the future.
December 8, 2022
Un libro rarísimo, un haitiano que dice ser japonés, o dice que va escribir un libro donde afirma ser japonés. Tiene momentos divertidos, pero su crítica me resulta bizarra, ajena, distante.
June 14, 2022
Parts of this were really good. Some parts weren't, though. Very interesting concept.
July 27, 2024
J'ai bien apprécié Je Suis Un Écrivain Japonais. Les passages où l'auteur lit Bashō et les réflexions sur l’écriture et l’impact d’un livre, qu'il soit écrit ou non, sont particulièrement intéressants. Cependant, certaines longueurs se font sentir tout au long du livre, ce qui peut parfois ralentir la lecture. Malgré cela, la plume poétique de Laferrière parvient à maintenir l'intérêt et à offrir un agréable moment de lecture.
October 23, 2025
Je dois l'avouer, je suis sûr de ne pas avoir compris le propos de ce livre, d'où ma note. J'ai trouvé que ça n'avait ni queue, ni tête
May 3, 2011
An odd, odd book, though I devoured it in a a day. Questions of identity run through the whole novel. The narrator titles his new, to-be-written book, I Am a Japanese Writer. He doesn't live in Japan, and he is not of Japanese descent, though he is fascinated both by Basho and by a beautiful Japanese singer whose identity is equally in flux. But he calls himself a Japanese writer?
Of course, it's not that simple -- once an identity is out in the world, other people have a stake in affirming or refusing it.
Laferriere also toys with the line between novel and autobiography in his choice of a narrator who shares his profession, his birth country and his current city, and seduces the reader into wondering whether parts of the story are grounded in truth or if it was made up whole cloth, adding another layer to the question of identity.
Unfortunately,
I don't understand all the attention paid to a writer's origins. Because, for me, Mishima was my neighbor. Very naturally, I repatriated the writers I read at the time. All of them: Flaubert, Goethe, Whitman, Shakespeare, Lope de Vega, Cervantes, Kipling, Senghor, Cesaire, Roumain, Amado, Diderot -- they all lived in my village. Otherwise, what were they doing in my room? Years later, when I became a writer and people asked me, "Are you a Haitian writer, a Caribbean writer or a French-language writer?" I answered without hesitation: I take on my reader's nationality. Which means that when a Japanese person reads me, I immediately become a Japanese writer.
Of course, it's not that simple -- once an identity is out in the world, other people have a stake in affirming or refusing it.
Laferriere also toys with the line between novel and autobiography in his choice of a narrator who shares his profession, his birth country and his current city, and seduces the reader into wondering whether parts of the story are grounded in truth or if it was made up whole cloth, adding another layer to the question of identity.
Unfortunately,
September 2, 2021
I read this book as part of my quest to “read around the world. It can hardly be called a book about Haiti – only two short passages take place in Laferrière’s country of birth. The rest takes place in Montréal, where Laferrière settled after leaving Haiti. The book is also not about Japan, despite the title. The main character, a Haitian immigrant writer like the author, has never been anywhere close to Japan, but he has an obsession with Matsuo Bashō – the famous Japanese poet from the Edo period. He reads Bashō on the subway, at coffee shops, in the park, even at parties. He has also befriended a Japanese pop star and her eccentric crew of friends.
The voodoo doll with a Japanese-style “chonmage” hair bun on the front cover foretell the oddities within this book, but I hadn’t expected the cleverness. At its core, this is a book about belonging and identity. Why, wonders the narrator, can’t he call himself a Japanese writer? After all, he identifies neither as fully Haitian nor fully Canadian (and most certainly not Québécois). Merely by telling his publisher that this will be the title of his next book (yes, it’s a book written about writing a book that is about writing a book…) he stirs up both controversy and curiosity that stretches as far as Japan itself. In fact, he becomes a bit of a celebrity in Japan - before he knows it Japanese magazines want interviews with him and the Japanese cultural attaché to Canada wants to meet him. But some aspects of identity are inescapable. As a Haitian man in Montréal, he is the regular target of his landlord’s suspicion and is harassed by the police, neither of whom care in the least that he drinks green tea and imagines himself at one with Bashō.
