The Unseen Things That Stay-Sylvia Chen

This week’s stories I personally think are very different in tone, but they share one thing that moved me: they are all about something are unseen.

In Love Isn’t Easy When You’re the National Anthem, the narrator is the national anthem itself. I thought this idea was very cool, and recheck mutiple times. I found it funny and clever at first, but later a feeling of sadness came over me. The anthem falls in love with a student who refuses to sing it. It wants to be heard, but no one answers. The story looks like one about love, but it also shows the distance between a country and its people. When a song stands for a nation, those who stay silent are really saying they do not belong. It made me reflect of people who are told to show loyalty but still feel left out.

And In Tokyo Ueno Station, I did not understand the story at first. But, I later learned that the narrator is the spirit of an old man who has died but still wanders in the human world. After death, he still cannot leave. He quietly watches the world move, watches people pass by. This made me think about people who are being ignore. Many people are still alive but have already become invisible—they have no address, no name. In the story, when the old man hears the debates about nuclear power and politicians speaking empty words about “reconstruction after the disaster.” I sensed a certain connection, for his silence mirrored the voices in our society that are either overlooked or unable to express themselves.

When I first read Abandoning a Cat, it looked like a simple memory of a summer afternoon when a man took his son to the beach to leave a cat behind. But reflect on it more, I felt it was not only a story about a cat, it was also about postwar Japan, a generation that chose to forget, stay silent, and carry guilt. The cat is a little crack in that silence, showing the emotional scars of that time. The father is quiet and serious, he never talks about his past and keeps a distance from his son. He leaves the cat, then accepts it when it comes back.This make the cat's existence transformed into non-death, but existing, like a trace of what cannot be spoken.

In Sunrise, the characters do not cry, but they all remember. The story shows how a mother and daughter’s lives connect with Japan’s history, from the bomb to the disaster, where personal memory and national pain meet. Light stands for both life and destruction. Yoko lives her whole life under this light, carrying the quiet weight of the past. Coco’s Century feels like a wall of my old family photos, each one trying to speak. Coco’s(Ko?) life is a fragile line between family and history, dim but real, like the yellowed photos we remember but cannot explain. His Last Bow, to be honest, I don’t quiet get the theme. But it made me think about the invisible—about the memory and history. In this story, each generation is seens repeating the same cycle of birth, loss, and rebuilding and overlap with public history. I come out with one question about does the radiation of time, persistently affect future generations? Are we shaped by what we cannot see?

Sam Kraus - 10/22

Although I have many opinions on the readings this week, I am hesitant at times to voice too many of them. As for why, it ultimately comes down to the fact that I am not a Japanese person. I may be included in certain circles, but I am of course not, and will never be, of "Japanese." So, I am more than sure that I miss many nuances in the readings, form incomplete ideas, form ignorant ideas, etc. However, I would  still like to offer opinions on the readings without presenting them as facts or the sort.

Love Isn't Easy When You're the National Anthem is told from the first person perspective of the national anthem itself, and I quite enjoyed the combination of that surrealist aspect along with the commentary on nationalism and compliance. People not complying with the national anthem is of course nothing unique to Japan - in America, it is a controversial topic. Most notably, when Colin Kaepernick, the NFL quarterback, chose to knee for the USA's national anthem for a season. Of course, both anthems similarly contain nods to national pride and militarism. Interestingly enough, in this instance, the freshmen boy is the only person who chooses not to sing the song. Comedically, the national anthem is hurt by this. It says, "What kind of song did I have to be for you to want to sing me?" And if we were to attempt to answer this question, my assumption would be that the national anthem would have to distance itself from the emperor and militaristic pride. The World Wars will forever live within the DNA of Japan, and due to the national anthem and people like Sanae Takaichi who are still insistent on diminishing the importance and notoriety of Japanese war crimes and militarism, it is no mystery that many people refuse to comply with the anthem. Furthermore, it is no mystery that to this day, it remains incredibly controversial. And on top of this, similarly to America, Japan has a history of punishing people who refuse to comply with the anthem. And with a rise in far-right politics and fascism burgeoning across the world,  it is not unwarranted to consider that this compliance could become more enforced if this trend continues. I speak more so for America when I say this, but there is a great difference between pride of one's home and its people, and pride of militarism. At the end of the day, what is a military but a private army that is built with the interest of the elite in mind? I have always contended with the idea of without question, honoring veterans. This is NOT because they aren't incredibly brave people, but it is because it has always seemed to me like propaganda. As in, focus on honoring them for providing your freedom, rather than considering that their deaths are meaningless and inconsequential to the very people who send them to die. And of course, a lot of these young men that are recruited to fight are poor; they are targeted by the military as they understand well that these impoverished men have no where else to turn. When one refuses to comply with the national anthem, it is often perceived as a slight to those who fight. However, it is much more than that - it is a slight to those who create wars for personal gain. 

