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Stranger in the Shogun's City: A Japanese Woman and Her World
A work of history that explores the life of an unconventional woman during the first half of the 19th century in Edo—the city that would become Tokyo—and a portrait of a great city on the brink of a momentous encounter with the West.
The daughter of a Buddhist priest, Tsuneno was born in a rural Japanese village and was expected to live a traditional life much like her mother’s. But after three divorces, she ran away to make a life for herself in one of the largest cities in the world: Edo.
In the book we experience the drama and excitement of Edo just prior to the arrival of American Commodore Perry’s fleet, which transformed Japan. During this pivotal moment in Japanese history, Tsuneno bounces from tenement to tenement, marries a masterless samurai, and eventually enters the service of a famous city magistrate. Tsuneno’s life provides a window into 19th-century Japanese culture—and a rare view of an extraordinary woman who sacrificed her family and her reputation to make a new life for herself, in defiance of social conventions.
The daughter of a Buddhist priest, Tsuneno was born in a rural Japanese village and was expected to live a traditional life much like her mother’s. But after three divorces, she ran away to make a life for herself in one of the largest cities in the world: Edo.
In the book we experience the drama and excitement of Edo just prior to the arrival of American Commodore Perry’s fleet, which transformed Japan. During this pivotal moment in Japanese history, Tsuneno bounces from tenement to tenement, marries a masterless samurai, and eventually enters the service of a famous city magistrate. Tsuneno’s life provides a window into 19th-century Japanese culture—and a rare view of an extraordinary woman who sacrificed her family and her reputation to make a new life for herself, in defiance of social conventions.
352 pages, Hardcover
First published July 14, 2020
556 people are currently reading
7956 people want to read
About the author
Amy Stanley
5 books90 followersAmy Stanley is a professor in the History Department at Northwestern University. She can often be found lecturing about global history, but she is most at home in early modern Japan, specifically in the great city of Edo (now Tokyo). Like many social historians, she is happiest when reading other people's correspondence and perusing shopping lists from 200 years ago. She knows a lot about samurai, and she can tell you all about the condition of the toilets in Edo Castle, but you probably don't want to know. When she's not dwelling in the nineteenth century, she is in Evanston, IL, with her husband, two little boys, and a mutt who may actually be a Catahoula Leopard Dog.
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July 13, 2020So it's very uncool for an author to review her own book, but somehow I pressed the wrong button on the computer, gave myself two stars, and then no matter how many times I tried to erase it, it kept coming back! I promise I am a more competent researcher and writer than I am a Goodreads reviewer. Anyway, I think you should read this book for many reasons . . . maybe because it's hard to travel to right now outside the pages of a book, or maybe because it's about how a person with very little power managed to find some meaning in her life, or maybe because it's about how we can remember the ordinary people who came before us. Or maybe you want to know about samurai. Anyway, five stars for myself . . . if I ever find out how to actually delete this, I will!
January 5, 2025
More a story of the development of Edo to Tokyo than covering the life of the woman from the title. Still interesting how Stanley depicts everyday late Tokugawa era life in a vibrant manner
The city was a beacon
Stranger in the Shogun's City: A Japanese Woman and Her World is definitely not for people allergic to conjecture: Amy Stanley her use of or, maybe, if, must have, probably, might have, could have thought, there was no way that she could have known, but… But how could they have known? did annoy me a bit.
Still it is very interesting how the author makes the age become alive, a fascinating time with the Shogunate being on the cusp of modernity. And Tsuneno, the alleged main character is quite interesting at well, married at 12, threatened with incarceration in a wooden cage as a public punishment measure due to her rebellious nature.
She hailed from a merchant/priest class, more powerful in the economic system than the societal elite samurai whose stipends of rice bales didn't follow inflation.
A women of her brother was raped by an other brother of her, but despite the hints of drama we remain quite distant from the main character and her family. Whole decades pass where we don't know much of her inner life, despite the high literacy rates and letters being preserved.
Interesting in the time is that divorce being quite normal in the higher classes, with an estimated nearly 50% divorce rate being applicable.
We have famine and cannibalism, but as an upperclass family Tsuneno seemed to have skidded through most of these perils. Only after three marriages and no kids at 34 she moves to Edo and the story becomes a bit more dramatic, given me vibes of Great Circle by Maggie Shipstead in how Stanley conveys the perspective of an impoverished Tsuneno. The link to women's liberation with urbanisation (also applicable to Paris and London at the time) and looser social control is interesting and not something I had thought of before.
Food prize (especially rice) control were essential to keep the Japanese citizens loyal to the Shogun (I guess nothing has changed how inflation makes people unhappy with incumbents).
It would be a mistake to infer genuine care for the populace, with the Shogun and his retainers living in a ritualistic and insulated world. The author even details how important procedures were that bronze urine bowls were on hand in Edo castle to address sanitary emergencies during audiences with the Shogun.
With the encroaching Western powers the Shogunate does start to feel threatened, especially after the opium wars. In response the conservative Tenpō reforms sound like Umbridge issuing moral edicts on what to wear, all in a hope to return to an idealistic, historic glorious past.
I must say this podcast does it better to give background on this period in respect to both the unequal treaties and the reforms:
https://isaacmeyer.net/2021/09/episod... https://isaacmeyer.net/2021/09/episod...
Despite all this commentary, the book is definitely easily readable and even for one who already knows a great lot of the time there are nuggets to discover about Edo and its time, if less so about Tsuneno herself. 2.5 stars rounded up.
The city was a beacon
Stranger in the Shogun's City: A Japanese Woman and Her World is definitely not for people allergic to conjecture: Amy Stanley her use of or, maybe, if, must have, probably, might have, could have thought, there was no way that she could have known, but… But how could they have known? did annoy me a bit.
Still it is very interesting how the author makes the age become alive, a fascinating time with the Shogunate being on the cusp of modernity. And Tsuneno, the alleged main character is quite interesting at well, married at 12, threatened with incarceration in a wooden cage as a public punishment measure due to her rebellious nature.
She hailed from a merchant/priest class, more powerful in the economic system than the societal elite samurai whose stipends of rice bales didn't follow inflation.
A women of her brother was raped by an other brother of her, but despite the hints of drama we remain quite distant from the main character and her family. Whole decades pass where we don't know much of her inner life, despite the high literacy rates and letters being preserved.
Interesting in the time is that divorce being quite normal in the higher classes, with an estimated nearly 50% divorce rate being applicable.
We have famine and cannibalism, but as an upperclass family Tsuneno seemed to have skidded through most of these perils. Only after three marriages and no kids at 34 she moves to Edo and the story becomes a bit more dramatic, given me vibes of Great Circle by Maggie Shipstead in how Stanley conveys the perspective of an impoverished Tsuneno. The link to women's liberation with urbanisation (also applicable to Paris and London at the time) and looser social control is interesting and not something I had thought of before.
Food prize (especially rice) control were essential to keep the Japanese citizens loyal to the Shogun (I guess nothing has changed how inflation makes people unhappy with incumbents).
It would be a mistake to infer genuine care for the populace, with the Shogun and his retainers living in a ritualistic and insulated world. The author even details how important procedures were that bronze urine bowls were on hand in Edo castle to address sanitary emergencies during audiences with the Shogun.
With the encroaching Western powers the Shogunate does start to feel threatened, especially after the opium wars. In response the conservative Tenpō reforms sound like Umbridge issuing moral edicts on what to wear, all in a hope to return to an idealistic, historic glorious past.
I must say this podcast does it better to give background on this period in respect to both the unequal treaties and the reforms:
https://isaacmeyer.net/2021/09/episod... https://isaacmeyer.net/2021/09/episod...
Despite all this commentary, the book is definitely easily readable and even for one who already knows a great lot of the time there are nuggets to discover about Edo and its time, if less so about Tsuneno herself. 2.5 stars rounded up.
July 29, 2020
Amy Stanley’s history book Stranger in the Shogun’s City is primarily about a Japanese woman called Tsuneno who was born in the northern Japanese province of Echigo (now Niigata) in 1804 and eventually fled the dull rural life for the more exciting city life on offer in Edo (the old name for Tokyo). It’s also about Edo and the radical change that it would experience during and shortly after Tsuneno’s lifetime.
I picked this one up with the expectation that Tsuneno’s story must be a remarkable one given that she was nobody especially noteworthy but an entire book was written about her. And, disappointingly, it turned out to be a mundane life story: she married multiple times, independently made her own decisions - like going to live in Edo when she was expected to settle down in the countryside - and worked numerous menial jobs before dying fairly young at the age of 49.
I’ll give Stanley kudos for the amount of effort that went into researching this book, deciphering the complex and outdated Japanese of the time, and it’s amazing that so much primary source material still exists - Tsuneno and her family, particularly her eldest brother Giyu, were prolific letter writers and record keepers so that every scrap of correspondence was held onto.
But I feel like this one falls into the murkily politicised subgenre of feminist history where, in addition to the large amount of primary material available, the book exists to highlight a Strong, Independent Woman more than anything. Stanley makes the point in her conclusion that history tends to focus on men and their achievements, ie. Commodore Matthew Perry, who opened Japan up to trade with the outside world, rather than, say, the ordinary women who work behind the scenes to keep the wheels of society turning.
And while I agree that ordinary people’s lives of course play a part in history and teach us just as much about our past as notable historical figures do, the reason why history tends to spotlight certain individuals, like Commodore Matthew Perry, is less about sexism than it is for the obvious fact that their lives were more interesting and unique than most people’s (including ordinary men, not just ordinary women).
That’s basically why I wasn’t that engaged by this book: Tsuneno’s life just wasn’t that interesting. Stanley does bring her world to life well, explaining how society was structured - both in Echigo and Edo, contextualising the figures and events that affected Tsuneno’s life - if you’re after a portrait of early 19th century Japan, this book is for you. But that’s not what I was looking for and the extensive passages on Edo minutiae really bored me while I waited for something astonishing to happen to Tsuneno and it never did.
If nothing else, this book underlines the importance of writing for everyone, today and always - not just professional writers or wannabes, but ordinary people writing about their everyday lives. One day, assuming your correspondence survives, you too might have a future historian write a book about you!
I picked this one up with the expectation that Tsuneno’s story must be a remarkable one given that she was nobody especially noteworthy but an entire book was written about her. And, disappointingly, it turned out to be a mundane life story: she married multiple times, independently made her own decisions - like going to live in Edo when she was expected to settle down in the countryside - and worked numerous menial jobs before dying fairly young at the age of 49.
I’ll give Stanley kudos for the amount of effort that went into researching this book, deciphering the complex and outdated Japanese of the time, and it’s amazing that so much primary source material still exists - Tsuneno and her family, particularly her eldest brother Giyu, were prolific letter writers and record keepers so that every scrap of correspondence was held onto.