Despite its simple absurdity, this book awoke in me the desire to pick up where I left off with my own novel writing in the 8th grade. My story centered around the juxtaposition of two cultures along the border between the great Maine woods of Aroostook County and the colorful francophone villages of rural Québec. Maybe I was on to something.
The voodoo doll with a Japanese-style “chonmage” hair bun on the front cover foretell the oddities within this book, but I hadn’t expected the cleverness. At its core, this is a book about belonging and identity. Why, wonders the narrator, can’t he call himself a Japanese writer? After all, he identifies neither as fully Haitian nor fully Canadian (and most certainly not Québécois). Merely by telling his publisher that this will be the title of his next book (yes, it’s a book written about writing a book that is about writing a book…) he stirs up both controversy and curiosity that stretches as far as Japan itself. In fact, he becomes a bit of a celebrity in Japan - before he knows it Japanese magazines want interviews with him and the Japanese cultural attaché to Canada wants to meet him. But some aspects of identity are inescapable. As a Haitian man in Montréal, he is the regular target of his landlord’s suspicion and is harassed by the police, neither of whom care in the least that he drinks green tea and imagines himself at one with Bashō.
Despite its simple absurdity, this book awoke in me the desire to pick up where I left off with my own novel writing in the 8th grade. My story centered around the juxtaposition of two cultures along the border between the great Maine woods of Aroostook County and the colorful francophone villages of rural Québec. Maybe I was on to something.
October 10, 2015
A novel that is built on a misnomer of a title, which is the point of it in the first place. Dany Laferriere is a Haitian Canadian novelist and journalist and he writes in French, so the almost confrontational way in which he brands himself as a Japanese writer raises tricky questions about identity, culture, identity and nationality et al.
Written in the first person, the journal-like novel (or novel-like journal) starts with Laferriere suggesting his audacious title to his publisher when pushed to deliver his manuscript for his next book. The suggestion of the title acquires a life of its own and attracts rabid attention when word gets round that a black author from Montreal who does not speak a word of Japanese is writing the novel. Laferriere's meditation on issues relating to the appropriation of culture, whether one has the right to articulate a nationalistic identity based on one's imagination and/or experience, and if this representation needs to be 'real' in the first place, is never heavy-handed, but surprisingly lighthearted and raucously funny, and all the more impactful for his refusal to be trapped by binary arguments and perspectives.
The line between fact and fiction blurs even as the narrator/Laferriere documents short vignettes from his life which are like little unconnected stories in themselves, in an apparent attempt to delay the writing of the novel, when in actual fact what we are reading is the novel itself. A brilliant piece of metafiction that is both thought-provoking and entertaining.
June 13, 2012
J'ai été très déçu par ce roman de Dany Laferrière. J'avais adoré L'énigme du retour. Je ne m'attendais pas à autant de ce livre mais quand même plus que ce que j'ai eu. L'écriture de Dany est superbe. Le problème est que j'ai trouvé la trame narrative ennuyante. Il y a de très beaux flashs dans ce roman. Cependant, ils sont noyés par plusieurs bouts que j'ai trouvé long à lire. Je ne recommanderais pas ce livre à quelqu'un qui n,a jamais lu du Dany Laferrière.
March 11, 2014
laferriere as an old man writes in almost exactly the same way as laferriere the testosterone-addled young writer. it's sort of a great thing to see, and it gives me hope. as for the book itself, it's more a string of vignettes that place the author in the context of japanese literature than a novel. you can read it like a book of poetry without missing anything
July 27, 2011
Je retiens sa recette de saumon bouilli. Un livre dans un livre... Seul Paul Auster sait la faire.
May 21, 2012
Clever idea, delivered with lots of postmodern irony, it's a novel about writing (or more precisely not writing) a novel. Enjoyable if you have a tolerance for plotlessness
July 31, 2013
A non-novel about a writer who hasn't written his book yet and the ado it causes. Masturabatory, uninspiring, and knows itself to be such. It was my choice to read it to the end and I regret it.
March 4, 2016
Seemed weirdly self indulgent. Not my thing.
September 27, 2022
I picked this book because the title amazed me, and I was even more amazed when I discovered that such a title was the core of the novel itself from the very first pages.
