A full disclosure for this review must include that I not only purchased this book from the author's daughter, but also that I have been promised that if I share what I've written here with her, to share with her father personally, I will be honoured with the opportunity to have my book sent directly to him to be signed, along with his response to my review and summary. So, knowing that the author will be reading this and responding to me directly (whew), with trembling heart, I begin.
Confessions of a Yakuza contains the accounts of Ijichi Eiji's life as a Yakuza, a Japanese gambling crime boss in the 20th century, as told to Junichi Saga, his doctor who cared for him at the very end of his life. Knowing that Saga was also an author, Eiji invited him to hear his stories. Delighted, Saga recorded several interview and story sessions on tape at Eiji's house, where his partner would serve them tea and saki as they palavered over his days together. Saga respectfully interprets these encounters in a book of four parts, written in first person, with his best attempt to capture Eiji's voice. The result is a book that reads almost like an autobiography of a man who experienced Japan's history from a back alley and basement perspective while most of the country knew it from the streets and balconies.
I came to the book expecting violence, provocation, and thrills. I expected high drama and action. Instead, Saga paints an honest portrait of a very human, flawed, ambitious, convicted, and even familiar man. Eiji is neither hero nor villain. I wanted very much to dislike him several times during the book. Yet, though I don't expect this gangster and I would have seen eye to eye on many things, as a brother in the human experience, Saga offers me the opportunity to see all of him without judgment. From this vantage point, seeing both a boy just trying to eat and an old man broken hearted and in love, I must accept him and his life as it is, as Saga has.
I found this biography to be a very interesting companion to the other book I was reading along with it: Silence by Shusaku Endo. These books were the first and second Japanese books translated to English that I have ever read that were not manga. Both tell stories of characters living outside the law in Japan. In Endo's book, a highly ambitious and prideful priest is captured by the authorities, and has his will beaten to attempt to make him compromise his convictions. For most of the book, he refuses, to his great pain. In Yakuza, our gangster is also captured by authorities. When confined, he continues to do as he always does outside the prison. He does whatever he can to benefit himself and improve his situation, including seeking favour with his captors, and even conspiring with them in their corruption. His convictions are not for some ideals or principles, but only for himself. Still, there is a sort of integrity to him, in that he never once claims anything else, and his entire life is consistent to the end of his own benefit and increase in personal power.
I also had just finished Hanns and Rudolf by Thomas Harding, a double biography of a German Jewish Nazi hunter and The Kommandant of Auchwitz that he successfully saw captured and executed. It occurred to me as I read Saga's biography, which also spanned war and conflict from an entirely different perspective than my own, that such accounts of our generation of violence and genocide are very important. We are seeing the generation that knew the horrors of the 20th Century grow old right now. Soon, there will be no first hand accounts of historical memories we would do well not to forget. Told as part of the experience of one man who lived in and fought for one of these countries, history is made real, to be remembered not just as facts and dates, but as it was for those who lived it.
Finally, a note on the translation and illustrations. The book is expertly translated by experienced translator John Bester, who chose this book from many to translate along with the counsel and approval of the original author. Saga does speak English (I am told he speaks it well), but only publishes what he writes in his first language. As an English speaker, he was able to review the translation as it came to be, assuring that it retained its tone accurately. The illustrations are simple pen and ink drawings by the author's father. They are spare, and entirely appropriate to the simple, unexaggerated story they illuminate. I found them delightful.
Told with good humour, grace, empathy, honour, and insight, I recommend Confessions of a Yakuza to the empathetic, thoughtful, and open-hearted reader.