But I feel like this one falls into the murkily politicised subgenre of feminist history where, in addition to the large amount of primary material available, the book exists to highlight a Strong, Independent Woman more than anything. Stanley makes the point in her conclusion that history tends to focus on men and their achievements, ie. Commodore Matthew Perry, who opened Japan up to trade with the outside world, rather than, say, the ordinary women who work behind the scenes to keep the wheels of society turning.
And while I agree that ordinary people’s lives of course play a part in history and teach us just as much about our past as notable historical figures do, the reason why history tends to spotlight certain individuals, like Commodore Matthew Perry, is less about sexism than it is for the obvious fact that their lives were more interesting and unique than most people’s (including ordinary men, not just ordinary women).
That’s basically why I wasn’t that engaged by this book: Tsuneno’s life just wasn’t that interesting. Stanley does bring her world to life well, explaining how society was structured - both in Echigo and Edo, contextualising the figures and events that affected Tsuneno’s life - if you’re after a portrait of early 19th century Japan, this book is for you. But that’s not what I was looking for and the extensive passages on Edo minutiae really bored me while I waited for something astonishing to happen to Tsuneno and it never did.
If nothing else, this book underlines the importance of writing for everyone, today and always - not just professional writers or wannabes, but ordinary people writing about their everyday lives. One day, assuming your correspondence survives, you too might have a future historian write a book about you!
March 21, 2021
Don't mistake Amy Stanley's book for a narrowly-focused biography. Yes, Stanley tells the riveting story of Tsuneno (1804-1853), who was born in a village in Echigo, Japan's snow country, and--after three failed marriages--ran away to Edo (now Tokyo) to make a different life for herself, on her own terms. But Stanley is also extraordinarily good at showing how Tsuneno’s biography reveals bigger stories: from the origins of the fabric of her kimono, to the story of how migrant women power urban growth everywhere, to the story of Japan in the nineteenth-century world.
There is great detail about life in the crowded tenements of Edo where Tsuneno landed, and was abandoned, in 1839, but the author never loses sight of the larger story she wants to tell, pointing out, for example, that as Tsuneno reinvented herself as a city maidservant, she was one of tens of thousands in Edo and millions in the world who shared this experience in the mid-nineteenth century:
This is history at its best: solidly rooted in what can be known from written and visual texts from the period, many of them hard of access and difficult to decipher, informed by Stanley's historical empathy—the ability to go beyond narrating events and analyzing their import, to arrive to the point where she seems to see the world through someone else’s eyes.
There is great detail about life in the crowded tenements of Edo where Tsuneno landed, and was abandoned, in 1839, but the author never loses sight of the larger story she wants to tell, pointing out, for example, that as Tsuneno reinvented herself as a city maidservant, she was one of tens of thousands in Edo and millions in the world who shared this experience in the mid-nineteenth century:
Wherever the rise of the market economy had expanded the territory rural women could traverse in their own imaginations, they left. They believed that something different—something better—was waiting (p.29).Stanley makes brilliant use of the surviving documentary record: Tsuneno’s letters, the records of family she left behind in Echigo, as well as the memoirs of several other contemporaries, such as Katsu Kokichi (see: Musui's Story: The Autobiography of a Tokugawa Samurai), to tell the history of Edo in vivid, arresting detail. The text is almost filmic in the way the author is able to pan over the city, giving us a birds-eye view, then sweep down to show us Tsuneno in her room, say, or a low-ranking samurai extorting money from a merchant.
This is history at its best: solidly rooted in what can be known from written and visual texts from the period, many of them hard of access and difficult to decipher, informed by Stanley's historical empathy—the ability to go beyond narrating events and analyzing their import, to arrive to the point where she seems to see the world through someone else’s eyes.
July 16, 2020
As someone who would class myself as a Japanophile or shinnichi (親日), I appreciate Japanese culture, people and history. This book only served to increase my fascinating with the enigmatic country. It follows a normal Japanese woman named Tsuneno as she attempts to navigate her way through life with no real guidance and no real sense of where her place in the world was to be located. It's essentially her biography where she details much of her life and it certainly came across as though the author had extensively researched her topic beforehand; she seems to be rather passionate about giving this woman a voice.
Chronicling the life of an 1840s lower-class woman who lived in an epoch where things were beginning to change both socially and politically. Based on real documentation the author is careful with what she includes but it is certainly interesting to follow a person from cradle to grave and watch their triumphs, trials and tribulations.
Women were expected to be seen and not heard, to be subservient and not to question things that don't concern them but Tsuneno didn't want to live like that and so she didn't. It almost referred to having children as ”a woman's reason for being on on earth” and this made me feel a teeny bit uncomfortable but of course that was the attitude at the time. Part of Japan’s magic is the mysterious way in which everything bumbles along without anyone paying much attention but in Stranger in the Shogun’s City the development and evolution of the political and social issues of that time period are displayed and Tsuneno likely represents many a woman's experience in 40s Edo (Tokyo). Many thanks to Chatto & Windus for an ARC.
Chronicling the life of an 1840s lower-class woman who lived in an epoch where things were beginning to change both socially and politically. Based on real documentation the author is careful with what she includes but it is certainly interesting to follow a person from cradle to grave and watch their triumphs, trials and tribulations.
Women were expected to be seen and not heard, to be subservient and not to question things that don't concern them but Tsuneno didn't want to live like that and so she didn't. It almost referred to having children as ”a woman's reason for being on on earth” and this made me feel a teeny bit uncomfortable but of course that was the attitude at the time. Part of Japan’s magic is the mysterious way in which everything bumbles along without anyone paying much attention but in Stranger in the Shogun’s City the development and evolution of the political and social issues of that time period are displayed and Tsuneno likely represents many a woman's experience in 40s Edo (Tokyo). Many thanks to Chatto & Windus for an ARC.
April 6, 2021
From a collection of letters saved over several generations, Amy Stanley has reconstructed the life and times of a woman born in 1801 in a small village who, on her own, emigrated to the big city of Edo. The book is of interest not because of Tsuneno’s fame or achievement, but because her letters and family papers provide a window on life in the waning years of the Tokugawa Shogunate.
Tsuneno had an adventurous life. She was raised for a high status marriage and fortunately for today’s historians, was taught to read and write. After her third (arranged by her family) marriage, she ran off with a near stranger. After he deserted her in Edo you follow her as she finds work and “romance” in the big city. You see her try to connect with the family she has defied, all along learning about the formal and informal structures of the Shogun’s realm.
Tsuneno died on 1853, not long before the tall ships arrived in what is now Tokyo harbor and began cascading changes that changed Edo to Tokyo and sewed the seeds of modern day Japan.
The strength of the book is the description of Tsuneno’s world. Typical life in a village such as Tsuneno’s Ishigami, and typical life of a temple family, such as Tsuneno’s with her father heading the village’s True Pure Land Buddhist temple is given along with information gathered from the family’s letters and papers. We see not just differences in rural and urban life but also the difference in life styles of those who have some measure of status and security and those who have none.
Besides the coverage of how the Shogunate was organized (the role of the bannermen and the ranking and duties of samurai), provided justice, and controlled entry to the island, there are many interesting take ways regarding everyday life. Here are few:
• It is easy and common for men to divorce their wives…It seems that they just send them back to their families.
• The value of clothing. Clothes can be sold, pawned and stolen. Some people don’t have them and cover their nakedness with tattoos.
• Tsuneno walked from Ishigami to Edo and it seems most others do too. There is no mention of pack animals to go over the mountains for this two week journey.
This is a different type of biography and I hope to see more like it. Amy Stanley presents the little information that Tsuneno has given about her life. The larger story is the world she encounters and Stanley is a well informed guide for this world.
This is a short quick read. It begins with clear maps and a chart of the Tsuneno’s family and associates. The documentation and bibliography are extensive.
I recommend this book for those interested in this time and place.
Tsuneno had an adventurous life. She was raised for a high status marriage and fortunately for today’s historians, was taught to read and write. After her third (arranged by her family) marriage, she ran off with a near stranger. After he deserted her in Edo you follow her as she finds work and “romance” in the big city. You see her try to connect with the family she has defied, all along learning about the formal and informal structures of the Shogun’s realm.
Tsuneno died on 1853, not long before the tall ships arrived in what is now Tokyo harbor and began cascading changes that changed Edo to Tokyo and sewed the seeds of modern day Japan.
The strength of the book is the description of Tsuneno’s world. Typical life in a village such as Tsuneno’s Ishigami, and typical life of a temple family, such as Tsuneno’s with her father heading the village’s True Pure Land Buddhist temple is given along with information gathered from the family’s letters and papers. We see not just differences in rural and urban life but also the difference in life styles of those who have some measure of status and security and those who have none.
Besides the coverage of how the Shogunate was organized (the role of the bannermen and the ranking and duties of samurai), provided justice, and controlled entry to the island, there are many interesting take ways regarding everyday life. Here are few:
• It is easy and common for men to divorce their wives…It seems that they just send them back to their families.
• The value of clothing. Clothes can be sold, pawned and stolen. Some people don’t have them and cover their nakedness with tattoos.
• Tsuneno walked from Ishigami to Edo and it seems most others do too. There is no mention of pack animals to go over the mountains for this two week journey.
This is a different type of biography and I hope to see more like it. Amy Stanley presents the little information that Tsuneno has given about her life. The larger story is the world she encounters and Stanley is a well informed guide for this world.
This is a short quick read. It begins with clear maps and a chart of the Tsuneno’s family and associates. The documentation and bibliography are extensive.
I recommend this book for those interested in this time and place.
Read
August 23, 2020Fantastic. The author has dug the story of a Japanese woman living through the end of the shogunate and determined to leave her provincial life behind for Edo out of the archives, and it is absolutely brilliant. This is ground level history, about life as a woman of no importance, daily struggles, hardships, friendships, debts, little joys. But it also shows the ways the power struggles of the 'important ' impact the little people, including the devastation wrought on Edo by the puritan dictates of a particularly unpleasant and hypocritical minister.
Fascinating, compelling, reads like a novel, and about the most genuinely enlightening work of Japanese history I've read. Plus a powerful assertion about the importance of 'unimportant' people at the end that nearly brought me to tears. Strong recommend.
Fascinating, compelling, reads like a novel, and about the most genuinely enlightening work of Japanese history I've read. Plus a powerful assertion about the importance of 'unimportant' people at the end that nearly brought me to tears. Strong recommend.
May 24, 2022
Five stars because this book was written for me. I enjoyed it very much. My huge respect goes to Amy Stanley for reconstructing the story of life of a lady called Tsuneno, who lived in XIX century Edo (Tokyo). Amy created a colourful mosaic from the many letters and documents that remained untouched through the ages.
