An index to essays (2010-2024) and short posts on the late Renaissance humanist, Christian mystic, Hermetic philosopher, Paracelsian physician and Janus-faced sage of Norwich known as Sir Thomas Browne (1605-82).
The physician-philosopher Thomas Browne (1605-82) can truly be said to have achieved worldwide fame with his inclusion in the Japanese author Natsume Sōseki’s novel Sanshirō(1908-09).
Natsume Sōseki (夏目 漱石, 1867 – 1916) is considered to be one of Japan's greatest writers. He studied at what was the Tokyo Imperial University and became Japan's first official English Literature scholar, spending two unhappy years resident in England circa 1900-2. Eventually Sōseki became a professor of English literature at Tokyo Imperial University. It would appear however, that no earlier English translation of Sanshirō was made before Jay Rubin's 2009 translation, perhaps due to negative historical/cultural reasons.
In Sōseki's semi-autobiographical coming-of-age novel, Sanshirō is a naive and dreaming student who discovers his rural upbringing to be a disadvantage in the metropolitan city of Tokyo. The early twentieth century witnessed a period of rapid industrialisation and adoption of Western ways in Japan. A photo dated circa 1905 (top) gives some indication of how rapid the industrialisation of Japan was, resulting in a certain amount of psychic dissonance, as indicated in the above photo, with both traditional costume and modern electrification visible.
Sanshirō's class-mate Yojirō expresses the excitement of modern Tokyo when he exclaims to him - 'Get on the streetcar and ride around Tokyo ten or fifteen times. After a while it'll just happen -you'll become satisfied'.
In what is a narrative of gentle awakening in matters of romance, sex and learning, Sir Thomas Browne's Hydriotaphia plays a small part in Sōseki's novel. It is the enigmatic scholar Professor Hiroto who makes psychological observations such as - 'Look at England. Egotism and altruism have been in perfect balance there for centuries. That's why she doesn't move. That's why she doesn't progress. The English are a pitiful lot - they have no Ibsen, no Nietzsche. They're all puffed up like that, but look at them from the outside and you can see them hardening, turning into fossils'.
Professor Hiroto lends Sanshirō an edition of Hydriotaphia (Urn-Burial).Browne's philosophical discourse assists the youthful’s protagonist’s intellectual development, for during his meditation upon it, he witnesses a child’s funeral. The combination of Browne's stoical prose and child's funeral awakens in the dreaming student an acute awareness of his own mortality. Here's the full, relevant text, including a passage in which Browne's literary voice is likened to the lingering reverberation of a giant temple bell sounding faintly throughout the centuries, a particularly original homage.
Buddhist Bell Temple, Nara, Japan
'He read the concluding paragraph of Hydriotaphia as he ambled down the street toward Hakusan. According to Professor Hirota, this writer was a famous stylist, and this essay the best example of his style. ‘That’s not my opinion, of course,’ he had laughingly confided. And in fact Sanshirō could not see what was so remarkable about this style, The phrasing was bad, the diction outlandish, the flow of words sluggish. It gave him the feeling of looking at some old temple. In terms of walking distance, it had taken him three or four blocks to read, and still he was not very clear about what it said'.
'What he had gained from the paragraph wore a patina of age, as if someone had rung the bell of the Great Buddha in Nara and the lingering reverberation had faintly reached his ears in Tokyo. Rather than the meaning of the passage itself, Sanshirō took pleasure in the shadow of sentiment that crept over the meaning. He had never thought keenly about death; his youthful blood was still too warm for that. A fire leapt before his eyes so gigantic that it could singe his brows, and this feeling was his true self.........'
'As he glanced in through the gate, Sanshirō twice muttered the word hydriotaphia. Of all the foreign words he had learned thus far, hydriotaphia was one of the longest and hardest. He still did not know what it meant...... Just to learn hydriotaphia was a time-consuming effort, and saying it twice caused one’s pace to slacken. It sounded like a word the ancients had devised for Professor Hirota’s personal use'.
Tokyo 1905
Although Browne wrote on almost every topic under the sun, little on the Land of the Rising Sun (Nippon) can be found in his writings, other than mention of the Northeast passage to China and Japan, via the Arctic circle (Miscellaneous Tract 12). Browne's relative silence on Japan is reflective of Japanese insularity from Western missionaries, traders and explorers during his era.
In May 2011, the University of East Anglia (UEA) which is located in Sir Thomas Browne's home-city of Norwich, established a new Centre for Japanese Studies. The University of East Anglia is also where the Nobel-laureate Sir Kazuo Ishiguro (b. Nagasaki, 1954) studied for his Master's degree in creative writing.
A final connection between Japan and Sir Thomas Browne remains. One of the very first installations by the site specific installation artist Tatzu Nishi (西野達) (born 1960 Nagoya, Japan) was at the Art East International at Norwich in 1998. Using scaffolding, cladding, wood, and furniture, Nishi constructed a 'living-room' around Henry Pegram's 1905 statue of Thomas Browne, effectively allowing the Norwich philosopher-physician a brief respite from the season's weather to rest and philosophize indoors for a short while.
