by Ruth Ozeki
Ebbesmeyer, Curtis, and Eric Scigliano. Flotsametrics and the Floating Word: How One Man’s Obsession with Runaway Sneakers and Rubber Ducks Revolutionized Ocean Science. New York: Smithsonian Books/HarperCollins, 2009.
Fowler, Edward. The Rhetoric of Confession: Shishōsetsu in Early Twentieth-Century Japanese Fiction. Berkeley and Los Angeles: University of California Press, 1988.
Galchen, Rivka. “Dream Machine: The mind-expanding world of quantum computing.” The New Yorker May 2, 2011: 34–43.
Hane, Mikiso, ed. Reflections on the Way to the Gallows. Translated by Mikiso Hane. Berkeley and Los Angeles: University of California Press, 1988.
Hirastuka Raichō. In the Beginning, Woman Was the Sun. Translated by Teruko Craig. New York: Columbia University Press, 2006.
Hohn, Donovan. Moby-Duck: The True Story of 28,800 Bath Toys Lost at Sea and of the Beachcombers, Oceanographers, Environmentalits, and Fools, Including the Author, Who Went in Search of Them. New York: Viking, 2011.
Kundera, Milan. The Book of Laughter and Forgetting. Translated by Michael Henry Heim. New York: Alfred A. Knopf, 1980.
Leighton, Dan. Visions of Awakening Time and Space: Dōgen and the Lotus Sutra. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2007.
Levy, David M. Scrolling Forward: Making Sense of Documents in the Digital Age. New York: Arcade Publishing, 2001.
Noma, Hiroshi. Zone of Emptiness. Cleveland and New York: World Publishing Company, 1956.
Ohnuki-Tierney, Emiko. Kamikaze Diaries: Reflections of Japanese Student Soldiers. Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2006.
———. Kamikaze, Cherry Blossoms, and Nationalisms: The Militarization of Aesthetics in Japanese History. Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2002.
Proust, Marcel. In Search of Lost Time. Translated by C. K. Scott-Moncrieff, Terence Kilmartin, and Andreas Mayor. London and New York: Penguin Books, 1989. Copyright: Editions Gallimard, 1954. Translation copyright: Chatto & Windus and Random House, 1981. Based on the French “La Pléiade” text (1954).
———. Swann’s Way. Translated by Lydia Davis. New York: Viking, 2003.
Suzuki, Tomi. Narrating the Self: Fictions of Japanese Modernity. Stanford: Stanford University Press, 1996.
Yamanouchi, Midori, and Joseph L. Quinn, trans. Listen to the Voices from the Sea: Writings of the Fallen Japanese Soldiers. Compiled by the Japan Memorial Society for the Students Killed in the War—Wadatsumi Society. Scranton: University of Scranton Press, 2000. Originally published as Shinpan Kike Wadatsumi no Koe (Tokyo: Iwanami Shoten, 1995).
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
First, I offer thanks to my teachers: to my Zen teacher, Norman Fischer, whose wise words entered my ears, excited my mind, and spilled back out, willy-nilly, onto these pages; to Teah Strozer and Paula Arai, who guided me on matters pertaining to Zen practice and custom; to the kind scientists Adam Frank, Bill Moninger, and Tom White, who answered my questions about quantum physics and never once laughed; to Tim King, for his beautiful French translations, and Taku Nishimae, for his nuanced Japanese; to Karen Joy Fowler, who gave me courage at a critical moment in time; to John Dower, who many years ago encouraged me to write about the kamikaze diaries; and to Missy Cummings, for sharing her insights into creating moral buffers in human/computer interface design over high tea at the Empress Hotel . . . I thank you all for your generosity, expertise, and guidance, while hastening to add that any mistakes and omissions in this book are entirely my own.
Second, I offer thanks to my sangha of readers and friends: to Tim Burnett, Paul Cirone, Harry Hantel, Shannon Jonasson, Kate McCandless, Olwyn Morinski, Monica Nawrocki, Michael Newton, Rahna Reiko Rizzuto, Greg Snyder, Linda Solomon, Susan Squier, and Marina Zurkow, for taking precious time from their busy lives to read early drafts and offer priceless feedback; to Larry Lane, for sage counsel on matters of dharma and plot; to David Palumbo-Liu, John Stauber and Laura Berger, and to the Friends of the Pleistocene, who generously agreed to let me put them in this fictional world; and to Kwee Downey, who once said she’d like to read a novel with Zen in it, and then suggested I might write one.