I'd recommend it to beginner Japanophiles - they might learn a lot from it and find a lot of sources for their further exploring on the subject, but also to those shinnichis who are already familiar with realities of life in Japan, historical or cultural - I mean you don't need to grab your wikipedia every time to check when there's a mention of Tokugawa or shamisen or kabuki or something among those lines, but you want to get some more of everyday life in Edo before Japanese life changed forever after Americans knocked on their door. And we get to see it all from women's perspective.
There's often too many stereotypes ruling this subject - I mean women in Japan. We usually think of geisha, somehow, and even geisha is often deeply misunderstood in the mind of a westerner.
But here in this book we get to see the life of a completely different type of woman - daughter of Buddhist priest turned to commoner, turned to samurai's wife. While not without a pinch of adventure and drama, we get a rather dry but still very interesting story. Tsuneno wanted to live her life in her own way in times when having her own opinion for a woman was barely possible in general. Thanks to this book and the Author I had a sort of virtual reality tour in her head.
I'd recommend it to beginner Japanophiles - they might learn a lot from it and find a lot of sources for their further exploring on the subject, but also to those shinnichis who are already familiar with realities of life in Japan, historical or cultural - I mean you don't need to grab your wikipedia every time to check when there's a mention of Tokugawa or shamisen or kabuki or something among those lines, but you want to get some more of everyday life in Edo before Japanese life changed forever after Americans knocked on their door. And we get to see it all from women's perspective.
There's often too many stereotypes ruling this subject - I mean women in Japan. We usually think of geisha, somehow, and even geisha is often deeply misunderstood in the mind of a westerner.
But here in this book we get to see the life of a completely different type of woman - daughter of Buddhist priest turned to commoner, turned to samurai's wife. While not without a pinch of adventure and drama, we get a rather dry but still very interesting story. Tsuneno wanted to live her life in her own way in times when having her own opinion for a woman was barely possible in general. Thanks to this book and the Author I had a sort of virtual reality tour in her head.
September 30, 2024
Stranger in Shogun's City: A Japanese Woman and Her World was a meticulously researched biography of Tsuneno, born to a Buddhist priest and his wife in a rural village in Japan at the beginning of the nineteenth century. But this is not a story of a traditional life of a young woman much like her mother's, but instead one of a fiery and independent Tsuneno and on the cusp of monumental changes in Japan. It is noted that over the next five decades she would cause the priest Emon as much trouble as all of his other nine children combined. When she was born in the early 1800's, her parents chose to give her a name slightly sophisticated and out of the ordinary. For Tsuneno had three sylables instead of the common two sylables of most names. This name required two Chinese characters. Because the author Amy Stanley, a history professor, was so taken with the tax records and correspondence kept by Emon and later his sons, she kept returning to Tokyo to do her research of the records. It was in this process that she felt that the most persistent voice demanding her story to be told was that of Tsuneno.
It is in this tale that we learn of Tsuneno living in Edo, now known as Tokyo, during a pivotal moment in Japanese history, just prior to the arrival of American Commodore Perry's fleet, transforming Japan. But during Tsuneno's life, she moved from tenement to tenement in Shogun's city, Edo. After three divorces, she was married to a masterless samurai, and eventually entered the service of a famous city magistrate. This book gives us a glimpse into nineteenth-century Japanese culture through the life of this extraordinary woman who sacrificed her family and her reputation to make a new life for herself but at what cost?
It is interesting how the author, Amy Stanley, relates how Commodore Perry returned a hero with the reputation that he had negotiated the opening of Japan. But even if Tsuneno couldn't see her life in heroic terms, as contributing to the building or opening of nations or the emergence of a new era, Amy Stanley saw her as an individual woman who made choices and left behind a legacy of letters of this most historic time.
It is in this tale that we learn of Tsuneno living in Edo, now known as Tokyo, during a pivotal moment in Japanese history, just prior to the arrival of American Commodore Perry's fleet, transforming Japan. But during Tsuneno's life, she moved from tenement to tenement in Shogun's city, Edo. After three divorces, she was married to a masterless samurai, and eventually entered the service of a famous city magistrate. This book gives us a glimpse into nineteenth-century Japanese culture through the life of this extraordinary woman who sacrificed her family and her reputation to make a new life for herself but at what cost?
"For Tsuneo, the work at Tokuhonji was more a return to the past than a fresh start. The temple was the world of her childhood, and she was diminished every time she moved through it. She had been a cherished daughter, then a daughter-in-law, then a divorced, troublesome sister, and now she was a maidservant. The winter days passed, cold and hard like beads on a rosary, as she cleaned and took orders."
It is interesting how the author, Amy Stanley, relates how Commodore Perry returned a hero with the reputation that he had negotiated the opening of Japan. But even if Tsuneno couldn't see her life in heroic terms, as contributing to the building or opening of nations or the emergence of a new era, Amy Stanley saw her as an individual woman who made choices and left behind a legacy of letters of this most historic time.
"Tsuneno's legacy was the great city of Edo: her ambition, her life's work. Her aspiration for a different kind of existence propelled her from home, and she might have said that experience of Edo changed her. But she also shape the city. Every well she waited at; every copper coin she spent. Every piece of clothing she pawned or mended. Every tray she carried. The big decision to migrate and every tiny choice she made later, in the days and years that followed."
April 5, 2022
The celebration of women's historical achievements has gained momentum since the 1980's. Their aspirations and defiance drive a narrative of courage, rejection of social convention, and more recently the shattering of glass ceilings. Triumph, whether real or symbolic, anchors their place in history. In focusing on the details of their individual identities, however, it's easy to overlook the countless anonymous somen who chafed against their limited options and lived lives of resistance which left little individual evidence of historical accomplishment. Their success was limited by circumstance and bad luck. Historian Amy Stanley documents the life of one such woman whose life spanned the last 50 years of the Tokugawa shogunate.
Her name was Tsuneno. She was born in 1804 in the now vanished village of Ishigami located in the “snow country” of northwestern Honshu. Her father was the temple priest of the Pure Land Buddhist sect, so she had a degree of social status. She and her seven siblings learned to read and write. Stanley has conducted a thorough excavation of her correspondence preserved in her brother Giyū's fastidious archive of documents. She enhances that material with fascinating details of Edo's complex social, economic and political life.
In Ishigami Tsuneno was destined to be a wife and mother. Key guides were The Classic of Filial Piety and The Greater Learning for Women. One need not be clairvoyant to imagine their themes. She married at age 12 and came of age as the wife of a temple priest in the distant village of Ōishida. Fourteen years later the marriage ended in divorce. In 1833 she was married off to a prosperous farmer in Ōshima, a union that lasted four years. Her next marriage lasted four months. She did not bear any children. Stanley speculates on reasons these marriages might have failed, but hastens to add it was not necessarily due to the failure to produce children.
Tsuneno had always wanted to go to Edo. She had expressed this in frequent letters and after three marriages she had become both obstinate and emboldened. Now in her mid-thirties, her only prospect would be some aged widower and in any case she had had enough of marriage. Ishigami and Edo, despite being only a two weeks walk apart were two different worlds, and Tsuneno wanted that different world.
Stanley contrasts Tsuneno's options with those open to men by gleaning from biographies of contemporaries. She incorporates history to form context. Historical markers reveal a trajectory of increasing social instability. In 1825 there was the Edict to Repel Foreign Vessels, evidence of the shogunate's increasing xenophobia. A series of disastrous harvests beginning in 1833 marked the Tenpō Famine which culminated in a short-lived but significant rebellion in Ōsaka. In 1841 Mizuno Tadakuni launched a series of draconian and reactionery reforms that crippled the economy and dismantled the popular theater district.
Edo had culture, color and art, but it also had isolation and squalor. Earning a living was difficult.
Tsuneno navigated these upheavals and staggering poverty with tenacity. She refused her family's entreaties to return home. Stanley immerses us in the Edo Tsuneno must have experienced: warrens of narrow alleys, her abode of a lightless 9 x 6 foot apartment with flimsy walls, streets crowded with peddlers and rivers clogged with a floating fish market of jostling boats.
Despite their swagger and distinctive costumes, the samurai class that comprised half the population was only slightly better off financially. None of them had ever seen battle, and as part of the entourage of lords affiliated with the Shogun, they were a superfluous class paid not in coin but in bales of rice, and thus, subject to the vagaries of a commodities futures market. Brokers and moneylenders held the real wealth.
Stanley also provides a glimpse of the harsh, arbitrary justice system with a reliance on “fingertips,” criminal but protected informants, to keep order.
Stanley is forced to speculate about Tsuneno's true emotions by reading between the lines of her correspondence, veiled in polite phrases and understatement. In the end she does not believe Tsuneno regretted her trade-off, Edo for Ishigawa. She married a man from a similar background, Izawa Hirosuke, divorced him four years later, returned to Ishigawa, but re-married him in 1846 and returned to Edo where they lived until her death in 1853, a scant two months before Perry's black ships arrived.
Tsuneno had no idealistic notions that governed her decisions. She only acted on the conviction that the one option offered by society was to her intolerable. Unintentionally, she was part of the great shift from rural to urban living that would shape Japan. “The city wasn't just a backdrop to Tsuneno's life. It was a place she created, day by day. And when she died, other women, other unknown people, would take up her work.” (p.236)
Fifteen years after her death, the world she had known was erased. Japan had been pried open and the fissures in its society had cracked. The Shogunate passed into history and the Meiji Restoration began. Edo transformed into Tokyo. “Still, Edo was a ghost of what it had been and only the barest shadow of what it would become. It had been fifteeen years, barely a moment, since Tsuuneno had died and Perry's ships had anchored at Uraga. But the world she had known, the bannermen in their ranks, the City Magistrate in his office, the shogun in his castle, the retainers in their barracks, it was over.” (p. 242)
Her name was Tsuneno. She was born in 1804 in the now vanished village of Ishigami located in the “snow country” of northwestern Honshu. Her father was the temple priest of the Pure Land Buddhist sect, so she had a degree of social status. She and her seven siblings learned to read and write. Stanley has conducted a thorough excavation of her correspondence preserved in her brother Giyū's fastidious archive of documents. She enhances that material with fascinating details of Edo's complex social, economic and political life.
In Ishigami Tsuneno was destined to be a wife and mother. Key guides were The Classic of Filial Piety and The Greater Learning for Women. One need not be clairvoyant to imagine their themes. She married at age 12 and came of age as the wife of a temple priest in the distant village of Ōishida. Fourteen years later the marriage ended in divorce. In 1833 she was married off to a prosperous farmer in Ōshima, a union that lasted four years. Her next marriage lasted four months. She did not bear any children. Stanley speculates on reasons these marriages might have failed, but hastens to add it was not necessarily due to the failure to produce children.