A Happy Birthday to Kazuo Ishiguro (b. Nov. 8th 1954, Nagasaki) recent winner of the Nobel Prize for Literature.
I'm not particularly well-qualified to share any observations upon Ishiguro’s novels, having only read his An Artist of the floating world (1986) some thirty years ago, and once again recently, his Never Let me Go a couple of years ago and The Remains of the day more recently.
Ishiguro completed his MA in Creative writing at the University of East Anglia in 1980, my Alma Mater, and I remember meeting the co-founders of UEA's prestigious creative writing course, the novelists Angus Wilson (1913-1991) and Malcolm Bradbury ( 1932 - 2000) way back in the 1970's.
The jacket-notes for what is Ishiguro's only Japan-centred novel An artist of the floating world describes the novel thus-
1948: Japan is rebuilding her cities after the calamity of World War II, her people putting defeat behind them and looking to the future. The celebrated painter Masuji Ono fills his days attending to his garden, his two grown daughters and his grandson, and his evenings drinking with old associates in quiet lantern-lit bars. His should be a tranquil retirement. But as his memories return to the past - to a life and a career deeply touched by the rise of Japanese militarism - a dark shadow begins to grow over his serenity.
But of greater interest to myself is the postscript dated January 2016 to mark the occasion of his novel's 30th anniversary, in which Ishiguro states-
‘An Artist’ was written between 1981 and 1985, years of crucial, often fractious and bitter transition in Britain. The governments of Margaret Thatcher had brought an end to the post-war political consensus about the welfare state and the desirability of a ‘mixed’ economy (in which key assets and industries are owned publically as well as privately). there was an overt and strident programme to transform the country from one based on manufacturing and heavy industries, with large organised workforces, into a predominantly service-based economy with a fragmented, flexible, non-unionised labour pool. It was the era of the miners’ strike, the Wapping dispute, CND marches, the Falklands War, IRA terrorism, an economic theory - ‘monetarism’ - that characterised deep cuts to public services as the necessary medicine to heal a sick economy. .... This novel.....was shaped by the Britain in which I was then living: the pressures on people in every walk of life to take political sides; the rigid certainties, shading into self-righteousness and sinister aggression, of ardent, often youthful factions; the agonising about the ‘role of the artist’ in a time of political change. And for me personally: the nagging sense of how difficult it is to see clearly above the dogmatic fervours of one’s day; and the fear that time and history would show that for all one’s good intentions, one had backed a wrong, shameful, even evil cause, and wasted one’s best years and talents to it. - London, January 2016
And in fact its often been commented upon that Britain and Japan share a number of cultural and socio-economic characteristics; both are heavily industrialised island nations which once pursued Imperial ambitions, both once possessed a formidable and large naval force, both are also nations which to the present-day have rigidly defined social hierarchies.
In his dystopian science-fiction novel Never Let Me Go (2005) the English county of Norfolk, where Ishiguro 'discovered' his vocation as a novelist, is described as a place where everything which is lost ends up -
“You see, because [Norfolk is] stuck out here on the east, on this hump jutting into the sea, it's not on the way to anywhere. People going north and south, they bypass it altogether. For that reason, it's a peaceful corner of England, rather nice. But it's also something of a lost corner.'
"Someone claimed after the lesson that Miss Emily had said Norfolk was England's 'lost corner' because that was where all the lost property found in the country ended up".
"Ruth said one evening, looking out at the sunset, that, 'when we lost something precious, and we'd looked and looked and still couldn't find it, then we didn't have to be completely heartbroken. We still had that last bit of comfort, thinking one day, when we were grown up, and we were free to travel the country, we could always go and find it again in Norfolk." - Kazuo Ishiguro, Never Let Me Go
In what is perhaps Ishiguro's most well-known novel, The Remains of the Day (1989) which has been described as P.G.Wodehouse meets Kafka, Ishiguro explores psychological characteristics often associated with the English nation, the famous 'stiff upper lip' of emotional repression and inarticulateness; of individuals who are unable to express themselves adequately, a particularly English tragedy, often enhanced and facilitated through an inflexible and detrimental to equality, hierarchical class-system which refuses to die an honorable death.
Written in a fluid, intimate and masterful prose style, distinctive characteristics of Ishiguro's prose, The Remains of the Day depicts England in the 1930's in which the class system dominates people's lives. It also describes how through political naivete the British upper-class were blind to the dangers of fascism spreading throughout mainland Europe, a political awareness which remains unlearnt in sectors of British society to the present-day, as Ishiguro himself states in an article on the result of the ill-conceived British referendum on membership to the European Union [1] as well as in interview on BBC television.
In the excellent Merchant-Ivory film adaption of Ishiguro's The Remains of the Day (1993) the magical chemistry between the actors Anthony Hopkins and Emma Thompson makes no small contribution in portraying the fatal psychological inadequacy of the English, an inability of emotional expressiveness, aided and abetted by their obsession with status and social class. These factors blight what ought to have been a healthy love affair between the two central characters of Ishiguro's brilliant novel.