As for Abandoning a Cat, it was my favorite short story of all time. After returning to it, I can safely say that it is absolutely still up there. Piggybacking off of the last story, during WW2, the national anthem served as a tool to manifest the support of imperialism and militarism. However, Murakami's father was not one of those people who blindly supported the cause. As he says himself in one of his Haiku's, "A soldier, yet a priest, clasping my hands in prayer, toward the moon." His father regretted this period of his country and his life so deeply, that every morning, when praying to the Butsudan, he included the Chinese soldiers in his prayers. And as Murakami mentions himself, he carries his father's trauma with him. Atrocities were committed by the Japanese military in China (among other places), and to this day, these acts are public knowledge, yet largely concealed. I have always deeply respected Murakami for writing about this topic - not only in this short story, but also in Wind-up Bird Chronicle, which is in my opinion, his greatest novel. He details accounts from Manchukuo, and part of me wonders if this was done in part, to honor his late father (among other reasons). Just like his father, Murakami is deeply traumatized by what occurred in the Chinese front, and he is not afraid to share his laments. Even aside from the mentions of war, this piece is incredibly introspective and moving. I love Murakami's writings on the randomness of life, the ascent being easier than the descent in life, him and his father's estranged relationship, the idea of ordinary memories being incredibly impactful, etc. His relationship with his father reminds me of Tengo's relationship with his father in 1Q84, and part of me wonders if this was partly autobiographical - probably. 

Tokyo Ueno Station also reflects on the war and militarism, but its topics are a lot more varied. For instance, it touches not only on the imperial family and the national anthem, but also on American influence, extreme poverty, the 1986-1991 asset price bubble, etc. It appears to be an account of traumatic experiences that Japanese citizens have encountered over the last century. More than anything, it shows how the people at the bottom of society stand to suffer the most from all of this. As impoverished and hungry as they are, if the imperial family was stopping by, they were forced to move their tents and would be evicted from the area. In war, the poor always stand to lose much more than those who send the poor to die. 

As for Erika Kobayashi's three short stories, they continue with the theme of the war. However, they also carry themes of globalism and American influence. For example. Coco's Century of course uses Coco Chanel to comment on Western influence post WW2, and along with that, the narrator goes around traveling the west. This western influence is a very common theme in Japanese literature - most notably, Meiji Era literature from authors such as Sōseki. His Last Bow carries very similar themes, but instead of Coco Chanel, it discusses Sherlock Holmes. As for war, it almost seems to represent an end to the cycle of trauma. The narrator's bloodline on the male side are all doctors. Shigeru was an army doctor, and the narrator's dad was too. However, his dad eventually quit that, and the narrator decided to avoid medicine altogether. To me, this comes off as distancing oneself from the militaristic past. Lastly, Sunrise deals with themes of light - whether that is the sun, atomic bombs, or the Fukushima Daichi Nuclear Power Plant. It accounts a young girl growing up during this time, and the influences that light and nuclear power had on her. More than any other country, Japan has a devastating past when it comes to that topic, and all of this has occurred in under 100 years. Again, to finish, normal citizens of a country who are only trying to make a living, stand to suffer more than the ones who create such wars.  

Thomas Weber - 10/08/25

 Yoko Tawada, Scattered All over the Earth

        At first after having read this story I honestly did not exactly know what to think. I liked the premise of the story, the description of the characters and the change of perspective taken for the last chapter but somewhat failed to see its message. Although I am still having that issue I do definitely see the strongest themes being presented as being that of home, belonging, identity and humanization. Home is quite self explanatory but throughout the story it is constantly repeated that one of the reasons why Hiruko is special is because of her status as a stateless person. However, later in the story it is shown both through the storybook and her integration of her own language that she has found home in this new place whilst keeping her individuality and identity through her language. The humanization aspect was simply in the face of refugees and the way they are often seen and treated with contempt, admiration, or almost like non-living objects which I believe was somewhat shown through the phone calls Hiruko took right after the show went live.

