March Was Made of Yarn
March 11, 2011, 14:46 Japan Standard Time: A magnitude-9.0 earthquake lasts six minutes, followed by a 50-foot tsunami that, within 15 minutes, plows inland six miles and causes meltdowns in five nuclear plants. 鈥淚n one鈥檚 wildest imagination, this is beyond conceivable,鈥� write editors Elmer Luke and David Karashima in their introduction to March Was Made of Yarn.
One year later, writer/editor Luke and novelist/translator Karashima have pulled together a diverse collection of new and previously published nonfiction, fiction, poetry, and a manga to create 鈥渁n artistic record鈥� of a people鈥檚 response to an unimaginable disaster. The writers are mostly Japanese 鈥� including major names like Yoko Ogawa and Ryu Murakami 鈥� translated into English by an impressive list of powerhouse translators. Although the quality of the final product is mixed 鈥� as is often the case with anthologies 鈥� the impetus behind each individual piece is heartfelt.
Two stories are standouts, each for the naked vulnerability they display. In 鈥淭he Charm,鈥� by Kiyoshi Shigematsu (translated by Jeffrey Hunter), a woman plagued by guilt for 鈥渉er comfortable, carefree life in Tokyo鈥� returns to a town 鈥渄evoured by the ocean鈥� where she spent a year of her peripatetic childhood, hoping to contact any of her former classmates. Her search takes her to a hilltop playground where she witnesses two young girls sharing a 鈥渃harm鈥� 鈥� a chanted promise 鈥� so personal that it makes her feel that 鈥渘ow everything was all right.鈥�
In Shinji Ishii鈥檚 鈥淟ulu鈥� (translated by Bonnie Elliott), a nocturnal dog who lives in a 鈥渕unicipal children鈥檚 facility鈥� watches 鈥渢ranslucent women鈥� magically bestow 鈥渢he gift of rest鈥� to children traumatized by disaster. Lulu, who has led the cruel life of an unwanted dog, empathizes with five children unattended by the magical women; one by one, with the sheer unconditional love that only dogs can offer, she 鈥減ull[s] each of them out of darkness and back into the land of peaceful sleep.鈥� Twelve years later, 32 of the children gather for a reunion at which Lulu is named and remembered.
Many of the other pieces, if not as memorable, share powerfully resonating moments. In Yoko Tawada鈥檚 鈥淭he Island of Eternal Life鈥� (translated by Margaret Mitsutani), devoted doctors in an isolated futuristic Japan 鈥済ather swarms of fireflies鈥� to create light in order to continue their saving work after dark. In Hiromi Kawakami鈥檚 鈥淕od Bless You, 2011鈥� (translated by Ted Goosen and Motoyuki Shibata) 鈥� an updated version of his 1993 story 鈥� a man decides that hugging his bear-friend is more important than being exposed to any radiation trapped in the bear鈥檚 fur. In Natsuki Ikezawa鈥檚 鈥淕randma鈥檚 Bible鈥� (translated by Alfred Birnbaum), a man gives up a potentially easier life in the United States to help rebuild his late brother鈥檚 leveled town where 鈥淕randma鈥檚 Bible is still somewhere here on the ocean floor.鈥�
Of the three non-Japanese pieces, British expat novelist David Peace鈥檚 鈥淎fter the Disaster, Before the Disaster鈥� is the most enigmatic. After surviving the 1923 Great Kanto earthquake (which previously had been considered Japan鈥檚 worst quake), Ryunosuke (identified as iconic writer Akutagawa Ryunosuke by a reference to his death four years later) wanders Tokyo searching for his friend Yasunari (a stand-in for Kawabata, another canonic Japanese writer). Joined by friend in common Kon (presumably Ichikawa, the famed filmmaker, who would have been a mere boy then), the trio bears witness to horrifying destruction.
Together these pieces depict the struggle of a people to find meaning after so great a tragedy. The book鈥檚 title is taken from a story by Mieko Kawakami (translated by Michael Emmerich). Kawakami writes of a pregnant woman who shares with her husband a dream she has about 鈥渁 world where everything was made of yarn.鈥� Cups, clothes, books made of yarn don鈥檛 seem too strange, but when she insists that 鈥渆ven March was made of yarn,鈥� her husband can鈥檛 understand how 鈥渁 name we give to a segment of time鈥� could be made of yarn. His struggle for meaning mirrors our own efforts to grasp that which is incomprehensible.
鈥淲ords grown old from overuse ... grow toward new meanings,鈥� writes Shuntaro Tanikawa (translated by Jeffrey Angles) in his epigraphic poem 鈥淲ords.鈥� Indeed, the words that follow reclaim and redefine one of history鈥檚 most unfathomable disasters. One by one, the writers here 鈥渞econceive the catastrophe, imagine a future and a past, interpret dreams, impel purpose, point blame, pray for hope.鈥�
Terry Hong writes BookDragon, a book review blog for the Smithsonian Asian Pacific American Program.