Tsuneno had always wanted to go to Edo. She had expressed this in frequent letters and after three marriages she had become both obstinate and emboldened. Now in her mid-thirties, her only prospect would be some aged widower and in any case she had had enough of marriage. Ishigami and Edo, despite being only a two weeks walk apart were two different worlds, and Tsuneno wanted that different world.
Stanley contrasts Tsuneno's options with those open to men by gleaning from biographies of contemporaries. She incorporates history to form context. Historical markers reveal a trajectory of increasing social instability. In 1825 there was the Edict to Repel Foreign Vessels, evidence of the shogunate's increasing xenophobia. A series of disastrous harvests beginning in 1833 marked the Tenpō Famine which culminated in a short-lived but significant rebellion in Ōsaka. In 1841 Mizuno Tadakuni launched a series of draconian and reactionery reforms that crippled the economy and dismantled the popular theater district.
Edo had culture, color and art, but it also had isolation and squalor. Earning a living was difficult.
Tsuneno navigated these upheavals and staggering poverty with tenacity. She refused her family's entreaties to return home. Stanley immerses us in the Edo Tsuneno must have experienced: warrens of narrow alleys, her abode of a lightless 9 x 6 foot apartment with flimsy walls, streets crowded with peddlers and rivers clogged with a floating fish market of jostling boats.
Despite their swagger and distinctive costumes, the samurai class that comprised half the population was only slightly better off financially. None of them had ever seen battle, and as part of the entourage of lords affiliated with the Shogun, they were a superfluous class paid not in coin but in bales of rice, and thus, subject to the vagaries of a commodities futures market. Brokers and moneylenders held the real wealth.
Stanley also provides a glimpse of the harsh, arbitrary justice system with a reliance on “fingertips,” criminal but protected informants, to keep order.
Stanley is forced to speculate about Tsuneno's true emotions by reading between the lines of her correspondence, veiled in polite phrases and understatement. In the end she does not believe Tsuneno regretted her trade-off, Edo for Ishigawa. She married a man from a similar background, Izawa Hirosuke, divorced him four years later, returned to Ishigawa, but re-married him in 1846 and returned to Edo where they lived until her death in 1853, a scant two months before Perry's black ships arrived.
Tsuneno had no idealistic notions that governed her decisions. She only acted on the conviction that the one option offered by society was to her intolerable. Unintentionally, she was part of the great shift from rural to urban living that would shape Japan. “The city wasn't just a backdrop to Tsuneno's life. It was a place she created, day by day. And when she died, other women, other unknown people, would take up her work.” (p.236)
Fifteen years after her death, the world she had known was erased. Japan had been pried open and the fissures in its society had cracked. The Shogunate passed into history and the Meiji Restoration began. Edo transformed into Tokyo. “Still, Edo was a ghost of what it had been and only the barest shadow of what it would become. It had been fifteeen years, barely a moment, since Tsuuneno had died and Perry's ships had anchored at Uraga. But the world she had known, the bannermen in their ranks, the City Magistrate in his office, the shogun in his castle, the retainers in their barracks, it was over.” (p. 242)
April 9, 2020
Read a 2018 essay by the author here. The topic: what she learned about the history of sexual assault while writing this book.
This is my first post-COVID-19 review, meaning, the situation is still spinning out of control as I write this. I am putting this fact out there, up front. Even in the best of times, I am not generally known as a little ray of sunshine and … these are not the best of times. The most charitable adjective for my present mood is “cranky”.
I hope the talented and educated writer of this book, and all those dedicated souls at the publisher who not only helped it see the light of day but also generously gave me a free review copy, will excuse me when I say that, even though his book is worthy and edifying, I did not enjoy it in the way that I wished to. In these times, I really need a history that grabs me by the throat and says “Look at this! This is fascinating! This is dramatic! Go ahead and lose yourself in this previously-unknown-to-you past time and place, which is at the same time wildly different from your present life but also strangely familiar!”
This book did not do that for me.
Maybe I'm asking too much. But damn that's what I need right now.
Perhaps my problem is that, when I read descriptions of books on Netgalley, instead of seeing the books that is, I see the book that I want it to be. In this case, I understood (correctly, I think) that the author had, improbably, learned (on the Internet) about the existence of a bunch of letters from a Japanese woman, written to her family perhaps starting 1830 or so and continuing right up to the moment that Commodore Matthew Perry “opened” Japan. The woman had run away from her stifling rural existence in rural northwest Japan to try her luck as an independent person in the capital Edo (present-day Tokyo).
I had hoped that maybe this woman, Tsuneno, would be an observer of everyday life in a land now distant and different from our own. Tsuneno would be, I had hoped, a newly-discovered Samuel Pepys for her age and her place, which in some ways seems to resemble the London of Pepys' time. I knew that Tsuneno was not a highly-placed civil servant and social climber like Pepys, but I thought there would be a load of interesting detail about how average people worked, what they thought, what they said about the things going on about them.
There isn't so much of that. As far as I could tell, a lot of the letters from Tsuneno to her family were requests for aid or actions, e.g., get some items she had pawned back from the pawnbrokers. I was actually a little disappointed that I didn't get to hear her voice directly more often. Maybe there's a good reason that I didn't – the time, culture, and language are in many ways so removed from our own that much of the writing, presented without interpretation, might be incomprehensible. I'm just not sure.
The author fills in a lot of interesting detail herself. For example, I enjoyed learning how Edo samurai got paid (Kindle location 1731), and the network of middlemen (basically, rice re-sellers) that local cultural peculiarities generated.
Nor is it the author's fault that Tsuneno died seemingly a few short weeks before Perry's first visit. It would have been fascinating to know, direct from the writings of an average person, how the visit was seen by the average resident of Edo. What rumors circulated? Were foreigners considered terrifying? grotesque? ridiculous? Did anyone dare hope that the arrival of foreigners would actually be good for Edo and Japan?
I apologize again that I can't be more positive about this book. As everybody involved with it is surely aware, it is just emerging at a terrifically difficult and stressful time – I guess it's just not the easy read that I need while self-isolating.
Thank you to Netgalley and Simon & Schuster for the free advance egalley copy of this book.
This is my first post-COVID-19 review, meaning, the situation is still spinning out of control as I write this. I am putting this fact out there, up front. Even in the best of times, I am not generally known as a little ray of sunshine and … these are not the best of times. The most charitable adjective for my present mood is “cranky”.
I hope the talented and educated writer of this book, and all those dedicated souls at the publisher who not only helped it see the light of day but also generously gave me a free review copy, will excuse me when I say that, even though his book is worthy and edifying, I did not enjoy it in the way that I wished to. In these times, I really need a history that grabs me by the throat and says “Look at this! This is fascinating! This is dramatic! Go ahead and lose yourself in this previously-unknown-to-you past time and place, which is at the same time wildly different from your present life but also strangely familiar!”
This book did not do that for me.
Maybe I'm asking too much. But damn that's what I need right now.
Perhaps my problem is that, when I read descriptions of books on Netgalley, instead of seeing the books that is, I see the book that I want it to be. In this case, I understood (correctly, I think) that the author had, improbably, learned (on the Internet) about the existence of a bunch of letters from a Japanese woman, written to her family perhaps starting 1830 or so and continuing right up to the moment that Commodore Matthew Perry “opened” Japan. The woman had run away from her stifling rural existence in rural northwest Japan to try her luck as an independent person in the capital Edo (present-day Tokyo).
I had hoped that maybe this woman, Tsuneno, would be an observer of everyday life in a land now distant and different from our own. Tsuneno would be, I had hoped, a newly-discovered Samuel Pepys for her age and her place, which in some ways seems to resemble the London of Pepys' time. I knew that Tsuneno was not a highly-placed civil servant and social climber like Pepys, but I thought there would be a load of interesting detail about how average people worked, what they thought, what they said about the things going on about them.
There isn't so much of that. As far as I could tell, a lot of the letters from Tsuneno to her family were requests for aid or actions, e.g., get some items she had pawned back from the pawnbrokers. I was actually a little disappointed that I didn't get to hear her voice directly more often. Maybe there's a good reason that I didn't – the time, culture, and language are in many ways so removed from our own that much of the writing, presented without interpretation, might be incomprehensible. I'm just not sure.
The author fills in a lot of interesting detail herself. For example, I enjoyed learning how Edo samurai got paid (Kindle location 1731), and the network of middlemen (basically, rice re-sellers) that local cultural peculiarities generated.
Nor is it the author's fault that Tsuneno died seemingly a few short weeks before Perry's first visit. It would have been fascinating to know, direct from the writings of an average person, how the visit was seen by the average resident of Edo. What rumors circulated? Were foreigners considered terrifying? grotesque? ridiculous? Did anyone dare hope that the arrival of foreigners would actually be good for Edo and Japan?
I apologize again that I can't be more positive about this book. As everybody involved with it is surely aware, it is just emerging at a terrifically difficult and stressful time – I guess it's just not the easy read that I need while self-isolating.
Thank you to Netgalley and Simon & Schuster for the free advance egalley copy of this book.
April 21, 2025
I picked this up because there’s not a lot of nonfiction for a general audience focused on pre-20th century, nonwestern history, from an interest in learning more about Japan in particular, and also because historical biographies of women are one of my favorite ways to learn history. In the end I would call it a competent but not outstanding example of that subgenre. It makes the rather bold choice of structuring the book as a biography of a completely ordinary woman, but then seems a little short on material about her for a full book (even though the text is only 252 pages), so it fills in with a lot of historical background that often has nothing to do with her. For instance, she worked as a servant for a samurai’s female relatives for a few weeks; Stanley gives us most of a chapter on the economic and social position of the samurai in the 1830s and 40s. Which is the sort of historical tangent I’ve enjoyed in other books, but I didn’t entirely click with Stanley’s writing style, which tends a bit toward wordiness and flights of fancy.
The primary subject is Tsuneno, who was born to a temple family in a harsh province in the early 19th century. Her family married her off three times, up through her 30s; at the time divorce was easily accessible (though only men could institute it) and about half of arranged marriages failed, so relatively little judgment was attached. By her mid-30s, though, Tsuneno had had enough and made a break for the capital city of Edo, against her family’s wishes. Her life there was not extraordinary, however. Once arrived, she married someone she chose herself but who was also a disappointing husband; wrote lots of letters home asking her family to send her goods and money; and spent the rest of her life as a wage laborer.
Given that, on the one hand it’s impressive that Stanley has enough material to write a biography at all—Tsuneno’s elder brother was a meticulous record keeper, so the family archive is extensive—but on the other, the material feels relatively skimpy, based as it is entirely on the family letters. We don’t get a great idea of who Tsuneno was (quoting more of her letters may have helped), or know much at all about the first several decades of her life. And the historical background given often feels a bit distant from Tsuneno herself. I would have liked to see more about other women’s lives at the time, and some of the most startling cultural practices, like people publicly putting misbehaving family members (both men and women) in cages for long periods to show a commitment to correcting their behavior.