Third, I offer thanks to the institutions and temples of learning that have supported me: to the Canada Council for the Arts, for professional writers’ grants in 2009 and 2011, which enabled me to live and write; to the Massachusetts Institute of Technology and to Stanford University, for fellowships that supported research and conversations that inspired key elements of this story; and to beloved Hedgebrook, for the precious gift of solitude, sisterhood, and time.
Fourth, I offer my deepest thanks to my treasured publishing sangha: to Molly Friedrich, Lucy Carson, and Molly Schulman, who represent me with such wit, grace, and enthusiasm; to my wise and wonderful benefactors at Viking Penguin, Susan Petersen Kennedy, Clare Ferraro, and Paul Slovak, for their guidance and unflagging support over the years, and also to Beena Kamlani, Paul Buckley, Francesca Belanger, and the many dedicated others who have worked so hard to make this book a thing of beauty; to Jamie Byng, Ailah Ahmed, and all my new friends at Canongate, U.K., and around the world; and, most of all, my eternal gratitude to Carole DeSanti, my dear friend, editor, colleague, classmate, and the reader who calls me into being on the page.
Fifth, I offer thanks to the island and the islanders, for imbuing my fictional fantastical isle with your very real beauty, tenacity, humor, expertise, and willingness to help.
And finally, I offer my abiding thanks to Oliver, for his love and companionship—thank you for your generous collaboration on this book and for being my partner and my inspiration in this and all our many worlds.
I bow to you all.
About the Author
Ruth Ozeki is an award-winning novelist and filmmaker. She is the author of My Year of Meats and All Over Creation. Ozeki was born and raised in Connecticut, by an American father and Japanese mother. In June 2010 she was ordained as a Zen Buddhist priest. She divides her time between British Columbia and New York.
www.ruthozeki.com
ENDNOTES
1. Jpn. hossu—a whisk made of horse tails, carried by a Zen Buddhist priest.
2. Jpn. chōsan rishi—lit. third son of Zhang and fourth son of Li; an idiom meaning “any ordinary person.” I’ve translated this as “any Dick or Jane, ” but it could just as well be “any Tom, Dick, or Harry.”
3. Eihei Dōgen Zenji (1200–1253)—Japanese Zen master and author of the Shōbōgenzō (The Treasury of the True Dharma Eye). “For the Time Being” (Uji) is the eleventh chapter.
4. otaku ()—obsessive fan or fanatic, a computer geek, a nerd.
5. keitai ()—mobile phone.
6. hentai ()—pervert, a sexual deviant.
7. New Woman—a term used in Japan in the early 1900s to describe progressive, educated women who rejected the limitations of traditional gender-assigned roles.
8. Taisho era, 1912–1926, named for the Taishō emperor, also called Taishō Democracy; a short-lived period of social and political liberalization, which ended with the right-wing military takeover that led to World War II.
9. For more thoughts on Zen moments, see Appendix A.
10. Genzaichi de hajimarubeki—“You should start where you are.” Genzaichi is used on maps: You Are Here.
11. Akihabara ()—area of Tokyo famous for electronics; the heart of Japanese manga fan culture.
12. otaku ()—also a formal way of saying “you.” means “house,” and with the honorific , it literally means “your honorable house,” implying that you are less of a person and more of a place, fixed in space and contained under a roof. Makes sense that the stereotype of the modern otaku is a shut-in, an obsessed loner and social isolate who rarely leaves his house.
13. omuraisu ()—omelet filled with pilaf rice, seasoned with tomato ketchup and butter.
14. ninki nanba wan!—most popular, number one in popularity.
15. Okaerinasaimase, dannasama!—Welcome home, my master!
16. . . . also, because the word otaku is hono
rific, when it’s used as a second-person pronoun, it creates a kind of formal social distance between the speaker and the you being addressed. This distance is conventionally respectful, but it can also be ironic and mocking.
17. Can’t find references to medical cafés or Bedtown. Is she making this up?
18. Zuibun nagaku ikasarete itadaite orimasu ne—“I have been alive for a very long time, haven’t I?” Totally impossible to translate, but the nuance is something like: I have been caused to live by the deep conditions of the universe to which I am humbly and deeply grateful. P. Arai calls it the “gratitude tense,” and says the beauty of this grammatical construction is that “there is no finger pointing to a source.” She also says, “It is impossible to feel angry when using this tense.”