Shion Miura, The Easy Life in Kamusari

        This was probably one of my favorite readings of the bunch because it reads so differently from other Japanese literature. Both the style of the writing (which is probably simply due to translation) and the extremely juvenile nature of the main character give a sentiment of it essentially being about a boy rebelling against the system he's been put in. This theme is then expanded by his literally trying to escape but also his lack of general ability in the workforce, as well as in home life. Whether its his inability to do most tasks in forestry or the fact that his own parents consider him somewhat expendable its a story, to me, about finding ones place in the world and it not always having to be conventional. As well as the fact that even within these systems there is such a variety of experiences to be had that one just needs to seek them out to find himself.

Yoko Ogawa, The Memory Police

        I actually have the physical version of this book. After reading the first 6 chapters it struck me as a little bit of a mix between the books: 1984, The Buried Giant, and The Chinese Republic of Amnesia. It deals both with the idea of a "big brother" state, what identity is for someone under an oppressive regime and the ease of collective amnesia/acceptance of non-understanding. The use of the term, "has been disappeared" is interesting as it directly infers that the disappearance is both not natural but also uncontrollable from the persons point of view. This has strongly reminded me of many passages found in books about Mao, the rise of the CCP and the USSR in the way that information is treated entirely as a commodity. Whether one is allowed to know something is not up to them but up to the system that they exist under, and even having an understanding of that that goes beyond surface level can be dangerous. 

Hideo Furukawa, The Little Woods in Fukushima

        Although a complete change of pace from the other stories this one was surprisingly fun to read. It read a little bit more like a memoire or magazine article rather than a one-shot story to me but was still filled with character development and meaningful moments. I found the paragraph where the main character talked about how life simply continued in Tokyo even after the horrific earthquake and nuclear fallout in Fukushima interesting as it really highlights the idea that in a community the plight of the individual or minority is often of a rare importance. Something that we have talked about already but that is strongly reiterated in this story. I especially appreciate the way in which trauma, pain and loss is portrayed as being something that once accepted can be dealt with rather than the more standard repression. Its almost as if the writer is saying that for him to be content with the atrocities he has lived through he wants the entirety of Japan as a collective but also as individuals to consider the pain that occurred in Fukushima.

Overall I greatly enjoyed these readings and would have absolutely loved to have written this reflection earlier if it wasn't for the fact that I got a Migraine the night before :(

May Inui 10/8/25

"The Memory Police" was my favorite reading this week. It highlighted how easily we, as humans, can be influenced or brainwashed without realizing it- especially nowadays, with the spread of fake news and media censorship. It also served as a reminder of the importance of everyday, ordinary objects and how we often forget to acknowledge them, even though they play a small but significant role in the simple joys of life. The biggest takeaway I got from this reading, however, was how essential memories are to being human and the fulfillment they bring to our lives. We are nothing without our memories. “As we enjoyed our snack, we talked about all sorts of things- but most often we spoke of our memories… We divided the last bit of peach and repeated the same stories to each other, allowing the fruit to dissolve.” People yearn for their memories. As a general question, I also wondered why the higher-ups on this island demanded the disappearance of birds and flowers. I also enjoyed "The Easy Life In Kamusari". It offered a nice perspective on “inaka life”- getting away from the city and experiencing the intimacy of rural, countryside living, where everyone knows each other and each other’s business, which can sometimes feel suffocating. Still, it seems like a good place for the young protagonist, who doesn’t have much direction in life, to be and learn about the world and himself. “Scattered All Over the Earth” didn’t leave as strong of an impression on me as some of the other readings, but I still enjoyed it. To me, it highlighted the cultural differences between Japan and Europe. One moment that stood out was when Hiroko mentioned how speaking out is often frowned upon in Japan but encouraged in the West. “The Little Woods in Fukushima” was our first nonfiction piece, and I realized it offered a nice palate cleanser, though it wasn’t really my cup of tea. One of my main takeaways from this reading was that society moves on quickly- we tend to forget about major events, whether they’re natural disasters or wars. To preserve memory, you have to make an active effort to do so. “But nothing changed. Japanese society, the Japanese people, changed absolutely nothing about their lifestyles. Mr. Furukawa, how can this possibly be?” I wish I knew. Or perhaps I’d respond along the lines of, It is human nature to forget... whenever possible." 