In the end I did learn a bit about Japan in the first half of the 19th century, and it’s a fairly short book so I don’t regret the time spent. But it’s not one I’d go out of my way to recommend.
The primary subject is Tsuneno, who was born to a temple family in a harsh province in the early 19th century. Her family married her off three times, up through her 30s; at the time divorce was easily accessible (though only men could institute it) and about half of arranged marriages failed, so relatively little judgment was attached. By her mid-30s, though, Tsuneno had had enough and made a break for the capital city of Edo, against her family’s wishes. Her life there was not extraordinary, however. Once arrived, she married someone she chose herself but who was also a disappointing husband; wrote lots of letters home asking her family to send her goods and money; and spent the rest of her life as a wage laborer.
Given that, on the one hand it’s impressive that Stanley has enough material to write a biography at all—Tsuneno’s elder brother was a meticulous record keeper, so the family archive is extensive—but on the other, the material feels relatively skimpy, based as it is entirely on the family letters. We don’t get a great idea of who Tsuneno was (quoting more of her letters may have helped), or know much at all about the first several decades of her life. And the historical background given often feels a bit distant from Tsuneno herself. I would have liked to see more about other women’s lives at the time, and some of the most startling cultural practices, like people publicly putting misbehaving family members (both men and women) in cages for long periods to show a commitment to correcting their behavior.
In the end I did learn a bit about Japan in the first half of the 19th century, and it’s a fairly short book so I don’t regret the time spent. But it’s not one I’d go out of my way to recommend.
December 22, 2020
Because Tsuneno was the daughter of a Buddhist priest, in a culture that documented and saved everything from tax records to family letters, historian Amy Stanley was able to recreate a great deal of this 19th-century woman's life. Growing up in a rural province, some two-week's journey from the great city of Edo (now Tokyo), Tusneno was sent away to be married at age twelve. Some fifteen years later, she was sent back home, her first of three divorces in quick succession, before she ultimately runs away from her family to make her own way in Edo.
Stanley gives us a fascinating portrait of Tsuneno's struggle for survival at a pivotal time in Japan's history. As the shogunate begins to lose power and the country is opened up to trading by the U.S. Navy's presence, Edo suffers earthquakes, fires, and a revolt which brings the Emperor to power in Edo for the very first time. And Tokyo, now home to some 38 million people, is born. It's a fascinating examination of a single life, placed against the backdrop of a country being transformed.
Stanley gives us a fascinating portrait of Tsuneno's struggle for survival at a pivotal time in Japan's history. As the shogunate begins to lose power and the country is opened up to trading by the U.S. Navy's presence, Edo suffers earthquakes, fires, and a revolt which brings the Emperor to power in Edo for the very first time. And Tokyo, now home to some 38 million people, is born. It's a fascinating examination of a single life, placed against the backdrop of a country being transformed.
July 6, 2021
This is the biography of an insignificant early 19th Century Japanese woman. It is also a picture of what life was like in Japan at the time, especially from the viewpoint of a woman. Pieced together from family documents and a thorough knowledge of Japan at this time, it is as much anthropology as history.
Tsuneno, the central figure, is an inveterate letter-writer, and is born into a priestly family in a small town in what is now Niigata Prefecture far from Edo – modern Tokyo. She is a bit of a pisser by Medieval Japanese standards and knows what she wants. And will sacrifice her life to get what she wants – bright lanterns, big city. Edo.
Stanley, a scholar of Japanese history and a genuine Japanophile (real word?), skillfully weaves a description of the last years of a closed Shogunate Japan into Tsuneno’s life story. Tsuneno dies just before Commodore Perry’s audacious act of forcing Japan to open more ports so US ships can refuel their new steamships with coal, this making trade with the Far East possible with these modern ships. Would she have approved of the changes to her beloved city?
Some reviewers were annoyed that Stanley chose the life of a “nobody” as a “non-story” and viewed the book as a general waste of time. I think it was brilliant of her to do so. Tsuneno’s life touched every level of Japanese life, from the lowest to almost the highest, from the rural to the urban. Reading this book the reader learns so much of Japanese history, at least in the early 19th century, just at the beginning of the birth of modern, international Japan, the baseline, if you will, where modern Japan begins. And then there were all those letters, so beloved by historians, that chronicled Tsuneno’s life and that of her family and friends that gave Stanley the information needed to write a proper biography. Others agree it is a great book and almost won a Pulitzer Prize for biography.
I only read the book because it was a selection for a non-fiction book club I joined some time ago. It was a great pick!
Last, the book includes very complete referencing: Notes, bibliography, index, just like a proper biography should!! Well done, Professor Stanley.
Tsuneno, the central figure, is an inveterate letter-writer, and is born into a priestly family in a small town in what is now Niigata Prefecture far from Edo – modern Tokyo. She is a bit of a pisser by Medieval Japanese standards and knows what she wants. And will sacrifice her life to get what she wants – bright lanterns, big city. Edo.
Stanley, a scholar of Japanese history and a genuine Japanophile (real word?), skillfully weaves a description of the last years of a closed Shogunate Japan into Tsuneno’s life story. Tsuneno dies just before Commodore Perry’s audacious act of forcing Japan to open more ports so US ships can refuel their new steamships with coal, this making trade with the Far East possible with these modern ships. Would she have approved of the changes to her beloved city?
Some reviewers were annoyed that Stanley chose the life of a “nobody” as a “non-story” and viewed the book as a general waste of time. I think it was brilliant of her to do so. Tsuneno’s life touched every level of Japanese life, from the lowest to almost the highest, from the rural to the urban. Reading this book the reader learns so much of Japanese history, at least in the early 19th century, just at the beginning of the birth of modern, international Japan, the baseline, if you will, where modern Japan begins. And then there were all those letters, so beloved by historians, that chronicled Tsuneno’s life and that of her family and friends that gave Stanley the information needed to write a proper biography. Others agree it is a great book and almost won a Pulitzer Prize for biography.
I only read the book because it was a selection for a non-fiction book club I joined some time ago. It was a great pick!
Last, the book includes very complete referencing: Notes, bibliography, index, just like a proper biography should!! Well done, Professor Stanley.
February 25, 2025
Stranger in the Shogun's City reconstructs the life of Tsuneno (1804 – 1853), a Buddhist priest's daughter, who lived during the Tokugawa Shogunate. Born in a rural Japanese village, she repeatedly defied social conventions by leaving failed marriages and eventually making her way to Edo (modern-day Tokyo). The author relies on temple records, family letters, and official documents to portray Tsuneno's personal story and the vibrant world of the era.
As Tsuneno struggles to establish herself, we follow her through three marriages. She works for a time as a maid before re-marrying one of her husbands and living in the city's crowded tenements. Themes include urban migration, class mobility, gender roles, and the tensions between traditional obligations and individual desires.
Tsuneno is presented as a strong-willed independent woman, making difficult choices within the constraints of her time-period. Tsuneno's story illustrates how even the rigid social order contained numerous possibilities for movement if a person was willing to accept hardships in exchange for freedoms, particularly in the urban environment of Edo. It is an enjoyable biography that also contributes to a deeper understanding of Japanese history.
As Tsuneno struggles to establish herself, we follow her through three marriages. She works for a time as a maid before re-marrying one of her husbands and living in the city's crowded tenements. Themes include urban migration, class mobility, gender roles, and the tensions between traditional obligations and individual desires.
Tsuneno is presented as a strong-willed independent woman, making difficult choices within the constraints of her time-period. Tsuneno's story illustrates how even the rigid social order contained numerous possibilities for movement if a person was willing to accept hardships in exchange for freedoms, particularly in the urban environment of Edo. It is an enjoyable biography that also contributes to a deeper understanding of Japanese history.
September 12, 2021
Als 1804 im Dorf Ichigami in der japanischen Provinz Echigo dem Oberpriester Emon (*1768) nach zwei Söhnen die Tochter Tsuneno geboren wird, liegt vor dem Neugeborenen ein vorgezeichneter Weg. Emons Söhne können ebenfalls die Priesterlaufbahn einschlagen, seine Töchter werden wie ein Vermögenswert Ansehen und Wohlstand der Familie steigern, indem sie jung in andere Priesterfamilien verheiratet werden. Schon 1817 wird Tsuneno mit dem Oberpriester von Jogonji verheiratet. Zuvor war sie gemeinsam mit ihren Brüdern für ihren gesellschaftlichen Stand und die Arbeit in einem wohlhabenden Haushalt mit vielen Familienmitgliedern erzogen worden. Ihr Bruder Giyu (*1800) und Nachfolger seines Vaters als Dorfvorsteher und Priester kann jedoch nicht ahnen, dass seine bei der Heirat erst 12-Jährige Schwester sich für eine japanische Frau als zu wenig duldsam zeigen und von ihm mehrmals die Einwilligung in eine Scheidung verlangen würde. Weil Tsnunenos Familie gewohnt ist, Briefe zu schreiben und Haushaltsbücher zu führen, kann Amy Stanley Tsunenos ungewöhnlichen Lebensweg anhand dieser Aufzeichnungen rekonstruieren.
Zu Beginn des 19. Jahrhunderts zeichnet sich in Japan bereits ein gesellschaftlicher Umbruch ab, der Tsuneno und ihre Ehemänner wie in einem Strudel verschlingen wird. Aus einer reinen Bauerngesellschaft mit vermutlich geringen Klassenunterschieden bildet sich u. a. durch das Entstehen von Handel und Gewerbe eine gebildete Klassengesellschaft, in der schon bald die Normen nicht mehr genügen werden, die bisher das Leben in Tsunenos Dorf regelten. In Ichigami konnte Tsuneno ihre Mitmenschen anhand deren Zugehörigkeit zu vertrauten Familien einschätzen. Dass sie von einer bekannten Person getäuscht oder betrogen wurde, war unwahrscheinlich, weil ein unzuverlässiger Verhandlungspartner und seine Familie damit das Gesicht verloren hätten. Als Tsuneno schließlich mit über 30 Jahren in Edo (heute Tokio) ihre vierte Ehe eingeht, hatte sie bereits bitter bereuen müssen, dass sie zwar elegante Kimonos nähen konnte, aber dem Leben unter Fremden völlig ahnungslos gegenüberstand.