It is, of course, a book about identity and, especially, about what it means to be tagged according to national/cultural tags. The first-person character's main goal is to demonstrate he can be a "Japanese writer" even though he is neither ethnically Japanese nor interested in Japanese culture and has never been to Japan. Once decided to write the book, his engagement with Japan comes gradually through different vias, most of them by accident and against his will, and at any moment he seems reluctant to get culturally closer to Japan. Such an attitude arises interest in Japan and eventually, his lack of interest in all things related to Japan -except for poet Basho- drives him to become a celebrity in that country. The funny thing is that, in the end, he proves that not only he can dispense with any trace of Japaneseness to become "Japanese" but also with the task of writing a book, to become a "writer".
The book challenges the basics of methodological nationalism in literature. After reading it and following its logic, I'm unsure about crediting its author/narrator as a Haitian-born Canadian writer since nation-ness proper (Haitianness, Canadiannes, Japanness, Greekness, etc.) are no longer banal descriptors to get orientated in the global cultural map. And that's one of the greatest virtues of the book and the reason why it is so difficult to place it on a list of "books to read around the world" attached to a specific country. Put in other words, this is not a book to read about Japan, Haiti, or Canada if you expect all these three units to be clearly differentiated from each other. Maybe, that makes this book a good example of contemporary transnational/post-modern world literature.
Apart from that, in terms of style, I enjoyed the plain language, short chapters like vignettes, and how direct the narrator is at certain points. On the contrary, the personality of the first-person character is annoying: his aloofness and arrogance contrast with his curiosity and his attempts to become something else, so many aspects of his portrayal didn't seem very plausible. I didn't get either the story of the Japanese girls (Midori et al): I suppose the author was trying to mix reality (the plot of book itself) with the fiction (the plot of the book he was crafting in his mind) to a point to make it indistinguishable, but maybe I took it wrongly.
It is, of course, a book about identity and, especially, about what it means to be tagged according to national/cultural tags. The first-person character's main goal is to demonstrate he can be a "Japanese writer" even though he is neither ethnically Japanese nor interested in Japanese culture and has never been to Japan. Once decided to write the book, his engagement with Japan comes gradually through different vias, most of them by accident and against his will, and at any moment he seems reluctant to get culturally closer to Japan. Such an attitude arises interest in Japan and eventually, his lack of interest in all things related to Japan -except for poet Basho- drives him to become a celebrity in that country. The funny thing is that, in the end, he proves that not only he can dispense with any trace of Japaneseness to become "Japanese" but also with the task of writing a book, to become a "writer".
The book challenges the basics of methodological nationalism in literature. After reading it and following its logic, I'm unsure about crediting its author/narrator as a Haitian-born Canadian writer since nation-ness proper (Haitianness, Canadiannes, Japanness, Greekness, etc.) are no longer banal descriptors to get orientated in the global cultural map. And that's one of the greatest virtues of the book and the reason why it is so difficult to place it on a list of "books to read around the world" attached to a specific country. Put in other words, this is not a book to read about Japan, Haiti, or Canada if you expect all these three units to be clearly differentiated from each other. Maybe, that makes this book a good example of contemporary transnational/post-modern world literature.
Apart from that, in terms of style, I enjoyed the plain language, short chapters like vignettes, and how direct the narrator is at certain points. On the contrary, the personality of the first-person character is annoying: his aloofness and arrogance contrast with his curiosity and his attempts to become something else, so many aspects of his portrayal didn't seem very plausible. I didn't get either the story of the Japanese girls (Midori et al): I suppose the author was trying to mix reality (the plot of book itself) with the fiction (the plot of the book he was crafting in his mind) to a point to make it indistinguishable, but maybe I took it wrongly.
July 12, 2019
A handsome young fellow I met in Montreal challenged me to read this book, "Read a book that you wouldn't have read if I hadn't recommended it to you." The challenge was real, for I wouldn't likely have seen this book, and if I had, neither the title nor cover art would have grabbed me. But, I'm glad I accepted the challenge.
I took my time with this little book, reading a chapter every now and again, and each time I picked it back up, I found myself smiling. "I Am A Japanese Writer" made me happy. Laferriere writes metaphorically, causing me to back up, re-read, and consider the deeper meanings. Here's an example of a poetic metaphor in this passage where the main character reacts to a beautiful young woman:
"Her eyes are so dark you think it's midnight when it's noon, but all she has to do is turn her face in your direction and dawn breaks anew."