Bin 10/8

When I was in middle school, I read George Orwell’s 1984. I can’t really remember much of the plot now, but Yoko Ogawa’s The Memory Police immediately brought that world back to mind — another dystopian society built on erasing difference and enforcing control. The tone of Ogawa’s novel feels cold and sad to me. Memories, emotions, and ideas tied to countless objects slowly fade away, and people can’t even protect the things that once held their pasts. The scenes where the Memory Police hunt down those who still remember vanished objects reminded me of the films Persian Lessons and V for Vendetta.

Reading The Easy Life in Kamusari was an entirely different experience — relaxing and effortless. I’ve always liked the light, easygoing vibe of “light novels,” and the first chapter’s simplicity made it even more enjoyable. What surprised me, in retrospect, is how vividly I could imagine myself breathing the forest air of that quiet mountain village. I tried to look for some deeper “message” in the protagonist’s daily work of forest care, but maybe that’s unnecessary. Once the reader joins him in the woods, feels his rhythm, and shares his quiet joy, the meaning of the story reveals itself naturally.

The Little Woods in Fukushima, on the other hand, didn’t resonate with me as much. I’m not a big fan of a near-documentary style of storytelling — plain, restrained, maybe too realistic for my taste. Still, it’s hard to ignore the powerful themes it presents: death, disaster, and decline — all things that deserve attention and reflection.

From the title alone, the word “scattered” in Scattered All Over the Earth immediately stands out. It seems to hint at some of the novel’s main concerns — the disappearance of nations, the end of collective narratives, the reshaping of personal identity, and the collapse and rebirth of language. In that sense, it connects closely with The Memory Police: both explore the loss of the vessels that carry our thoughts and memories.

 

Nature and Human-Sylvia Chen

This week's readings struck me as particularly interesting, as they explored how humans interact with their environment. 

While reading Scattered All Over the Earth, I started thinking about the connection between language and
existence. Hiruko’s invented language may seem absurd, but it most truthfully expresses her state of being “in between” nations. It made me think that, in a way, all of us are constantly “translating” ourselves, not only across languages, but also across cultures and emotions. Perhaps identity is something of losing and finding something new to speak with.

And The Memory Police is my favorite piece! The flow of the story feels so smooth, and I love how the author pushes the theme of “loss” to the extreme, describing how objects and memories are erased one by one. What unsettled me most was the calm acceptance of forgetting that the people in town seem to have common sense. This reminded me that while Tawada’s characters can still create a new language, Ogawa’s characters live in a world where even language can be taken away.

The Little Woods in Fukushima made me think about the disasters our generation faces. I started to realize that the post-disaster world is not an “end” but a “continuation.” Every act of writing, every attempt to record, is humanity’s way of refusing to let memory erode.

In The Easy Life in Kamusari, as I watched the character move from resistance to acceptance, I learned that true freedom isn’t always about leaving; it’s about learning to live with the world around you. We talk so much about “finding ourselves,” but maybe that search begins right where we are.

After reading all the pieces, I started reflecting on how I face change in my own life. Sometimes, leaving familiar people or places brings that small feeling of loss. But from these stories, I learned that loss can also be an opening, a way to see existence anew.

Sam Kraus - 10/8

Scattered All Over the Earth surprised me as I believe it is my first Japanese literary piece that I have read that takes place outside of Japan. Of course, there are instances such as Norwegian Wood opening up in Germany, but as far as I am concerned, this is the first time in which the majority of the story takes places overseas, along with one of the protagonists not being a Japanese person (Knut). As for Yoko Tawada, she has to be one of the most unlikely and fascinating people I have done research on. I mean, she was born in Japan, went to Waseda University, Hamburg University, and the University of Zurich, she studies German and Russian literature, was a writer for Stanford and MIT, clearly has an obsession with linguistics, etc. There are even more things about her, but regardless, she has quite the unique story. Anyways, her experiences in Europe of course translate into this novel, in which Knut is a linguistics graduate student in Denmark. Of the four stories we read, this was not my favorite per se, but I did appreciate the discussions on immigration, nationalism, identity, history, etc. For example, many people treat Hiruko quite negatively - they urge her to assimilate into the culture and to drop her old heritage. Furthermore, there is an instance where a classmate becomes sexually interested in Hiruko due to her "uniqueness" and being from a different world. However, Knut is genuinely interested in her heritage - he wants to know about Panska, he wants to know all about Hiruko, her old country, etc. He has a true interest in her culture and a true interest in her as a human being, and this contrasts starkly with the way other people treat her as an immigrant. I could see a lot of this as being a critique of anti-immigrant sentiments that are VERY strong in Western Europe. I would like to finish the novel sometime to learn more about how Japan disappeared. It is interesting, as few people in her vicinity seem to know or remember much about its history.