Recently I had the pleasure of visiting the Sainsbury Centre at the University of East Anglia (UEA) for an exhibition organized by the Japanese Foundation entitledJapan : Kingdom of Characters. On
an all-too-rare day of settled summer weather it was well worth the short
cycle-ride from home to view.
The informative guidebook to theKingdom of Charactersexhibition
explains that Japanese people have established strong ties with manga and anime
characters; in effect, such characters have forged a powerful bond with the
Japanese psyche, sometimes as a replacement for family and friends. In essence,
many of the rich and imaginative characters of Japanese manga and anime have
developed as compensation and comfort against the stresses and alienation of
life in megapolis cities. And for these reasons it's not always easy for
Westerners to appreciate manga and anime's enormous popularity in Japan. A
sizeable percentage of Japanese society was profoundly psychologically dislocated as a result of the rapid growth, industrialization and urbanization which Japanese population underwent
in the twentieth century. In some ways manga and anime characters have also provided comfort for the solitary and lonely
as well as the survivors of the many disasters Japan has experienced throughout
its history. From the atomic bombs of Hiroshima and Nagasaki in 1945 to
the cataclysmic natural disasters of the Kobe earthquake of 1995 to the simultaneous
disasters of earthquake, Tsunami,
nuclear power-plant meltdown and subsequent radio-active fears of 2011, Japan
has always been vulnerable, not only to ecological disasters but also to
man-made catastrophes.
From the early 1950’s manga characters
such as Tetuswan Atom (Astro Boy),
Japanese anime has debated on humanity’s relationship to science, on the
differences between robots and humans, the future of humanity in
sci-fi worlds, often of a post-apocalyptic nature and the moral issues of
living in a technologically sophisticated, yet alienating megapolis. Alongside an
advanced technological and scientific perspective, the remnants of superstition
and a fascination with the spirit world in the popular psyche often
feature in Japanese anime. Typically, the ghost in the machine in Japanese anime speaks with the voice of a long-lost ancestral spirit.
There’s a considerable amount of mass-produced
merchandise associated with Japanese anime; the Kingdom of Characters exhibition
even re-creates a teenage girl’s bedroom crowded with the paraphernalia of her
favourite anime characters, some of whom have achieved global popularity. The Tamagotchi ‘egg-watch’ digital
electronic pet has now sold in excess of 76 million since 1996, while the
characters of Pokemon and Hello Kitty (photo above) are instantly recognized
and loved by many throughout the world.
Far removed from the cute and kitsch world of Hello Kitty with subject-matter unsuitable for any public
exhibition, Toshio Maeda's notorious Urotsukidōji:
Chōjin Densetsu, lit. Wandering Kid: The Legend of the Super God (1986-90) is
a seminal anime work which features strong hentai elements of graphic sex.
Puzzlingly to western sensibilities
Maeda's controversial Urotsukidōji mixes plots and genres seemingly unrelated to each other - horror, comedy, disaster, the
supernatural and teen-age romance are all juxtaposed in random
sequence. This effect is heightened further by the severe editing which
Maedea’s flawed masterpiece has suffered at the hands of the British Board of Censors. Besides
indulging in extreme eroticism and violence Urotsukidōji
depicts an alternate world in which the battle of good and evil is fought
on a cosmic scale between mankind, beasts and demons. Urotsukidōji also includes
an example of so-called tentacle erotica. The origins of tentacle erotica can be traced to an illustration by Japanese
artist Katsushika Hokusai's (1760-1849) The Dream of the Fisherman's Wife an influential example of Shunga (Japanese erotic art). The
subject of tentacle eroticism has been explored by a number of artists, but
perhaps none with such notoriety as Toshio Maedea’s interpretation. Maedea returned
to tentacle eroticism in his equally infamous horror/sex comedy series La Blue Girl (1992-94).
Japanese anime has also been used a
vehicle to discuss romance, sexuality and spirituality. In Takahashi Rumiki’s
romantic-comedy Urusei Yatsura (1978-87)
thebikini-clad Lum possesses the fatal combination of a bad temper in conjunction with magical powers as elements of her adolescent love-life. The
relationship between sexuality and magic is never far from the surface in
Rumiki’s dark fantasy Mermaid Forest (1991)
which develops an ancient Japanese
legend, that mermaid's flesh grants immortality if eaten. However, there's also
the risk that eating it may also lead to death or transformation into a lost soul
or damned creature.
Other notable landmarks in the history Japanese anime
include Masamune Shirow’s Ghost in the Shell (1995) in which a cyborg
heroine with human consciousness questions her own identity - Perfect Blue (1997) a Hitchcock-like
psycho-thriller and Hiroyuki Kitakabo’s Blood: The Last Vampire (2000) which sets the vampire myth on an American occupation air-base. Each of the aforementioned has in one way or another advanced the art of Japanese anima in either genre and story-telling and/or computer-generated graphic design.