There's also a darkly humorous tone, as seen here:
"Some people own their time: 'I've got all day,' Others are owned by it: 'I don't have the time.' Then there's the lost time of the suicide."
The main character's adoration of Matsuo Basho has me yearning to read Basho poems.
This short book is entertaining, and I'm glad I read it.
I took my time with this little book, reading a chapter every now and again, and each time I picked it back up, I found myself smiling. "I Am A Japanese Writer" made me happy. Laferriere writes metaphorically, causing me to back up, re-read, and consider the deeper meanings. Here's an example of a poetic metaphor in this passage where the main character reacts to a beautiful young woman:
"Her eyes are so dark you think it's midnight when it's noon, but all she has to do is turn her face in your direction and dawn breaks anew."
There's also a darkly humorous tone, as seen here:
"Some people own their time: 'I've got all day,' Others are owned by it: 'I don't have the time.' Then there's the lost time of the suicide."
The main character's adoration of Matsuo Basho has me yearning to read Basho poems.
This short book is entertaining, and I'm glad I read it.
March 12, 2022
I am a Japanese Writer is probably a Rorschach test on the subjects of identity, perception and reality for anyone who reads it. Whatever one says about those lofty subjects is probably as much about the mind of the reviewer as it is the intent of the Haitian-born Canadian author. I found the book thought provoking in many ways and not just in the areas of identity, perception and reality, though on those nowadays overworked literary exercises, it entertained and surprised. Here and there the plotlines – the Midori sections, the narrator’s instantaneous plunge into poverty and serial killer neighbor – we’re hard to piece together, but in the end the mélange sort of held. This was my first time reading Dany Laferrière but probably won’t be my last.
January 29, 2025
Le style est angoissant omg pk il utilise pas de paragraphes 😳 À part ça c’est des barres en vrai et même légèrement pertinent pour le mémoire donc benef💅 *3.5/5
— Et quand j'ai entendu que vous étiez en train d'écrire un livre sur le Japon...
— Écoutez, je n'écris pas sur le Japon, monsieur... J'écris sur moi... C'est moi le Japon. Combien de fois
dois-je vous le répéter? Je pensais que vous l'aviez
compris.
— J'avais compris que vous n'étiez pas forcément un écrivain japonais... Mais le mot Japon est dans le titre.
— Je prends le titre que je veux.
— Et quand j'ai entendu que vous étiez en train d'écrire un livre sur le Japon...
— Écoutez, je n'écris pas sur le Japon, monsieur... J'écris sur moi... C'est moi le Japon. Combien de fois
dois-je vous le répéter? Je pensais que vous l'aviez
compris.
— J'avais compris que vous n'étiez pas forcément un écrivain japonais... Mais le mot Japon est dans le titre.
— Je prends le titre que je veux.
April 28, 2020
L’écrivain met en scène son personnage et raconte un processus d’écriture. C’est autant fascinant et divertissant que d’entendre les chroniques de ce même auteur à la radio !
On le compare à Amélie Nothomb, mais les récits de cette dernière sont plus centrés et se concluent. Avec Je suis..., c’est davantage plusieurs récits avec des gens que l’auteur rencontre au cours de son processus. Toutes les conclusions ne sont pas tirées, ce qui pourrait être insatisfaisant.
On le compare à Amélie Nothomb, mais les récits de cette dernière sont plus centrés et se concluent. Avec Je suis..., c’est davantage plusieurs récits avec des gens que l’auteur rencontre au cours de son processus. Toutes les conclusions ne sont pas tirées, ce qui pourrait être insatisfaisant.
October 16, 2021
After immediately finishing the book, I don’t know what to make of it or how to rate it! It felt very odd and quirky and I really liked parts of it. Other parts I didn’t get. The main things I liked were the reactions in Japan to a book that wasn’t even written, the author’s use of very short chapters (like vignettes or essays), and the unusual topics/ideas. I’ll have to think on it and review my notes. I am now curious to read Basho, the Japanese poet that the main character was obsessed with throughout the book. I would read another book by this author, just out of curiosity and an expectation of something out of the ordinary.
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