As for the Memory Police, I did really enjoy that one. Two things really stuck out to me - first, the way that "was disappeared" is phrased. Things did not "disappear" or "go away" but rather, they were or was disappeared. Using passive voice and phrasing it like this, it makes it clear that things did not just go away on their own - someone actively "disappeared" them. Secondly, of course I did not read the whole novel, but I found it intriguing how there is no explanation for the Memory Police. We get glimpses into how they behave, what they wear, what they drive, etc, but in the section we read, there is nothing about how they came to be, who controls them, etc. Furthermore, one of the more fascinating things in the story is the sequence of disappearance. For example, first the "item" disappears, and only after that, the memories disappear too. As the novel reads, "It's all but impossible to recall the things we've lost on the island once they are gone." Interestingly enough though, the mom is able to remember things, but it is not too clear why. She has also successfully hidden many objects in her home. Lastly, I also noticed that all of her books are about losing things - vanished lover, ballerina losing a leg, a young diseased boy, etc. All stories include the protagonist losing something essential to their being. In the world with the Memory Police, everybody has things taken from them overtime, and they struggle with identity, similarly to Hiruko in the last piece. With everything going on in America right now, this story feels less fictional - unfortunately. 

I enjoyed The Easy Life in Kamusari as I have not really read another Japanese novel quite like it. Similarly to Risa Wataya, Shion Miura is pretty funny. I enjoyed parts such as, "Look out, Yoki warned as he opened the front door. The next moment, a bowl came flying out and grazed my chest." In reality, Yoki and Miho's entire relationship is pretty funny. From my perception, this novel revolves around Hirano not fitting in neatly to the capitalist system. He is not excited about working, education, etc. He does not have any strong passions or things he wants or needs to do (things which are essential to survive within capitalism). Therefore, with his lack of ambition in mind, his parents of course send him away to work in forestry in Kamusari village. Interestingly, as time progresses, we learn that Hirano is actually quite insecure about himself. For example, when he falls down the slope and ruins the tree, he is utterly humiliated. Initially, he wanted to escape because he did not want to be there at all, but now, he wants to escape due to this humiliation. This is further revealed when Yoki finally praises him - "Getting praised for the first time made me feel elated." As for the twist of the entire story and the surrealist aspect, I found it to be a little too sudden. With a Murakami book for example, say Killing Commendatore, the surrealist aspects are revealed little by little, starting with the hole. Here, however, the ghost seemingly comes from nowhere, and then like 3 pages later, he is riding on a motorcycle with her wanting to escape again (1 page prior, he mentioned that he did not want to escape). And then after this sudden reveal of the ghost, Yoki and Hirano go back to find Miho, not mentioning the ghost again (furthermore, Hirano really did not seem to perplexed by this whole scenario)... It felt a little too sudden maybe, but I did still enjoy this story.

And lastly, I did enjoy The Little Woods in Fukushima. His 360km trek in the wilderness reminded me of aspects of The Narrow Road to the Deep North, and the autobiographical aspect reminded me of Murakami's Abandoning a Cat. I have not had the chance to read too many of these autobiographical/biographical recounts of history (such as Murakami's Underground), but I would certainly love to in the future. I loved hearing about Hideo Furukawa's family's niche lifestyle as shiitake mushroom farmers. However, this lifestyle was of course devastated by the March 11th earthquake and tsunami that struck Japan. I can tell that Furukawa feels deep love and pride for his prefecture, as he did not want this piece of history to be lost. He expresses, "It is human nature to forget, whenever possible." He writes this piece to preserve the history, and he also expresses, "Even so, I am convinced that if all we do is adopt the stance that reconstruction should just be about getting things back to the good old Fukushima, there are things that will never be restored and there are people that will never be made whole again." It seems like he believes that to get through this tragedy, the people of Japan must accept that it happened, and they must accept it as a part of history. Trying to reconstruct the physical buildings may be possible, but it is not possible to reconstruct the memories and trauma. Instead of repressing what happened, he seems to believe that to make people whole again, acceptance is in order, along with of course hearing the stories of the people in Fukushima who were devastated. Lastly, he overall seems like a pretty great guy. In his writing, he portrays the people around him very lovingly, and his love for his home is evident.