19. Sō desu ne . . .—Hmm, yes, I suppose that’s so . . .
20. juzu ()—a Buddhist rosary.
21. bosatsu ()—bodhisattva, awakened being, Buddhist saint.
22. A stout, compact tome, perhaps a crown octavo, measuring approx. 5 x 7½ inches.
23. Cover is worn, made of reddish cloth. Title is embossed in tarnished gold letters on the front and again on the spine.
24. Harajuku ()—area in Tokyo famous for youth culture and street fashion.
25. peipaakura ()—papercrafts, from the English paper + craft.
26. juku ()—cram school.
27. kissa ()—coffee shop.
28. Aru toki ya / Koto no ha mo chiri / Ochiba ka na
aru toki ya—that time, sometime, for the time being (). Same kanji used for Uji ().
koto no ha—lit., “leaves of speech” (). Same kanji used for kotoba (), meaning “word.”
ochiba—fallen leaves, with a pun on ha (), implying fallen words.
ka na—an interrogative particle that imparts a sense of wonder.
29. Ginkgo leaves are used in tea to enhance memory. Ginkgo trees were often planted on Buddhist temple grounds to help monks memorize sutras.
30. “I never think anyone gives a shit,” Oliver said. “Is that sad? I don’t think it’s sad.”
31. “Once the writer in every individual comes to life (and that time is not far off), we are in for an age of universal deafness and lack of understanding.”—Milan Kundera, Book of Laughter and Forgetting, 1980.
32. seppuku ()—ritual suicide by disembowelment; lit. “stomach” + “cutting.” The same kanji are used in harakiri ().
33. kikokushijo ()—repatriated children.
34. ijime ()—bullying.
35. bentō ()—lunchbox.
36. Iyada! Gaijin kusai—Gross! She stinks like a foreigner!
37. Bimbo kusai—She stinks like a poor person!
38. kurage ()—jellyfish; lit. “water” + “mother.”
39. osechi ryōri ()—special cold New Year’s dinner, made in advance and served in a multitiered lunchbox.
40. Jpn. setsuna (), from the Sanskrit ksāna (Appendix A).
41. For some thoughts on Dōgen and quantum mechanics, see Appendix B.
42. hikikomori ()—recluse, a person who refuses to leave the house.
43. ō eru—abbreviation for “office ladies.”
44. sentō ()—public baths.
45. okusan ()—wife. The character oku () means “interior,” or “inside,” as of a house. With honorific -san, it’s a formal way of addressing a married woman.
46. butsubutsu ()—bumps, a spotty rash.
47. tondemonai—it’s nothing.
48. Yasutani-kun wa rusu desu yo—Yasutani is absent.
49. enoki ()—a small white mushroom with a round little cap on a long, threadlike stem that grows in clusters in the dark and never sees the light of day.
50. kotatsu—a low table with a heating element underneath and a blanket to keep in the warmth.
51. Sore! Sore da yo!—That! That’s it!
52. furiitaa—a freelance worker, from the English free + German arbeiter.
53. Probably karōshi (), “death from overwork”—a phenomenon in the 1980s at the height of the Japanese bubble economy.
54. Shinia Kesshitai ().
55. kūge ()—lit. “emptiness” or “sky” flowers; an idiom for cataracts; also the title of Chapter 43 in Zen Master Dōgen’s Shōbōgenzō. The kanji kū () has several meanings, including “sky” or “space,” or “emptiness,” as in (sky soldier). The phrase sky flowers refers to the clouding of vision from cataracts, but in traditional Buddhist teaching, flowers in the sky refers to delusion brought on by a person’s karmic obstructions. Dōgen seems to have reinterpreted it to mean a “flowering of emptiness”; in other words, an enlightened state. All things in the world, he says, are the cosmic flowering of emptiness.
56. kotodama ()—lit. “speech” (koto) + “spirit or soul” (tama).
57. Giant staghorn beetle.
58. zen-in shikato ()—lit. “all-person ostracizing” or “everybody ignoring.”
59. baikin ()—germ.
60. Nanka kusai yo!—something stinks!
61. genkan ()—entryway, foyer.
62. Urusai yo! Tabako katte koyō ka?—You’re so noisy! You want me to get you some cigarettes?
63. Nakami o misero!—Show me what’s inside!
64. sukeban ()—boss girl, a delinquent girl.
65. kagome ()—a style of open bamboo weaving used for baskets or cages.
66. oni ()—demon, ogre.
67. rinchi—from English lynch.