Aus heutiger Sicht hochinteressant, verläuft Tsunenos ungewöhnliches Schicksal parallel zum Niedergang des Shogunats (1867) und dem wachsenden Drängen westlicher Staaten, Japan möge bitte endlich seine Häfen für ausländische Schiffe öffnen, den Fremden zukünftig Wasser und Vorräte verkaufen, vor seiner Küste Schiffbrüchige aufnehmen und versorgen. Bis dahin war japanischen Seeleuten und Fischern der Kontakt zu fremden Schiffen streng verboten. - An anderer Stelle werden 1839 und 1856 die Opiumkriege geführt.
Wer schon von Matthew Perry und James Biddle gehört hat, kann atemlos verfolgen, wie Tsunenos zahlreiche Versuche, Arbeit zu finden und zum Lebensunterhalt in ihren Beziehungen beizutragen, an der Unfähigkeit eines verknöcherten Systems scheitern, sich der Moderne zu stellen.
Man könnte Stanleys Buch so interpretieren, dass Tsuneno nicht an ihrer Rebellion gegen ihre vorgezeichnete Rolle scheitert, sondern an einer Gesellschaft, die zu lange den Kopf vor den Anforderungen des 19. Jahrhunderts in den Sand steckt.
Tsuneno sucht ausgerechnet zu einer Zeit Arbeit, als das Shogunat daran scheitert, tausende Gefolgsmänner und Samurai zu finanzieren, sowie die durch Zuzug vom Land rasant wachsende Stadt Edo zu organisieren und seine Bürger zu schützen. Da die verarmten Samurai ein zusätzliches Einkommen suchten, konkurrierten sie mit den Zuwandern nach Edo um Arbeit, dadurch sanken die Einkommen, Prostitution und Kriminalität dagegen blühten, während die „Stadtväter“ Edos mit ihrem Beharren auf einem überholten System darin versagten, ihren Bürgern Sicherheit und den Rahmen für Handel und Gewerbe zu bieten.
Mit der Verknüpfung von Tsunenos rekonstruierter Biografie, der wirtschaftlich-politischen Krise Edos und der erzwungenen Öffnung Japans nach außen ist Amy Stanley ein ungewöhnlich fesselndes Buch gelungen. Schon lange hat mich kein Stoff mehr so intensiv angeregt, mich mit der Epoche der Handlung zu beschäftigen. Die Autorin entwickelt die Handlung vom Detail zum Ganzen (vom Kleinkind zur Ehefrau, von der behüteten Tochter zur Städterin, von der Familie zur Staatsform, vom abgeschotteten Japan zur Weltpolitik). Für ein Sachbuch läst sich "Tsunenos Reise" erstaunlich flüssig lesen, Karten, Personenliste und Quellenangaben tragen dazu bei.
Zu Beginn des 19. Jahrhunderts zeichnet sich in Japan bereits ein gesellschaftlicher Umbruch ab, der Tsuneno und ihre Ehemänner wie in einem Strudel verschlingen wird. Aus einer reinen Bauerngesellschaft mit vermutlich geringen Klassenunterschieden bildet sich u. a. durch das Entstehen von Handel und Gewerbe eine gebildete Klassengesellschaft, in der schon bald die Normen nicht mehr genügen werden, die bisher das Leben in Tsunenos Dorf regelten. In Ichigami konnte Tsuneno ihre Mitmenschen anhand deren Zugehörigkeit zu vertrauten Familien einschätzen. Dass sie von einer bekannten Person getäuscht oder betrogen wurde, war unwahrscheinlich, weil ein unzuverlässiger Verhandlungspartner und seine Familie damit das Gesicht verloren hätten. Als Tsuneno schließlich mit über 30 Jahren in Edo (heute Tokio) ihre vierte Ehe eingeht, hatte sie bereits bitter bereuen müssen, dass sie zwar elegante Kimonos nähen konnte, aber dem Leben unter Fremden völlig ahnungslos gegenüberstand.
Aus heutiger Sicht hochinteressant, verläuft Tsunenos ungewöhnliches Schicksal parallel zum Niedergang des Shogunats (1867) und dem wachsenden Drängen westlicher Staaten, Japan möge bitte endlich seine Häfen für ausländische Schiffe öffnen, den Fremden zukünftig Wasser und Vorräte verkaufen, vor seiner Küste Schiffbrüchige aufnehmen und versorgen. Bis dahin war japanischen Seeleuten und Fischern der Kontakt zu fremden Schiffen streng verboten. - An anderer Stelle werden 1839 und 1856 die Opiumkriege geführt.
Wer schon von Matthew Perry und James Biddle gehört hat, kann atemlos verfolgen, wie Tsunenos zahlreiche Versuche, Arbeit zu finden und zum Lebensunterhalt in ihren Beziehungen beizutragen, an der Unfähigkeit eines verknöcherten Systems scheitern, sich der Moderne zu stellen.
Man könnte Stanleys Buch so interpretieren, dass Tsuneno nicht an ihrer Rebellion gegen ihre vorgezeichnete Rolle scheitert, sondern an einer Gesellschaft, die zu lange den Kopf vor den Anforderungen des 19. Jahrhunderts in den Sand steckt.
Tsuneno sucht ausgerechnet zu einer Zeit Arbeit, als das Shogunat daran scheitert, tausende Gefolgsmänner und Samurai zu finanzieren, sowie die durch Zuzug vom Land rasant wachsende Stadt Edo zu organisieren und seine Bürger zu schützen. Da die verarmten Samurai ein zusätzliches Einkommen suchten, konkurrierten sie mit den Zuwandern nach Edo um Arbeit, dadurch sanken die Einkommen, Prostitution und Kriminalität dagegen blühten, während die „Stadtväter“ Edos mit ihrem Beharren auf einem überholten System darin versagten, ihren Bürgern Sicherheit und den Rahmen für Handel und Gewerbe zu bieten.
Mit der Verknüpfung von Tsunenos rekonstruierter Biografie, der wirtschaftlich-politischen Krise Edos und der erzwungenen Öffnung Japans nach außen ist Amy Stanley ein ungewöhnlich fesselndes Buch gelungen. Schon lange hat mich kein Stoff mehr so intensiv angeregt, mich mit der Epoche der Handlung zu beschäftigen. Die Autorin entwickelt die Handlung vom Detail zum Ganzen (vom Kleinkind zur Ehefrau, von der behüteten Tochter zur Städterin, von der Familie zur Staatsform, vom abgeschotteten Japan zur Weltpolitik). Für ein Sachbuch läst sich "Tsunenos Reise" erstaunlich flüssig lesen, Karten, Personenliste und Quellenangaben tragen dazu bei.
August 27, 2023
The very idea and concept of this book is beautiful and moving - it's execution is even more so.
This author paints a vivid portrait of 17th and 18th Century Edo Japan not by following a Shogun or high ranking samurai, but by following a regular woman. That woman, like many people in History, was torn between forging a life that aligned with her soul, and adhering to the safe principles and conduct her society expected of her. Her bravery was not on the battlefield or in political halls, but simply in her boldness to follow her heart. That is also why History is so valuable - it reminds us that the problems we think are exclusive to us have, in fact, been taken on by many people over a long time.
This book hit me particularly hard. At the moment, I'm 32, and see a great deal of my own struggle in Tsuneno's - the main subject of this book, despite there being almost 200 years between us. It feels like the big accomplishments that I dreamed of earlier in my life that seemed so sure are starting to waver. The big, difficult questions I used to wonder - "Have I left anything of value to the world? Have I used my talents to the best of my ability? Am I engaged in something meaningful?" Have been replaced with "Do I have enough money to eat today?" And "Where will I be staying after this couch surfing stint is over?"
I suppose this author is correct when she speaks of the value of simply being alive at a given moment to witness the history unfold. And maybe an idea 200 years ago still resonates with us today - that maybe living a life according to your own terms is better than being locked in a prosperous but unsatisfactory life that you loathe.
This author paints a vivid portrait of 17th and 18th Century Edo Japan not by following a Shogun or high ranking samurai, but by following a regular woman. That woman, like many people in History, was torn between forging a life that aligned with her soul, and adhering to the safe principles and conduct her society expected of her. Her bravery was not on the battlefield or in political halls, but simply in her boldness to follow her heart. That is also why History is so valuable - it reminds us that the problems we think are exclusive to us have, in fact, been taken on by many people over a long time.
This book hit me particularly hard. At the moment, I'm 32, and see a great deal of my own struggle in Tsuneno's - the main subject of this book, despite there being almost 200 years between us. It feels like the big accomplishments that I dreamed of earlier in my life that seemed so sure are starting to waver. The big, difficult questions I used to wonder - "Have I left anything of value to the world? Have I used my talents to the best of my ability? Am I engaged in something meaningful?" Have been replaced with "Do I have enough money to eat today?" And "Where will I be staying after this couch surfing stint is over?"
I suppose this author is correct when she speaks of the value of simply being alive at a given moment to witness the history unfold. And maybe an idea 200 years ago still resonates with us today - that maybe living a life according to your own terms is better than being locked in a prosperous but unsatisfactory life that you loathe.
May 3, 2023
I didn’t realize in advance that this is not going to be a fictional story. Or should I say that it is a non-fiction with fictional aspirations. A woman by a beautiful name Tsuneno is the main character, and her life serves as a canvas for this book.
It is like visiting an ethnographic museum where you are told a semi-story about a character that could have inhabited the place and lived a life among the objects and settings you are being shown. It is only that Tsuneno, the headstrong daughter of a Buddhist priest, really did exist. She was born in a rural Japanese village and was expected to die there after having married, had children and lived a traditional life just like generations of women before her. But Tsuneno was different, she wanted to live in Edo, the seat of the Shogun, the place where modern fashion could be seen and where new ways could be learned and adopted. Her family notorious record keeping and rich correspondence over the span of her life made it possible to recreate her life and her choices.
It has apparently taken Amy Stanley ten years, to research and complete this book. An absolutely monumental effort and yet I feel that it is both too much and too little. Too much storytelling for being an ethnography and to little narrative to be a fiction. Still magnificent though, vivid, detailed and impressive. It is filled with details of life in the 19th-century Japan that I found absolutely fascinating and maybe it is unjustly critical of me to remark that perhaps I would have enjoyed reading the actual letters and records in their original form rather than having them retold and molded into a careful and a little bit unsatisfying narrative ?
Despite my slight grudge with the form, I learned a lot and I am really glad that I came across this Audible production.
It is like visiting an ethnographic museum where you are told a semi-story about a character that could have inhabited the place and lived a life among the objects and settings you are being shown. It is only that Tsuneno, the headstrong daughter of a Buddhist priest, really did exist. She was born in a rural Japanese village and was expected to die there after having married, had children and lived a traditional life just like generations of women before her. But Tsuneno was different, she wanted to live in Edo, the seat of the Shogun, the place where modern fashion could be seen and where new ways could be learned and adopted. Her family notorious record keeping and rich correspondence over the span of her life made it possible to recreate her life and her choices.
