Status Updates From The Crab Cannery Ship and O...

‘They opened the package of 'natsumikan'—peeled them, one by one—various things that she had not previously understood had become clear to her—what they had been enduring came ultimately—if their roots be sought—from the ties between landlords & tenant farmers. If she considered it in connection with this—she could also understand the 'work' that—people were doing. They were shackled by their day-to-day existence.’

‘‘If there were no sailors—could the ship move? There are hundreds of millions of crabs on the bottom of the sea. But if we didn’t work, would even one solitary crab end up in their hands—Nothing comes out of nothing. You see? So don’t be cowards.’ After passing through the factory district on the outskirts of Sapporo, the train emerged into the snowy expanse of the Ishikari Plain. Spring has truly arrived.’

‘Loss of five / six people 'didn’t matter', but losing one boat is 'painful'. 'Listen' he said. 'They could easily have done us in too. This is not somebody else’s problem.' At a word from Russ, Chin who'd been watching said ’Rich mans do this all you.’ He grabbed himself by the neck as if in a chokehold. ‘Rich mans get more big—All you, no good, get more poor. Understand? One on one, no good. If we work together?'’

‘The ships were all old and battered. It didn’t matter to executives in buildings in financial district that workers were dying in the Sea of Okhotsk—writhing, sea-storm’s raging waves, like a whale in its death agonies—’honourably crippled’. Given those circumstances it was no wonder that capital’s profit-seekers fell in love with crab cannery ships, each one able to bring in countless hundreds of thousands of yen.’

‘Among the fishermen were some from Hokkaido’s cultivated interior, others who had been sold into railway construction—content so long as they could just get enough to drink. Mixed—farmers from Aomori who were honest and ignorant as tree roots. It was highly convenient for the employers to assemble such a crew of unorganised migrant workers. The saloon was filled with corporate honchos—’Do we toss him overboard?’’

‘Incorrigible internationalism—love of travel took me to Uruguay, in 2008 when a Japanese friend—a single mother, unemployed factory worker—informed me of the book—words like kanikō suru—meaning, roughly, “to slave away?” Clearly—the old novel struck its many new readers—warmly welcomed its fiery call for united, collective action—The Asia-Pacific Journal. My approach to the translation is extraordinarily simple.’