68. Usotsuke!—Liar!
69. A central text in Mahayana Buddhism.
70. Form is emptiness and emptiness is form.
71. Sanskrit.
72. kanashibari ()—lit. “metal” + “binding.” A kind of sleep paralysis.
73. cosplay ()—dressing up in costume, especially of favorite manga and anime characters Japanese slang, from “costume” + “play.”
74. ikisudama ()—a living ghost.
75. tatari ()—spirit attacks.
76. shitamachi ()—downtown.
77. kappa ()—lit. “river child.” Mischievous mythological creature, like a water sprite, with webbed hands and feet, and scaly green, blue, or yellow reptilian skin. It has a carapace like a turtle’s shell, and a bowl-shaped indentation on the top of its head, which it must keep filled with water. If the bowl spills, the kappa becomes paralyzed.
78. zōri ()—flip-flops.
79. Nao-chan desu ne?—You are dear Nao, aren’t you?
80. Ohisashiburi—It’s been a very long time.
81. Ookiku natta ne—You’ve gotten very big, haven’t you?
82. Obāchama—honorific but intimate way of addressing grandmother.
83. Shitsurei itashimasu—Pardon me for intruding.
84. danka ()—temple parishioners.
85. homushiku ()—from Engish homesick.
86. nyuugakushiken ()—entrance exams.
87. mochi ()—sweet rice balls.
88. Miyagi . . . Sendai is in Miyagi!
89. The Rhetoric of Confession by Edward Fowler. See Bibliography.
90. Bluestocking Society.
91. Red Wave Society.
92. This title seems to come from a poem by Yosano Akiko, titled “Rambling Thoughts,” which was published in the first issue of Seito magazine. See Appendix C.
93. Searched Google for these names but found nothing. Nao wrote the names in romaji, so I knew only the pronunciation. Tried guessing the kanji but wasn’t able to come up with a combination that could be located on a map. See Appendix D for some possible kanji for Hiyuzan and Jigenji, as well as more information about Japanese temple nomenclature.
94. Cryptomeria.
95. Obento wa ikaga desu ka? Ocha wa ikaga desu ka?—Would you care for a lunchbox? Would you care for some tea?
96. tenugui ()—a thin cotton cloth used as a head covering or a towel.
97. kakkoii ()—stylish, cool, snappy.
98. minminzemi? ()—Oncotympana maculaticollis, a kind of Japanese cicada.
99. n
atsu no oto ()—the sound of summer.
100. Tatari!—Spirit attack!
101. ofuro ()—bathtub.
102. yukata ()—cotton kimono.
103. geta ()—wooden sandals.
104. Nattchan, issho ni ofuro ni hairou ka?—Nattchan, shall we take a bath together? (Nattchan—an intimate and affectionate contraction of Nao-chan.)
105. yamamba ()—mountain witch, mountain hag.
106. sai ()—years (of age).
107. Dai Hi Shin Dharani—Great Compassionate Mind Dharani. An esoteric mantra or invocation said to have magical powers to protect against evil spirits.
108. hondo ()—shrine room.
109. Manjushri (Sanskrit)—bodhisattva associated with wisdom and meditation.
110. raihai ()—a full prostration. Raising the palms symbolizes lifting the entire world above one’s own head.
111. zafu ()—round black cushion for zazen.
112. heiwaboke ()—stupefied with peace; lit. “peace” + “addled.”
113. hokkai jō-in ()—cosmic mudra.
114. yanki—a delinquent, from the English Yankee. The popular image of yanki is a tough juvenile delinquent with shaved eyebrows, wearing a long, brightly colored, garishly embroidered workcoat called a tokkō-fuku. The word tokkō-fuku means “Special Attack uniform”; these uniforms were issued to the Tokkōtai, the Special Attack Force of kamikaze pilots during World War II.
115. manko—cunt, pussy.
116. chinchin—penis.
117. Damé da yo, Obaachama! Ikō yo!—No, that’s no good, Grandma. Let’s go!
118. Nameten no ka! Chutohampa nan da yo! Chanto ojigi mo dekinei no ka?!—Are you messing with me? That’s half-assed. Can’t you even bow properly?!
119. omatsuri ()—festival.
120. nondualistic—funi (), lit. “not” + “two.”
121. sōji ()—cleaning.
122. Maa, sō kashira—Well, I wonder . . .
123. engawa ()—a narrow wooden veranda that wraps around a traditional Japanese building.