It has apparently taken Amy Stanley ten years, to research and complete this book. An absolutely monumental effort and yet I feel that it is both too much and too little. Too much storytelling for being an ethnography and to little narrative to be a fiction. Still magnificent though, vivid, detailed and impressive. It is filled with details of life in the 19th-century Japan that I found absolutely fascinating and maybe it is unjustly critical of me to remark that perhaps I would have enjoyed reading the actual letters and records in their original form rather than having them retold and molded into a careful and a little bit unsatisfying narrative ?
Despite my slight grudge with the form, I learned a lot and I am really glad that I came across this Audible production.
June 9, 2020
In this non-fiction work, author Stanley chronicles the life of a Japanese woman in the 1800s based on the woman's voluminous correspondence with her family members. But the book focuses on standard descriptions of places and events, and there's actually very little material that quotes these letters directly. The result is a book that drags and is full of historical material that I could read in any book about Japan during this time. The author missed a big opportunity in not letting her subject's own voice lead the narrative.
June 18, 2020
This book was one of those that I changed my opinion of more than once as I was reading it. At first, I was really enjoying it, getting excited for the main character Tsuneno to head to Edo and start our adventure.
Then the story just got tedious. I found myself saying to myself “ok, I get it, she’s hard to get along with, can we please move this story along already!” Also, I think the fact that I was reading a digital copy that was only tracking my % complete was throwing me off, because it was calculating the footnotes (which also weren’t notated in the main text, which I didn’t realize until I had finished. I wish I had known so I could have referenced some), and the author’s notes at the end of the book, so while my kindle was saying I was at 72% or something, I was actually done. Knowing that at 66% would have given me a different perspective as I thought I was getting bogged down in repetitiveness.
But finally, I ended up enjoying it more for the the setting Tsuneno was in rather than Tsuneno’s story itself. Having lived in Japan for ten years and studying at University there, I am a student of the language and history and culture. This time period, the time right before Perry's arrival and the waning days of the Tokugawa Shogunate are not a time I’m very familiar with, so I began to focus on Edo as the main character and Tsuneno as a supporting actress. While it is absolutely fascinating to me that the personal letters of the daughter of a village priest who by all accounts lived and died in abject poverty in Edo still survive to this day is amazing. That she was literate, and spent money for paper, ink, and postage to write home, and that these letters were filed away rather than thrown out or burned, and survived for over 200 years and a war is amazing. To put into perspective what was going on in other parts of the world, this was pre-Civil War America-gold had yet to be discovered in California. The author does talk about the Opium Wars happening in China and the Western world forcing its way into Asia, but in Europe and America, Tsuneno’s peers were doing the same thing. Young men and women leaving the countryside and villages for a new life in the big cities-London, NY, Paris, Boston where they could get rich, yet they also faced similar conditions. Tenements, despicable lending and rental practices that kept them in debt, Croocked cops and gangs.
So I guess I would warn you, I found this to be more an academic look at Edo. It’s a beautiful look at what is today Tokyo, when she was much younger, and much wilder. Read the author’s notes at the end-always read epilogues, prologues, and notes. They tell you what the author’s thoughts are with their work.
Thank you to NetGalley, the publishers and the author for an ARC.
Then the story just got tedious. I found myself saying to myself “ok, I get it, she’s hard to get along with, can we please move this story along already!” Also, I think the fact that I was reading a digital copy that was only tracking my % complete was throwing me off, because it was calculating the footnotes (which also weren’t notated in the main text, which I didn’t realize until I had finished. I wish I had known so I could have referenced some), and the author’s notes at the end of the book, so while my kindle was saying I was at 72% or something, I was actually done. Knowing that at 66% would have given me a different perspective as I thought I was getting bogged down in repetitiveness.
But finally, I ended up enjoying it more for the the setting Tsuneno was in rather than Tsuneno’s story itself. Having lived in Japan for ten years and studying at University there, I am a student of the language and history and culture. This time period, the time right before Perry's arrival and the waning days of the Tokugawa Shogunate are not a time I’m very familiar with, so I began to focus on Edo as the main character and Tsuneno as a supporting actress. While it is absolutely fascinating to me that the personal letters of the daughter of a village priest who by all accounts lived and died in abject poverty in Edo still survive to this day is amazing. That she was literate, and spent money for paper, ink, and postage to write home, and that these letters were filed away rather than thrown out or burned, and survived for over 200 years and a war is amazing. To put into perspective what was going on in other parts of the world, this was pre-Civil War America-gold had yet to be discovered in California. The author does talk about the Opium Wars happening in China and the Western world forcing its way into Asia, but in Europe and America, Tsuneno’s peers were doing the same thing. Young men and women leaving the countryside and villages for a new life in the big cities-London, NY, Paris, Boston where they could get rich, yet they also faced similar conditions. Tenements, despicable lending and rental practices that kept them in debt, Croocked cops and gangs.
So I guess I would warn you, I found this to be more an academic look at Edo. It’s a beautiful look at what is today Tokyo, when she was much younger, and much wilder. Read the author’s notes at the end-always read epilogues, prologues, and notes. They tell you what the author’s thoughts are with their work.
Thank you to NetGalley, the publishers and the author for an ARC.
August 17, 2020
With an undergrad degree in Japanese Studies and my own historical fantasy set in an alternate Medieval Japan, I came to this book eager for mundane details about clothing, daily chores, foods, and a sense of Edo right before the momentous waves of change from the twin societal processes of the Meiji Restoration and Commodore Perry forcing trade open to more Western countries. I was also eager to see how Stanley "novelized" her protagonist Tsuneno, allowing the reader to imagine a fully realized character based on the deep research Stanley did from temple archives of family letters, lists, and other bureaucratic paperwork from the time. (and I can only imagine the difficulty, touched on lightly in the author's forward, deciphering that old calligraphy took).
I was not disappointed. At times I wished Stanley had gone further into proposing/guessing Tsuneno's motivations and given us longer passages of her "novellized" character, for instance when she first decides to go to Edo or when she decides to return to her fourth husband after coming home to Echigo Province in disgrace, I can't fault Stanley for being unwilling to stray too far from her original source material/letters.
And, through no fault of Stanley's, sadly Tsuneno dies just before the most interesting/tumultuous changes in Edo, so instead of the interesting focus of slice-of-life we get a broader, more vague supposition of how she might have reacted to broad societal changes which lost a little luster for me.
But for anyone with a glancing interest in Edo/Japan history, or who has traveled in Kyoto or Tokyo and wants a little bit more sense of what it was like to live in samurai/Tokugawa times, or who's been to the Tokyo Edo Museum or Nikko Edo Mura theme park, this is a super accessible way to learn more about temples, everyday foods, the tasks of women in picking apart stitches to launder robes, making tea, process of being divorced by husbands, finding maidservant work, etc. It also strays into some interesting Edo period politics in terms of City magistrates and the treatment of Kabuki actors both in their fame and infamy.
Very interesting, readable account of a woman touted as "extraordinary" in the back cover description, but who comes across as more "stubborn" and unwilling to resign herself to the small, undocumented life of a divorced hanger-on to her brother's family in rural Snow Country.
I was not disappointed. At times I wished Stanley had gone further into proposing/guessing Tsuneno's motivations and given us longer passages of her "novellized" character, for instance when she first decides to go to Edo or when she decides to return to her fourth husband after coming home to Echigo Province in disgrace, I can't fault Stanley for being unwilling to stray too far from her original source material/letters.
And, through no fault of Stanley's, sadly Tsuneno dies just before the most interesting/tumultuous changes in Edo, so instead of the interesting focus of slice-of-life we get a broader, more vague supposition of how she might have reacted to broad societal changes which lost a little luster for me.
But for anyone with a glancing interest in Edo/Japan history, or who has traveled in Kyoto or Tokyo and wants a little bit more sense of what it was like to live in samurai/Tokugawa times, or who's been to the Tokyo Edo Museum or Nikko Edo Mura theme park, this is a super accessible way to learn more about temples, everyday foods, the tasks of women in picking apart stitches to launder robes, making tea, process of being divorced by husbands, finding maidservant work, etc. It also strays into some interesting Edo period politics in terms of City magistrates and the treatment of Kabuki actors both in their fame and infamy.
Very interesting, readable account of a woman touted as "extraordinary" in the back cover description, but who comes across as more "stubborn" and unwilling to resign herself to the small, undocumented life of a divorced hanger-on to her brother's family in rural Snow Country.
December 14, 2020
3.5
Vivid, colourful and almost tangible descriptions of life in 19th century Japan. Honestly, my biggest complaint is that I just wanted more!!!
Vivid, colourful and almost tangible descriptions of life in 19th century Japan. Honestly, my biggest complaint is that I just wanted more!!!
November 13, 2021
I absolutely loved this book! Stanley beautifully brought Tsuneno and her world back to life, and I loved seeing this piece of history in this way. The use of writing from real people of the time to create a story for people to read and learn from was fantastic. Not only did I learn more about 19th century Japan than I had known before, I also learned how little I knew about it, and how much I was missing through not knowing. I'm definitely excited to read more about this time/place after reading this book.
April 10, 2021
Originally published on my book blog, TheBibliophage.com.
Amy Stanley is a professor and social historian who specializes in early modern Japan. In her 2020 book, Stranger in the Shogun’s City: A Japanese Woman and Her World, Stanley explores the story of a rebellious woman in a strict time. Her subject is Tsuneno, the daughter of a Buddhist priest from a country village. Although she tries to live a typical life, ultimately, she wants more. So, she finds a way to venture beyond her family’s expectations.
Stanley tells the story in a chronological way, embellishing each place and time with myriad details. As readers, we learn not just about Tsuneno and her family, but about the political power structure of the time. We learn about approaching transitions in the larger society. And Stanley also takes us inside the details of both rural and city life, as well as how priests, samurai, and city officials lived. Much of the material comes from letters and other personal papers, which have amazingly survived across the centuries.
The 19th century was a time of tremendous upheaval around the world. The world modernized, while also retaining older traditions and mindsets. And women like Tsuneno were caught right in the middle. She was young enough to imagine she could determine her own fate. And yet, she was also quite dependent on her family for dowries and other support in her marriages.
Tsuneno could easily be a fictional character, but instead this is the life she actually lived. I credit Stanley for finding her and hunting down all the details of her life. Tsuneno’s character might not be completely likable, given her stubborn nature. But at the same time, that stubbornness got her from her home village to Edo, the city which eventually became Tokyo. It makes for a fascinating story.
My conclusions
This book hit home for me on so many levels. First, it’s all true and based on extensive research. I am amazed at the things Tsuneno accomplished against the odds, and how she persisted even through the toughest of times.
Second, as the wife of a Sansei (third generation) Japanese American, this history connects to our family. We embrace a handful of Japanese traditions in our lives and understanding more about the culture and the country deepen that connection.
Third, we also recently watched the Netflix multi-episode documentary, Age of Samurai: Battle for Japan. The show is about a considerably earlier time but offered me some visuals to go along with this book. And since the show focused on men, reading the book from Stanley gave me a much-needed female perspective.
Fourth, so far, my 2021 reading life is full of historical fiction. And some of it was also set in the mid to late 1800s, even though the location wasn’t Japan. That makes an interesting comparison between this real-life historical narrative and my recent fictional choices.
If you enjoy historical fiction, give this biography / social history a try. I also recommend it for readers who like women’s studies and feminist themed books. Stanley touches on all of those topics as she introduces us to this remarkable Japanese woman.
Pair with Cleopatra: A Life by Stacy Schiff since the women share many personality traits, despite their vastly different stations in life. Or try Women of the Silk and The Language of Threads by Gail Tsukiyama because the main character in that historical fiction series also chooses an unexpected path.
Amy Stanley is a professor and social historian who specializes in early modern Japan. In her 2020 book, Stranger in the Shogun’s City: A Japanese Woman and Her World, Stanley explores the story of a rebellious woman in a strict time. Her subject is Tsuneno, the daughter of a Buddhist priest from a country village. Although she tries to live a typical life, ultimately, she wants more. So, she finds a way to venture beyond her family’s expectations.
Stanley tells the story in a chronological way, embellishing each place and time with myriad details. As readers, we learn not just about Tsuneno and her family, but about the political power structure of the time. We learn about approaching transitions in the larger society. And Stanley also takes us inside the details of both rural and city life, as well as how priests, samurai, and city officials lived. Much of the material comes from letters and other personal papers, which have amazingly survived across the centuries.
The 19th century was a time of tremendous upheaval around the world. The world modernized, while also retaining older traditions and mindsets. And women like Tsuneno were caught right in the middle. She was young enough to imagine she could determine her own fate. And yet, she was also quite dependent on her family for dowries and other support in her marriages.
Tsuneno could easily be a fictional character, but instead this is the life she actually lived. I credit Stanley for finding her and hunting down all the details of her life. Tsuneno’s character might not be completely likable, given her stubborn nature. But at the same time, that stubbornness got her from her home village to Edo, the city which eventually became Tokyo. It makes for a fascinating story.
My conclusions
This book hit home for me on so many levels. First, it’s all true and based on extensive research. I am amazed at the things Tsuneno accomplished against the odds, and how she persisted even through the toughest of times.
Second, as the wife of a Sansei (third generation) Japanese American, this history connects to our family. We embrace a handful of Japanese traditions in our lives and understanding more about the culture and the country deepen that connection.
Third, we also recently watched the Netflix multi-episode documentary, Age of Samurai: Battle for Japan. The show is about a considerably earlier time but offered me some visuals to go along with this book. And since the show focused on men, reading the book from Stanley gave me a much-needed female perspective.
Fourth, so far, my 2021 reading life is full of historical fiction. And some of it was also set in the mid to late 1800s, even though the location wasn’t Japan. That makes an interesting comparison between this real-life historical narrative and my recent fictional choices.
If you enjoy historical fiction, give this biography / social history a try. I also recommend it for readers who like women’s studies and feminist themed books. Stanley touches on all of those topics as she introduces us to this remarkable Japanese woman.
Pair with Cleopatra: A Life by Stacy Schiff since the women share many personality traits, despite their vastly different stations in life. Or try Women of the Silk and The Language of Threads by Gail Tsukiyama because the main character in that historical fiction series also chooses an unexpected path.
August 14, 2020
A piece of non-fiction (historical research of an individual case) that is so beautifully written that it almost reads like fiction (in a good way).
I liked this especially in relation to the author's later article on the #MeToo movement and the doubt we cast on victims coming forward (you can read it here: https://slate.com/news-and-politics/2...). The gist of it is this: in the historical account of an Edo-period non-conforming woman (one who insists on retaining her independence and who travels alone to a big city), there is at one point a tale of sexual impropriety or assault. But because this information appears in her memoirs a long time after the event happened, the historian working on reconstructing her life initially doubted the story and thought that the Japanese lady is making it up in order to deter accusations of impropriety directed towards herself.
Later on, as she recounts in the Slate article linked above, she realizes she made the same mistake society and law enforcement sadly still make sometimes: she doubted the testimony of a victim just because she lacked the psychological understanding of how people process grief and trauma. Namely, the fact that people in some cases cannot verbalize what happened to them right away.
Beyond this foray into victim-blaming, the story itself is highly interesting for anyone who is fascinated with Japan, as it offers a first-person glimpse into the Japan of old, right before the moment when the Americans forced them to exit seclusion and open up their ports. The diary of Tsuneno is an incredibly vivid account of life in that time and place, and the magic performed by Amy Stanley on the manuscript will allow you to feel the full blast of that immersive power.
I liked this especially in relation to the author's later article on the #MeToo movement and the doubt we cast on victims coming forward (you can read it here: https://slate.com/news-and-politics/2...). The gist of it is this: in the historical account of an Edo-period non-conforming woman (one who insists on retaining her independence and who travels alone to a big city), there is at one point a tale of sexual impropriety or assault. But because this information appears in her memoirs a long time after the event happened, the historian working on reconstructing her life initially doubted the story and thought that the Japanese lady is making it up in order to deter accusations of impropriety directed towards herself.
Later on, as she recounts in the Slate article linked above, she realizes she made the same mistake society and law enforcement sadly still make sometimes: she doubted the testimony of a victim just because she lacked the psychological understanding of how people process grief and trauma. Namely, the fact that people in some cases cannot verbalize what happened to them right away.
Beyond this foray into victim-blaming, the story itself is highly interesting for anyone who is fascinated with Japan, as it offers a first-person glimpse into the Japan of old, right before the moment when the Americans forced them to exit seclusion and open up their ports. The diary of Tsuneno is an incredibly vivid account of life in that time and place, and the magic performed by Amy Stanley on the manuscript will allow you to feel the full blast of that immersive power.
January 16, 2021
Yazdığı onlarca mektup olmasa varlığından asla haberdar olamayacağımız Tsuneno isimli bir kadının hayatı üzerine kurulu kitap. Tsuneno, soylu bir yerel rahip ailesinden gelmesine rağmen dört evlilik yapmış ve evden kaçıp Edo'ya gitmiş maceraperest ve bağımsızlığına düşkün bir kadın. Kendisi için çizilmiş yolun sınırlarına sığamamasıyla okurun saygısını kazanıyor. Yazar da Tsuneno'yu çevreleyen dünyayı mahir bir şekilde anlatıyor.
Büyük adamların dünyasını değil de küçük bir kadının dünyasını anlatıyor kitap. Büyük savaşlar, keşifler ya da başarılar olmadığı için ilginç bulmayabilir bazıları. Bana göre tam da bu yüzden ilginç. Zira İmparator Meiji, Napolyon ya da Churchill biyografisi okumak isteyenler için zaten sonsuz sayıda seçenek var. Ama 1830'larda yaşamış orta halli taşra kökenli Edo sakini bir kadının dünyasını öğrenmek isterseniz seçenekleriniz çok sınırlı. Bu kitap da böyle bir boşluğa denk düşüyor.
Büyük adamların dünyasını değil de küçük bir kadının dünyasını anlatıyor kitap. Büyük savaşlar, keşifler ya da başarılar olmadığı için ilginç bulmayabilir bazıları. Bana göre tam da bu yüzden ilginç. Zira İmparator Meiji, Napolyon ya da Churchill biyografisi okumak isteyenler için zaten sonsuz sayıda seçenek var. Ama 1830'larda yaşamış orta halli taşra kökenli Edo sakini bir kadının dünyasını öğrenmek isterseniz seçenekleriniz çok sınırlı. Bu kitap da böyle bir boşluğa denk düşüyor.
August 7, 2020
An intriguing and enjoyable book, more so for the historical context rather then the life of Tsuneno herself. Born into a Buddhist priest's family, Tsuneno finds herself in Edo and the period of history just prior to the arrival of Commodore Perry's fleet in 1854 which led the way to Japan opening up its borders, and for Edo to be transformed into the newly-named capital, Tokyo.
As an academic, Amy Stanley's book is clearly well-researched and comes with a lot (for a non-academic I mean a lot!) of footnotes. Perhaps best just to go with the flow, and then dip into the footnotes as and when you finish a chapter - or indeed the whole book. Using the life of Tsuneno as a way of exploring the period is an interesting idea, but as I say I got more of the history than the biography, which is fine. 3.5 stars.
As an academic, Amy Stanley's book is clearly well-researched and comes with a lot (for a non-academic I mean a lot!) of footnotes. Perhaps best just to go with the flow, and then dip into the footnotes as and when you finish a chapter - or indeed the whole book. Using the life of Tsuneno as a way of exploring the period is an interesting idea, but as I say I got more of the history than the biography, which is fine. 3.5 stars.
October 24, 2023
Liked this book surprisingly well. A 19th century Japanese woman, Tsuneno, from a priestly family and not fitting the stereotype of the subservient, but independent and called "selfish" by her family strikes out for herself in Edo [Tokyo] after enduring three unsuitable marriages, leaving her small town for the big city where she spends the rest of her life. She endures poverty, menial work and marriage to a ronin [samurai without a master]. The author has constructed the life of this ordinary woman from letters and other family writings from that period, the end decades of the Tokugawa Shogunate. She then describes the rise of Tokyo from Edo and its subsequent development.
February 25, 2022
Amy Stanley paints a vivid portrait of life in Japan in the first half of the nineteenth century. But my issue with this book is that is marketed as a biography of Tsuneno, a Japanese woman. And yes, I certainly learned about Tsuneno, her four husbands, her escaping to Edo to make a new life for herself. But there are hardly any primary sources for Stanley to work with, just letters to and from Tsuneno and her many siblings. The rest of Stanley's book is filling in the gaps with her knowledge and previous research on that particular period of Japanese history. So you get a lot of, "Tsuneno would have/could have experienced, fill in the blank." Ultimately, this left me a little disappointed and surprised that the book was nominated for a Pulitzer in biography, considering there's very little biographical information and a lot of conjecture about Tsueneno's life.
September 30, 2021
I wish that this book had not been hyped in the manner in which it was. I nearly expected a novel, what I received was a fascinating, to me, account of a woman's life in Mid 19th century Japan. I am a person who cut her teeth early on Shogun by James Clavell, and remained fascinated by Japanese literature and stories about Japan, so therein lies my interest. While Tsuneno's story takes place some 200 years later, certainly I recognized differences, but also similarities that held my interest.
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